Slavery Legalized

by Draugr & Element

Chapter 1: The Rocky Road Home

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This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License](%5C)

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The two slave police dragged a dirty-looking creature by his arms, and threw him in the dirt in front of his master. He managed to look up, badly beaten though he was, and gave a barely visible smirk. He had torn up his master pretty good. Half the stallion's face was bandaged, as well as down his left arm and the same side of his chest. He wasn't wearing a shirt - probably those wounds were still a bit too tender. Trent , the slaver responsible for the wolf's capture, was nowhere to be seen, a small comfort for the slave. The stallion knelt down before his slave, staring him in the eyes. The wolf instantly looked away - maintaining eye contact is incredibly difficult for a slave to do - especially the abused ones. The horse grabbed his muzzle, and forced the slave's eyes back on his. All the wolf could do at this point was look over to the side, as he was too weak to fight back. The horse's other hand reached down and clenched the slave's testicles, rather roughly, eliciting a yelp of pain.

"You're lucky I don't have you put down, or at the very least, castrated, Bitch." That was the only name by which he had ever referred to his 'property.' Well, that, and sometimes 'Slut.' "Lucky for you, though, I'm a greedy motherfucker, and you'll fetch more money with your balls intact." The horse spit on him, the liquid disappearing into the months of dirt, grime, sweat, blood, tears, and other unmentionable substances that had settled into his once beautiful coat. He stood up and walked away, heading towards the front door of his manor.

"Pardon him. Let me know next week how much he brings." The slave let out a sigh of relief. No doubt whoever bought him next would be sadistic and evil as well, but he didn't think anyone could be worse than his...well, now, his former master. The slave struggled to stand up, and couldn't. The beating the police had given him, upon his capture, had taken way too much energy out of him. He didn't have much energy to draw on either - as his master grew less interested with him, and his will to resist withered under the daily rapes he received, he'd had to subsist the last few months on table scraps and garbage diving, or whatever he could lick out of his fur after his former master and his friends played "Throw Things at Bitch," which was infinitely better than "Fuck Bitch Until He Passes Out," which was the other favorite.

The cops jerked the wolf to his feet, and hauled him off to the police wagon. It wasn't really a wagon, mind you, but a pickup, specially converted for hauling slaves. The bed of the truck had numerous small cages, which seemed to be built to minimize comfort in every way possible. Cold steel, not even tall enough to sit up without giving oneself a horrible backache. The best one could do was just curl up into a ball and try and sleep with the hard bars pressing into you from every side - which is exactly what the wolf did.

The next four days were a living hell for the poor creature. He went through some mandatory retraining, which doesn't have as much to do with training as it does beating and raping. Re-educators are a particularly sadistic bunch. He made it through alive, somehow, resisting every step of the way - probably the reason they hadn't bathed him, much to the wolf's disappointment. At this moment he was laying in a cage behind the auction house stage, ready to be sold off to some other horrible fur looking for an outlet for his or her anger.

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Two guards were standing by a cage in the auction house, staring at the dirty, scrappy-looking creature inside.

"I don't know why they keep this little shit alive. I heard he damn near killed his last master, and the only reason they didn't put him down is because his master requested it! But, I guess there are things worse than death."

The other guard grumbled. "Dunno why he ain't been neutered yet, at the very least. I had my slave fixed when he started acting up, and he's been pretty complacent since then. They're more valuable whole, I guess. Course, I guess if someone chopped off my balls I wouldn't be acting up too much more, either." Both of them shared a bout of cruel laughter.

The auctioneer walked down the rows of cages towards the guards, and stopped when he got to the wolf. He was a bit beat-up - the trainer had been unusually harsh with him, due to his repeat escapes. He didn't know how he'd gotten into slavery, and he didn't care - he was a slave, and that's where he belonged, and it was the trainer's job to beat him into submission, and it was his job to get them sold. The slave looked like some sort of mixed-breed mutt. Undeniably wolven, but he had some black marks on his muzzle, and slightly darker limbs below the elbows and knees, which were much more vulpine features. He was a bit small for a wolf too - not comically so, but enough to notice. The smaller ones were easier to control, which might bring up his price a bit. He could probably claim he was an exotic, too, with the unusual markings.

