MaxStevens

Master Maxwell's
House of Slaves

Chapter 1
Chris's New Home

"Please! I… I… can't… breathe…" the boy called out, his voice muffled by the plastic shield of the gasmask covering his face. A corrugated rubber hose running from the valve on the mask to a large machine positioned a few feet away from him, to one side. It was a vintage looking respirator, with an accordion style ventilator inside a clear tube. Right now it was inflated, but the air was not being sent through the tube into the boy's mask. So the small amount of air that was in the mask was his own breath, which was quickly becoming toxic. "Please… please…" The boy was almost panting by now, shaking his head, trying to find any good air that he could get into his lungs. He was trapped, sitting in a medical looking examination chair. His legs were bound to the extended leg rests with a strap over each ankle, another above and below his knees, and a fourth on each leg, right under his hips. His arms were restrained in a very similar manner on the armrests, leather straps over each wrist, above and below the elbow, and even under the shoulders. His torso was held with two straps over the chest and another under the belly. And his waist was held to the bottom of the seat by yet another leather strap. The only parts of his body he could move were his hands, and his head, all of which were frantically shaking by this point.

"You can breathe if you want to," a man said, standing on the opposite side of the frantic boy. "You know what to do. Just press the button." The boy in the chair was completely naked from head to toe, with the exception of the gas mask, the straps holding him to the chair, and a black leather collar. There were also about a dozen small black contacts stuck all over the boy's body with cords running from his body back to the respirator. There was a pair on each of his upper arms, the bottoms of each of his forearms, his calves, his thighs, and even on his nipples. There was even a pair stuck to the bottom of the boy's small ball sack.

In one of the boy's hands was a handheld device with a red button lit up at one end, like you might see contestants using on a game show to buzz in. He knew all too well, that he could press that button at any time and get fresh air into his mask, but every time he pressed it, he would receive a stronger shock to each of those pads on his body, and the duration would increase each time as well. He was still in pain from the last one, and was too scared to press it again. He didn't think his body could take the pain, but he also knew that it couldn't last much longer without fresh air either. Tears were pouring down either side of his face as his chest began to heave, craving fresh air. He closed his eyes and let his thumb come down on the button.

~~~

"AAAAA!" Chris screamed, sitting up in his bed, and looking around frantically. He was breathing rapidly, sweat and tears rolling down his face again. It took a few minutes for him to calm down and realize it was another nightmare. His breathing relaxed a bit, and the tears stopped, but the cold sweat continued a little while longer. He rolled over and looked at the clock. "6:18am" He sighed and laid back down, turning his head to the side of his pillow and wiping the tears off. Still another 42 minutes before he could get up. He was lying on a rather nice looking bed. It had blue sheets and a bright red blanket. His head was on top of a fluffy blue pillow and the mattress was extremely comfortable. If someone just glanced, they would think he was a normal boy in a normal bedroom, but a closer look would reveal that the boy's wrists were being held by two black leather cuffs, each secured to an electronic lock attached to the head of the boy's bed. The locks would release when his alarm went off, at 7:00am.

He had been placed in these special locks every night for the past two years, give or take a few months. He couldn't even remember for sure how long he had been here or too much about his life before the man had begun his training. He had become used to it. He didn't even notice the collar any more. It was just another accessory. It was sometimes the only article of clothing he was allowed to wear, but most of the time he was dressed like any other normal kid his age. The only thing out of the ordinary was the black leather collar, and matching cuffs he wore on his wrists and ankles. He slept in them, bathed in them, and basically lived in them at all times. When he was in public, he would cover them with long sleeves and pants, but the collar was always visible. If someone asked, he would just tell them that he enjoyed wearing it. The truth was, if it was ever removed, his master would surely punish him, and if it was ever lost, the punishment would be quite severe.

Chris could still remember meeting the man that would become his master. He was excited at the time. The boy had spent most of the first eight years of his life as an orphan. It wasn't too terrible. He liked most of the workers at the orphanage. He had a few friends. They took care of him. He was a happy boy, but he had always longed for a family. A mother, a father, and possibly even some brothers or sisters, anyone that would care for him and love him would be a dream come true. When he first interviewed with the man, he was all smiles. Chris was a cute boy; there was no doubt about that. He had wavy blonde hair that came to an adorable curl right on top of his brow and to the sides of his ears. He had bright blue eyes and a beautiful white smile. He was short and small for his age, and had a bit of baby fat on his body still, but he wasn't chubby. He was average weight for a boy his age. He was healthy and always tried to stay clean, at least as clean as an eight year old boy could be after playing on the playground or rolling around on the floor with his friends.

Maxwell Curtis was his name, and he seemed so nice. He was nicely dressed when Chris first met him. He looked like he had just come from work or something, wearing a nice pair of tan slacks and a blue buttoned down shirt. He looked younger than he really was, like someone that had recently graduated from college and taken a job as a teacher or something, but in reality, he worked as a social worker with the state and was actually in his early thirties. He had stylish brown framed glasses and blue eyes himself. He even had blonde hair, just like Chris, only it was straight and spiked a bit. He was tall, nearly a two full feet taller than eight year old Chris, but he didn't look intimidating at all. He had a kind smile and a friendly face. He had some muscles, but didn't look overly athletic. He was definitely in good physical shape though, as if he ran or worked out on a regular basis.

