Homework
The American Way
By: Randall Austin
(© 2011 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Michael Branson, 22 years old, was a well-behaved and well-liked kid. Especially when he was playing guitar in his industrial rock band. But once his bills began to mount and the money he made playing gigs wasn't enough to cover the cost of living, Michael decided to make a little extra cash in the lucrative business of selling drugs. He wasn't into it fulltime; he really loved making music more than drugs. Unfortunately for Michael, he was more attuned to the details of rocking and didn't pay enough attention to covering his drug deals. He ended up getting caught selling a variety of drugs to an undercover agent; was convicted; and sentenced to six years indenturement with the Maine Department of Social Services.

The State of Maine makes all of its criminally indentured available to private brokerage firms. Sherman, Lawson, and Stingle Imports liked what they saw in Michael and bought him, even though he did not meet their education requirements. The marketing department was attracted to Michael's exceptional good looks, alertness, wit, overall nice shape, and intelligence. They knew that in Michael they could easily recover whatever extra it would cost to bring him up to their training level and education requirements.

In the agreement reached with the state and the brokerage firm, Michael would attend classes at the local community college in the courses in which he was deficient. Once his courses were completed, he would then enter into a full service training program with Sherman, Lawson, and Stingle Imports. While Michael's official training with Sherman, Lawson, and Stingle would first begin in six months, he would in the meantime be living at home with his parents while he completed his course work at the local community college. His legal status during his schooling would be that of one on 'administrative probation', and it is a status that receives very minimal attention from the Department of Corrections. Michael would be living very much as a free boy until he entered training in six months time at the brokerage firm Sherman, Lawson, and Stingle Imports, in San Francisco.

Michael, being a smart kid, found the coursework at the community college easy, but he also found it boring. Hanging around the community college crowd, he began to meet other people his age that he liked, but whose lives were not centered on music. In the past, Michael had considered the community college crowd to be something of a bunch of losers. He had always thought kids who attend community college couldn't make it into the university system. But despite his prejudice, Michael found that he was enjoying, for the first time in his life, making friends with people whose lives were not centered on music. Being a handsome and charming kid, Michael always found himself surrounded with guys and gals to chat with and do things.

And although Michael's attitudes towards the people who attended community colleges were changing, his view of the community college, in general hadn't. He considered the community college to be a 'third rank school filled with dud instructors'. As a consequence of his opinion, he was disdainful of his instructors, and was slack in performing their assignments, especially homework.

When one morning Peter Verrell, economics instructor, asked Michael at the start of class in front of everyone, where his homework was, Michael replied that he 'had an emergency' and couldn't get to it. When Mr. Verrell reminded Peter that it was the third assignment he had missed, Michael quietly apologized, nervous for the first time that Mr. Verrell might bring up his indentured status in front of his classmates.

When Mr. Verrell responded, "Remember Mr. Branson that you're on special status here, and I would advise you to comply with all instructions given you", Michael was embarrassed. His hopes that his classmates wouldn't question him on the matter were realized for the most part. Only his newest friend, Hale Sorbison, later questioned Michael on the incident. Michael lied to Hale about the meaning of Mr. Verrell's comments. "My special status has to do with the fact that I've only lived in this county for 8 months. The school had to make a special dispensation for me to get the standard community tuition rates."

Life continued to be uneventful yet not unpleasant for Michael, and as a result Michael eventually slipped back into his easygoing ways. One Wednesday, three weeks after the incident in the economics class, Mr. Verrell again questioned Michael, "Mr. Branson, I can't seem to find your essay in the stack on my desk." Michael responded quietly yet earnestly, "I'm sorry, Mr. Verrell, but I had an emergency situation at home."

Mr. Verrell questioned, "Oh? What was the emergency?"

"I'd rather not say in public, sir."

Mr. Verrell folded his arms, "Then come up here and tell me in private."

"I'd rather not sir."

"Mr. Branson, you are duty bound to respond to my questions." The entire class sat up.

At first Michael put his head down with a pained look and was silent, but when Mr. Verrell called out for him to come forward, Michael could take no more, and muttered under his breath, "Fuck this shit, man!"

Mr. Verrell was also indignant, and unfolded his arms, "That does it! Get up here to the front of the class, young man, and take off your shirt!"

Michael's classmates looked at each other, uncertain of what was going on.

When Michael did not move, Mr. Verrell threatened, "I will not allow someone in the servitor corps to disrupt a community college class! Mr. Branson, if you don't come up here right now, your term of service can be extended."

Michael, defeated, his head bowed down, shrugged out of his seat and walked to the front of the class.

Mr. Verrell repeated his request, "Take off your shirt!"

The entire class, along with Michael wondered what Mr. Verrell was going to do. Michael asked, "What are you going to do, man?"

"From now on I am to be addressed as 'sir', and not 'man'." Mr. Verrell reached up and started to unbutton Michael's shirt, "And what I'm going to do, young man, is show the class how I treat smart-alecky and troublemaking members of the servitor corps!"

Michael almost whispered, "You can't do this to me."

Mr. Verrell did not whisper his reply, but wanted the entire class to hear, "Mr. Branson, I would advise you to read the terms of your sentencing agreement. I've been provided with a copy of it, and you can see it if you'd like. It basically says that if you're sent to any state certification course before you actually enter training with your lease holder, then that institution providing the certification has full overseership privileges and authority over you. I am a state certified servitor handler and corrections officer. And I intend to handle you as I see fit by offering you a little correction right now. Now finish getting that shirt off immediately or I'll double your punishment!"

