Chapter 36
REDUCED TO THE RANKS
I began to wonder whether there was a pattern or a purpose to my years of servitude as the Brigadier's slave. Was I being systematically trained or developed for some ultimate end that was still opaque to me? Or was I just the object of random experiments by a dominant male for his own pleasure?
Had the whole six year experience been a carefully contrived programme to see just how far he could go in degrading another human being before I would cry "enough"? Certainly I had come very close to that after the horror of the sadistic gypsy in the breakers yard. Had he exposed me to that in year one, wouldn't I have fled without further ado, never to be used by him again?
So, it was reasonable to assume that he had been preparing me for that. But having seen that he had taken me to my limit at last, even to forcing me to attempt to break free of his ownership, wouldn't you have thought that he might have eased up a bit, instead of which, on my very next visit, he dragged me out into the countryside and imposed a particularly rigorous regime of punishment and degradation. Why? Why would he have done that? For I had long since learned that he did nothing by chance. Perhaps he was making the point that having crushed my attempted escape with such off-hand ease, he was keen to rub my face both literally and metaphorically in the shit of my own debasement.
And what was one to make of that extraordinary next visit when I was forced to punish some poor bastard who had offended him - even encouraged to fuck the man? Flogging and fucking are the acts of a master, not a slave. And yet how cleverly he had managed the proceedings to make it clear that I was acting as a slave even so. Was he grooming me to develop a more dominant side of my personality - one which even I had not recognised before? Or just demonstrating how far he could go in making me serve his ends? It was all very puzzling and I decided I would just have to trust his manipulative skill and see how things would develop on future visits. As things turned out, I could never have predicted what happened on the next visit, not in 100 years.
There was nothing in the summons to my next visit to alert me to anything untoward except that an unusually long period of 10 weeks had elapsed since my last and that he demanded five days of celibacy beforehand, instead of the usual four. Obviously he wanted me to arrive ravenous for sex! Oh yes, there was one other thing that was a bit unusual, I was to report at 11am on the Saturday morning rather than the usual Friday night.
On arrival on a cold, bright October morning, I stripped off as usual in the icy scullery before reading the orders note on the draining board. It said, with customary terseness "Living room". Well that was unusual as a starting point! I hurried up to the ground floor, dropped to my knees outside the not-quite-closed door, tapped deferentially on it and waited. There were voices! Oh God, what now?
Almost at once the Brig's deep voice boomed "Come!" I dropped onto all fours and pushed the door open with my head but stopped dead in my tracks only halfway into the room, astonished by the scene that met me. The Brig was with the Corporal, both formally dressed in suit and tie (I had never seen the Corp other than a scruffy mess.) The Brig stood with his back to a blazing fire, the Corp some little way away by the window and both held glasses of sherry! There was a strange, stilted, formal, atmosphere and the Corp looked most uncomfortable.
"Come in boy, come in" Hugh commanded and I shuffled forward on my knees, feeling acutely stupid and embarrassingly naked in this genltleman's club atmosphere of correctly dressed men, leather chairs and sherry glasses. I waddled over so sit on my heels at my master's side, feeling the warmth of the fire on my back. He took my collar and lead from the mantlepiece and buckled it round my throat, then dropped one hand onto my head and ruffled my hair absently, as he might fondle one of his setters.
"This is a special day" he announced, "Twenty five years to the day since the Corporal here was first assigned to me as my batman. Twenty five years of loyal service. Damned good show" and he raised his glass in salutation. Then, addressing me directly, he went on "When I asked the Corp what I could give him to mark my gratitude, he said, ah, you." I looked up in alarm. "And as I have pretty well finished with you myself, I agreed he could have you"
"Have me Sir?" I queried "How 'have me'?"
"As his slave of course, what do you think? As his own fuck boy. Whatever"
I glanced at the Corp, looking small and ill at ease in his unfamiliar suit. He looked at his shoes, embarrassed. "But he can't" I wailed in dismay "I'm yours Sir. It says so here" and I pointed at the tattoo blazoned across my chest. "I'm for your use ONLY"
He looked down at me and I cowered as he gave me the full "ice blaze" from those cold blue eyes. "Of course you are mine. Mine to do what I like with. And what I like is to give you to my serving man. The matter is closed."