The first few interviews went great. Chris seemed to like him and Maxwell was definitely interested in the boy. After a couple of weeks, it was finally time for Chris to go home. He was thrilled. It was possibly the best day of his life. He was finally getting a real home… his own room, a real father, a new school, maybe some new friends. He felt like he was flying on a cloud as he dragged his bag of clothes and toys towards the door of the orphanage, giving the employees a few hugs on his way out. And the first day had been all he had dreamed of. He was treated to a nice meal, given a nice room to unpack and settle into. He was given a tour of Maxwell's home. Every room seemed better than the last. There was a television room with the largest TV Chris had ever seen… 80 inches, LED, surround sound, and 3D capability. At the end of the hallway was a large library, with beautiful picturesque windows overlooking the huge backyard. Across the hall from the television room was a den with several couches, chairs and even another view of the lawn out back. The dining room looked like it could seat at least ten people, and the kitchen looked like it belonged in a five star restaurant. The upstairs was just as nice as the lower level. His room had its own TV, a computer, plenty of toys and shelves and a comfortable bed. The bathroom looked like it belonged in the presidential suite of a fancy hotel… marble tiles, golden fixtures, a large spa like bathtub, and a beautiful glass walled shower. There were a few other guest rooms on the upper level, but Chris wasn't concerned about those. When he went to bed that night, he was in heaven.

Over the first few weeks, the paradise of Chris's new home kept an almost constant smile on his face, but then things began to change. Maxwell began to introduce new rules almost every day. They weren't too bad at first, but after a while, they became very uncomfortable and strange. He was not allowed to wear underwear? If he disobeyed, he lost clothes privileges. He was not allowed to speak without permission. He couldn't leave his room without requesting to do so. He was not allowed to leave the house at all. What was going on? He finally got his answer one day when he argued with Maxwell about another new rule. He had to eat his food on the floor, almost like an animal. He was no longer allowed to use any furniture. He even had to sleep on the floor in his own room. "Why?! Why do you keep taking things away from me? I didn't do anything wrong. This isn't fair!!" Chris whined, throwing a bit of a tantrum. That was what Maxwell had been waiting for. He took this opportunity to quickly change Chris's heaven into a hell.

From that point on, Chris had been systematically broken down mentally, physically, and emotionally and brought back up as the perfect slave. There was almost never an argument any more. There was no back talk, no attitude, nothing. Maxwell would tell Chris what to do, and he would do it. He wouldn't always like it, and most of the time did not enjoy his life, but he had gotten used to it. It was his entire existence now. Child slavery was illegal, but there was a market for it anyway. Maxwell had made most of his money by training and selling slaves, but had never had one of his own until Chris. He was special and he was treated nicely now that he was properly trained, but those months of training still haunted him. He would wake up like he had this morning on a regular basis, remembering one of the many treatments he had been given during his training.

He just sighed and checked the clock again, "6:53". Seven more minutes. He repositioned his body to get some stiffness out of his arms and just stared at the ceiling above his bed for a while. He was trying to take his mind off the fact that he had been feeling an urge to go to the bathroom since he first woke up in a cold sweat. That was the worst part of waking up startled from one of his flashbacks. It almost always meant he had to go to the bathroom, and until seven, he wasn't able to. Maxwell trusted Chris by now. He wasn't afraid that the boy would try to run away at night, but he did need a nightly reminder that he was not free. It was more of a continuous mental conditioning. Unfortunately, his bladder did not condition itself to always cooperate. Forty eight minutes wasn't too bad, but on the occasions when he woke up an hour or two early, he wasn't always able to hold it until his cuffs were released. Maxwell didn't care that the boy was physically unable to leave his bed until the alarm went off. Pissing on his sheets was not tolerated, and if he did so, he would spend the next three nights in one of the holding cells in the basement, lying on the concrete floor. But he wasn't worried about that tonight. He could last seven more minutes.

*Beep… Beep… Beep* Finally! There were two loud clicks and both of the mechanical locks opened, allowing Chris to pull his cuffs from the headrest of the bed. He sat up again and this time wrapped his arms in front of his body and rubbed a bit of the numbness out of them. Then he swung around to the side of his bed and stood up. Chris's physical appearance hadn't changed much in the last two years. He was a bit taller, but his facial features and hair still looked the same. Maxwell took him to get a haircut every other month. He wanted him to always have that boyish look that he had fallen in love with when they had first met. Chris was wearing a plain pair of white briefs. Even before his life had been redefined, he enjoyed sleeping in only his underwear. He walked out of his bedroom and crossed the hall to the luxurious bathroom across from his own room, and finally relieved himself. After washing up, he returned to his room and got dressed. He was glad that he hadn't lost clothing privileges recently. Even after two years of training and spending a lot of time naked around this house, he still felt awkward without clothes on. He put on a pair of blue jeans and a plain red t-shirt with blue seams around the ends of the sleeves and the collar. He didn't put on any socks or shoes. He had no plans on leaving the house today, and liked being barefoot while inside. He glanced at the clock again and gasped, 7:15 already? He better get a move on. He had to get all of his morning chores done before Maxwell woke up at 8am.

