The Collateral

Part 8 / Scene 7

 

“Thanks for squeezing me in,” Judge Walker told my brother. “It’s my wife’s turn to host her bridge club. Twelve women, gossiping between every trick. I had to do something to get out of the house.”

 

I stared at the judge in disbelief. He was one of my dad’s best friends. He’d known me my whole life. His son and I used to play together when we were kids.

 

Doug caught me staring and snapped his fingers in my face.

 

“Hey! Since when do you look a freeman in the eye, boy?”

 

I quickly lowered my head.

 

“Sorry,” my brother said to the judge. “He’s still getting the hang of all this.”

 

“It’s okay. I’m actually impressed by how much progress you’ve made with him. I have to admit, I was a little worried when your father told me how he planned to get that loan for his restaurant.”

 

“Ah, we’re managing just fine,” Doug said. “Short Stuff tried to give me some trouble at first. The usual new slave bullshit. But I’ve got him under control now.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it. But I always figured the boy would be okay. He’s young enough to adapt to his change in circumstances. Your father was the one who had me concerned. He seemed to have some rather… unrealistic expectations about how this situation would work.”

 

“Yeah, Dad did have a few crazy ideas,” Doug said.

 

“Well, I did warn both of them,” Judge Walker said. “I told them straight up that once I approved that enslavement petition, they wouldn’t be father and son anymore. They’d be owner and property.”

 

“Yep,” Doug agreed. “You sure did. Nobody can say that they didn’t know what they were getting into.”

 

The judge ran his eyes over my body.

 

“The boy certainly looks healthy.”

 

“Oh yeah, we’re taking real good care of him,” Doug said. “I’ve got him on a wholesome diet. And a little hard work was just what he needed to toughen him up.”

 

“He has put on some muscle over the summer,” Judge Walker agreed. “It looks good on him.”

 

“Yep. I’m just glad that my dad is finally letting me rent the boy out for more than manual labor. You wouldn’t believe how much money we were leaving on the table."

 

“Well, we both know how stubborn your father can be on certain subjects,” the judge said. “But I knew that he’d come around, eventually. It’s obvious that a slave like this has better uses than mowing lawns.”

 

The judge grinned at me suggestively, and Doug took the hint.

 

“Well then, I’ll let you have your fun with the boy. There’s lube on the nightstand. And some toys and restraints in the drawers, if you want to get creative. Oh, and you should take this.”

 

He handed the judge the slave prod.

 

“Will I need it?” Judge Walker asked.

 

“Probably not,” Doug said. “The boy is pretty docile, but he still acts out once in a while. Best to keep the prod within reach, just in case.”

 

The judge shifted the slave prod from one hand to the other, noticing the way that my eyes tracked it. After being punished by that thing so many times, I couldn’t help it.

 

“I see that you’ve trained him to respect it,” the judge said.

 

“Oh yeah. We’re responsible slave owners. We keep our property in line.”

 

“Glad to hear it,” the judge said. “All it takes is one poorly-controlled slave to give the others ideas.”

 

“Well, I can tell you that our boy won’t be a problem,” Doug said.

 

He fished the key to my cock cage out of his pocket and handed it to the judge.

 

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it. But I’ll be right next door in the main house. If the boy gives you any trouble, just text me, and I’ll come set him straight.”

 

“Good to know,” the judge said.

 

And then my brother left. 

 

Judge Walker stood there looking at me for a while. Unlike the other men I’d been with, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. He put the slave prod on the nightstand and then loosened his tie.

 

“Why don’t you take off your shirt for me, Wes?”

 

I froze. Some part of me still couldn’t believe that he was going to do this.

 

“Do I need to repeat myself?” the Judge asked.

 

I could hear the threat in his voice. And I could see the slave prod, lying there within easy reach for him.

 

“No, sir.”

 

Slowly, I stripped off the top of my slave uniform. The judge ran a hand over my smooth, tanned chest. I shuddered, as his fingers brushed against my nipple.

 

“You’re trembling, Wes.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

He seemed amused by that.

