Jed Randal has been unemployed for three months and unable to make his child support payments. So his vindictive family court judge decides to raise the funds by selling him into perpetual slavery much to the satisfaction of his ex. A hot forced nudity and whipping story by Amalaric!
Force of the Law
by Amalaric
‘Please, honey…I’m so…’ his voice broke and, pausing for a few seconds, Jed Randal struggled to regain his composure, though a salty tear coursed the strong definition of his stubbled jaw, ‘sorry, yeah, really fucki…’ he paused, noting the frown on the judge’s face, ‘uh, sorry. I swear, I’ll pay you everything that’s due…just give me a little time.’ The hearing had lasted for little more than an hour in the chambers of Judge Judy Carson’s Family Court and few had any doubt of the outcome. Though Jed Randal might tearfully pledge resources that would humble the fortune of Bill Gates to his estranged partner and two year old twins, the arrears in child support payments wasn’t likely to be made up anytime soon; the young father, an unemployed construction worker, hadn’t seen a paycheck in over three months. Jed sputtered on for a minute or two longer, desperate to prolong the allotment of his self-defense even as Samantha watched from across the courtroom with a sneer on her candy apple colored lips. The judge blinked like a rattlesnake at the end of its patience and nodded toward one of the bailiffs. ‘That’s enough, son,’ the officer whispered and motioned for Jed to resume his seat in the dock. Judge Judy excused herself and briefly left the room for reflection and consultation. Returning five minutes later she brusquely ordered Jed to stand as her verdict was delivered.
‘Jed Randal,’ Judy Carson, now in her early fifties, still vividly remembered being jilted while seven months pregnant at the tender age of nineteen. Though she had promptly aborted the fetus, and so could not claim to have suffered financially, the sense of moral outrage still rankled, ‘you are clearly guilty of willful arrears in child support payments and, quite frankly, I see no good reason to hope that…by your own recognizance…you will be able to resume your responsibility in the near future or make up what is owed.’ Jed heaved a shuddering sigh as his defense counsel wrapped a proprietary arm around the young man’s shoulders, ‘I therefore deem it my duty,’ she continued, her voice both icy yet oddly gleeful at the same time, ‘to remand you for the rest of your natural life to servitude as a field slave, subject to the consent of the mother of your children, Ms Samantha Avalon, who will then receive a one- time cash payment equaling the price paid for your purchase (less 5% for processing and court costs plus taxes) in lieu of any subsequent payment of child support.’ She turned toward Samantha and smiled, ‘Are you amenable to this solution, Ms Avalon?’ ‘I am, your honor,’ Samantha chirped, fully expecting the sum realized by a young male in his prime to be quite substantial. ‘Please, step forward and, in the presence of the bailiff, sign the form of indenture.’ Jed groaned as he watched, wide eyed with both desperation, terror and a numbing sense of betrayal, the woman he had once thought to be the love of his life sign the triplicate form that would condemn him to a living hell.
The processing procedure that would transform Jed Randal from a free man to a slave was carried out immediately after the hearing in a different wing of the sprawling building. He was escorted from the courtroom, handcuffed, by a pair of armed bailiffs followed by a notary and his estranged partner Samantha Avalon. Eventually arriving in a rather drab room almost completely devoid of furnishings, Jed’s manacles were temporarily removed by one of the armed bailiffs. This was done in order to enable him to obey the command which followed, ‘Strip off your clothes…everything.’ The terse order was delivered in flat tones that spoke of long practice and expected no contradiction. Jed had come to the hearing wearing the same clothes he had dressed in the day before when the cops had surprised him in his shabby apartment and placed him under arrest; dusty green tee that looked like it had been laundered a couple of hundred times, faded levis over a clean pair of Hanes briefs and scuffed work boots that were, nevertheless, broken in and too comfortable to throw away. Jed hesitated for a few seconds before swallowing hard and, grasping the hem of his tee shirt, peeled it upward over his muscular torso and shrugged the worn cotton completely off. Pausing again, the twenty four year old construction worker finally took a deep breath before reluctantly unbuckling his belt. Jed then unfastened the top steel button of his levis causing them to sag slightly around his narrow hips revealing the pleasing bright contrast of the white elastic waistband of his Hanes fly fronts. Catching Samantha’s amused and very interested stare, Jed was fully aware of the irony as a bright flush of embarrassment spread across his handsome features- fuck, it’s not like the bitch hasn’t seen me naked before!! But this was different and everyone in the suddenly stuffy room knew it. He casually kicked off the boots, which now seemed like old friends about to be cruelly abandoned, and removed his athletic socks before straightening and, with a look of entreaty in his deep gray eyes, asked one of the bailiffs, ‘Why’s she got to be here to watch me…you know…?’ He trailed off. The bailiff merely shook his head and muttered, ‘You just follow orders, boy, and if you speak out of turn again I’ll double the lashes of your first mandatory whipping.’ He did, however, turn toward Samantha and answered Jed’s question, ‘It’s necessary for you to remain and observe the proceedings, ma’m, until his price is fixed and an affidavit of payment attested to- that’s the law.’ And he added, with a note of unfeigned concern, ‘I hope that isn’t too much of an inconvenience, Ms Avalon?’ ‘Oh no,’ Samantha purred, ‘no inconvenience at all, officer.’ All eyes now returned to observe Jed Randal as he slowly hiked down his levis followed by the scanty briefs, which, once removed, left the strapping young man completely naked and exposed. When Jed was fully stripped, his clothing was gathered up by an orderly and taken for incineration. Finally, the process of evaluation could truly begin.