The auctioneer grimaced a bit, as he looked him over further. The slave had a few partially healed lacerations across his back where he'd been whipped. Bruises all over his body, and a healing, but blackened eye.

"Is he even ready for the block?" he asked the slave dealer who currently owned the wolf.

"He can move. I don't think this animal will bring much money, but I'm sick of putting up with his shit. I pity whoever ends up buying him - he don't take to slavery very well. I just want him off my hands as soon as you can manage it."

What the slaver did not tell him was that some of the 'animals,' as he referred to them, were captured, and forced into servitude. It was a dirty black-market trade, and unfortunately one that was tolerated, to a degree. As is the case with almost any institution, it was riddled with corruption.

"We've got a few of our more...sadistic...customers here tonight." the auctioneer said. "I imagine one of them would enjoy 'breaking in' an unwilling slave." The cops, the slaver, and the auctioneer all enjoyed a chuckle at this. "Although it would be interesting to see one of the care-bears try and deal with him!" he continued. More laughter. "Care-bears" was a derogatory term people in this trade used for furs who bought slaves and preferred using positive reinforcement and reward programs to train them, rather than the accepted methods of punishment and fear.

The wolf in the cage stayed silent through all of this. The past week had been hell - he'd been chained up like an animal, beaten, spit on, called names, and mercilessly raped. There was still defiance in his eyes, but the light was fading.

"Well, get him ready, he's up in just a few blocks." The auctioneer left. Trent, the slaver, and the cops poked several shock sticks into the cage, causing the poor creature inside to yelp, dropping to the floor of the cage, briefly stunned, not even giving him a chance to comply. The slaver opened up the door, and muzzled him. Trent didn't want to take any risks with this one - he didn't trust the trainers. In the slaver's opinion, they were too easy with the animals. A slave needed beaten regularly, to insure he knew his place. He gave his already-cracked ribs a good kick for measure, eliciting another yelp and some tears from the wolf.

"Come to think of it, maybe you can give me one last good fuck..."

The wolf cried out for help, but nobody would answer to a slave. He didn't have any rights...and even though the slaver was not his owner, he was still his legal handler at the moment. His tail was jerked up roughly, and his hind legs scrambled for purchase to relieve the pain in his tailbones. But then, Trent's jaws clamped down over his neck. He went still and stopped struggling instantly - it was an automatic instinct. The slaver, a very well-endowed dragon, placed his cock up against the wolf's tailhole, and plunged it all in, in a single thrust. Luckily, the wolf was already loosened from the past week of almost nonstop rape, or something certainly would have torn. Still, it was incredibly painful, and he screamed as loud as he could from within the muzzle. Trent started thrusting rapidly - in and out, in and out.

"Gotta make this quick, cock slut, because in ten minutes I won't be allowed to do this anymore."

The wolf whimpered, just wishing he could die right there. He looked outside his cage, trying to find someone else to focus on...but all the other slaves just turned their eyes away in pity. The poorly-behaved ones, like him, were in cages too. The well-trained slaves, the ones who accepted their existence, simply had their leashes tied to the tram system. Suddenly he felt Trent's knot slamming against his abused pucker. His eyes got wide and he tried to struggle - Trent had never tied him before, and it was all he could do to take just his cock! Trent clamped down harder on his neck, drawing just a little bit of blood as his teeth scraped across the wolf's fur.

"Stop wriggling, bitch!" he said, as his knot popped into his victim. The wolf screamed again - he thought he'd just been split in half. Only seconds later he could feel Trent cum inside him, coating his insides with dragon seed. Dragon seed had some very small healing properties, which meant his rape could probably be chalked up to "heavy use" when he was displayed on stage in a few minutes. His eyes widened as he felt Trent pulling back on him, not even waiting for his knot to swell down. He clamped down with his anus, trying to keep it inside him...but Trent was a dragon, much larger and stronger than the wolf. The poor creature blacked out for a few seconds after they had separated, not even having time to scream at the pain. He awoke quickly, tears streaming down his muzzle.

