Someone Has To Do It
By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 14
I had enough money left, and enough cunning to fool enough people, to be able to find out in the next two days that what the driver had told me was true. The three metre high fence ran across the landscape, and there didn't seem any way through except for the major roads - all the minor ones had been blocked off, and there were customs posts on the open ones. I managed to get back into Bristol, and realised that even had I been able to buy a ticket at Bristol Temple Meads, it wouldn't have done me any good as at the entrance to the platform for trains to Wales there was a passport checker.
It was raining, and I was pretty miserable, and to get out of the weather I went into the museum, feeling that this was an odd thing to be doing on my last day of freedom. With all my money gone, starting to get hungry, I thought I might as well give myself up. I mooched around looking at the exhibits, and saw the special displays about Brunel and the railways and steamships he built, and went off to a pub for one last pint - I doubted I'd ever taste alcohol again.
I nursed it, making it last, and there was a big match on the TV, so I thought I might as well watch that. A group of squaddies came in to watch, too, waiting for transport to take them back to their base as they'd all come back from leave, and as I sat there I so envied them: I used to be like them, with a proper job, money to spare.... I felt do depressed, I didn't shout when a goal was scored, hardly even noticed it, in fact. The lads were pretty far gone, and one shouted to his mates, pointing at me, "Look at that miserable git... What's the matter, mate, don't you like Chelsea winning?"
Well, even though I was about to become an indentured again, I wasn't going to have that. So I snapped "Watch your mouth, and be careful who you call a miserable git, sonny!"
He launched himself at me, fists flailing, and of course I had no problem in stopping him - he probably hadn't finished training, and was half drunk, and he looked really pathetic sitting there in the middle of the floor, clutching at his belly. I grabbed a bottle off a table and smashed it in half, and thrust the jagged end at the rest of them as they came towards me.
"Your mate went for me!", I shouted. "And I was a soldier, too. Now, any of you lads want to try in a fair fight, that's OK - I like a good scrap. But not five on to one...."
They backed off, and we heard a police siren in the background - I assume the landlord had pushed the panic button.
"Get your mate on his feet..." I snapped, "...and then all sit down...."
They were used to obeying orders, and did as they were told, and I went and sat in-between them. The coppers came in, and saw us all sitting there, and began the usual "What's been going on here, then..."
The squaddies' corporal just looked at them and said "Sorry, mate, just a bit of a misunderstanding between friends.... It's OK now...."
The copper looked at me, as I was so obviously different from the young squaddies. "Are you OK, sir?"
"Fine, officer. There's no problem here. These lads just invited me for a drink, as I was in the forces myself."
He looked very suspicious. "I ought to arrest all of you..."
"Give us a break, mate. We're on our way back to camp, for the second half of our training.... We'll be in the clink if you report us..."
The coppers looked at each other, and then at me. "Are you sure you're OK, sir? You're sure these soldiers weren't bothering you?"
"Oh yes, fine. I was sitting here with my drink, and they had a bit of an argument... But it wasn't serious.... They spilled my pint, that's all, but they're going to buy me another one, I know..." I winked at the PC as I said this, and it kind of broke the ice.
"Right, then. But no more trouble, OK? You lads make sure you get the transport to camp.... And be sure to buy this gentleman a drink...."
Afterwards, the corporal went and got me another pint, plonked it down in front of me, and grinned. "Thanks, mate.... We'd have been in deep shit...."
"I know. I used to be in, as I said."
"Is that where you learned to fight? You stopped Darren pretty quick..."
Well, the whole story came out. After all, what had I got to lose? They were amazed when they heard about what had happened to me, and I warned them to make sure they got a "proper" trade in the army, and didn't just end up as a fighter, like me, or they might find themselves in the same position a few years down the line. Then, as they drank more, they decided it was fucking unfair, how I'd been treated. And they had a whip-around to give me the remains of their money they hadn't spent on leave. It was good to see that there were still some nice people in the world.
"Thanks... But it's not going to do me any good... I'll be captured soon enough...", and I explained how I couldn't even buy food in most places. They did at least then go up ad buy me a pie, too, as I was pretty much starving.
A sergeant came into the pub then and told them to get on their feet as transport to the camp was outside, and we said goodbye, and I told them again to be careful for their future. We went out into the street together, and the corporal motioned me to get into the back of the truck, when the sergeant wasn't looking. "It will get you out of the city, at least...."