Lucky woman, thought one of the bailiffs, this one’s gonna fetch a damn good price. Fully nude, Jed Randal presented a fine sight. At twenty four he moved with the lithe grace of muscular maturity with well proportioned arms, legs and full round ass; all dusted in varying degree with fine curling hairs that glinted bronze under the overheads. His deep chest with well-defined pecs was augmented by the wide breadth of his shoulders and also lightly furred with soft hair; swirling faintly around his nipples and up to the collar bone but thicker in the center where it plunged downward, bisecting the ridges of Jed’s flat belly, widening out a bit around the deep pool of his navel then, finally, plunging into a tight dark forest of pubes. ‘Step onto the scales.’ Jed silently obeyed and was weighed in at two hundred and five pounds. Some veterinary technicians had joined the group and one of them frowned, ‘Get an exact measurement of his height.’ This was quickly accomplished and, as Jed already knew, that was revealed to be six feet two inches exactly. The technician made a note on his clip board before remarking, ‘Needs just a little bulking up and where this one’s headed he’s going to need all of the muscle he can pack on. I’m recommending six weeks of intensive forced exercise before assignment- that should do the trick. A buck his height should weigh in between two fifteen and twenty without an ounce of extra fat.’ Turning toward Jed, another technician motioned toward a booth in a different part of the room, ‘Step into the photographic cubicle,’ he said, ‘You will be purchased, and subsequently owned, by the government and almost certainly not offered for re-sale or remanded as private property, which would require advertizing, but it’s still a good idea to have a photographic record.’ Jed entered the booth and mounted a low dais where he was photographed with his hands at his sides; frontal, back, and both profiles. He was then instructed to raise his arms with hands clasped behind his head and was photographed in that position, but only frontal and back.
As Samantha watched fascinated, more measurements were taken and notations scribbled on a host of clipboards; width of chest, waist, shoulders, biceps and thighs and the swell of his hard buttocks. Jed was then instructed to extend his arms and measurements were taken from index fingers to the recesses of his hairy pits, now slick with nervous sweat. Jed’s long legs were similarly measured from the soles of his feet to the ticklish inseam of his crotch, torso from collar bone to penis and, finally, penis length and width and the girth of his testicles. At the conclusion of the seemingly endless series of measurements, Jed was instructed to bend over and grasp his ankles. A large rectal thermometer was produced and inserted deep in the hot, inviolate interior of the scandalized buck’s asshole. Samantha giggled as her ex-partner gasped then groaned with discomfort and humiliation. After a few minutes one of the technicians withdrew the thermometer with a flourish and read the results, ‘Perfect,’ he smiled, winking at Samantha, ‘looks like we’ve got ourselves a bona fide healthy red blooded American boy.’
