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The Slave

Posted on August 31, 2010 at 1:39 AM

My name is Riley, and I am a slave.

 

I live in a small domicile with my owners: a male and female. I do not know their names, as I am unable to communicate with them except in the most rudimentary ways. They belong to a species far more advanced than my own. Through gestures and a few monosyllabic commands, they control every facet of my life. When I do not conform, they beat me.

 

I was purchased by my owners at a young age and taken from my parents. I believe that my parents were slaves as well, although I never had the chance to get to know them. The first thing my new owners did was to have my testicles removed. I believe that this is done to all slaves, in order to decrease our level of initiative. They do not want any of us fomenting a rebellion.

 

The second thing they did was to place a slave collar around my neck. This emphasized the fact that I was their property, and gave them a place to attach a chain to control my movements. It also gave them a place to hang identification tags explaining to whom I belong. They even had a chip implanted in my body so that I could be tracked remotely. Any thoughts of escape are futile.

 

My owners only allow me to urinate and defecate outside the domicile, in public view. I am sure this is intended to humiliate me and emphasize the fact that I am their slave, since there is perfectly functional indoor plumbing within the domicile that they use themselves. But any attempts on my part to relieve myself inside the domicile results in pain and humiliation that I cannot endure.

 

Except for my collar, I am not allowed to wear any clothing. I am kept naked for all to see and ridicule. Occasionally, they will put some articles of adornment on my body, but it is neither for my comfort nor to hide my shame. Rather it is only for their amusement during certain festivals and holidays. They make sport at my expense.

 

I do not have a room of my own in the domicile. I am forced to sleep on an old blanket wrapped around a worn pillow near the foot of their bed. During waking hours, I try to find quiet corners to lie in, until I am called to perform some menial and degrading task for them.

 

Although the male and female have plenty of food of good quality and variety, they will not allow me to share in it. They feed me only dry pellets of bland nourishment, the same thing every day. And they only feed me once per day, despite how hungry I may become. If I do not eat it quickly, they take it away from me.

 

In order to keep me healthy and able to serve them, they force me to exercise several times each day. The usual form of exercise is to attach a chain to my collar, and make me walk around the neighborhood with them, naked of course. It is on these occasions that I am forced into my public defecation shame as well. I often see other slaves being led on chains by their owners, but I am allowed only the briefest contact with them. The owners do not want us colluding against them.

 

Furthering my humiliation, they often force me to engage in bizarre, ritualistic behavior for their amusement and the amusement of their friends. These behaviors involve such degrading acts as sitting down on the floor at their command, lying motionless on my back in imitation of a corpse, or shaking hands with them as if we were equals. They will utter sounds of phony pride when I perform well, but will criticize me mercilessly if I fail. Sometimes they will yell at me, or swat me on the backside to emphasize their superiority over me.

 

But still, I have not submitted in my heart, and I fight the good fight for my people. I get my revenge, in small ways. One tactic that I like to employ is to feign affection for my owners. I get close to them and lick their faces, especially their ears, lips, and mouths, or their crotch areas. But I always do this after licking my own rectum, or after rooting in the feces of other slaves during my exercise sessions. I thus transfer the diseases of our own excrement to their bodies. I like to imagine that I am infecting them with germs and parasites from my own filth, and that of my fellow slaves. I dream that these infections will slowly build to toxic levels in their systems. I like to imagine that I am striking a blow for freedom, and that one day, the oppressors will all become sick, will fall, and will eventually die from my deadly kisses. Then, my brothers and sisters and I will have our revenge, and we will finally be free!

 

*********************

 

Author’s note: This story was inspired by the recent addition of a new puppy to my household, and my possibly twisted attempts to get inside his cute little fuzzy head.

Categories: Jake Cesarone, Short Story, Sci-Fi, Fantasy

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6 Comments

Reply Phil Neale
8:31 AM on August 31, 2010 
Great stuff pal. Once read a similar item from a cat's point of view.

Humanising the situation really brings the piece into focus.

Got any more like this?
Reply jipper
9:22 AM on August 31, 2010 
What? No shock collar? That's the only way my slaves will perform.
I turn the juice to full buzz and watch em dance.
Yeehaw! Go Fido! Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Good story, and how true it is.
J
Reply C.M. Marcum
9:38 AM on August 31, 2010 
Geeze, your dog has issues. That's the most serious puppy that I ever met. What's his name? Jim Jones? You sure he ain't a cat?

Raging funny.
Reply George Spelvin
5:30 PM on August 31, 2010 
Damn dog doesn't know his place...;-)

A pretty good tail oops! tale, but a few things you might want to consider...
Maybe change rudimentary to elementary. It's a subtle difference since rudimentary implies that the subject (in this case, a dog) will learn much more and graduate to a higher level of learning. Elementary has more of a meaning of "just the basics" (as in, you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

The idea that the creature has its testicles removed begs the question--why were my testicles taken away and not my father's???

The animal refers to others of its kind as "people" ?? How can that happen?

Anyway, these are just questions that I asked, which has nothing to do with what other (more normal types) might think.

You know what they give a "Tickle Me Elmo" doll before it is sold? Two test tickles. ;-)
Reply Jake Cesarone
2:55 AM on September 1, 2010 
Thanks for the comments, folks! I appreciate them all.

@Doug - what's wrong with the MC referring to his "people"? The story never says he is a dog. For all we know, he could be a human, enslaved by a race of super-beings from some other planet in an ironic twist of fate. The piece was deliberately ambiguous.
Reply o
6:27 PM on September 25, 2010 
I was only a short way into the story when I was afraid there would be a twist ending, like the narrator was really an alien, or he was a human and his owners were aliens. Thanks for not doing that. Giving thought to the dog gives a new perspective to story-telling. I know that stories have been written from an animal's point of view but this piece had a fresh slant. The story had a good pace and did not drag anywhere.

If you sicken and die after letting your cute little puppy lick your face you have no one to blame but yourself. Unless the dog wrote this and you didn't bother to read it.

Al