THE LABOURER by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 11
There was no way I could work the next day after my torture, or the day after that, either, and I was allowed to stay in the barracks when all the other servants went out to their various tasks. In one way it was luxury - all that time to myself, with no fear of someone driving me on. But of course I was in dreadful and acute pain, and every time I stirred in my bed fresh waves of it went through me.
The first night, as soon as he was back, Craig was kneeling beside my bed, asking me how I was. And he insisted I got up so that he could gently wash me again in the showers, keeping all the other guys at bay in case they should carelessly bump into me. He did it again on the second night, and as I lay back in my bed, feeling slightly better, he knelt there again and very, very gently picked up my dick in his massive hands. With infinite care he 'skinned me back, stopping very time I even gave the slightest twitch of discomfort, then, to my astonishment, his head came forward, his tongue came out, and he started to lick at my dick head.
I winced at first, as the sores from the pincers were very painful and Craig's slightly acidic spit caused them to 'fire' slightly. But the sensuous warmth and moistness of his tongue as he continued to smooth it over my head was somehow infinitely comforting. After a minute or two he pulled away, as my dick was stiffening. "Are you OK, Steve?"
"Yes.... That was great.... But Craig, you're a top... And you're sucking my dick...."
"Hardly sucking! But when I'm sore, I get the boys to use their tongues on me, and I know how good it feels...." His head went down again, and I lay there watching his shoulders move and his head bob up and down as his tongue slathered all over my dick head. I couldn't help it - in spite of the pain I was still in, I felt myself going erect, and after two days without sex I was pretty much on edge. Craig continued to lap at me, and then he looked up again, his eyes twinkling and a faint smile on his face.
"You must be getting better, Steve! This dick of yours seems to be in working order... I just had a taste of pre-cum...."
"Craig, you don't have to...."
"Mmmmmm", was the only reply I got, as his head went down again, and above all the tumult of my injured body, I got that wonderful sensation that makes you want to squirm as a man's mouth starts to really work on your dick. I heard myself moaning quietly as Craig continued to work at me, but I had to be careful - if I did what you usually do when a guy's sucking your dick and raise your hips to thrust up at him, it hurt like hell when my butt went down onto the bed again. But Craig's mouth and tongue were so sensuous that I needed to do something as my excitement was almost unbearable. I wanted it to go on for ever, wanted to have that big strong guy pleasing me like this. Even though my arms were hurting, I put both my hands on Craig's cropped head and pushed him down onto my dick so that it went right to the back of his throat; and I was rewarded by that reflex "kick back" as his head jerked upwards, trying to stop the gagging I'd caused.
I let him carry on then, just enjoying the feeling of his skull under my hands, knowing that I could control him like that whenever I wanted. And, of course, when it was all simply too much and my balls fired and my cum shot out, I held Craig's head down so that it filled his mouth - I'm not sure that he wanted to do that, and he probably would have preferred to let my cum fountain upwards. But I think a man who sucks your dick needs to do the job properly, and drink your cum, too.
I let Craig up then, and he was half smiling, his eyes still twinkling. Without stopping, in one smooth movement he pushed his face into mine and kissed me! I was so startled that I opened my mouth in surprise, and Craig's hot, strong tongue pushed its way in.... And at once I got the taste of my own cum: he hadn't swallowed. He was very careful, though, and kept the weight of his body right off mine as he rested on his elbows and just used the force of his head and tongue to keep us together. He plunged in and out of me just as if he was fucking - well, I suppose deep kissing is some sort of substitute for intercourse - and I responded, pushing my own tongue back into his mouth and enjoying the taste of his saliva mixed in with my own cum. Look, I'd never really kissed a guy before, but I'd had lots of experience with girls, and this was utterly different, although in some ways the same, if you know what I mean. Instead of me always having to do all the work and "tongue fuck" them, now it was both Craig and me going at it together, and it was so amazingly much better.
