Extraordinary Talent Pt 01

Extraordinary Talent, Pt. 01

(These events occur in a world where legalized, non-hereditary slavery is common-place for serious crime, unredeemed debt, or voluntary self-indenture. Eighteen years of age is the minimum for anyone in this world to be enslaved or be involved in slave business operations.

If you object to the basic premises of this story, I recommend that you save us both time and aggravation by finding something else to read.

Although I welcome constructive criticism,

objecting to the overall concept cannot change the story once it is posted.

As always, this is strictly a FANTASY—in reality, informed consent is ALWAYS mandatory for any form of sex.)

(I am exploring different human interactions in this world of legalized slavery, which is why I post this under Nonconsent/Reluctance. This particular story involves an oxymoron, a limited slavery in the guise of a personal services contract known as Texas FINO (Free In Name Only.) The concept is introduced in the story "Trying on a Collar," but this tale should stand on its own without reading that one. This story contains Clothed Female, Naked Male (CFNM) Femdom. Joe Doe introduced the concept of an "Extraordinary Talent" slave, the source of my title. This story also mentions, in passing, the idea of slave consorts educated at Broadstone Academy, as developed by Mr. Smith on another web site.)

*****

As usual, I was set up to study in one of the tiny glass rooms on the library second floor at my school in Colorado. As a second semester undergraduate in petroleum engineering, I had finished my essay for the humanities survey and was struggling to grasp the next topic in "Diff E-Q"—that is, Differential Equations. Just when it began to make sense, Theresa barged into the room, practically dancing, with a smile a mile wide. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she announced in a stage whisper, "I got an 87 on the Fluid Mechanics exam!"

I'd gotten an 89 percent on the same test, but I wasn't going to rain on her parade. Terri was not just my best friend but absolutely gorgeous, about 5 foot 7 with flashing eyes, long black hair, and a skin that was just slightly tinted; I one of her parents must have been Latinx, and the overall effect was devastating. Not to mention her perfect teeth, curvy body, and steel trap mind. When she was in a good mood, no man and very few women could resist her; when she was angry, her icy tone and severe logic could tear you apart.

"Congratulations!" I whispered back. "If this keeps up, we're going to have to hire bodyguards because we keep busting the curve in class." She giggled, but replied, "Don't even JOKE about bodyguards. If you knew how long I had to argue to convince my father not to saddle me with one—oh, yeah, that would have looked GREAT in class."

Terri glanced over to see what I was studying, and pulled out her own Diff E-Q book. In seconds we were both deeply immersed, occasionally exchanging questions and ideas. I had to insist that she take a break to eat supper, then we went back at it until about 10:30, when I walked her to her apartment and finally staggered back to my own dorm room to crash.

OK: Explanation time. If I haven't said it before, my name is Matt Hewitt. Even in a world-famous engineering school, I stood out as the classic nerd, the gangling 6-foot 3-inch guy with no physical coordination or strength, let alone social skills. So, how did I come to be studying with the smartest, most beautiful woman in the entire school? At the time, I thought it was pure luck—I later discovered it was a benevolent plot that neither of us knew about.

We'd met initially because we shared an advisor—Associate Dean Robert Hardiman—who brought his advisees together once a week for coffee and informal talks about our challenges as freshman engineering students. Before I could blink, the dean had paired the two of us together to study. A month later, I got a phone call from Terri's dad, William Thornton, offering to pay me $30 an hour to tutor her! I protested to him that Terri was a smart woman who didn't need a tutor, just a little more confidence in her academic ability, but he insisted, and I needed the money. (I qualified for in-state tuition because I'd lived with my aunt in Colorado for the last two years of high school, but as an orphan I was still running up a heck of a debt in student loans).