His huge frame towered over me like a thunder cloud of power but I could not leave it there. "Noooo" I howled and flung my bare arms around his sturdy legs. "Please Sir, please, I beg you..." and I buried my face in his crotch where I had so often found solace before.
"CORPORAL!" he bellowed "Take control of this thing of yours and get it out of here!"
"SIR!" answered the corp, now safely back on the familiar ground of doing what his officer told him. He grabbed the lead and yanked it so viciously that I fell sprawling on the rug. He dragged me onto the polished boards, sliding and scrabbling and howling through the door which he pulled shut behind him.
"Shame on you!" he said "behaving like that in front of an officer!"
I looked at him in wild eyed dismay. "Why? Why?" I wailed. "You never wanted me. Never showed the slightest interest."
He wound the dog lead round his fist until his hand was hard against my throat. He pulled me up to my knees and lowered his face to within inches of mine. "Never showed any interest?" he breathed "I've wanted you since I first saw you sitting on the station waiting to be collected"
I looked at him in amazement. In all the time we had spent together, working in the garden, mucking out the cows etc., never once had he shown the slightest sexual interest in me. Never tried to touch, much less fondle me. Never any suggestive remarks or double entendres. Never any remarks about my fuck-boy status. No sign of interest or even of contempt. Yet now he was claiming to have lusted after me since that very first visit! I remembered how he had ordered me to strip naked beside him in the Landrover - and how I had, blindfolded, splayed my legs, offering myself to him. "But you made no attempt to handle me in the car on the way from the station" I said.
He shrugged and said simply "You were for the Officer's use" as though that was sufficient explanation - as indeed, for him, it was.
He had pulled me to my feet and led me by my collar down to the scullery. He scooped up my discarded clothing and led me still naked through the door and across the courtyard to his quarters above the stable block arch. And there he fucked me. Straight away. No messing. Just put me across his truckle bed, whipped out his cock and banged it in. It was all over in just a couple of minutes.
Well, I thought, now that's over perhaps I can go. But there was something else I didn't know about the Corporal - he was a madly oversexed, fuck-hungry, randy little bugger. To my horror he started to strip off. Naked, he was not a pretty sight, thin and scrawny and white with a body like a skinned rabbit. But his bone-hard little cock was already rampant again. He rolled me onto my back, hooked my legs over his bony shoulders, jacknifed me and shoved his prick into me again. Only this time he took things much slower with long piston strokes, in...out... in...out with the tireless and boring regularity of a steam engine. But then I became aware of something odd going on. He seemed to be fumbling for something under his pillow. His head was much higher up the bed than mine of course and all I could see was his narrow chest going up and down above my face. What the hell was he doing up there? I craned my neck round as far as I could and was shocked to see he had a book propped on the pillow!
"Christ!" I exploded, "I've never been fucked by a man reading a book before!" And do you know what he did? Nothing! Just quietly turned a page and carried on fucking, in...out,...in...out, as if I wasn't there - except as a fuck-hole!
I thought to shame him, to embarrass him by saying "Come on for God's sake, I'm getting bloody sore down here" Nothing. No reaction. In...out,...in...out. So, his cock was only half the size of Hugh's monstrous weapon, but it was as hard as a bone and this interminable pistoning was wearing me ragged, jagged and sore.
"Nice weather we're having for the time of year" I said. Again no response. What the hell was he reading? War and Peace? I craned my neck around again and as he slowly turned another page I realised it was not a book, it was a porno mag.