"I hope your next master ain't as nice as me, you worthless sack of shit." he whispered harshly. Pulling Randall out, he slammed the door to the cage and leashed him to the auction train in his assigned spot. The slaver enjoyed the unwilling ones...but this one had just been a pain, and he couldn't wait to get him off his hands, even if he didn't bring much money. If he didn't sell here, maybe he'd just put the animal down himself. That was still illegal to do by private citizens...but illegal wasn't something that really bothered the slaver.

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Not more than a few hours before Trent's ravaging attack, a young lion was walking down the street, heading toward the city's slave registration halls. Those were places where furs could sell themselves, and then auctioned and sold to free furs. These things had been around since the lion was only a cub of five years of age, and he didn't really understand it at that time. However, as he grew up, classes in basic slavery and basic mastery classes were introduced, and decreed mandatory for any free furs now in the education system. So, the young lion had grown up around this all his life and these sorts of arrangements were considered something natural and moral.

As he walked up to the huge building he ran his paws through his dark brown hair and smiled. As he walked in, he saw two young boys dressed in small bellhop outfits passing out fliers. Around their necks they wore slave collars. The lion smirked as he passed by, thinking those boys were very lucky to be working here as slaves instead of somewhere else. His eyes gazed at the flier, looking up the times for today's slave auctions. The flier divided the auctions by natural born slaves, slaves being resold, who were already trained, and brand-new slaves to the system. Some owners enjoyed breaking in their slaves themselves, and being even crueler then the trainers at the processing factories - who were especially notorious for their cruelty. After that, the slaves were divided by genus - felines, canines, reptiles, and all other manner of furs.

He took a seat in the lobby and looked at the schedule, but wasn't sure what he wanted. He had only graduated less then a year ago and inherited his fathers shipping company soon after that. With all the training he got in school, and his ideas to better the company, production had increased by 26% - which was impressive, considering he hadn't fired anyone. Since he was the boss, and didn't own a single slave yet, he had decided it was time to at least get one to help around his house.

The lion finally decided he would go the former free-trained auction, thinking it would be easier not to have to train a new slave himself. An ironic thought crossed his mind, and he picked the canines instead of the felines. Cats and dogs had a quite a lot of conflict in their ancient history, although thankfully they had evolved past all that nonsense. He just though owning his own little dog slave would be cute. He made his way to the directory and saw the large map displaying the multi-floored building and smirked, still amazed, as always, at how large it was. This registry house was the primary unit in the tri-state area and was essential for the reforms when slavery was legalized.

After he found he needed to be on the fourth floor he made his way to the elevator and waited for it to come down. When it eventually made its way he was greeted by a young lioness slave girl in some kind of hostess outfit - quite simple looking, yet stylish for the young girl.

"Good evening, Sir, what floor would you like?" The lion walked in smiling at her and stood against the wall.

"Floor four, please."

"Yes, Sir, floor four coming right up." The doors closed and the soft elevator music played. Georgio didn't like silence and knew this elevator was a bit slow so he decided to make conversation with the young girl.

"Hello there, how are you? Workin' hard or hardly workin'?" he laughed. The lion blushed a bit - he didn't even casually use such low-class slang with free furs.

"Um...I'm... I'm working hard, Sir, I promise..." She seemed too shy and meek, so he just leaned in and pet her head as he gave her a little scratch behind the ear, eliciting a soft purr.

"Now, now I'm only kidding with you little one, don't be so jumpy. Not all masters are mean and quick to whip you." She meeped and was pulled out of the enjoyment of the scratch.

"Oh. Um, of course, Sir, I would never think such a thing, I apologize if I gave you that idea."

Georgio chuckled. "I'm only making conversation...how long are you enslaved for...ah...what's your name?" She smiled and blushed more, looking down shyly.

"M-my name is Carol, Sir, and I was born a slave, Sir." He smiled and pet her head.