We needed to break after a time just to recover, and Craig kept his head above me, smiling down.
"Bastard!", I said, laughing at him.
"What, Steve? Is there a problem? Never had a good mouthful of your own cum before?"
All I could do was smile, and Craig bent down again and started kissing once more. When we stopped for breath a second time, I whispered "Do you do this to all the guys, then? Is this your secret?"
"No, Steve. The others are just for fucking. I only do this to guys I like, guys like you. You don't think I'd suck the dicks of any of the others, do you?
I'm a top, like you, remember? I just fuck them and leave them."
I lay there just breathing hard, thinking about it. Craig was about to start again, but I whispered "No, not now...."
"Scared, Steve?"
"No, of course not!" Well, I was, actually. I mean, since I'd been a servant I'd taken to fucking other men, but that was really only because they were there and my dick needed action, and it's natural for a guy to fuck, isn't it? But this was something else - doing kind of really intimate things with another guy was really odd in some ways, and my head was spinning.
"A lot of men are scared, Steve", Craig went on. "Especially guys like you who come here saying they're 'straight', as if that was some sort of virtue."
"Well I am..."
"You might have been, when you had no opportunity to do otherwise, Steve. But having seen you in action with the other guys, I can tell you you're pretty normal. And now I can see that you respond properly to another man, I know you're OK."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, a lot of men like you say you're 'straight' because you've never had the opportunity to really fuck another guy's ass. All the time at school and stuff there's all this 'straight' talk and so guys who ought to be getting together and bonding, having fun together, really enjoying their time in the showers and stuff, are just put off. And they join in with the others and talk 'straight', too, as they want to conform. But give them half a chance, take them somewhere where it's OK to fuck guys, and those so-called 'straight' guys soon learn that a good stiff dick and a nice ass are designed for each other. And then they're just like men in general - most men just want to take it, but some enjoy giving it, really enjoy giving it, as you and I do. But now you've gone one step further into becoming a real man - I think you know now that there's more to sex than just a quick thrust up the ass with your hard dick.... But it can be tough to move on to that next stage"
"But this is getting too serious", he went on. "You need your sleep! They're putting you back on the site tomorrow, I heard."
He got to his feet, and still smiling, walked over to his own bed. I lay there really embarrassed, as I knew most of the other guys would have heard him, and I suppose I wasn't used still to having absolutely no privacy, not even for conversations like that - somehow it wasn't the sex that made me shy, but the way that Craig had shared his thoughts with me and had said those things about me. I tried to sleep, even though it was difficult - not just because my body was still hurting all over, but because my mind kept going on and on, endlessly replaying what Craig had said. Could it be true? Did I really like other guys, or, rather, did I really want sex with other guys? And was this normal, or did it matter, or neither, or both? If it hadn't been so painful, I'm sure I'd have spent the time literally "tossing and turning", but as it was I had to lie still and just watch the pattern of the tree in the yard on the ceiling as the moon moved across the sky. And, as you do, at some point I did sleep, and was still asleep when it was time to get up in the morning.
It was true I was going back to work - but the overseer in charge that morning, Sean, was lenient on me: the standard way of making sure that everyone got out of bed promptly was for the overseer to go along and pull the blankets off anyone still asleep and give them a lash across the bare butt with his tawse - not a hard one, but enough to really make the guy leap up.
But instead of that, he shook me awake quite gently (but even then my arm hurt). "OK, Steve, hit the showers... Back to work for you today....", he said, without sounding at all cross that I was still in bed.
And then in the showers all the other guys were really great, trying to keep away from me as much as they could as they knew I hurt all over, and then being especially gentle as I flinched and gasped as they soaped me down.
Pulling on my T and shorts was agony, but fortunately the cane marks on my calves didn't go as far down as my boot tops, so after I'd struggled to bend enough to get them on, that wasn't a problem. Mex saw me doing this, and at once came and knelt in front of me and helped me, pulling the boot over my foot, then pulling the laces tight and knotting them. He looked up at me when he was done, and I thanked him, and he just said "It's OK, Steve - I like to do things for you..."