As Michael, dazed, removed his shirt, he was aware of the devastating silence in the classroom. Once Michael pulled his shirt off, he held it close to his chest, as if attempting to cover himself.

Mr. Verrell grabbed the shirt away from Michael, threw it on his desk, grabbed Michael's forearms, and hoisted them to two cuffs that were attached to a tall bookshelf just to the left of his desk. No one in the class had noticed the cuffs attached to the shelf until now. The cuffs were just at the level of the top of Michael's head. Once Michael's wrists were locked in the cuffs, the class could see his hairy armpits. Mr. Verrell pointed to Michael's hairy pits and commented on them to the class, "Once they get Michael into the processing center, that pit hair, along with the rest of his pubic hair, is going to be the first thing they take off."

Michael was being made a spectacle for the enjoyment of the class. Mr. Verrell, by choosing to point out his armpit hair to the class, had succeeded in reducing Michael to a servant to be talked about.

Several girls in the class, and a few guys, were happy to see Michael's bare back and chest. Mr. Verrell reached around in front of Michael's trousers, opened the top button, and lowered the zipper of his fly half way down. He then grabbed the waistband of Michael's trousers and pulled them down, about two inches, to expose more of Michael's lower back and the start of his ass crack. Michael swallowed in humiliation.

In all of his years in grade and high school, Michael had never once received physical discipline. He felt that his classmates should be reacting with indignation at his treatment; instead they were mesmerized by the spectacle of Mr. Verrell robbing him of his dignity.

Mr. Verrell took a small whip from his desk drawer. It had a nine-inch long dowel handle, and connected to it were two strands of leather, each two and a half feet long. Mr. Verrell held it up, "Class, this is known as a 'flip whip', and it is the whip you'll find most frequently used for maintaining servitor control in classroom and in exercise training room situations. It is lightweight and easy to use. It's not considered a serious control device, but it gets the job done. It gets messages delivered swiftly and without too much mess or trauma."

Mr. Verrell took the proper distance in back of Michael and announced, "Five slices of the flip whip for classroom disruption."

Mr. Verrell swung the whip and sliced Michael's back. Michael cried out, "Oh gawd!" Two more slices quickly followed, accompanied by loud howls from Michael and a "Shit!"

Mr. Verrell paused, "You learning your lesson, corps boy?" It seemed to some members of the class as if this was something Mr. Verrell enjoyed doing.

There was no response to the question from Michael. Mr. Verrell sliced Michael's back one more time, waited for the scream, then applied the last stroke with all the force he could muster.

When finished, Mr. Verrell stood to the side of Michael so the class could see the red marks on Michael's back. He noted with pleasure that the class seemed both shocked and awed by what they had just witnessed. He enjoyed showing the class the power he had over members of the servitor corps.

Once the pain of the whipping started to subside, Michael felt an even more searing pain ensue; the pain of realizing that he would no longer be considered a normal person by his classmates.

Mr. Verrell uncuffed Michael's wrists and handed him his shirt. As Michael started to put the shirt on with his back to the class, to hide his teary eyes, he felt violated with everyone watching him get dressed.

Mr. Verrell spoke to Michael, "You may go back to your seat now, Michael, if you promise to make up all of your missed assignments. Are you going to do that?" Michael nodded his head like a little freshly spanked child. His classmates could hear him sniffling.

Mr. Verrell wanted to prolong Michael's humiliation, "You nodded your head. Now tell me what that means."

Michael kept his head bowed, "It means I'm going to do my homework from now on, sir, and make up all of my missed assignments."

As Mr. Verrell smiled, satisfied that his chastisement had paid off, Michael made his way back to his seat with his eyes to the floor. He felt he would never again be able to look his classmates in the eye.

When Michael took his seat he knew that some of his classmates had their heads down too; they, as well, were too embarrassed to look at Michael. Michael felt as if Hale and his other friends were embarrassed for ever having befriended him.

When the class eventually let out, everyone left in a hurry, eager to discuss what they had witnessed. Not a single person came up to Michael to offer sympathy.

On any school day, Michael usually had two or three offers for a ride home from classmates. On this sad day there were no offers for rides. No one even spoke to him.

As he walked home several cars slowed down as they passed him so the occupants could get a good look at the slave boy. One of the cars honked, and hooting and laughter could be heard coming from inside the car.

When Michael got home, he called his closest female friend from college. She was not in Mr. Verrell's class, but when she came on the phone she told Michael not to call her anymore, and was surprisingly, to Michael, extremely rude. "Why are you always calling me? Stop it, or else I report you to the principal. It's harassment!" She hung up the phone without listening for a word from Michael.

Dejected and sexually frustrated, Michael locked the door to his bedroom, unzipped his trousers, and took out his penis. As he gently tugged on his penis to relieve his anxiety he recalled the jokes he had often heard about servants; 'they do nothing but jack off every chance they get'. He realized that he was now, indeed, just another lonely servant boy, like thousands of others in the city: alone, friendless, and sad. His penis, like the rest of him, was owned by others. But it was now his only friend.

The End.

Posted: 01/20/11