Chapter 2
The Meeting

Chris made his way down the stairs silently. He enjoyed his morning chores, mostly because it was so quiet and peaceful around the house in the morning. He was the only one awake. There was nothing to be scared of or nervous about. It was just… calm. His master would wake at eight o'clock, so until then, Chris actually felt like this really was his own home and he could almost imagine that everything was normal. He was just a regular kid with regular chores in a regular family. It was pretty simple. He was just expected to run out to the front gate to get the newspaper and bring it into the dining room, make some coffee and cook and serve breakfast. He didn't mind the work. It was usually the easiest part of his day. His daily routine had become rather monotonous. The mornings weren't too bad, but the rest of the day could be a bit tiring.

On days that Maxwell actually went to work, Chris would usually be sent to a small classroom in the library to study for several hours. It was boring and lonely, but again it was quiet. He almost always got great grades, because he knew what would happen if he didn't. The door of the classroom was on another timer lock system, so he would be trapped in the small room until lunch time. Around noon, he would be released and allowed to usually make himself a small meal. Then after that, he would have his afternoon chores… mowing the lawn, dusting, sweeping, cleaning the bathrooms, and other various household chores. When Maxwell returned home from work, Chris just prayed that he wasn't in a bad mood.

Evenings were always uncertain for the boy. Sometimes it wouldn't be terrible. Maxwell would come home and just want to sit down on a recliner, relax, and watch television. He would usually invite Chris to join him, either sitting on the floor in front of his chair or on his lap. Sometimes his master ordered him to remove his clothes, which Chris still didn't enjoy, but still preferred that over the other options. There were some days where Chris would not only be asked to strip as soon as Maxwell came home, but he would be bound in uncomfortable positions, but at least he would usually still be allowed to sit and watch TV with the man. Then there were the bad days. The days were Maxwell had a lot of stress of frustration from a bad day at work, and Chris was the one that would be used to let out all of those negative emotions. Those were the evenings that usually left the boy with nightmares or traumatic flashbacks weeks, months, or even a year or two in the future.

But today, he knew that Maxwell wouldn't be going to work. It was the weekend, so that meant the whole day was going to be a mystery. It was in his best interest to put the man in a good mood first thing in the morning, so that the rest of the day went nicely. He stepped off of the stairs and began to head towards the front door. It was a long walk to the front gate to get the paper, but at least it looked like it was a nice morning… no rain, bright sunshine, didn't even look windy or cloudy out. He stopped in his tracks a few feet away from the staircase, staring through the large glass windows that covered most of the front wall of the foyer. There was something different. Two cars were parked behind his Master's car and he recognized them. They belonged to Mister Thorne and Mister Donavon, two of Maxwell's business associates from his 'other' job. He did have a legitimate job working with Child Services as a social worker, but he made most of his money by working with these two men. He would house young slaves, train them, and sometimes even acquire them. Chris never felt comfortable around these men. It usually meant that another innocent kid, like Chris had once been, would be spending time downstairs in one of the various 'training rooms'.

He knew that if they were here, then chances were that Maxwell was already awake. He didn't know if he should still go get the paper or try to find his master first. He didn't have to stand there too long in his indecision. A hand landed on his shoulder and Chris flinched, turning to see Maxwell standing behind him. "I see you are awake, slave. I was beginning to wonder when you would make your way down here. Don't worry about your normal chores this morning. I need you to head straight to the kitchen and begin making breakfast. Make enough for three of us. We have company." He said, squeezing the boy's shoulder a bit, and then giving him a quick swat to his ass, turning him towards the kitchen. "Once you serve the meal, you will be allowed to stay in the dining room. Our meeting concerns you as well." He said, nudging the boy along.

"Yes, Master. Good morning, sir." He said, wincing a bit from the smack to his ass. He turned and made his way towards the kitchen, trying to hide how confused and curious he was, especially about the last part Maxwell had said. He wanted to ask now, but he knew from experience that once an order was given, that was his first responsibilities. The only questions he was allowed to ask were those that were necessary to help him complete the task he was given. "Umm… sir, what would master and his friends like for breakfast?" He asked as they reached the double doors that led into the dining room. Maxwell was about to enter and let Chris continue on to the kitchen, but he stopped and turned when the boy asked his question.

"Hmm… how about some scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Bring out a fresh pot of coffee, and a pitcher of orange juice. Now hurry up, we are hungry." He said, heading back into the dining room, leaving the boy to his job.

Chris had become a rather competent cook over the last two years, so it was a simple meal for him to cook. It didn't take too long for him to get the entire order ready. He pushed a large metal serving cart into the dining room, entering as silently as he could. Starting with his master, Chris served each plate and lifted the pot of coffee offering it to each of the three men at the table. Then he returned the pot to the cart and placed the pitcher of ice cold orange juice in the middle of where the men were seated. Once everyone began eating their meal, except for Chris, the boy stood there for a moment waiting for instructions. He knew he was supposed to remain in the dining room, but didn't know if he should kneel beside Maxwell's chair, sit on the floor, or stand in the corner of the room. The only thing he did not expect was what his master actually told him to do, "Thank you, boy. Now, pull up a seat and sit beside me."