Without that lift I don't think I'd have made it. As we trundled along I saw the railway line, and then the idea came to me: the Brunel tunnel under the Severn! That nineteenth century miracle, that's still in use. I thought they'd have it guarded, but it was worth a try.
I said a final goodbye to the squaddies and walked alongside the railway tracks, noting that there was only a fence to keep animals and kids off the line. The high speed trains hurled along, but not all that often, and I trudged through the rain until I finally saw the tunnel mouth - a great black hole cut into the embankment, with amazingly ornate brickwork all around it.
It was good that that Brunel thought big! I remembered from the museum that he built the line to take the big, wide-gauge trains he favoured, and of course the modern ones all use a much narrower gauge so there ought to be a lot of room in the tunnel, not like on the London tubes, for example. So although it was scary as I climbed the fence and made my way into the tunnel, I wasn't all that worried: it was pitch black, of course, but I'd read that there were "refuges", little alcoves in the brick walls, every so often in the walls where workers could wait for trains to pass - and I found I needed them! Even though the modern trains were narrower, they went so much faster that I was terrified that I was going to get sucked under them. So I had to listen very carefully for the merest hint of a train, then blunder desperately forwards or backwards, to a refuge, and flatten myself against the wet brickwork - and I had some pretty narrow escapes, I think.
I've never been so glad to see the open air again, but the Welsh were a bit cleverer than the English - they did at least have some sort of guard at their end, who noticed me stagger out!
I've been in Cardiff Jail for two years now. Well, I'm an illegal immigrant, aren't I? But my social worker says that there's no danger of me being sent back to England, as the Welsh Parliament has said that it considers indenture - well, permanent indenture - to be a breach of the European Human Rights Directive, so I can't be deported. So I've only got one more year to do, and then I'll be free again, although all the other blokes here say it's really tough out there, as there is absolutely no work for the unskilled - Wales was always run down, and with the English now having so much work done by indentured servants, there isn't even the traditional "escape" of going off to live and work there. Still, Dai says that's not a problem for us - Dai, my cell-mate, that is.
I reckon I'll be OK, though, as Dai seems to know the ropes, and he wants me to carry on working for him: he's really tough himself, but sometimes "size counts" and he reckons that having a bloke like me who not only is tough but looks it, will save an awful lot of bother. It just shows you what his fucking system does to people: I was a proud soldier, good at my job, serving my country, until they threw me out. Then all the work I could get was basically fucking and training blokes, and then they indentured me and I got really fucked over, literally. And even when I tried to assert my rights, the Welsh locked me up in here, and now it seems that I'm going to have to live out the rest of my life as a criminal - all the stuff Dai's engaged in is dodgy!
They put me in Dai's cell when I first came here, as he always likes first pick of the new arse. I think they go out of their way to humiliate new prisoners: I'd expected to be stripped and searched when I arrived at the prison, and so wasn't surprised when I heard the guards snap on a rubber glove so they could probe my arse for "contraband", but then why didn't they allow me to put the uniform on? Making a bloke walk the length of the cell block completely starkers just doesn't seem right. And if they always put the new blokes in with Dai, that was doubly unfair.
I went into the cell they pointed out (it was our free association time, so the door wasn't locked, and that's what made my naked walk particularly humiliating - all the other blokes were hanging around on the landings, and they could all get a good look at me. Not that I've got anything to be ashamed about, as you know, but it does take away a man's dignity to have several hundred other men all looking at him and pointing and jeering, doesn't it? I'd only just put on my uniform, and was deciding whether I wanted the top bunk or the bottom, when Dai came in.
He didn't even bother to say "hello" or anything, but ordered me to strip off! "Fuck you!", I told him. "You had a chance to get an eye full with all the other blokes out there..."
I was completely taken by surprise when he didn't even respond, but attacked me. He's one of those really pugnacious little Welsh terriers - to look at him, you'd think he'd have no chance in a fight. He's six inches shorter than me, and slight, but he just laid into me with his fists, and I laughed at first as I could so easily hold him off. I didn't know about his reputation, of course, and after a time I decided that he needed to be taught a lesson - I've met these bullying types before, and they need taking down a peg or two - someone has to do it sooner or later, and it might as well be me. As well as having the advantage of power and size, I really fancied a fuck.