We were working at a site where they were converting an old warehouse into new apartments that day, and as we drove along to get there, I was dreading it. But Sean was really good - he knew that stuff like kneeling to lay concrete, or shovelling, would be tough for me, and I got stuff that I could do - well, could do with only a lot of discomfort. Probably the easiest part of it was when we were fitting a new girder to hold up the floor above where a wall had been knocked down - they were short of some of those props they use to hold the thing up temporarily, so Sean got Craig and me to just stand there with a beam on our heads and hold everything in place. And, over the next few days, it gradually got easier and easier to work again, as my skins and muscles eventually returned to normal.
There had been a general change to our lives too, at this time: when I first went to Rooney's Contracts, we were required to sleep alone, and it was only in odd moments that we could have sex, like on those occasions when a truck failed to turn up that I've told you about. I'd wondered how Craig had dared to suck my dick when I lay there in my bed after my savage treatment, and now I found out: a few days after this I could hear the sound of vigorous fucking as I tried to get to sleep, and sitting up in bed I glimpsed Craig's muscular butt pounding up and down on top of one of the other guys, with them both shouting and groaning in their passion. There wasn't any way I was going to do anything about it at that point as I was still so uncomfortable, but I did ask Craig about it, and he told me that Rooney had decided that we would all be better adjusted if we weren't always frustrated, so "free sex" was to be allowed. Then, a couple of nights later, just after I'd climbed into bed, there was Mex standing by me.
He knelt by my bed, then almost to my amazement buried his head under the blanket and began to lick all around my dick and balls! I reached down for him, throwing the blanket off, and pushed his head away. "What the fuck....?"
"Steve, please, let me..."
"Hell, no! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Please, Steve, I wanted to get you in a good mood, so we could have a bit of fun..." As he said this, his hand reached for my dick, and he began to stroke it, and, as you might expect as the thrill of his fingers on my dick did its work, I began to throw a bone. "Please, Steve.... Let's have some fun....", he said again. "You're ready for it, and so am I...."
"No, Mex. It's Craig who always fucks you." Well, it was - on those occasions when we'd been able to do a little fucking on site, Mex had always sidled up to Craig, and Craig had generally obliged. I'd looked at Mex's body, of course, noting the darker sheen to his skin and the glossy black hair, and I have to say I had wondered what it would be like to prise his somewhat narrow butt apart and get stuck in. But not here, not with all the other guys listening.
"Yes, Steve.... It's usually Craig. But the other guys all say that you're the best. Please, Steve..." And now as he said this his mouth went down over my dick again before I could stop him, and his tongue started to drive me almost wild as my 'skin had slipped back and he was teasing my dick head and piss slit."
I pulled him away. "I told you 'no'", I snapped. "I don't feel like fucking tonight."
"Bastard!", he whispered. "I can see from your dick that you're ready for action. I'd never had you marked down as one of those prejudiced guys..."
"What do you mean?"
"You fuck the others, but you won't fuck me as I'm a Mexican. That's prejudice, Steve."
"No it isn't. I don't want to fuck anyone tonight. I don't want to do it here, in the barracks, not with you, not with anyone."
"Why not?"
"I don't want the others listening, knowing what I'm doing..."
"So you're scared? I never thought a big guy like you would be too scared to fuck... You're not like Craig."
As he said this I could hear the characteristic slapping noises of skin on skin and the stifled cries and moans and knew that Craig must be in action. And now this little Mexican runt was accusing me of being scared! Well, I couldn't have that, could I?