"Master?" Chris questioned, obviously confused by the fact that he was actually allowed at the table. It wasn't completely unheard of. There were several 'good' nights, or weekend days that he was allowed to eat at the table with his master, almost like a normal father and son. But in two years, he couldn't ever recall a time when he was invited to sit at the table when there was company. The look he received from Maxwell was enough to confirm that he had heard correctly, and that he had better not question his master in front of Thorne and Donavon again. He quickly nodded and slid a chair closer to Maxwell's and took a seat. Maxwell and Chris sat on one side of the table, with Jonathan Thorne at the head and Sal Donavon sitting across from them. Chris didn't say a word. He just watched the others eat, still wondering what this meeting was all about and why it concerned him.

The men were quiet at first. It looked like they had been in the middle of some sort of business matter. There were several manila folders in front of Thorne, but they were all closed right now. All Chris could make out was a few names on the tabs of the folders. The only two he could make out were "Myers, Chance" and "Cooper, Kay". He could see the first name on a third one, "Mirai", but the others were covered up. Chris's stomach growled and it was easily heard by his master, who turned and smiled at his young slave. He scraped a few bites of eggs and hash browns on to a small saucer and filled a small glass of orange juice and set it in front of the boy. "You may eat, slave. John, Sal, and I have a bit more to discuss anyway." He announced, looking up at the other men. "So, how do you expect this new venture to actually work?"

Jonathan Thorne, who Chris had learned a long time ago seemed to be in charge of this underground slave trade organization, was the first to speak up. "Well, the way I see it, you have more than enough room here to house, train, and sell up to half a dozen slaves at a time. In the past we have been wasting money and resources acquiring slaves through other means and even after paying you to train them, we still only make a small profit. If we expanded the operations and put you in charge of acquisition, streamlined your training methods and held quarterly auctions in your home, then imagine the profitability. I know that this would be putting quite a bit of added pressure on you, which is where young Chris would come into play." He said, gesturing towards the boy.

Chris was in the middle of taking a bite of eggs when he heard his name. He quickly swallowed and looked up, again with a confused expression on his face. He remained quiet, but Maxwell answered on his behalf, wanting a bit more of an explanation himself. "First off, 'quite a bit of added pressure' would be an understatement. I would definitely be asking for much more compensation. The standard ten percent profit share would have to be increased to at least fifty percent. It sounds like I would be in charge of more than half the process. What would you two be doing? Just contacting the buyers and finding prospective products?" He asked, skipping over the mention of Chris for now. It seemed that he understood what Thorne was hinting at even though it clearly went over Chris's head.

Sal spoke up this time. "In fact, fifty was exactly what we were going to be offering you. We would need you to keep your position within child services and continue to provide us with intel on possible targets. We would then arrange the acquisition. In some cases, we can procure the merchandise for you and deliver it, but it might be easier for you to obtain them yourself from time to time. Of course, in those cases you would receive an acquisition bonus. We would also arrange buyers, like you said. We would do initial interviews and find out what type of product each customer would like at the end of the training session and negotiate the prices. Four times a year, we would arrange for the buyers to meet their new slaves or hold an auction to sell the children. You probably would need to cut back on your hours at D.C.S., but you would be than compensated for your lost wages there."

Maxwell looked unsure at first, but the more the other two men spoke, the more he seemed to like the idea. Chris didn't completely understand what they were talking about, but he was putting some pieces together himself. The only piece that was really escaping him, and was actually beginning to worry him at this point was what all of this meant for him. John continued where Sal left off, talking about compensation. "Now, we could hire you one or two assistants to help with your training. Six kids at once might be a little too much for you. I know you have done it before in the past, but this would be for longer durations than you are used to. The reason we wanted to meet at least a month or two before beginning this expansion was to give you the time to decide if you wanted to provide your own assistant," Chris noticed a quick glance from Thorne and a nod in his general direction. "or have us hire one. Of course, if we hire one, it would come out of your share of the profits."

Chris still hadn't figured out what the look and the nod meant, but Maxwell had fully caught on by now. "I appreciate the heads up. And I completely understand what you are asking. I think it is entirely doable with just me and the boy. He would need a bit of time to comprehend his new position, and we would probably need at least one new trainee as soon as possible to help Chris learn what to do, but I think he is ready for this. He is a good slave. He is obedient. He is ready to take the next step." He said, patting the boy on the back as if he was proud and giving him a compliment. Chris recognized this and smiled, but still looked a little worried.

"Master?" He began to finally question what the men were talking about, but Maxwell held up a hand to stop him.

"We accept, boys." He said, nodding to each of them. "Thank you for your time."

Chris just stared at Maxwell with the confused expression still on his face. In his mind, he was replaying all that he had overheard. More kids? Providing his own assistant? Chris would need to learn what to do… his new position? Suddenly it was like a light switch was turned on and Chris's eyes showed that he finally understood, or at least thought that he did. He shook his head a bit side to side, but no one seemed to be looking his direction any more. They were all saying their good byes and the other two men were getting ready to leave, handing over the folders to Maxwell for him to study. It seemed like the decision had already been made, whether Chris had agreed to it or not.

Maxwell, Sal, and John stood from their seats, and Chris quickly followed suit. He didn't want to be disrespectful, even though he was still deep in thought about what had just been discussed. He kept his eyes down, staring at the table as the men shook each other's hands and said their goodbyes. Maxwell showed his guests out through to the double doors that led to the hallway, but stopped before going through himself. "Chris, clean the table and wash the dishes, then you can make yourself breakfast. As soon as you are done, I want you to go downstairs to the main training room and prepare yourself." He said calmly, as if Chris should already know all of that.