I made sure Terri knew what was going on, and she said it was fine, just "Daddy interfering as usual." Even

I

knew who William Thornton was, of course—one of the more successful oilmen in the country, who had already paid for two buildings and endowed several professorships on our campus. When I got to know her better, Terri admitted who he was, saying that, since her Mom and brother had died in the pandemic, she was his only heir. But, she insisted, it was HER idea to study petroleum engineering because she needed to understand the business and not just to please Daddy. She said, wistfully, that she hoped this tutoring thing wouldn't spoil our friendship, and I assured her that I was still her friend. (I wanted to be much more than friends, but I had little to offer this sweet, wealthy goddess beyond tutoring help. That, and an ear to complain to when the latest Alpha male in a long procession disappointed her. In an engineering school with a majority of students being male, a sexy woman like Terri got hit on at least once an hour, only to find on the first or second date that the guy was a jerk or, in her case, a gold-digger who wanted to marry the boss's daughter.)

The next day being Saturday, we'd agreed to "sleep in" until the ripe old time of 8 a.m. before resuming the grind. When we met in our usual study room, she looked distracted and a little guilty, telling me that her father wanted to skype with me at 10 a.m.

"Oh, crap, Terri," I said, trying to make a joke out of it. "What did you tell him about me? Don't tell me, he's going to demand to know what my intentions are with his daughter!"

"No, he trusts both of us," she replied (At least, I thought, she didn't laugh at the idea of our being in a relationship). "But, he has another one of his wild ideas, and when that happens you can't tell him no."

"Just like his daughter," I replied, still trying to keep it light. "Give me a hint—what's on his mind?"

"He doesn't want me to tell you," she said, with a grimace. "In fact, he insisted that I go away when he calls so he can talk to you alone. Promise me you'll hear him out, though, will you? His idea is crazy but has some good points as well as bad; I just don't want it to break us up."

"Terri, I'll always be your friend, you know that. I'm happy the way we are now, but if he wants, I'll give up the tutoring pay."

"That's not what he wants, Matt—quite the opposite."

*****

I'm not sure I can reconstruct the ensuing video conversation I had with Mr. Thornton, probably because it was so astonishing. I felt as if the devil had offered me all the power in the world if I would give him my soul—and I was no saint to begin with. Mr. Thornton said that he had checked me out, and proved it by telling me things even I was unsure about, such as my father's military record. But, he trusted me and wanted to make me a bizarre proposition. On the plus side, he would pay me a monthly salary for the next four years (most engineering degree programs were now five years in total), he would take care of all tuition and fees, and he would pay for a new calculator or laptop every year. He would also arrange for me to do summer internships with his company and other oil enterprises, and ensure I had no living expenses of my own. If I finished the first year satisfactorily, he would pay off all my college loans to date. Assuming I continued to perform as I had so far, he expected that, upon graduation, he would either hire me himself or personally recommend me to a competitor.

"With all respect, sir," I replied, "You know what they say about if it sounds too good to be true?"

And then he dropped the other shoe: everything he said was true, and would be included in a contract, BUT there was one huge catch. Since I had lived in Killeen, Texas, until three years before this conversation, I knew what he was talking about, but it still worried me. He wanted me to come to visit Terri and him in Houston at the end of the spring term. There, I would undergo "processing" and sign a personal services contract with his daughter, who would pay out everything he had promised from her already-extensive wealth. He was talking about a "Texas FINO" (Free In Name Only) agreement, drawn up in accord with the state statute. In essence, I remained legally free, and the contract would guarantee me almost unlimited time to do my academic work, six days out of every seven, during the school year. The contract also provided flexibility to perform all the internships he had mentioned, although wherever possible he planned to have Terri and me working at the same firm for such internships. BUT, the contract obligated me to act as if I were a slave the rest of the time, obeying all orders from Terri unless those orders interfered with our studies or endangered her personally. He would also ensure that I received some self-defense and other training to protect Terri.

I naturally objected that I couldn't go to school, especially in Colorado, wearing a collar and nothing else, as was customary for slaves. Not only was the weather inhospitable, but Colorado was one of the few states that had never passed a slave code to implement the 34th Amendment; to be labelled a slave in that state would make me unemployable and a social pariah. Mr. Thornton replied that, after my initial processing this summer, the contract would forbid public nudity or wearing of a collar. Instead, it would describe me as an "Extraordinary Talent" slave. I knew what that meant, too—wealthy people often had financial advisors, personal assistants, even makeup artists who were classified as Extraordinary Talent slaves. This meant that they remained clothed in public but performed their functions as dedicated slaves of their owners so that they couldn't make any deals contrary to the owners' interests—if they did, their slavery would be extended and become much more onerous. If I were classified as Extraordinary Talent, even a police officer who was aware of my FINO status would not expect me to strip or kneel in public. At the same time, being a FINO slave meant that, for the next four years, I could neither marry her nor persuade her to self-indenture to me (as if either of those things could happen!)—I would belong to HER, period.