When everything seemed complete the young slave, feeling utterly overwhelmed by the rush of calamitous events, was tersely ordered to mount another dais made of shiny metal in the center of the room. Noticing the restraints bolted to the flat surface and others dangling directly above it from the ceiling, Jed warily obeyed. As expected, the restraints bolted to the surface of the dais were attached to his ankles- lightly spreading his muscular legs but not in a way to cause extreme tension- and, similarly, those dangling from the ceiling were attached to Jed’s wrists. An electric winch was engaged and the slave’s strong arms were raised and also lightly spread but, like his legs, not in a way to cause any discomfort or excessive tension. Fixed in place in the fullest possible mode of display, the new field slave was ready for the conclusion of his evaluation and initial processing. Surrendering to nervous tension, Jed ignored previous instructions and, looking about wildly, blurted out, ‘I thought we was done here…what are you gonna do to me now?!’ The bailiff who had reprimanded him earlier produced a slender crop and laid a hard, stinging slash on Jed’s pale ass causing him to yelp with surprised pain. ‘There’s more where that came from, boy. I told you what would happen if you talked out of turn and so it will- count on it.’ Chastened, Jed Randal kept his silence, breathing hard and staring at the floor. ‘Gentlemen, it’s time we put a price on the buck and issue the affidavit of payment that will see justice done for Ms Avalon.’ Samantha was beaming. For the next half an hour several pairs of hands explored and evaluated the physical appearance and, far more important, muscular capabilities of the stock animal that had been Jed Randal. ‘There’s no doubt about it, this dude is killer good looking!’ remarked one of the technicians, running a finger down the straight ridge of Jed’s nose. It was true. Jed had been aware that he was a handsome specimen ever since he had laughingly turned down a modeling contract by one of those faggy agencies, All American Studs or something like that, in his late teens. His features were well-proportioned and masculine with thick brows, a straight nose, defined jaw and full lips and deep gray expressive eyes that sparkled with humor and just a hint of danger. Jed’s full head of slightly curly deep brown hair was, today, tousled and together with a day’s growth of beard stubble gave him a rakish, sexy appearance. ‘Good looks won’t mean much where he’s going,’ one of the technicians remarked before grudgingly acknowledging the obvious, ‘but I get your point- a pretty face can be a selling point wherever a slave ends up.’ They all laughed.
Quite a bit of time was spent kneading and prodding the massed muscle of Jed’s smooth upper and then lower back followed by his very respectable biceps, pectorals and thighs. Though he had been unemployed for over three months, years spent as a manual laborer were still very much evident in his magnificent physique. ‘Not bad at all,’ a technician mumbled as he ran a warm hand over Jed’s hard abs stopping to caress the forest of pubes and prodding the thick base of his penis with a forefinger, which caused the captive to visibly flinch. He made one last notation on his clipboard, ‘and keep in mind the recommendation for intensive physical training, which should augment a product already deemed excellent.’ The others nodded, though one remarked that the cost of Jed’s training should be taken into account when the final price was fixed. Finally, everything seemed in order and, after some further consultation, one of the technicians presented Samantha with the long-awaited affidavit of payment. ‘Ms Avalon, first and foremost, we want to thank you for your generosity in agreeing to waive child support payments in exchange for the proceeds from the sale of Jed. Both you and the federal government should profit from the decision.’ He paused before continuing, smiling brightly. ‘There has been a request for a young and fit male slave at a state owned concrete and asphalt factory in the southwest, which necessarily involves very intensive hard labor harvesting and processing the raw materials. We have deemed that, after some physical training, Jed should do nicely at that post and will, most likely, remain there for the foreseeable future.’ Samantha nodded, anxious for the price to be settled. Fully aware of her expectations (he had been through the process many times) the technician cleared his throat and made the government’s offer, ‘All things having been considered- the slave’s age, physical suitability and likely length and quality of service, we are willing to offer you the sum of sixty thousand dollars, less five percent (and taxes), for the sale of Jed Randal into perpetual servitude.’ Samantha whispered her happy assent, signed the affidavit of payment and was escorted from the room. She never saw Jed Randal, ex-lover and father of her twins, again.