 

“How many freemen have you serviced, so far?”

 

I wasn’t sure what he meant. Did I count Doug and all his fraternity brothers? Or only the guys who’d fucked me? I got embarrassed just thinking about it, and I could feel my face turning red.

 

“I asked you a question, Wes.”

 

“Uh… seven, I guess.”

 

“Only seven?”

 

He sounded surprised. Like he’d been expecting me to say a hundred or a thousand. Like he figured that I was already a total slut.

 

Judge Wallker grabbed my slave collar and gave it a gentle tug, like he wanted to check how sturdy it was. And then he ran his fingers over the barcode tattoo on my neck.

 

“You always were a handsome boy,” he said. 

 

He reached up and stroked the blond stubble on my head.

 

“I did like you better with long hair,” he admitted. “But I suppose that can’t be helped. We can’t very well have you walking around town looking like a freeman.”

 

He took a step back.

 

“Okay. Let’s see the rest of you.”

 

Reluctantly, I shucked off the shorts of my slave uniform. The judge had me turn around. He inspected my smooth ass and my carefully trimmed pubes. And he seemed fascinated by my cock cage. He explored the solid metal bars with his fingers, letting them brush against my nuts. I felt my dick swelling in its prison, trying to get hard.

 

“That must be frustrating for a boy your age,” the judge said.

 

“Yes, sir,” I agreed.

 

“But I imagine that it keeps you eager to please. Always waiting for a freeman to grant you some release?”

 

I didn’t know what to say to that. I just stood there, my face burning red.

 

“Well, let’s see how well Doug has trained you.”

 

The judge sat down on the edge of the bed and unbuckled his belt. It was obvious what he wanted, and what would happen to me if he didn’t get it. I glanced at the slave prod, lying close at hand on the nightstand. Doug was right: Just the sight of the thing was enough to keep me from making trouble.

 

As I knelt down in front of the judge, I suddenly felt that hard steel plug shift inside me. I doubled over, gasping for breath, as it hit some weird sensitive spot, sending icy tingles exploding through my balls.

 

Judge Walker saw the look on my face and laughed.

 

“Yeah, Wes. Your conditioning is starting to kick in,” he said, stroking my cheek. “With a little more training, you’re gonna learn to enjoy servicing freemen.”

 

And then he guided my mouth onto his dick. 

 

It was humiliating. But once I started, I realized that there was no point holding back. I was already a cocksucking whore, so I might as well get him off quickly. 

 

But the judge had other plans. As soon as I got him close, he made me stop and take a break. He rumaged around in the drawers of the nightstand, looking at all the crazy sex toys that Doug had stocked the place with: paddles, and leather cuffs, and painful-looking clamps. The judge seemed particularly amused by a voice-controlled dildo that would vibrate every time someone spoke. 

 

“Maybe next time,” he said, putting it back in the drawer. “Right now, you need to learn to take a real cock.”

 

He reached between my legs and grabbed the base of the stainless steel plug. I clenched my teeth, trying to control the rush of sensations inside me as he slowly pulled it out. And then he lay down on the bed, and ordered me to straddle him.

 

Reluctantly, I climbed on top of him. I hadn’t done this with any of the other customers. Weirdly, it made me think about Carol. This had always been her favorite position. She liked to be the one on top, riding my dick, getting me right to the edge of an orgasm, and then keeping me there. She said that it made her feel powerful.

 

But as I guided the judge’s hard dick inside me, I didn’t feel powerful. I felt like a goddamn fuck toy.

 

“Yeah, that’s it, Wes,” the judge moaned. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

 

I knelt there, riding the cock of the man who’d made me a slave. I kept thinking about that day at the courthouse. Judge Walker could have turned down my father’s petition for eslavement. He could have said that no seventeen-year-old should be asked to make a sacrifice like that to save a goddamn restaurant. That no father should be allowed to pressure his son into giving up his freedom.

 

But instead, Judge Walker had approved the petition. He’d brought down his gavel and made me a slave. Maybe because he was friends with my father. Or maybe the judge had his own reasons for wanting to see me in the collar.