At long last he finished and got off me and went to his pokey little shower room to get cleaned up. With huge relief I lowered my legs and after a moment or two to recover I turned and picked up the magazine from the pillow. It was a German publication called "Ledermeister", several years old and well thumbed. I flicked through the pages andit fell open at a much visited page. I stopped dead. There was me! Standing stripped naked in the scullery in the Display position and wearing those black goggles from my very first visit, six years ago! I turned the page and there I was in the bath, my wrists tied to the taps and spattered with filth. And another, strung up in the shower by my balls. I felt sick and soiled. So, Hugh had told me he would sell the photos of me at the Breakers Yard a few months back but it had never occurred to me he had been selling me since the beginning.
Clearly the Corporal had been jacking off to these pictures for years and it was such a ritual that even when he actually had his cock shoved up my arse he still needed this stale stimulus. Sick! Sordid and sick! Is this what I had come down to - a masturbation device for a miserable little skinned rabbit of a loser?
I turned the pages again and let out an involuntary moan of dismay for there I was, stretched out on the bed frame, lashed down with ropes and straps, my thighs wide splayed ready for punishment. Then close up shots of my thighs marked by the tawse with the tawse laid over one thigh to show the implement used. Then the cane, laid across both thighs but with the awful bruises it had caused clearly visible. These pics had been in black and white but now came the centre spread in full colour showing the electric flex and the livid damage that had done as it had slashed across the tawse-and-cane bruised flesh. The sheer savagery of it made me feel sick.
I looked up to see the Corp, dressed again, standing in the doorway watching me.
"Great pictures" he said. "Some of the best"
"There are more?" I croaked. In answer he pulled a small tin trunk from under the bed and threw open the lid. It was full with literally scores of porno mags, German, English, American, Dutch, Scandinavian. All with titles like "Brute", "SM", "Korrektion", "Leder Mann", "Slave Pigs", "Den Kaan" etc.
I picked up one at random and flicked through. There I was again, strung upside down in the cellar, my legs wide splayed and a fearsome contraption fixed around my balls and cock. Oh God, yes, I rembered that occasion all too vividly.
"Do they all have pictures of me?" I asked
"Most" he replied with a rather sheepish grin. "You and his other slaves. They are copies publishers send to him - and he gives 'em to me". He riffled through the pile and selected another and showed it to me, the 'Decorated Man' tattooing my chest. "I specially like this" he said and I realised to my horror that he was on heat again, rubbing his cock. Already! Dear God, he'd just emptied two loads of spunk into me. He surely couldn't be ready for a third so soon? But the randy little bugger was, only this time he wanted oral attention and pulled my head down into his crotch.
God knows how long it took. It seemed like forever. I used every technique to bring him to orgasm I could, but he was enjoying himself and what if I was bored and fed-up? I don't think he was at all aware of that. Or if aware, was not interested as long as I kept sucking. At long last he came and shot his load down my throat.
After that I brikly announced I had to go as I had an appointment to keep in London. He was suprised and disappointed and asked me if I couldn't stay. I assured him it was imperative for me to get back to Town and left as soon as I could. I was relieved to have got away as easily as that. (Imagine telling Hugh 'Sorry but I've got to go' Ha!) I still had the taste of his cum in my mouth though, it seemed to be clinging to my back teeth so I stopped at a pub for a brandy to scour the sickly taste of that nasty little man's semen from my throat.
Well that was that. End of story. There was no way I'd go back to Manor Farm again to be used by that grubby little loser. 'Sex toy, Officer for the use of' was great but 'Fuck hole, Other Ranks for the use of' was just not on. There was no logic there I know. As someone who was turned on by humiliation, I should have been ecstatic at this ultimate degradation. The IDEA of being a barrack room whore, available for use by "the brutal and licentious soldiery" was great. But the reality of being the fuck-boy of a randy little skinned rabbit who lacked all authority, no! no way!
So, that was the end of it? After over six years of methodical degradation it had all come to an end in this messy and highly unsatisfactory way? Never again would I experience the joy of having Hugh grope my nakedness with greedy ownership. Never again feel his powerful, furred body rubbing against me. Never again suffer his self-indulgent cruelties. I just couldn't believe it was ended. Surely, surely there had to be something more?
Didn't there?