Chris simply nodded his head and replied with a "Yes, Master," not even turning his head to look at the man. He just quickly began to gather the plates, cups, and service utensils from the table. It only took him about fifteen minutes to make the dining room look just as immaculate as it was before anyone came in this morning. Chris was good at his cleaning duties. Soon the kitchen looked as spotless as the dining room and all of the dishes were washed, rinsed, dried and put away.

As a slave, Chris understood well enough that he was not to make himself a 'good' meal. Those were reserved for his master and guests. Even though Maxwell hadn't told him what to prepare, the boy knew that unless told otherwise, his breakfast consisted of the same bland meal day after day. Chris retrieved a packet of instant oatmeal from the pantry and poured it into 'his' bowl. This serving dish was the only plate he was allowed to eat from. The only exception was when his master gave him a bit of leftovers like the ones he had received at the table a little while ago. He poured a cup of hot water into the bowl and placed it in the microwave. It wasn't the best tasting meal, but it was food. He was grateful for it. He could still clearly remember the early days where he might go a day or two with no food, or even a week at a time where he was made to eat nothing but puppy food. In contrast, a regular bowl of bland oatmeal was enough to make him content nowadays.

The microwave finally beeped and Chris pulled his hot meal out and set it on the counter next to his cup of orange juice. He ate at the counter, not allowed to take a seat. It was either that or the floor. He was allowed to use a spoon, but of course that was one more thing he had to wash at the end of his breakfast. He ate in a hurry, knowing that Maxwell did not like to be made to wait. Chris did not hurry because he was looking forward to what his master had in store for him downstairs. He hurried because he knew that the sooner he got down there, the better whatever waited for him would be or more likely, the less bad it would be.

As soon as he was finished eating, he threw away all his trash and washed his cup, bowl, and spoon. He then made his way to the main foyer. Sal and John's car was gone. That was good. At least that meant they wouldn't be joining Maxwell in the training room downstairs. He made his way to the doorway underneath one of the grand staircases and opened it. The small doorway led to a dimly lit stairway, one that was not nearly as grand. Chris had been down it so many times that he could walk down blindfolded. In fact, he had done so before on several occasions.

Chris began to descend to the lower level of the house. Even though he had been here for more than two years, he still got a sick feeling in his stomach every time he planted his foot on the thinly carpeted gray hallway at the bottom. He took a deep breath and went to the room Maxwell had instructed him to wait in. He opened the door to the training room and stepped in. The lights automatically came on and the door automatically locked behind him as soon as it closed. He was trapped now until Maxwell came down.

The room was more or less a dungeon, but it was unlike most stereotypical dungeons. It was bright, almost blinding at first. The ceiling was lined with bright white fluorescent lights. The walls were painted with glossy white paint. The floor was covered with white tiles, not unlike a bathroom floor. Along one of the walls there were several white cabinets and drawers. Next to them, two white doors with storage closets behind them. In one corner was a third door, which led to a small bathroom. On the back wall, there were three different sized metal cages, all black, so they stood out from the wall. In fact, all of the furniture in the room was black… whether it was black wood, black metal, black leather or black plastic.

In his two years here, Chris had experienced every piece of furniture in this room, most more than once. In fact, he had probably been on every device throughout the man's house. This was the main training room, or the dungeon as Maxwell often called it, but there were other rooms throughout the lower level, each equipped with their own sadistic devices. From the special 'tub' in the bathing room to the heaters in the 'hot room', everything in the basement was made to teach a hard lesson to a slave like Chris.

This room probably had most of the more devious devices in it. Just one example would be an evil looking bondage chair, made to hold every limb of a slave's body completely immobile. Chris had his very first bondage experience in that very chair over two years ago. He still gasped every time he looked at it, as if feeling the electrocution surging through his muscles as his lungs burned, wanting fresh air. He shuddered as he thought about it and just moved over to the counter next to all the drawers and cabinets and 'prepared' himself. He knew by now what that term meant. He leaned down and pulled his jeans and underwear down in one motion. He folded them and placed them on the counter, then removed his shirt and added it neatly to the top of the pile. He stood there completely naked now, except for the collar and leather cuffs on his ankles and wrists.

Next to his pile of clothes were two large padlocks. He knew what these were for. He sighed, grabbed them both, and made his way to the center of the room. He sat on the floor, pulled his ankle cuffs close to, and hooked the first lock through the rings attached to each cuff, clicking it closed. Then Chris repositioned himself, kneeling on his knees. With another sigh, he placed his arms together behind his back and fumbled with the lock until he had it through both rings of his wrist cuffs, pressing it closed with his fingers. He heard the click and knew he was trapped like this until Maxwell came down to begin whatever 'training' he had in mind. He had done this several times before and never knew how long he would be left kneeling here, waiting for his master. The worst part was that he had no idea what was coming next. It was the fear of the unknown that hurt worse than his knees on the hard tiled floor.

Maxwell had once told him that he liked the boy in this position when he entered the room, because it put most of his body on full display. As soon as the man came in the door, he would be able to see the boy's hairless chest and belly and his cute little package. Chris was ten years old now, but still had not sprouted any hair yet. His balls were beginning to descend a little, but they were still rather small, as was his cock. It was only about three inches [7 cm] long when flaccid, and could maybe get up to a little more than four inches [10 cm] when hard. It was soft at the moment, hanging down and touching the cold tile. The only thing that wasn't immediately visible was Chris's little round ass. Sometimes Maxwell would leave a special bench positioned in the middle of the room, so Chris would know that he wanted his ass on display. However, in the absence of any apparatus, Chris knew that this was how he should be waiting.