 

I wonder if he got a hard-on under his robes, as he asked me all those questions. Getting me to surrender my rights, one by one. Knowing what was bound to happen to a young blond slave. And that sooner or later, he’d have his chance with me.

 

As I fucked myself with his dick, I felt my hatred for Judge Walker boiling over. But it wasn’t the only thing threatening to explode. I could feel that weird chain reaction happening inside me again. I froze, trying to stop the icy tingles surging through my nuts. I didn’t want to give the smug bastard the satisfaction of seeing me cum. I didn’t want him to think that I liked this.

 

But it wasn’t my decision.

 

“No. Don’t stop now, Wes,” the judge growled at me.

 

He grabbed my hips and started fucking me hard and fast from below. And the feeling of his hard cock pounding inside me was too much. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from cumming. I arched my back and howled, as my aching dick cut loose, pumping wave after wave of hot jizz through the bars of the cock cage.

 

Judge Walker looked down at the huge puddle of cum that I’d sprayed all over his stomach. He grinned and slammed his dick into me a few more times. And then I cringed, as I felt his hot load shooting up inside me.

 

The judge closed his eyes and muttered something about God. And then he just lay there, panting for breath. His dick slowly going soft inside me.

 

Eventually, he told me to get up and start the shower. He had me scrub his back, and then dry him off with a towel afterwards. He got dressed slowly and deliberately. And then he texted my brother to say that he was done.

 

A minute later, Doug came bounding up the stairs.

 

“So, did you have a good time? Did my boy give you any trouble?”

 

“Nah, he didn’t give me any trouble at all. You’ve done a good job with his obedience training. But he’s still kind of skittish.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Doug said.

 

“No, it’s fine,” the judge told him. “I’m glad that I got to have him while he’s still so fresh.”

 

“Well, he won’t stay that way for long,” Doug said. “Pretty soon, he’ll be an experienced pleasure slave, eagerly taking freeman cock like he was born to it.”

 

“I suppose he will,” the judge said, intrigued. “You know, I wouldn’t mind watching his transformation as he grows into the role. Maybe we could make this a regular thing?”

 

“Sure!” Doug said. “Same time next week?”

 

“Yeah. It will give me something to do while my wife’s playing bridge. Now, what do I owe you?” the judge asked, pulling out his wallet. 

 

Doug laughed.

 

“Put that away. After everything that you’ve done for our family, Dad would tan my hide if I took your money.”

 

“Well, that’s right neighborly of you,” the judge said, putting his wallet back in his pocket.

 

It was strange to see my brother give anything away for free. But I guess Doug figured that being friends with the judge might be worth something down the road.

 

And that got me wondering about my Dad’s relationship with Judge Walker. For as long as I could remember, the judge and his wife had been eating dinner in Dad’s restaurant every Friday. And Dad always comped their meals. My father said it was because the judge was such a good friend, and public servants are ridiculously underpaid.

 

And then I remembered the night that the judge came over to our house for dinner. The night that Dad had explained how he was gonna file a petition to enslave me, so that I could serve as the collateral for a loan. Only Dad didn’t actually explain it to Judge Walker over dinner. No, Dad and the Judge went back to my father’s office and discussed it with the door closed. 

 

I remembered how my dad had paid off the Sheriff to cover up the records of my whipping. Had he handed a bag of money to Judge Walker as well? A little gift to make sure that his petition got approved?

 

I began to wonder if that hearing at the courthouse had been strictly for show. All those questions that Judge Walker asked me— I’d thought that he was trying to look out for me and make sure that I understood what I was getting into. But maybe he was just trying to cover his own ass, and make sure that no one could ever blame him for what happened to me. 

 

Judge Walker checked the time.

 

“Well, thanks for a fun afternoon, boys. I should be going.”

 

“You sure you don’t want to pop into the house and say hello to my dad?” Doug asked. “I know he’d love to catch up with you.”

 

“Nah, I’ll talk to him tonight. My wife and I are coming to the cocktail party.”

​

“Great! I’ll see you in a few hours.”