Look, after you've lived for months in a crowd of guys you lose a lot of your inhibitions. I was used to getting out of bed with my morning hard on, showering with them, crapping on one of the exposed lavatories, working with them in just a tiny pair of shorts, and slipping into bed naked at the end of the day in front of them, and then lying there jerking off, knowing that they all knew that's what I was doing, as it was what they were doing. And, if the truth be known, a lot of the fucking I'd done on sites wasn't all that private - we were usually in groups of at least four, so if I fucked one of them, two of the others would have seen, or at least heard if we'd tried to get some concealment. But there's a bit of a difference between that and blatantly starting to fuck a guy when fourteen others are listening, if not watching. But Mex had made me so angry by in effect calling me a coward, that I swung out of bed, grabbed his arm, smacked him hard across the butt with my open palm, snapped "Right, you little fucker....", and pushed him down on to my bed, on his back.
I think he hardly knew what was happening to him as he hadn't expected me to react so quickly, and I roughly grabbed his ankles to push his feet wide apart, and almost up to his ears! His ass came up off the bed and I saw his hole against his darker skin, and that was all I needed - I shuffled forward, and pushed my dick at it, hard, very hard.
He knew what he was about, I'll say that for him. Some guys really are bottoms, really know what they want, and are just too eager to take a dick up them - it almost spoils it for an aggressive guy like me who wants to have to force it a bit. So OK my dick was still slathered with his spit, but even so I was expecting a nice hard fuck - a few trial stabs to get in, then some resistance as I buried myself really deep, as you can when the guy's on his back and his legs are really spread. But there was almost no problem with Mex - he didn't scream or anything, just gave a long, deep sigh as my dick skewered him, and I found my pubes right up against his butt. I realised he must have prepared - he'd presumably lubed himself with his cum before coming up to me, as even the most used bottom I've ever had normally feels something if you just go in dry, with only a bit of spit!
So who was really the top, I wondered, as my reflexes cut in and I started to fuck him vigorously. I was supposed to be in charge, I was supposed to be making the running, but this total bottom had lubed himself and then engineered it so that I had to fuck him! The more I thought about this, the crosser I got, and I reached through his legs and leaned forward so that my shoulders pushed his legs even further down, and grabbed hold of his dark brown tits. As I squeezed them - really hard - between my thumb and forefinger and then pulled them upwards a long way, Mex's look of ecstasy changed to one of surprise, then to one almost of terror. I synchronised my thrusting in with really tight squeezes and pulling of his tits, and was rewarded with cries and moans from deep down in his throat.
I changed pace, so that I pulled out almost completely, just leaving the tip of my dick positioned at his ass, then slamming in the whole way until my pubic bone really hit his sensitive areas around his ass, all the time continuing to work his tits. And now he couldn't help it - every time I did this, he gave a shout, perfectly involuntarily, as he lost control. I was enjoying it now, especially as I could see the emotions playing over his face, one moment almost laughing, the next almost crying, the next constricted in a rictus of pain - and all in synchronisation to what I was doing to his ass and his tits. I began to grunt, too, and mutter "there, you fucker....", and I could feel big beads of sweat forming on me and flying off as my body worked away. But it was over all too quickly - I can't fuck at that intensity for very long, as it's just too exciting: I've got lots of energy left, it's not that - no, it's that dick and my balls that conspire to stop me really having hours of fun. My butt and thighs and arms and brain all wanted to go on pounding away at Mex, using him for my total enjoyment, but older, deeper reflexes cut in as I could feel that utterly fantastic sensation as you know you're going to let fire. I did everything I could to stop it, and that only increases the pleasure and the sensation and makes it even more unstoppable, doesn't it? My back arched, as if I was trying to force the last millimetre of my dick into Mex, and I gave a great shout of "Jesus! Fuccckk....."
as my body went rigid for a few instants, and I had that tiny, quiet moment as my balls jerked, my dick spasmed, and my seed shot out deep into him.
When I collapsed forward onto him a few moments later I ought to have been embarrassed as the sound of cheering went around the barracks! But I didn't care any longer - there's no shame in doing what a man is supposed to do, I now knew. This is what I was designed for - to use other men's asses for my excitement, to fuck them to give me these incredible sensations of power, to show them who was in charge.