It was only an hour before Maxwell came into the room. Chris bowed his head and looked at the ground as his master entered, not saying a word.

"Ah. Good boy, Chris," Maxwell said, moving over to one side of the room to retrieve a rolling stool, similar to what a doctor might have in his office. He stopped it in front of Chris and took a seat. "Look up at me, Chris. I need to talk to you," he said, waiting for the boy to look up. As soon as Chris did, he continued. "I know you overheard what John and Sal were talking about in the dining room, but I want to know if you understood it. You are free to speak as you wish, but I want you to tell me what you think it was that they were talking about. Go ahead, boy. Explain it to me, what did they say?"

Chris looked up and just nodded as the man mentioned the conversation he had heard. When he was asked to explain it himself, the boy didn't know exactly what to say. "Uh… Master, I don't know," he said, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He stared at Maxwell and just shrugged. "I just… heard them mention that you would be bringing in more boys and maybe a girl or two to train. And… it sounded like you wanted me to…" Chris paused, still not liking the idea of this last part. He had been nothing but a friend to all of the other kids that had come through here before now. "You wanted me to help… uh… train them?" he said, almost as if he was asking. He hoped he had somehow misunderstood, but he was pretty sure that he had heard right.

Maxwell nodded, even though there were a few times when he had looked a little impatient from the boy's pauses. "That's right, Chris. Basically, they want me to train you as my apprentice. You will still be my slave, but you will be given power over the other slaves that come through here. You will be almost like a second master to them, behind me, of course," he said, standing to his feet. "They also left me a little present, in fact it is something I can share with you," he said, making his way over to one of the closets.

The man opened the door and pulled out a large black duffle bag, using most of his strength to lift it up off the ground and set it on the black metal table. Chris could tell what was in it, even before Max began to unzip it. He could see the shape of a body pulling at the edges of the bag as it was raised off the ground. He closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head, knowing that some other boy had likely met the same fate as him. Max continued to unzip the bag and pull it down and away from the body inside of it. The boy inside was unconscious. It was obvious that he had been drugged before being brought here, the bad didn't look comfortable enough to take a nap in. The new kid had long, shaggy red hair, which came down over his ears and even over his forehead and his brown eyes a little bit. He was wearing a ragged looking faux leather jacket. It had several rips and tears in it and the lining was visible where the seams. The boy looked dirty from head to toe, but he did look to be in pretty decent shape. He was obviously eating enough, but otherwise looked to be homeless. Even his blue jeans looked pretty ragged and torn.

"Chris, meet Kay. Yes, I know that's a girl's name, but it is his name. He ran away from his foster home a few months ago and has been living on the streets. This kid has committed more minor crimes than most of the kids in juvie and even more than some adults in jail. He is about your age, might even be a little older. He was picked up this morning by Sal before they came over. His drug should wear off in about an hour. Don't let his peaceful look full you. This boy can be quite the fighter. He is going to be the first boy that YOU help train," Maxwell said, coming over to release the locks on Chris's cuffs. "I want you to go to the drawer and pull out four cuffs like yours and put them on Kay here. You'll have to take off his shoes and socks first, and pull the bag out from underneath him. I would suggest you hurry before he begins to wake up."

Chris moved his arms in front of his body and slowly stood to his feet, staring at the limp boy on the table. He turned to Maxwell and sighed before answering with a "Yes, Master". Chris knew where the cuffs were stored and quickly made his way to the drawer. He pulled out four cuffs and went to the table. He set the cuffs on one side of the table and just looked at the kid, laying there. "What is going to happen to him, master? I won't have to hurt him, will I?" he asked, while tugging on the duffle bag, pulling it out from underneath the boy's body. It took a while, jerking the canvas, then pushing the boy's body back, then jerking again. Until finally, the boy's body was in the middle of the table and the bag was out from under him. He attached the cuffs to each of the boy's wrists and pulled them up over his head, then moved to the other side of the table and began to remove Kay's tennis shoes.

"It depends on how well he behaves, Chris. If he is a good and obedient little boy like you are now, then you won't have to hurt him. But if he is argumentative, or complains, or whines, or tries to fight his training, like you did when you were younger, then yes. You will have to punish him, and the most effective punishments hurt. I'm sure you remember some of your punishments, don't you?" Max said, walking up and patting the boy on his back as he pulled the other kid's socks and shoes off and applied the last two cuffs. "Now, go ahead and hook them to the cables under the table and pull them tight so Kay won't hurt himself when he wakes up."

Chris again did as he was told. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard. If all he had to do was help restrain the kids, he could do that. It was the punishment parts that he wasn't sure about. But maybe this boy wouldn't be too bad. Maybe he wouldn't need to be punished. Chris just kept telling himself this as he attached each of the cuffs to a cable that ran through a hole in each corner of the table, then he flipped a switch under the table and all four cables began to pull, tugging the boy's arms and legs until he was fully stretched out on the table, but not painfully so. As soon as the cables were tight, Chris turned the switch off and turned to look at Maxwell. "Now what, Master?"