"Really? Well, you have a beautiful name and you're very lucky to be working here. I certainly hope they treat you well. In fact, here...," he paused as he gave her a small business card. "Keep this with you, I'm well known around the auction houses and slave blocks, give this to a guard if they ever tell you you're gonna be sold, I know a few good gay couples that would just love a sweet thing like you as a house girl." Carol could only smile and nodded enthusiastically. Georgio would hate to see this one fall into the hands of some sadistic rapist. She really seemed sweet, and deserved a good home, he thought.

"Yes Sir, thank you, Sir."

Most young slaves that worked at the auction house were sold right at age eighteen. Even though they didn't own anything, even the clothing they wore, when others saw that card he gave her, it was seen like having a ball of fire in your paw. It was seen as something amazing and special and all guards knew to be extra special to a slave holding one of those. Georgio worked in the slave trades, specifically shipping and auction houses in the tri-state area, and typically did his best to find slaves a decent home. He wasn't some saint to slaves or anything but he did try to treat them with kindness, though it was a firm kindness.

The lion walked off the elevator as the lioness slipped the card into her breast pocket and had the biggest smile on her face he had ever seen. He made his way down the hall, passing auction rooms, most large but some small for more rare or less desirable species. Georgio eventually made his way to a doorway leading to a large auction room. Number 419 - exactly the right place.

He was greeted by an older-looking (for this place) bear slave, about in his late twenties, perhaps.

"Greetings, Sir, shall I assist you in finding a seat? Are you looking for anything in particular in the canine family, Sir?"

"Good call - but actually, I'm looking for just anything to catch my eye, something out of the ordinary, something different than your average slave, maybe," he smirked.

The bear only nodded and lead him down the aisle to a single seat in the third row.

"Well, Sir, I have browsed today's selection and I believe we may have one or two that may meet your desires."

"Alright then, thank you." He noticed a blue line ran around his collar, as he sat down. Some slaves could hold higher positions, if enslaved in certain businesses, and were given some kind of simple mark to accentuate there status. Sometimes they were even given special privileges and power over lower-ranked slaves.

The bear departed and helped the next fur coming while the lion sat. He looked at the large stage and saw a small podium for the auctioneer and a small, square, rotating stand for the slave to stand on while a trainer brought them out on a leash, or some kind of restraint. However, for former untrained free they typically came in shackles - but since he was at a former-trained slave auction, he didn't foresee anything going amuck. even if a slave tried something stupid, he or she would be taken down immediately by their handlers.

It had been quite a while since Georgio was at an auction, even to only observe. He was a bit excited for the auctioneer to come out and start announcing slaves one by one. He remembered that they would begin by announcing the slave's species, health state, height, weight, all the normal little details, then move on to sexual details such as semen production, cock size, and knot size if applicable. After that they would announce the slave's sentence, what he was charged with, or if he was for life. If that were the case, it didn't really matter, but it would be in the slave's papers when he received them after purchase. Finally, he'd end with some basic information about their personality, if available. But it had been a long time, and different auctioneers did things differently - but it was fun to reminisce about old auctions.

About thirty minutes into the auction, a few typical canines had run through the auction already - well built, very healthy, perfectly trained. They all went for fairly moderate prices - nothing terribly low, and nothing terribly high. The lion saw the canines pass by one by one and didn't even bother to bid on any. He leaned back into his chair, unimpressed by any stock he had seen so far. They were boring, and he was looking for something more of a challenge. When the auctioneer announced something a bit more unique, however, he sat up, his curiosity officially piqued.

At long last the "unruly one" was brought out. Several members of the audience gasped at his appearance. The lion's maw dropped slightly. He knew some trainers could be brutal but selling him in this condition...it really showed how much he must have resisted and hated them. Bruises, cuts...scrawny, beat up, and filthy. He was muzzled, and shackled to a ceiling-mounted trolley system that would pull him along onto the stage. He looked down at the floor, his ears were pulled back against his head, and his tail was tucked between his legs, in a vain attempt to preserve his modesty. He was stark naked. This specimen wasn't skinny by any means, but he wasn't as filled out as the other slaves. Tears stained his muzzle.