My face was almost pressed into he bed by the side of Mex's, and I could feel his legs gripping me around my waist as if he wanted to stop me pulling out, wanted to keep my dick in him now that it had conquered him. His hands were scrabbling almost feebly up and down my muscular back, sliding over the sweat that was covering it. I could feel my heart racing, and his, too, as my chest slid over his as we lay there. Actually, in spite of how it may sound from that description of fucking, I'm a considerate kind of guy and I realised almost instantly that Mex would be suffering if I just lay there, so I took most of my weight on my elbows so he could breathe more easily, then continued to lie there, just enjoying the moment.
"Fucking hell, Steve.... They're right! That was awesome.... Thanks...", Mex muttered into my ear. "You're the best - believe me, I know."
"You OK then, man?" I added almost unnecessarily, but you have to say something at times like this, don't you? "...you're not hurt?"
"Fucking hell, I hurt all over! My ass has never had a pounding like that! My tits will be sore for days! I think you've almost broken something pushing my ass apart like that.... But it's great!". As he said this, Mex gripped me even tighter with his arms and legs, and was almost giggling with laughter into my ear. "You really hurt, Steve. When you slammed into me, it was.... Well, you know... Just fucking amazing.
You're the best."
Once more, something about sex had been revealed to me - some guys actually wanted to be hurt, wanted to be used hard. As I lay there I began to think that Mex liked to be taken hard and rough like that, in much the same was as I knew I needed to be tawsed and caned when working - it increased the satisfaction for him. No, indeed, it probably gave him the satisfaction that he wasn't able to get in other ways.
The next couple of weeks were the best I've ever had in my life! Well, the best as far as sex is concerned, anyway - work was tough, as usual, and as I wanted it to be, and I got a fair bit of tawsing and caning, but it was "fair" as I needed it to drive my body on. No, what I mean is that although I used to have a lot of sex before I was indentured, now it was there, on tap almost, whenever I could find the time! Mex had gone around telling everyone that I really was the best, that the others might have thought so, but he knew, and he was experienced! So every night there was another ass to screw, or, if I was feeling especially tired, I could just throat fuck them. And the amazing thing was that even if I made a man gag and choke as I insisted that he took all my long dick right down, that only added to my reputation as a "proper top" who knew how to deal with another man. Craig and I were discussing this on the way to work in the truck one morning, and he just said "I told you, Steve - these guys like a real aggressive top to really show them the fun of sex. When you or I aren't there, they know they're just playing at it - they think they're fucking each other, but they know that it's only you or me who will make them do it, if we choose; only you or me who fucks them solely for our fun, not for theirs; only you or me who don't give a shit whether they're enjoying it or not, as long as we are. We get our enjoyment from just doing as we want to, utterly disregarding the other guy; but paradoxically they get theirs from just being used, used and ignored by us."
The one guy I wouldn't fuck, though, was young Joey. And I wouldn't even let him suck my dick when he was shaving us in the showers. Somehow it didn't seem right to have this young kid doing things like that, and, actually, I didn't really fancy having to push myself between his thin butt cheeks - I like a bit more muscle there! But it didn't stop him trying - several times he came to my bed and did what the others did, pushing their heads down onto my dick, but I always stopped him, and he seemed quite upset. And one day in the showers, as he was working away at me, he just kept moving his lips onto my dick between every stroke of the razor - he was really pissing me off, and I told him to stop it several times, but he persisted. "You let the other guys do it, Steve", he whined. "I don't care if you make me gag, or even puke - we're in the showers."
"I won't tell you again, Joey. Leave my dick alone - I choose where it's going, not some punk kid like you!"