"Now we wait…" he replied, resting his hands on Chris's shoulders. "Now we wait."

Maxwell had let Chris put his clothes back on while they were waiting for Kay to awaken. He thought that it would be something little that would distinguish Chris as something a little more than a normal slave. Kay would be naked soon enough, as most slaves-in-training needed to be. He showed the boy around and explained how a few of the items he hadn't seen before worked and what they did. Mostly he was just stalling waiting for the unconscious boy on the table to come back to the world of the living.

Meanwhile, he was watching his own slave boy, trying to read his face, and more importantly his mind. Maxwell was a smart man and a good trainer, because he knew how the kids' minds worked. He knew the boy was struggling to come to terms with his new position and that he could definitely 'force' him to do anything he was told, but that wouldn't be as effective as convincing him that what he was doing was for the greater good. Chris was a good kid. He knew that he didn't want to be a cruel slave trainer, but if he thought that he was 'helping' these kids in some way, it might be easier for him to do as he was told, without the need for force. "Come here, Boy. I want to show you something." Maxwell said, pulling a stool up to the counter and patting the top, waiting for Chris to take his place.

Chris had simply been pacing around the room, moving from the unconscious boy, over to the counters and cabinets to look at the tools of restraint and discipline, then back to the table. It was obvious that he was nervous and uneasy about all of this. When Maxwell called out to him, he nearly jumped as he turned and nodded to the command. "Yes sir, master." He said, quickly moving over to the stool and climbing up to take a seat.

"I want you to see something. This is Kay's file… from my office. I know you don't like the idea of turning him into a slave, but I want you to know the alternative." Maxwell said as he opened a manila envelope and moved the papers into Chris's view. At the top was what looked like a school picture of the boy on the table. He was dressed in decent clothes, and seemed to be pretty well put together, but he wasn't smiling. He almost looked angry as he stared at the camera.

"Kay Cooper… 12 years old… Mother: Elizabeth Cooper… Father: Unknown. By the age of 10, Kay had been suspended from school for fighting or bullying a total of seventeen times. He has put at least five other kids in the hospital, all of which were younger than him and usually about a foot shorter. He was a bad kid. At the age of 11, he was taken from his mother because she was too busy getting high to be a good mother. He was put into a foster home with a good Christian family and sent to a Catholic school… hence the picture of the nicely dressed school boy. He was in this school for two weeks before being kicked out because of his cussing problem and again… more bullying. His foster parents were obviously upset and introduced Kay to spanking for the first time. That night, he ran away from home, and has been living on the streets since."

"My office has been trying to catch him for a while now. We have video surveillance of him robbing several convenience stores, pick-pocketing people on the streets, even beating kids up and taking their money. If it wasn't for Sal picking him up and bringing him in here, eventually he would have been arrested and put into Juvenile Detention until the age of 18, and at that time, he would be released with a small government check and live on welfare for the next few years, or at least until he committed another crime and ended up in jail." Maxwell stopped for a moment and gave Chris a little while to let all of this sink in, but just before the boy opened his mouth to speak, Maxwell continued and cut him off. "At least as a slave, he has a chance to live in a nice home, get a decent education, learn some discipline, and who knows… if his master decides to release him at the age of eighteen, then he will have a very nice check to live on for the next few years, and will be a lot less likely to end up in jail. Do you understand, Chris? We are actually saving this kid from a worse situation." Maxwell finally finished and patted the kid on the head as he stared at the files and pictures.

"I… I guess so." Chris said after a long pause. "I just…" He stopped and looked up, a bit worried what would happen if he showed that he wasn't willing to do what he knew his master was wanting him to do. "I understand. I do, Master."

Maxwell thought about trying to get more out of the boy, even if it did lead to a punishment, but before he could say another word, they both heard a different voice… a weaker voice coming from the black metal table. "Ugh… what… what… the… Fuck!?" Kay whined, as he began to wake up with a splitting headache. His eyes weren't even all the way open yet, and he was already blinded by the little bit of light coming through his eyelids. He tried to pull his hands up to cover his eyes and quickly discovered that they were being held far away from his head by the metal cable and the leather cuffs. "What… what happened?!" He whimpered a bit louder and began to wake up that much faster as he realized he was restrained in some way.

By now, Maxwell and Chris were both watching the boy from a distance, but neither of them had stood to actually approach him. Chris started to get down off his stool, but Maxwell placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, placing a finger over his own mouth, telling Chris to stay put and remain quiet for just a little while longer. "Where the HELL am I!?" Kay was almost yelling now, obviously coming around faster and faster as more details of his situation became clearer. He was tugging his arms and legs weakly by now and was beginning to shake his head side to side, trying to grow accustomed to the light and make out his surroundings. "Someone FUCKING… ANSWER… ME!!" He finally cleared his vision enough to see the two figures sitting on the other side of the room and began to tug even more frantically. "LET ME GO! LET ME FUCKING GO!!" He screamed.

Maxwell just smiled and finally nodded for Chris to climb down and walk to the table. The boy sighed and did exactly that, his master following closely behind. "I am going to say this once and only once. Swear at me, or at my boy, Chris one more time, and you will regret it." Maxwell said in a calm collected voice as he and Chris made it to the side of the table.

