Chapter 32
THE BREAKER
Saturday night had been hot again and I had thrown off my blanket to sleep naked on my mattress beside his bed. When my master woke and swung his legs out to rise, he planted one foot on my bare chest and one on my face while he untied the tether from my nipple ring. "Go up and fetch The Slasher" he said. I was appalled. Why should he want that vicious cane for my morning beating? Like a fool, I asked why, what had I done? Would I never learn not to question him? He didn't answer, just got to his feet and looked down on me with the full "Ice Blaze" from his eyes and turned to go to the bathroom.
Chastened by that contemptuous stare, I scrambled to my feet and raced up to the attic room to fetch the cane he wanted. It didn't do to keep him waiting! On regaining the bedroom I knelt with the cane laid across my upturned palms like an offering and waited for him to return. He came back in from the bathroom, took the cane and tapped his bed with it. Dutifully I laid myself across it, my feet on the floor as I had been taught and waited for my morning beating to begin. I could smell the warm scent of his body on the sheet.
He gave me three swipes from one side then crossed to my right for another two, angled to strike across the first ones. I bit into the sheet to stop crying out, for I hated The Slasher, it stung like hell being long and slender and whippy. The marks it made would be gone within a week for it lacked "thud" for deep bruising but the pain was fierce, and the welts were immediate, livid and raised in hard ridges. I was grateful to have had to take only five cuts.
"That'll do" he said and I slid off the bed onto my knees and kissed the fist that still gripped the cane. "Take it back" he said and I went back up to hang it on the rack in the punishment room with all the other equipment. But why had he used it? Just a passing whim to beat me more severely this morning because he felt like it? Possibly, but I suspected something more. The use of that particular cane suggested that he wanted stripes across my arse and if that was the case it probably meant he planned to show me off to someone whom he wanted to impress. Hmm . . .
After I had served him breakfast he came into the kitchen where I was washing up and told me to leave that and get dressed as we were going out. Aha! I thought.
By the time I had pulled on my shorts and t-shirt he already had the beat-up old Landrover out. I scrambled into the passenger seat beside him and off we went. He too was wearing shorts and a loose cotton shirt because it had been so hot for days. I loved to see his powerful, hairy thighs in shorts and I got randy just by stealing glances at them as we drove in silence.
We turned off the A road onto a B road and after a few miles turned off that onto a minor road wide enough for only one vehicle between high hedges. Where the hell could we be going? There had been a crudely painted sign at the last turning saying "Noah's Bodyworks and Parts 1 mile" and sure enough we started to see old wrecks pushed into the hedges.
"Strip" he said. Obediently I stripped off to end up sitting beside him stark naked. We started to see extensive fields on the left, jam-packed with old vehicles -cars,vans,lorries, tractors, - some just shells, others piled one on top of another two and three high, glittering and flashing in the hot, Sunday morning sun as we passed. Eventually another sign like the first and we turned into a huge breaker's yard and went bumping across the pot-holed tarmac. Piles of tyres, rusting engines and battered jerry cans littered the site. We stopped by a huge shed of corrugated iron and the Brig tooted his horn. Shortly, one of the big sliding doors was trundled open and from the blackness within a figure emerged which could only have been the eponymous Noah himself.
He was a swarthy gypsy of about sixty with a mad frizz of dry, salt and pepper hair that reached his shoulders and a stubble of grey whiskers over his heavy jowls. He wore a one-piece overall that had once been blue but was so stained and smirched with oil and grease it was now mostly black. It was open to the navel, displaying a mass of grey body hair crawling over fat breasts which sagged onto his huge belly. He made a dismayingly repulsive sight as he walked over to the Landrover and, leaning on the open window, greeted Hugh with an easy familiarity which I found distasteful.