But he didn't, of course, and I felt him nuzzling at me again. I was so pissed off that I just didn't think - I bent over slightly, and slapped him hard, on the side of the face. A lot harder than I thought, actually it's difficult to gauge these things sometimes when you're as strong as I am. The sound rang like a pistol shot around the showers, followed by Joey's startled cry, and he fell sideways onto the floor.
I suppose I was lucky that none of the overseers was in there, as I'd certainly have been prodded, and probably caned as well, as fighting amongst the servants was strictly forbidden. A couple of the guys grabbed me and I struggled to shake them off, and it was Craig who stood there and shouted "Enough, Steve! Calm down! Let it go!"
I realised what I'd done, and went to pull Joey to his feet, but he sort of half scooted across the floor of the showers and lay there against the bare legs of some of the other guys. "Hey, Joey, I'm sorry...", I began. And I was, too, genuinely sorry. I really had not meant to hit him that hard. But he just lay there, looking at me, not in anger as I might have expected, but really more in sorrow. And as I watched, a tear came down his cheek; then realising what he'd done, he scrambled to his feet and ran out - I guess that knowing all of us men had seen him cry was worse than the pain of the slap itself.
"Sometime, Steve, you really are a bastard!", Craig told me. "Don't you remember what you were like at sixteen?"
"Yes... And I wasn't going around trying to suck guys' dicks....". I tried to make it sound like a joke, as Craig seemed pretty cross.
"It's time you took some responsibility, Steve! You're meant to be in charge, remember?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're an aggressive top, or so we all thought. You're in control, right?"
"Right - and you told me it's only me that I have to worry about..."
"Yes. When you're playing with other guys like yourself, old enough to know what they want, and happy to take it from you. But Joey's only sixteen, he's still a kid. Of course he wants your dick, it's part of growing up for him - you're his hero, Steve: he wants to be big and tough like you in a few years. And he knows you let every other guy here take your dick, so why shouldn't he? You're telling him he's not good enough to be a real man, not good enough to take dick from Steve! That's no way to treat a kid, Steve - he's got a tough enough life here as it is, without you making it harder for him?"
Craig was warming to his theme now, almost shouting at me, but with some sort of controlled anger in his voice that I'd never heard before. "What would it have cost you to have stuck it down his throat? If he'd gagged and choked and puked up all over the floor here, at least he'd have thought he was on the road to growing up to be a real man. And now you've humiliated him in front of all of us - no man likes to be seen crying in front of another."
With that, Craig turned away and walked out of the showers, and I could tell by the way his body was all stiff that he was really pissed off. The others, too, shuffled away, not really looking at me.
It was no fun at work that day at all - well, it never was, of course. But on the way there no one spoke to me in the truck. Or on the way back, or in the showers. And as I lay in bed that night, waiting for someone to come and relieve my dick, no one did. I heard Craig and a couple of the others fucking away, but I was left alone. And it was almost humiliating to have to jerk myself off when I realised they were all giving me the cold shoulder.
They carried on ignoring me for three days, and then, when we got back from the site that night, Joey came into other showers again. I was already in a foul mood - I was really miserable without any contact from the other guys, and it had made me careless at work, so I'd had more than my fair share of cane strokes that day. Well, in truth, I suppose that's not right - I was careless, so the overseer should have been caning me, so I suppose it was "fair", but that's not the way it felt. I was exhausted, my shoulders were aching from the tawse, and my butt was still stinging from the most recent strokes of the cane. But most of all I was pissed off with my fellows, and with myself.
Joey knelt in front of me, and I just snapped out "I told you to leave my dick alone, you young fucker! Do you want another tap? Do you want to start snivelling again?"
He just glared at me. "Fuck you, Steve! Open your legs, as I've got to shave your balls again. Mister Rooney says your indenture holder is visiting tonight, and he wants you nice and smooth as they'll probably want to play again!"
If I was feeling pissed off and depressed before, I certainly was now. And over all of it I had a great black wall of fear, at the thought of what they might do to me this time.
End Of Part 11