"FUCK YOU! LET ME GO!" Kay spat… literally spat out at the man and his little boy assistant. Saliva flew towards both of them, but landed on Chris's forehead, missing Maxwell completely.

Maxwell sighed again and placed a hand on Chris's shoulder. "Number one, Chris," was all he said, gesturing towards the control panel right in front of the boy.

The table was designed as a restraint tool, obviously, but it also could be used for correction, or just flat out torture. There were ten positions that were preset into the controls… numbers one through ten. Each number was worth approximately 25 pounds of pulling force on each of the boy's limbs. At 25 pounds, it would definitely be a little uncomfortable, but not too painful. It was only meant as an indication of what might come in the future. But of course, all of that depended on Chris actually pressing the button.

Chris heard the word, he felt the spit, and he knew… from personal experience… that Maxwell never made frivolous threats. He knew the boy was about to be punished in some way, and since he was on the table, Chris had a pretty good idea of how he would be punished. But for one reason or another, he still did not fully realize that it was 'him' that had to do the punishing. He gasped and turned around as soon as Maxwell placed his hand on his shoulder. He wiped the saliva from his forehead and shook his head subconsciously from side to side. His mind and even his body were saying 'no', but he couldn't make his mouth say it. He knew he was expected to obey, but even though this boy was a 'bad kid', even though he had hurt others, and even though he had just spat on him; Chris could just not bring himself to hurt him. "Please…" he finally squeaked, not even fully sure how to follow it up.

"Chris… Number… One." Maxwell said once again, this time with a look that said not to question his order again. Chris knew this look well, it was basically a short hand way of saying the exact same thing he had said to Kay only moments ago. 'I am only going to say this once… do it… or you will be punished.'

Meanwhile, Kay just stared at the exchange with a look of hatred. His little fists were bawled up tight as if he was wanting to punch both of the others as hard as he could… if only he could move his arms enough to swing those fists. He took another deep breath and began to build up another mouth full of spit, this time with some snot and phlegm from his nose and throat. Just before he reared back to actually spit, Chris finally relented and turned back to the controls and pressed the button. He was visibly shaking, upset with himself for causing even the slightest bit of discomfort on another human, but he knew he had no choice.

The motor under the table came to life and the cables began to move. When a preset was pressed, the gears moved quickly. The cables pulled hard and fast. So fast, that Kay was forced to swallow what was in his mouth and let out a surprised gasp as his arms and legs were pulled even tighter than they were before. Even though it was only the first level, it was enough to shock him and make him think it was worse than it actually was. "AAA! Fuck! Fuck! Let me go!" He said again, this time a little less forcefully than before. It was obvious that the pull was enough to scare him, but he was trying hard not to show it.

Max sighed again and shook his head. "Chris… Number two." was all he said, not even looking at Kay. His attentions were fully focused on the younger of the two boys… his boy.

Chris didn't turn back this time. He just stared at the controls. He didn't want to look at Kay or at his master. He didn't want to do this. It was making him feel sick to his stomach. He almost looked like he was about to cry. He wasn't in any physical pain, but this was one of the most psychologically painful things Maxwell had ever done to him. He almost wished he was the one on the table instead of the one pressing the buttons. But even through all this internal turmoil, he still lifted his hand and let his finger come down on the second preset button.

Each number pulled a bit slower than the last one, so that the force wouldn't ever reach the point were bones could be pulled from their sockets, but each time it would definitely become more and more uncomfortable and eventually more and more painful. Kay would now be feeling as though 50 pound weights were hanging from each of his arms and legs, pulling him out towards the corners of the tables. At this point, there still wasn't a lot of pain, but he would begin to feel a bit of a burn in his muscles and there was pretty much zero wiggle room at this point.

"AAAAA! FFFFfff…" This time the boy stopped. He bit down on his tongue and forcibly stopped himself from finishing the word that had just become part of his regular vocabulary over the last few years. "Son of a… URGH… SHH… CRAP! STOP! LET… LET GO!" He whined, turning to stare daggers at Maxwell, pretty much ignoring the little brat next to him that was actually pressing the buttons. "WHO… Who are you?! What do you want!?" He barked, still mad, but showing more and more fear as the moments passed.

"That is a little better. See, Chris? Pain is a quick teacher. That is why we sometimes have to hurt a slave-in-training." He said, as if he was a teacher simply proving a point during a lesson. "Now, for you… Kay, right?"

Chris still didn't look up. He just stared at his own feet, feeling ashamed and defeated from being forced to deliver the pain that his master was talking about at the moment. He just nodded as his name was mentioned, but kept his face bowed.

"SLAVE?! What the F… URGH! What are you talking about?! LET ME GO!" Kay yelled, over hearing enough to at least begin to answer his questions, but he still had a lot more.

"Heh… yes, slave. Now… unless you want to see what number three feels like, you will keep quiet and let me answer some of your questions. Is that something you think you can do, Kay? You can answer with a nod… but not another word until I say so. Understand?" Maxwell said, still in the calm voice. He always did a good job of keeping his own emotions in check, at least in front of a slave.

Kay just stared and shook his head. He wasn't about to stay quiet. He took a deep breath, and since he was smart enough to assume he was going to be punished anyway, he looked Maxwell straight in the eyes, and screamed "FUCK YOU!!!"

"Chris… Number three."