"So what have you got for me today then?" he asked, leering past Hugh at my nakedness. I tried not to cringe under his lecherous gaze. "Lets have him out then. You can't buy a horse in a horsebox"
'Buy'? Dear God, surely I was not going to be sold to this horrible old man? I looked in panic to Hugh but he only said "Out". It was still only mid morning but the sun burned on my skin and the tarmac felt hot under my bare feet. "Display" snapped my owner and I obediently went into the display stance, hands behind my head, so that this horrible old man could inspect the meat. As he came close I caught the gag-making stench of his unwashed body and had to force myself not to back away.
The gypsy trader prowled round me. "What you wantin' for 'im then?"
"Fifty quid"
"Fifty quid? You must be jokin'. Even includin' a fuck, he ain't worth more'n twennyfive"
"Now Noah, you know very well I never let anyone else fuck my boys. Can't you read whats written on his chest - 'for my use ONLY'. Any other games you want to play with him, that's OK, but no fucking"
"Twenny then"
"Come off it Noah, you paid thirtyfive for that pudgy American last year. This one's worth a lot more. Fifty pounds and that's for the whole day." (The whole day! I wasn't being sold. Just hired out. Thank God for that at least!)
"Thirty five for the American, thirty five for this'n too. At least the Yank was obedient, this one still has to be punished before he'll do as he's told. Look at them stripes on his arse!"
"That's not punishment, Noah. That's just his regular morning beating. Keeps him in line doncherknow?" Hugh lied, casually. "He'll do whatever you want - or he'll answer to me for it!" (So, that's why I had been beaten with unusual ferocity - to impress this foul old bugger with the weals.)
"I'll want to pit race him" (Pit race me? What the hell was that?)
The brigadier shrugged dismissively. The wily old gypsy said "OK, I'll tell yer what I'll do. Forty quid. That's me final offer" and he spat on his palm and held it out to Hugh in the horse dealers' time honoured gesture. But Hugh refused to take it.
"Fifty pounds or I take him home now"
"Nah, nah, nah. I just ain't that innerested"
"Oh?" countered Hugh, "You are interested enough. Look at that!" and he gestured to the old man's crotch. Sure enough, the bulge under his boilersuit betrayed him. "You lecherous old sod, Noah, you just can't wait to get your dirty hands on his nice young body, can you? Fifty and he's yours"
"I'll put 'im on the work bench" he snarled, threateningly. (And what the hell did THAT mean, I wondered?)
"Fifty buys him for the whole day to do what you like with him, work bench, pit race, whatever, - provided you don't damage him and don't fuck him"
"He's got a good arse on 'im" conceded Noah. Again he spat on his palm and said "Fortyfive!" Hugh slapped his palm down onto Noah's and the deal was struck.
A wodge of greasy notes was pulled from a back pocket and ceremoniously slapped into Hugh's hand "Ten. Twenny. Thirty. Forty. Fortyfive." and I was hired. Leeringly he advanced on me and groped me with his black fingernailed, oil-stained hands, leaving a smudge of black on my handled flesh. He rubbed his gross belly against me and reached round to grab my buttocks and pull me against his protuberant crotch which he ground into me while the miasma of his disgusting body odour filled my nostrils. I looked over his head to my master, pleadingly, but he just stood there smiling at my distress. Clearly, I could expect no help from that quarter.
"Yeah, a lovely bum" he breathed, digging his fingers hard into my thrashed buns while grinding his hips against me. But suddenly he pulled away, grabbed me by one ear and dragged me off to the garage building like a naughty schoolboy, which I hated.
Inside it was black after the dazzle of the sunlight. Black and hot like an oven under the tin roof. Sunlight stabbed down through dirty skylights and through large factory-style windows, but all to no effect. This was a place where sunlight came to die, for every surface was black, black with years of grease and oil and drained sumps and soiled hands.
The concrete floor was black and strangely, repellently soft under my bare feet with its build-up of oil and grime. The benches, piled high with engine blocks and gears and tools and mechanical detritus were black and everything stank of diesel. Block and tackle pulley chains hung from a black girder under the black steel-trussed roof. Old tyres were stacked in crazy black piles and bits of vehicles stood everywhere in the gloom.