Georgio couldn't help but notice his body was unique and it appeared he had a little bit of fox blood in him. He leaned back and frowned seeing the poor beaten thing, looking like it wanted to die right then and there. This was something different alright...but goodness, he barely looked like he would survive another day. The lion could see he had a bit of spirit left in him though.

"Next up we have a wolf - though it appears from a few markings he's a mixed-breed. Must have some vulpine blood in him a few generations back. A great slave for anyone with slightly exotic tastes, but not willing to take on a dragon's wrath. But be warned! He's a lifer, escaped three times already, and recently had to be put through retraining. As you can see by his...unfortunate...condition, it hasn't taken well. I know some of you out there have experience breaking in unwilling slaves, maybe this one is for you? Or perhaps you think a more gentle hand will change his ways? Doesn't matter to me, as long as I get paid!"

"He's only 5'5", so there's not too much to handle for those of you with less muscle available. A bit on the light side at 115lbs, but he could easily fill out a bit." The auctioneer grabbed hold of his collar, indicating the tags that showed his vaccinations.

"He's had his shots, and..." Here, he indicated towards the slaver, who nodded his head, and roughly jerked his tail out from between his legs, "...still whole, despite his disciplinary problems." That was an important thing to mention, thought the auctioneer. Might get a little bit more for him. Lifers had less legal rights than term-length slaves, and masters could choose to castrate males if they were too uncooperative. He was a bit surprised, though, that the state hadn't intervened and forcibly neutered him, considering his behavior record.

The wolf whined as the last tiny bit of dignity was forcibly stripped from him, and shut his eyes. This couldn't be happening again... He let out a barely audible whimper as something was forced up his ass without the aid of any lubricant, and turned on, electrically stimulating his prostate. Moments later his "little soldier" was at full attention. He could have died from embarrassment. He certainly wanted to. The device was yanked out just as roughly, eliciting a muffled yelp from within his muzzle.

"As you can see, pretty well-endowed, good sized knot. Perhaps a bit on the small side, but nothing out of the average range we see here. Would make for good breeding stock, if you can get him to lay with females...he's a tail-raiser, you see."

Not to fuckwads like you, not willingly, the wolf thought, but he kept his silence. A tear ran down his muzzle as he remembered the humiliation he'd been forced through two nights ago under the hands of this auctioneer.

He turned the wolf around, and a quick swat with a switch signaled the slave to bend over and raise his tail. "He's been a bit over-used recently, as you can see, but I have it on good authority that he heals up almost virgin-tight. Any of you out there looking for a good, but cheap sex slave, he might be just what you're looking for."

"So, let the bidding begin. If you're looking for one of the few slaves left on the market with an independent streak left in him, you've come to the right place tonight. Do I hear $900?" Starting far less than what he was worth was a good trick - people would think they were getting a great deal, and then would all try to get the bid, driving up the price far more than it would otherwise.

Georgio was surprised the auctioneer was offering so little...but since this slave was in such poor physical condition, it made sense.

A small-looking tiger raised her hand in the back.

"Nine hundred, to the tigress in the back!" shouted the auctioneer, thinking she must be suicidal.

A cruel-looking, large German Shepherd near the front row, raised his paw and shouted in a deep voice "Twelve hundred dollars!" with a rather wicked and lustful grin on his muzzle. The wolf saw this and whimpered, praying that he wouldn't get sold to him.

As the bidding started Georgio looked around, trying to get an idea of which furs were bidding on the wolf. He only knew of the bidders by reputation, but going by those standards...it wasn't looking good for the poor thing either way.

The lion wasn't sure if it was pity or legitimate interest, because suddenly his arm raised up to bid, even before he knew it. "Twenty-four hundred dollars!" He was quite well known around the auction house - as being absolutely loaded. Most bidders backed down knowing that he was the one that wanted the slave and he would get it. Georgio kept bidding and saw he tigress started to match him. She was a particularly cruel mistress...almost as bad as the German Shepherd, and it might be worse for the wolf going to her, if he was indeed a tail-raiser like the auctioneer claimed.