"I know that's a lot to digest, and I don't expect you to make a decision right away. I've just sent the draft contract to your e-mail address." I heard my laptop ping. He concluded, "I want you to think about it, and consult an independent attorney about the arrangement; to do that, I'm including an extra $1000.00 in your next tutoring check, but it won't appear on your W-2 for the year. Do you have any questions right now, though?"

"I have to ask you, Sir," I replied, trying to formulate the words, "Why do it this way? I understand that you want to protect your daughter, but I assure you I'm no threat to her, and she will never think of me romantically. I'm sure Dean Hardiman has told you that every guy on campus is hitting on Theresa, so I don't stand a chance with her." [I was guessing that Hardiman was his informant about us; Mr. Thornton didn't deny it.]

"Don't be too sure of that," Thornton replied, chuckling slightly. "All she talks about is how smart, funny, and caring you are. I've heard more about you than about all of her boyfriends for the past four years put together. If nothing else, you're apparently the only guy up there who treats her as an intelligent person rather than an object of desire with a large trust fund." He paused, then continued in a sombre voice. "Since you asked where my idea came from: Terri's mother was a slave consort, a graduate of the Broadstone Academy whom I fell in love with and eventually married. I'm not saying Terri will marry you some day—that's another question entirely. But this contract ensures that she can trust you completely, just as I trusted her mother. And my daughter really needs a smart guy she can rely on."

"Speaking of that," he added, "I have to ask—the way you said that she would never think of you romantically tells me that YOU think of HER that way, right?"

He was too sharp, so I decided to be honest. "Guilty as charged, sir, but for that reason alone you can trust me without all this money and contract stuff. I'm solidly in her "Friend zone," but I'm also really rooting for her. I'll think about your offer, which is very generous, but I've got to say that slavery in any form worries me, and I would try to help her even if you paid me nothing. This is a tough decision."

*****

I don't know who was more embarrassed, Terri or me, when she came back 20 minutes later. We talked haltingly about what he had proposed, although of course I said nothing about my love for her. She teared up and again said she didn't want to lose a friend over this crazy idea, and I again assured her she couldn't get rid of me that easily.

When my next tutor's pay arrived, it did indeed include $1000 extra, which I used to consult a local attorney who had previously practiced in Texas. He agreed that it was a valid contract, and we discussed the downside. Based on that discussion, he drafted a counter-proposal including two additional clauses, one of which was extremely embarrassing:

First, that if Theresa or anyone other than me directly or indirectly disclosed my status to anyone in Colorado, the contract would immediately be voided but she would still pay all my tuition costs—the Thornton family had to have some incentive to keep my secret.

Second, that for at least two continuous hours twice each week, she had to leave me unfettered and without any chastity device (which was commonly worn by male slaves, especially when serving a female)—this implied but of course didn't say that I could masturbate twice a week. Hey, just because I'm a nerd doesn't mean I don't have urges, and being around Theresa 24/7 for four years was going to cause a heck of a lot of stress on that chastity belt. Give me a break. Terri, bless her heart, initialled that paragraph without saying a word, but blushing slightly.

But, those provisions came later. First, we had a long discussion, about ten days after her Dad made this astonishing proposal.

She was usually quite assertive, but she brought the subject up rather timidly when we were taking a stretch break. "Can we talk about my Dad's idea, Matt?"

"We have to sooner or later," I replied glumly. "Of course he wants to protect you, but I don't understand why this has to involve slavery. It seems like mega-overkill."

She nodded agreement, but went on. "Look at it from his viewpoint: he's offering you basically the same educational opportunity he'll give me, and you'll finish without any debt and great job prospects. Technically, you're never a slave, just a free person on contract, so there's no permanent slave record or branding or any of that stuff—just a slave ID number tattooed inside your mouth." (She peeled down her lower lip to show me HER number.)