Still dragging me along by the viciously twisted ear, which was surprisingly painful, he frog marched me to where concrete steps led down into the deep, narrow trench of an inspection pit in the garage floor. "Down in the pit with you, boy" he said, letting go of my ear at last. The bottom of the pit was even more foul than the rest of the garage. Rainbow-hued oil slicks floated on shallow puddles in which sodden fag ends and paper wrappers and squashed plastic cups lay in a swill of muck and oil.
"On your back" he snarled. Oh no, I could guess what this was about, but what could I do? Hugh stood on the lip opposite him, towering above me. Obediently I lowered my nakedness into the filth and lay there, stretched out below them. The fat bastard pulled out his cock and started to piss down onto me, as I had expected. But then to my horror, so did Hugh. The two of them, grinning merrily, on either side of the pit, hosing me down from head to knees with their warm piss. Hugh even pulled out his camera with his free hand and recorded the double stream of piss arcing down, bright in the flash, into the black pit. It really hurt that he would do that.
Finished at last, Noah came down the steps, his laceless army boots coming to rest either side of my head. He told me to give him my hands and when I did so he neatly flipped me over onto my belly. The he took a bit of binder twine from his pocket, deftly bound my hands behind my back and sat down on the second step, his boots on the floor, and told me to work my way back till I could feel my feet on the far end wall. I was hard to do with my hands bound but I eventually managed to slurp and slither and wriggle my way back through the piss-wet slime until I could feel the end wall. The pit was about 15 ft long so he was now some 9 or 10ft from my head.
"These are the rules o' pit racing" he said, scooping his genitals from his gaping overalls so that they hung against the step while his other hand produced a stop watch from a pocket. "When I sez 'Go!' yer race up 'ere, fast as yer can an' get my cock in yer mouf. An' I time yer, see? Unnerstood?" I nodded 'yes'. "Go!" he yelled.
How long does it take to crawl 10 feet on your belly? Not long. A few seconds. But try it with your hands tied behind your back. Bloody difficult! Now try it on a slippery, piss-wet and oil-grimed floor and it becomes damn near impossible. Noah was yelling at me and I could hear Hugh guffawing with laughter as I threshed and writhed,desperately trying to get a purchase on something to thrust myself forward. After God knows how long of furious effort I had covered half the distance and collapsed, gasping with exhaustion and streaming with sweat. "I can't Sir, I can't" I wailed. He got to his feet and came to me and hunkered down on his haunches. He grabbed my piss-wet hair and yanked my head up to look at him. "Like me to help yer a bit then?" he enquired. What option did I have but to nod 'yes'? He put the heel of one boot against my shoulder and shoved me back to the start position. But he didn't return to his position on the step. Instead, straddling my body, he shuffled up to the end behind me and stood astride my knees facing my feet.
"Go!" he yelled and immediately a flame of pain licked across my ankles as he lashed them with something. Automatically I bent my knees to draw my ankles away from the pain but another lash cut at my feet and another bit my heels. There was only one way to go to get away from the pain and that was forwards and I lurched and scrabbled my way up the length of the narrow pit while he followed after, lashing and lashing and lashing at my feet and soles and ankles while I howled and yowled and gasped, till I got my face up onto the first step. Only then did the cruel whipping stop.
"Well done, boy" he said. "That's 18 seconds. Not bad. Do yer know how long yer took first time?" Still gasping for breath I shook my head miserably. I didn't know and didn't care. "Over a minute, AND yer only got half way. See what you can do if yer try?" and he grabbed my ankles and dragged me all the way back to the start position. "Now let's see wot yer can do wiv out my 'elp!"
He seated himself on the steps again and re displayed his cock and balls, dangling under the obscene bloat of his vast belly. "Ere it all is" he leered "Luvly man cock to lure yer, cos yer likes to suck a bit o' man cock doncher?" He held up the stop watch and yelled "GO!"