I forced him across the bottom bunk and didn't bother to strip him completely, just yanked his trousers and underpants down, and then fumbled at my own to get my cock out. He's got a really bony arse, little thin white buttocks, and he carried on squirming even though it must have been obvious to him that I could do what I liked with him. So I slapped him a few times, just to signal that he'd better watch it, seeing my hand prints start to glow red on his bum. And then as he was being so obnoxious, decided to fuck him without any preparation, to really teach him a lesson. Well, not without any preparation at all - I did spit into my hand and wet my cock before forcing my way in to him.
You'd have thought that he'd never taken cock before, the way he carried on struggling. I mean, in a prison you expect blokes to have sex, don't you? So I forced his head down into the bunk, almost cutting off his air supply, and that shut him up. It wasn't a good fuck though - at Weybridge I'd got used to doing it long and sensual with Ian and Pavel and Marco, and this was just short, hard and brutal and it didn't take me long to shoot. Still, I think there's room for everything, and it certainly did make a change to force myself on to him and to dominate him so totally, and my cock got a good workout as he was so tight. But being so thin and bony it wasn't much fun to lie on him afterwards.
He was absolutely seething with rage when I did let him up, and he needed to understand who was boss here, so I told him to shut the fuck up, and when he didn't, I slapped his face (and I've probably mentioned to you before that with the power of my arms, it isn't a good thing to be on the receiving end of my hand). He just hurled himself at me again then, and it was only when the blood spurted out of my arm that I realised that this was serious. We were in a fighting stance across the small cell and I could see that in his hand he'd got one of those home-made weapons you hear about - a toothbrush, where the head had had slits cut into it which now carried two razor blades - he looked as if he knew what he was doing with it, and in the army they tell you there's a problem when you're up against a determined knife fighter and there's no room to manoeuvre.
We circled, dodged, weaved in and out of each other, and there was just no way I could get close enough to him to really disable him - not with my arm already spraying blood everywhere, and his wicked looking weapon constantly slashing out at me. My size was a real disadvantage here - he was so much more nimble, and my trousers were still down around my ankles, and when I tripped and stumbled, he was on me! Holding the blade right against the skin of my throat he stuck his face right into mine - he was bright red, and I could see the veins in his temple pulsing with rage, and flecks of spit flew out of his mouth onto my face.
"Now, boy-o, take care... One false move and it won't only be your arm that's spraying blood. Have you ever seen it when an artery's cut?"
"You wouldn't dare... The guards...."
"Listen, boy-o, why do you think you're in here? I get the pick of all the new arrivals. The guards and I have this little understanding, see? They want a quiet life, with everything ticking over nice and easily, with no trouble with the prisoners, and that's what I deliver. And in return they keep their noses out of prisoner disputes... And if they did find your body in here, it would just be moved somewhere else, or they'd say that you couldn't stand it, and had topped yourself. So wise up - I run this place...."
I looked up at him, and I could see he was probably telling the truth. I'd heard that this is what it could be like in prisons, where the guards just handed over to criminal gangs. He must have read something in my eyes as he snarled "So take it nice and easy now.... And turn over, as we've got a bit of business to do...."
He kept his weapon at my throat as I did as he ordered, and then he fucked me. I've told you how sometimes I do it to blokes when they're flat on their faces, and how it makes for a good fuck even though it can really be very uncomfortable for the bloke's ass - and Dai evidently knew this, too - he made no attempt to get my arse up off the ground, but spread my legs, lay on me, and went straight in. And then when he started "stirring" around, he laughed as I cried out in some distress. The worse of it, though, was that when he'd done, still holding the weapon to my throat he made me turn over on to my back, and I then had to clean his cock up as he squatted on my chest - and remember I had been on the road for days, and in the prison showers there really wasn't a way of really cleaning my insides out, so his cock was covered in my shit as well as his cum, and it was utterly foul. He kept me there, then, an evil smile on his face, as he began to piss, pushing the weapon into my skin just so that it didn't draw blood, but enough to signal quite clearly that I was to drink it down.
When he'd finished he contemptuously shook his cock so that the last drops of his piss flew over my face, and then stood up, to look down on me. I just lay there, wondering whether to kick out at him and take him down, but he said softly "Easy, boy-o. The last big tough soldier like you who tried something stupid was found buggered with this knife the next day. Imagine what it would feel like to have this up your arse, and then to have it rotated. They wondered how it was possible for a bloke to be overpowered in the showers, and then to have his arse hole carved up, all without the screws seeing, but I can assure you it was. Perhaps you'd like to ask him - you'll recognise him when you see him, by the colostomy bag!"