"Thirty-six hundred dollars!" the lion yelled. He looked over at the tigress as she raised her bid up to four thousand. Georgio paused for a moment and looked at the wolf. He wasn't really worth anything close to that, and definitely not more...but his heart just melted when he saw the look in his eyes, like he wanted to die. If anything, he could at least give this poor creature a little love...he'd clearly known none at all.

"Five...Thousand." he said, a bit hesitantly. Georgio wanted to end the bidding soon, he thought it must be absolutely nerve-wracking for the poor wolf to see his fate bounce around like this. The tigress growled and looked away, defeated.

"Sold, to the lion in the third row! You can sign the papers and pick him up in the back."

The wolf was pulled off the auctioneer block along the tram system suspended above, as the next canine was brought out. The lion thought he looked like a nervous wreck, as he disappeared behind the curtain.

Georgio stood up as the wolf was taken off stage. He knew he wouldn't get hold of him for a half hour, since he had to go fill out paperwork, and then slave had to be prepped for transport. The lion casually strolled to the public back entrance of the stage and smiled as he saw a dingo sitting at an old desk, working the post-purchase paperwork for the previous slaves. Things the auctioneer was responsible for submitting to the government, so that slaves could be tracked.

"Hello there, I just purchased myself a slave and I've come to take him - that ragged-looking wolf they just had."

Back behind stage, while Georgio was filling out his slave's papers, in the "Staff & Handlers Only" section, the wolf was getting prepared to start yet another segment of his life. He sighed as he was pulled along, entering the confinement area, where he knew he would get beaten some more.

And we get to start this all over again...is it really worth trying anymore? Maybe Daniel was right...I should just accept my fate.

He sighed again. Five years ago he never would have come close to thinking anything like that...but five years of severe beatings, nightly rapes, usually more than one, and all sorts of abuse wears a fur's mind thin, and his once powerful will was beginning to break.

As he grew closer to Trent, the slaver smacked him a couple more times with a hard metal baton before he even had a chance to get to his knees.

"Looks like we finally got rid of you, bitch. And for not a bad price either."

The slaver grabbed a fistful of his headfur and jerked his muzzle upwards, forcing the wolf to look into his eyes.

"Now listen here, bitch, you escape one more time and I come tracking you down, I'm done putting up with your shit. I'll make sure there's a bounty out on your pathetic hide, and I'll shoot you dead myself. Maybe make a nice wolf-skin rug for my living room. Do I make myself clear?"

The wolf stayed silent, earning another smack from the metal baton.

"Answer me, you little shit!"

"Yes...sir." he managed, hating that he was practically forced to say it...but having no other choice if he wanted to avoid another beating.

"Now behave. It's fuckwads like you that give good slavers like me a bad name. I don't want any assholes running their mouths off about how ol' Trent sells 'em disobedient slugs."

The slaver spit his chewing tobacco on him in disgust, and finished shackling him up.

"Get him out of here." he said to the two slave police officers.

The two officers escorted him silently to his traveling cage, thankfully holding back from beating him any further. He entered the cage without putting up a struggle. It was barely big enough for the wolf to sit down in, much less stand, so he curled up as best he could, although that wasn't comfortable either. His own smell was staring to get to him, too. He'd had all sorts of unmentionable things that ended up being rubbed deep into his fur, and was never given a chance to bathe...which he hated. He took pride in having a clean coat of fur, but that was out of his control now.

He fell asleep, exhausted from his injuries, somewhere on the way to the loading bay. He felt neither apprehension, excitement, nor any other kind of emotion about his new master. He'd seen it all...in his status, you had no choice but to accep...deal with things as they came.

After Georgio had finished all the paperwork, he was shocked upon seeing his new acquisition. Usually the slaves were put in a nicer collar and given a leash to walk out but when he saw the wolf carted out in a cage he was surprised to say the least. He knelt down, looking at him. The wolf was clearly out cold and looked up at the two slave guards rolling him in.

"He's clearly been trouble, huh?"

"Yep, little animal has been a pain in everyone's ass."

"Well, then, I'll take him off your hands, please help me roll him out to my car, will you?"