I tried. Dear God but I tried. I was beginning to get the hang of it now. I "caterpillared" my way along, taking my weight on forehead and one shoulder and knees and ploughing my face through the slime onto my chest and belly, then back up onto knees and forehead. It was hard going, bloody hard, but I made it to the steps and plunged my face into his stinking crotch, gasping and sweating and exhausted but triumphant. I opened my mouth to gobble his cock but he pushed me aside.
"Tsk, tsk. 26 seconds this time against 18 last time. Not good enough, boy. You don't get to earn a cock-suck for that. What d'yer reckon Hugh?
I looked up to my master with mute appeal to save me from this nightmare. "You're the boss, Noah." he said with a shrug. Bastard!
"Would yer like me to help yer agin?" he enquired solicitously. I shook my head vehemently. "Reckon yer can do better on yer own, do yer? Match 18 seconds, huh?"
I nodded vigorously. What choice did I have? He took my ankles and dragged me all the way back to the end again and returned to the steps. 9 or 10 feet? It looked like a hundred yards now. I was exhausted, the cord was cutting into my wrists painfully and my knees and shoulders and hips were bruised and sore. What if I rolled over on my back and pushed myself along that way?
"GO!" and I flipped over (bloody painful when your hands are tied beneath you) and shoved off with my feet against the wall and got a good long skid. Quickly I brought my knees up and gave another big shove. But all that happened was that my feet shot down and my body stayed where it was! Disaster! I tried again with a less violent shove this time and that worked better but not good. I tried splaying my legs, trying to get a purchase on the side walls but narrow as it was it was too wide for that to be much good either. I rolled onto my side and tried knife jacking but I only succeeded in expending furious effort for almost no gain. I was near to sobbing with fury and frenzy and frustration, slithering around in oil and piss and my own sweat and getting nowhere.
"Stop!" he said, "That's 30 seconds and yer ain't even half way" He strode down the length of the pit and planted one boot squarely on my heaving chest. "That's the worst effort I've seen. Yer a useless fucker but we ain't done yet. Yer get one last chance, OK?"
"I can't, Sir" I whined piteously "I just can't do any more"
"You'll do as I fuckin' tell yer" he snarled, and dragged me through the muck, back down to the start position once more. Again he sat on the steps, again he flopped out his cock and balls. "Just concentrate on getting' yer mouf round this lot" he leered. "It's wot yer want but yer gotta WORK for it boy. Yer gotta EARN it! Now . GO!"
On my belly again this time and conscious of not wanting to let Hugh down, I threw myself at the task. I swam through the slippery muck with relative ease - amazing how with practice you can learn to do something that seemed impossible - I charged between his booted feet, reared up and plunged my face into his stinking groin.
"Great!" he yelled "21 seconds - 3 outside your best but not bad" and he took my head between his hands and guided my mouth down onto his penis and held it there while he pleasured himself inside me. Then, after a while, "Lick me balls, boy" he said and I did that too. I heard him call up to Hugh as the camera flashed yet again "I gotta fuck the bastard. I'll give yer another £50 to fuck his arse"
"No deal." boomed the deep voice from above.
The randy gypsy leapt to his feet in anger and frusration. "Then I'll 'ave 'im on the workbench, see if I don't. That was in the price" and so saying, he gripped me by one ear again and yanked me out of the pit and across to a fee-standing workbench under the block and tackle used for hoisting engine blocks out of vehicles. Flash went Hugh's camera, recording the spectacle of my besmirched and filthy body being ignominiously dragged along by the ear.
The bench was strewn with spanners and wrenches and cams and piston rings and all the usual clutter of an untidy garage. Impatiently he swept the whole lot off with one sweep of his forearm. The scarred wooden top like everything else here was black with the oil and grease of years. He untied my wrists (and oh the relief of that!) and made me lie along the bench with my head hanging awkardly over the end. He bound a length of orange binder twine round one wrist, passed the cord under the low shelf below the benchtop and up again to tie my other wrist, so that my arms were pulled downwards. Next he bound my ankles with a strip of oily rag and pulled the block and tackle towards the bench by the chain. He hooked my ankle bonds to the chain and started winching my feet up. The low gearing meant that although the chain went rattling through the hoist at a furious rate, my feet rose only slowly. But they went on rising and rising, pulling me upwards till my hips were well clear of the bench.