He carried on looking down at me, and I nodded slightly. "Good. So you understand I'm in charge. I run this place, and as long as you understand that, we'll be OK." He stared at me again for a few more seconds, then his whole attitude changed. "Get up then, you daft bugger! We'd better do something about that arm before you bleed to death...."
I've still go the scar from that first meeting on my forearm. I suppose compared to what Rob had done to me it's not all that bad. He was surprisingly tender as he bandaged my arm, and then he asked me about my life and I told him why I was there. "You poor bastard!" - he sounded very sympathetic. "It's OK for me, as I grew up with all of this. But you thought you had it made, didn't you, being a soldier and all of that? A nice job for life, a bit of money...."
"Yes."
"Well me, you see, we never had anything. A Council house, dad drank himself to death, my mother was a slag.... I never bothered at school, as it was easier to do a bit of nicking, stuff like that. I was doing all right, too - had things nicely wrapped up on the estate by the time I was twenty four - no one dared argue with me or anything, as they knew I've got a bit of a temper, and I don't mind getting tough. The local coppers were like the screws in here - provided we kept it all quiet and it was only thieving and stuff on the estate, they didn't mind too much, and I made sure the other blokes never did anything stupid like attacking fans when they came to the Arms Park for the big matches... Just waited until they were drunk, then took their money, credit cards, harmless stuff like that."
"So why are you in here, then?"
"The bastards at the Social Security filmed me walking around and having a bit of a soccer match with my mates, when I'd been claiming benefit for being unable to work with a broken leg! The fucking magistrate went on and on about 'scroungers' and 'cheats' and 'living of the state' - well, what did he think he was doing, but living off he state? - and said I needed to be made an example of as it was a 'flagrant' abuse." He stopped for a moment. "Nothing to do with the local coppers, see? Their inspector even spoke up for me in court, saying I was 'a real help in keeping crime statistics in the area down' - which is true, of course! But here I am, and it's not all that different from outside, now I've got it nicely organised."
"Do you fuck all the new blokes, then?"
"Yes. It shows them who's boss. I run a tight ship in here - and the screws like it that way. I keep everything under control, and they have no problems, see? You're the only one who's ever fought back - it's mostly local lads in here, see, and they all know the rules of the game. Trust some fucking Englishman to come in and upset things."
"Look, I'm sorry, OK? It's just that I've escaped from being forcibly fucked whenever my master wanted to do it... And I'm not about to start again...."
He asked me about things then, and sounded genuinely shocked when I explained about how the only work I could get was training indentured servants, and then how I'd been indentured for life. "Fuck me, Steve, the thought of being made into a slave because you don't work.... That would be me, if they had this system here."
"Hey, Dai... Look, I'm sorry.."
"For what?"
"Fucking you... It was just that when you told me to strip, and said you were going to fuck me, something snapped... I thought I'd escaped all of that when I came here, and once I was out of this place I'd be able to go and do what I wanted. It sounds as if things are as bad work-wise here as they are in England...."
"How the fuck should I know, Steve? As I told you, I don't believe in work. There's the Social, and then a bit of thieving, and a bit of this and that... Mind you, it's tough being around the house all the time, with the wife always nagging at me and the nippers screaming...."
"You've got kids?"
"Two, and I'm about to give her a third as otherwise it's too difficult to keep an eye on her.... She's always sniffing around the other blokes, trying for a quick one... Especially when I'm in here. So I keep her pregnant, and that puts them off, I can tell you."
"How long have you been in for, then?"
"Two years, and one more to go, with time off for 'good behaviour'."
"Anyway, I'm sorry about fucking you..."
"It's no problem. But next time, stretch me a bit first, will you? My arse is fucking sore!"
"Next time?"
"Yes, I've been thinking that I need someone around to keep an eye open for me - watch the other bastards when my back is turned. We're getting a lot of spades in here now and they're not like normal blokes - they gang up on us natives, and I may need help. You're really very handy with your fists, and a big bloke like you... Well, it takes away most of the problems before they get serious, doesn't it? They take one look at you, and they do as they're told... And I'm getting tired of beating guys up..."
"Dai, I don't think... Look, I don't want to break the law or anything,...."