Terri paused, then continued. "In return, what's he asking? First, that you in-process through a slave market. I get it, you're embarrassed by the whole thing." (As I had suspected, the "processing" specified in the contract meant going to a slave market—in this case, the Longhorn in Houston—where I would have to be slave naked and collared, in her custody, while I was tattooed, chipped, photographed, and entered into the National Slave Registry.) "Look—when I turned 18, Daddy demanded that I go through the entire slave grading procedure. I think he told you that my Mom had been a slave, and he wanted me to understand just how powerless and frightened people felt in that situation. My best girlfriend held my claim check, but even with her around I was terrified. It's a common rite of passage in the South, and most of the people you'll meet when we go for internships have been there. At least, you won't have to be exposed to public view and fondling like I was because there's no need for you to be slave-graded."

In fact, one of the key issues for me was appearing as a slave in HER sight. I told her, quite honestly, that not only would I be embarrassed to undress in front of her, but the sight of me in such a powerless situation might permanently turn her off and make it difficult for us to work together. She insisted, however, that it would only add to the respect she had for me and cement her friendship if I were willing to go through this.

"Anyway," she resumed, showing some of the persistence she had often displayed in class discussions, "I know that's a biggie for you, but it's only one day and I PROMISE I won't laugh at you or think less of you. I've been there myself, remember. After that, what's next? The second thing is that you have to do what I say for the next four years. I guess he thinks I need practice supervising people if I'm going to be an oil executive. You don't strike me as a male chauvinist who can't take orders from a woman. Is that a problem for you?"

I smiled sheepishly. "You already call the shots as it is, so that isn't a problem unless you're planning to do something stupid."

"Third," She said, refusing to be derailed by my comment. "In private, you have to be naked, at least on the weekends on school and all the time at home in the summertime." She looked at me to see my reaction. This was well within the bounds of the agreement as explained by my lawyer. The contract specified that, as an Extraordinary Talent, I had the right to be clothed in public, sure, but in private, at least one day a week during school and more often otherwise, she would have the power to have me collared, bound, and slave naked if she wanted to, or even if she wanted to discipline me. I shoved the image of corporal punishment far into the back of my mind, and worried about getting through the Longhorn with Terri watching me.

"Well," I replied. "I've got the same concerns. By that time, you will have already seen my body at the market, and in fact you may decide that the sight is so ugly you WANT me to keep my clothes on." I was still trying to conceal my embarrassment, but her eyes never waivered.

"Maybe when we're at school," she conceded in a tone of voice that said it was unlikely. "But, remember that this contract will start this summer, when you're living with me outside Houston and we're working on internships. Knowing Daddy, I can guarantee that he's going to 'accidentally' drop in on me several times in the evenings and expect to find you in slave mode. He'll know immediately if you aren't accustomed to that. So, we need to follow the rules in private. That may be the hardest part for you, Matt, but I think we can get used to it."

(Easy for you to say, I thought but didn't say out loud.) "I really want to support you," I replied, hesitantly. "And I know it's a great opportunity, but I've got to think about it for a while, OK?"

She apparently decided not to push more that day. But periodically we found ourselves discussing how we might function together—what she would tell me to do, how we would share her apartment, and so on. She tentatively suggested that we pose as boyfriend and girlfriend, but I had to shoot that idea down (damn it).

"Much as I would like to be your boyfriend—even your fake boyfriend—that would put a real crimp in your social life, wouldn't it?" I asked, hating to have to say it. "What happens when you want to go out with some guy, like you've done half a dozen times this year?" She acquiesced, but I was glad to see that she didn't seem relieved by my refusal. We finally decided to tell people that we were just sharing the rent, not involved with each other. She suggested that, in private, we live on the basis of being brother and sister—only in this case, the sister would always get what she wanted. If she wanted to have someone over, I could just stay in my bedroom, out of the way. I also promised to knock before entering any room, to avoid seeing her naked—the reverse was not a problem, of course, except that she solemnly promised not to bring any visitors to the apartment without warning me first, so I was upright and clothed.