"Please. Please!" I howled, feeling I was being torn apart, my arms pulled down and my feet in the air till only my upper back and shoulders were on the bench.
I looked to Hugh to protect his property from damage but again he had the camera to his eye to record my distress. God, but how I hated him for that!
Noah picked up a broken drive belt, perhaps a fan belt. It was 'vee' sectioned and of heavy rubber. This is what he used to whip me with. He whipped my arse and the backs of my legs and my arms and my chest with an ugly savagery, lashing and lashing in a frenzy of perverted cruelty while the camera flashed. The vee section of the belt meant that when the ridge of the vee rather than the flat of one side struck me, the whole weight and force of the belt was concentrated along that line. I had taken some pretty nasty beatings from Hugh but this, without doubt, was the cruellest flogging I had ever suffered or ever hope to suffer.
Eventually he stopped and stood looking down at me with a mad gleam in his eye while rivulets of sweat trickled down between his hairy breasts and he gasped for air after his exertion. Then he lowered my feet down so that my poor whipped arse and back rested on the dirty benchtop. I winced at the pain but it was accepted eagerly for the relief from the hoist. Next he cut my wrists free but I could not raise my arms to my side to ease the pain in my shoulders, they just would not respond. Noah himself scooped up my right arm and laid it beside me and I actually said "thankyou", thinking this was done out of kindness. How stupid can you get?
Noah, you see, had a problem. His flog-frenzy had raised a dribbling erection which just had to be sated yet he was forbidden to fuck. His solution was pragmatic and disgusting. Clamping a strong hand round my left side, he pulled me towards him so that my right arm was pressed firmly against him. Then he simply fucked my armpit! That's right, he pushed his rigid cock into the crack between my body and my arm and used it as a substitute fuck-slit, banging into it till his knob stabbed into my armpit as far as it could go.
He started making such alarming noises I feared he might be having a heart attack but he was merely having a volcanic orgasm. I cannot explain why I found this so sickeningly disgusting. Compared to all the other foul things he had done to me, this surely was no worse. But somehow, being used like an inflated sex doll for the sexual gratification of this revolting old man really blew my mind.
He withdrew his semen-slimed cock from my armpit, wiped himself on some cotton waste and lurched away. Hugh asked him had he finished with me and was told to "go to hell and take your dirty little bastard with you".
Hugh helped me down from the bench and supported me out into the sun towards the Landrover, but not to the passenger seat this time. I was too soiled an object even for the beat-up old farm vehicle. Instead, the tailgate was lowered and I was shoved in to lie on some straw on the floor for the journey back.
Back in the courtyard of Manor Farm I was "unloaded" just as the Corporal was crossing the area. I'll never forget the look on his face when he saw my filthy, naked body. The Brigadier collared him and ordered him to "take this thing to the bathroom and get him cleaned up, then send him upstairs to me in the sitting room."
The Corp was wonderful. He said not a word, asked not a question, but seeing the terrible state of my whipped body, he stood me in the shower and washed me down with great gentleness and care while I just stood there shocked and whimpering. It took a long time to get rid of the oil and grease. He soaped me and rinsed me again and again but could not totally remove all the black grime where it was ground into my poor, raw knees and elbows and actually beaten into my skin by the whips. Finally he patted me dry with soft towels and told me to go up to "The Master". I thanked him but indicated the shower tiles and basin, smudged with black. "I can't leave it like that" I moaned, "He'd beat me and I just can't take any more." He told me not to worry, that he'd clean up the mess and anyway I should not keep the Master waiting.
In the sitting room he was sat, sprawled in his favourite chair, with the blinds down against the glare and heat, watching a cricket match on TV. He beckoned me towards him and I stood between his feet. He motioned me to come closer and leaned forward. Putting his hands on my hips he turned me round and I heard him exclaim "Jesus!" as he saw the state of my rear. He stroked the balls of his thumbs over the ridged welts on my buttocks.