"You've got no choice, Steve. When you're out of here you'll be on the Social, and for a single guy that's no fun any more. They'll make you live in a hostel, you'll never have enough to eat properly, or buy new clothes... There's no work, you know. And it's the same in here - unless you want to eat prison slop all the time, you need to be working the system.... And a new bloke like you has no chance...."
"I'm not sure...."
"...and of course you've got a nice body.... I'd like you to stay..."
"I'm not going to have you fuck me all the time..."
"Steve, in here, you're going to get fucked! Now there's a lot worse than me - it's a fact of life: all prisoners get fucked. If it isn't me, it will be some of the screws who come in to your cell one night and have a bit of fun.... Better the cock you know, than the cock you don't...."
I thought a bit, then nodded. I guess he was right. "I don't want all that noise when I fuck you though, Dai...."
"What makes you think you're going to fuck me?"
"I've had a lot of men, Dai, remember? I know the ones who genuinely hate it, and the ones who say they hate it because that's what they have been taught to say. But sometimes, when you're fucking a guy who isn't used to taking cock, you can just tell that they really want it. Mind you, that bony ass of yours... There's no meat on your body.... "
He grinned.
Well, I learned a lot of stuff I never even knew about. I learned how to be polite to the screws, whilst relying on them to make life easier for us: Dai really did have the place sewn up tight, and he ran all the rackets - men knew that if they didn't do as Dai said, they were likely to be put in solitary, or have privileges withdrawn. And we in turn "policed" the place for them - new arrivals were always put in with us, and as both Dai and me are really handy with our cocks, they got to learn what their proper place was. And it was mostly sweetness and light from then on.
I've even got a kid on the way! Yes, even here, from in prison. You remember Dai said he believed in keeping his wife pregnant, well, I found out how: the prison service thoughtfully handed out condoms, not that we ever used them, of course, as you don't want the sensation of a bloke's arse against your cock dulled, do you? The only use Dai had for them was to wank with one on before her visits, then to tie it off and stick it in his mouth - wives ere allowed a greeting kiss, when he shovelled it into her mouth with his tongue, and then he told her to go off to the lavatories and stick it up herself!
Dai and I got along really well - in bed, as well as a working partners, and as we lay there one night he said "Didn't you ever want a son, Steve?"
"I guess so. But I never met a woman..."
He kissed me, and pushed is body closer to mine, bringing his thigh up between my legs so that I could feel his skin warm on my arse hole. "Well, Steve, I think it's time my missus got a bit of a shock - she's been going out at night with some of her mates, and that's normally the start of jumping into bed with some bloke, which is why I decided to get her pregnant again. But I reckon it's too easy for her, with my kids.... They're kind of skinny, take after me. Now if she got a really big baby, one who took his size from his dad, who's six-something... A bloke like you, Steve... That would really let her know what pregnancy and childbirth was all about when it came to come out of her.... So she's coming in tomorrow, so that condom.... We'll fill it with your spunk...."
"Dai, you can't do that..."
"Why not, Steve? She's my wife, and I can do what I like with her...."
So there you are. It turned out that it worked, and there's a kid waiting for me when I leave here - Dai has to call it his, of course, as it's his missus and he'd be a laughing stock if anyone knew it wasn't his.
But we'll know. Dai reckons we'll carry on working together to run his "empire" when we leave here, as my size will be a big help in getting his rackets established again. Mind you, he tells me that we'll have to live on the Council estate, as however much we make, we can't let it show or else the Revenue will be down on us. And he says that I've got to sleep on the sofa in their house, as it "Wouldn't look right" if he didn't sleep with his wife. "But, Steve, she's a lazy cow, you know. Once I've fucked her senseless, she snores like a trooper. Then I'll be down those stairs, and with you...."
He saw me looking a bit strangely. "You'll be OK. You can curl up on the sofa with a blanket, and then I'll slip in beside you - it will be fun, in the middle of the night.... And you want to live with us, don't you? See how little Evan is growing up?"
"Hey, I don't want my kid to have a Welsh name...."
Dai just smiled. "Steve, sometimes I think you're really prejudiced!"
I don't know. I seem to have come a long way. And now, all this.... Still, that's life, isn't it? You don't always get chances and choices. You just have to do it. It's not a rehearsal for something else - this is it! I reckon I'm lucky to have found Dai like this - the world's a big, cold place without proper mates. And how much closer can you get than him and me? Look, I don't want to leave you thinking that I'm looking forward to a life of crime all that much, but it goes on, doesn't it, everywhere? And I suppose someone has to do it.
THE END