When Samantha had made her exit the final stages of Jed Randal’s processing commenced. Though branding was legal and often practiced by nostalgic private parties on their unfortunate slaves, the government deemed the practice both barbaric and, more to the point, inefficient. Jed received, instead, a permanent tattoo with a complex bar code on his left buttock. Though less than half an inch wide and about an inch in length, it contained a complex code that imparted all of the slave’s vital statistics and the address of the county offices where further, more detailed records, would be kept. Just to be safe, Jed was also injected with a microchip containing the same information deep in the muscle of his bull-like neck. ‘Brace yourself, boy…this is going to hurt,’ the technician whispered as he plunged a syringe at least half a centimeter wide into the warm flesh. Jed shrieked as tendrils of hot agony engulfed him and nearly passed out. Just managing to hold onto consciousness, he was now dripping with panicked sweat. ‘Hmmmm, looks like his pain threshold is somewhere around a solid ‘medium’, which isn’t such a bad thing as it makes him more responsive to the whip than if it were higher but with more stamina for prolonged labor than if it were lower.’ ‘True enough,’ one of the others replied, ‘and that reminds me; he hasn’t yet received his mandatory whipping.’ Turning toward one of the bailiffs, he arched an eyebrow, ‘Officer, would you do the honors?’ ‘With pleasure,’ the grinning court cop replied even as Jed interjected, ‘Please…I ain’t done nothing wrong!’ ‘You just did, and for the third time, boy. Let me make things perfectly clear; a slave speaks up without being spoken to for one reason and one reason only and he only has one thing to say. Here it is: Permission to speak, sir? Is that understood?’ ‘Yessir,’ Jed mumbled. ‘But that’s not the reason for your whipping, boy; it’s only the reason for the number of lashes I’m going to give you.’ His grin got impossibly wider. ‘The government stipulates a mandatory whipping of every newly indentured slave- stipulated at twenty lashes- in order to acquaint him with basic consequences for infractions of any kind whatsoever. That has nothing to do, this time, with you having done anything wrong. Is that understood?’ Near tears, Jed muttered his ‘Yessir’ a second time. ‘Well done,’ the bailiff drawled and picking up the crop that he had used so skillfully before, landed another stinging blow across the helpless buck’s heaving chest. That was followed by five more in quick succession, as his hairy victim, still fixed in place at wrists and ankles, nevertheless managed to dance a frantic jig. At twenty a sobbing Jed Randal was covered in bright welts on his chest, abs, and broad back. ‘Very good,’ the bailiff sighed, ‘now for twenty extra as a reward for speaking out of turn.’ Trading the crop for a leather multi-strand flogger he only paused, a quarter of the way through the count, in order to have Jed gagged as his guttural bellowing could be heard by office workers several corridors away.
They gave the new slave a short break after that but Jed was still kept strung up naked on the dais, in serious discomfort now- not only from his thorough whipping, but with the more subtle ache of prolonged muscular tension in spread legs and raised arms. A few more perfunctory tests followed- urine and blood samples, a lock of his hair for a more permanent DNA record, mouth, ears and anus probed…and, clearly, now almost finished, one of the technicians grasped Jed’s swinging testicles, roughly fondling each between thumb and forefinger. ‘What about a semen sample?’ ‘I really don’t see the point,’ one of his co-workers replied. Judge Carson recommended castration in her report and the poor stud’s been booked into the veterinary clinic at ten tomorrow to get snipped, on compassionate grounds…’ he trailed off. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right…’ but the technician still sounded doubtful, ‘I mean where he’s going they sure as hell won’t be of any use except to get him all hot and bothered. Still,’ he slapped Jed’s swaying nuts hard, winking at the gagging sounds replacing the muffled protests behind the gag, ‘I’ll bet that, given the choice, you just might see things different, eh boy?’ Jed Randal, finally reaching the precipice of terror and exhaustion, softly slipped into unconsciousness. He would wake several hours later in a holding cell; his first full day as a field slave about to begin.
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Ron6677 - May 6, 2017, 8:03 pm
jed randall looks a lot like kellan lutz,,,can we get more pictures, maybe naked
conversation17 - May 10, 2017, 9:16 pm
One of my favourite stories. A helpless, beautiful, well built man at the mercy of an uncaring wife, uncaring civil servants, smiling officers with whips, strung up naked, learning about the life of pain that will be the norm for every day of his life. Muscle and flesh in the service of people who want to hurt him. Woof! That fabulous bicep tells it all! Thanks as always, Amalaric.
captive punisher - May 16, 2017, 9:42 pm
Oh, to be privy to Jed’s experiences as a field slave at that factory in the southwest! The anticipation is achingly beautiful here. And I have also fallen in love with that bicep. My thanks as well, Amalaric, for your masterful pairing of picture and prose.
Drum - May 19, 2017, 10:41 am
Such exquisite attention to detail. one can almost smell the sweat of Jed’s fear hear beating of his heart. Beautiful Amalaric.