"The fat bastard certainly gave you a good working over" and he turned me back to face him and pulled me down to my knees between his legs. I assumed I was to make the usual act of submission and leaned forward to thrust my face into his crotch but he grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head away.
"Yer likes ter suck a bit o' man-cock doncher?" he sneered, mimicking the Breaker's coarse accent. "You dirty slut" and he lashed out, striking me across the mouth with the back of his hand.
Caught totally off guard I fell backwards and went sprawling in the hearth amid a clatter of fire tongs and ash shovel and poker. I was shocked by his violence and by the sheer unfairness of his accusation, but he leaped to his feet, pulled me up by my arm and threw me across the arm of the sofa. He was obviously aroused for he fucked me immediately and with great brutality. This was fucking as punishment and it was unusually vocal with savage thrusts timed with every insult.
"Bastard! ... fuck slut!... dirty fuck-pig! ...cock hungry bitch! ... slave whore! ... I'll show you what fucking is! ... I'll split you open ... fuck cunt ... And so on and so on, hammering his spike in to make it hurt, with each obscenity. I had never heard him speak this crudely before. It was vicious, savage, ugly - and mercifully short before he was firing bolts of spunk into me.
Amazingly, on a different, calm, detached plane, I seemed to be watching this unseemly frenzy from above and even understanding the jealousy that fuelled it. He just couldn't bear to see another man using my body even though he had arranged it! Hence the smack in the teeth and this animal rutting.
As he finished, he jerked his cock out of me with violence so that even the withdrawal from my body would be painful. He held me pressed down on the sofa for a few seconds while he collected himself, then in a curiously flat voice he said "Get out of here. Get your clothes and go. I want you out of my house. Now" and he stalked out of the room.
In a daze I went down to the scullery, dressed, out to my car and drove away. A few miles down the road I pulled into the side and rested my forehead on the back of my hands gripping the steering wheel. I was shaking. I was hurt. Deeply hurt, both physically and emotionally. And angry. I was shaking with anger.
Again and again over the past four and a half years I has believed myself to have been trampled to the very bottom of the pit of degradation and each time I found that my master could devise still worse horrors to inflict on me. But today was it. I had been taken to the breaker's yard to be broken - and I had been broken. That was it! If there were still lower levels of shame and submission I did not want to know about them. I would never come back to this place of enslavement again. Not ever!
With that stern resolve I felt much better, and, in control now, I continued my journey home. I was a free man at last, after all these years of slavery and it felt great.
As the motorway miles slipped by, virtually on "automatic pilot" on this familiar route, my mind could wander. Images kept presenting themselves to my mind's eye. My master shaving, his bicep squashed huge against his hairy chest as he reached round to scrape the foam from the left side of his face ... My master as I first saw him, standing above me on the half landing of the basement stair, stripped to the waist, tapping his polished boot with a cane, in all the splendour of his power and manhood ... My master indulging himself in those strange, hallucinatory mirror games when he used me like a towel to wipe his body ... My master this very morning, sitting beside me in the Landrover in shorts, his massive thighs bare and hairy and powerful. And oh God, I wanted him! How desperately I wanted him - wanted to feel his big hands exploring my nakedness. Noah and Hugh had both used me for their sexual gratification this hot Sunday, but no one had satisfied me. I realised that this was the first time ever that I had left Manor farm without my master having milked me dry and it was now six days since my last ejaculation and I was as randy as hell.
I pulled in at the very next Service Station and went to the gents and tossed myself off to fantasies of kneeling between my Master's legs, nuzzling his huge cock ... sniffing it ... fingering it ... licking it ... admiring it ... sucking it ... Oh the splendour of him!
Back in the car and safely drained of spunk it was easy to remember I was never going to see him again. Never. My mind was made up. All this sordid sexual perversion was finished with. Never again would he casually reach out to seize a nipple between thumb and forefinger and make me whimper in an ecstasy of submissiveness. That was finished with.Absolutely. Wasn't it.