The Labourer

THE LABOURER by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part 15

The remainder of the week was almost like a vacation for Craig and me. Sure, the work was hard, and there was a lot of it, and we hated not being able to piss, and having to wear the dreadful condom-things every day. I didn't like Karen staring at my body, either, although Craig didn't seem to mind and in fact he made a bit of a joke of it. "You are odd, Steve", he whispered once when he saw me glaring at her as she was looking right at my dick and balls. "You were supposed to be this stud, always chasing pussy and mostly getting it, as I understand it, and yet you're embarrassed at being seen naked by a woman. Whereas I, who've never been with a woman and who really ought to hate having to display what ought to be between me and other guys, well, I really don't care."

"But I used to know Karen socially. She's Rob's wife, we were buddies..."

"Did you fuck her?"

"Hell no! She was always a stuck-up bitch. Her father's the richest man in town, and even though my folks were comfortably off, there's no way she'd associate with a guy like me."

"So why did she go with Rob, then?"

"Well he was planning to be a lawyer, and her father's the head of a big law firm.... Perhaps she likes lawyers?"

"Or perhaps she saw a good looking stud who's basically weak, and who she could dominate? Someone she could use in bed, but control? You know, Steve, I reckon that ex-buddy of yours is taking it out on you as he has such a miserable life the rest of the time."

"Oh, come on!"

"No, Steve. You think about it - he's always wanted to fuck with you, but never dared ask. Even though you were the town stud, he could have made some move on you if he was a real man - you could only have said 'no' after all, or hit him, or something! But he didn't, and just wasted your friendship longing for you and doing fuck all about it. Then, when you thought you could trust him to hold your indenture, the first opportunity he has he gets you tied down, and proceeds to fuck the insides out of you. And then all this pissing stuff, which he hasn't done again - it's all about power, as I told you. He's trying to control you, to dominate you, in a way that he couldn't when you were buddies: you're a real aggressive top, as we know, and even though you didn't know you liked guys then, I bet you always made the running, always decided where you were going to drink, always decided things..."

"Yes..."

"So there you are! You controlled him, and now he's having this pathetic attempt at trying to dominate and control you. And it might have worked, except for these little night-time escapades..."

Rob had been coming down to the pool house every night, and every night we'd cum over his dick and he'd gone back to the bedroom. As the week wore on, though, he began to look sadder and sadder, more and more pathetic. And the third night Craig insisted that Rob went down on his knees and sucked us to an erection before he agreed to cum on Rob. I could see that Rob hated doing that, but Craig kind of shrugged when Rob protested, and said "So are you going to whip us then, Master Rob, to make us cum over you so that you can impregnate your wife? Best do it quietly, as if you hit us too hard and we scream, your wife might come down to see what's going on...."

"Yes", Rob went on, "He's a really stupid fucker! It was bad enough when he might just have been divorced and out of a job and left with no money or home. But what happens now?"

"How do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Steve! Two virile guys like us, two big loads of our cum every night. It's bound to work. So when she produces the sprog, what then? Rob's going to be terrified all the time that you or I might say something to the lovely Karen! What do you think her father might do when he realises his precious grandchild has been fathered by an indentured servant?

And what about Rob - at the very least he's guilty of some sort of felony or other - artificial insemination without all the proper approvals and consents must be illegal here: I reckon he'd get a long custodial sentence, and would end up with an indenture. What a laugh that would be, to have Rob working for Rooney, so we could fuck him.... He just hasn't thought this through, he's just clutching at straws to get over the immediate crisis without thinking about the consequences at all."

I'd have asked Rob more about this, but Karen was looking at us, watching us talking, and shouted "Work!

Or else when my husband gets home, you'll be punished!"

"In your dreams, lady", Rob whispered to me through clenched teeth, so she wouldn't see. "Rob won't dare punish us now."

Craig was right, too. That night he told Rob to bring beer with him down to the pool house, and after we'd cum all over Rob's dick, Craig and I sat there and had something that we'd never had since our indentures. As we sat in the darkness, drinking our beer, our arms around each others shoulders, I thought what a waste my life had been all the time I'd been growing up: I could have been drinking like this with a guy like Craig, enjoying real closeness with another guy. And I was so convenient just to put the bottles down and then start to roll around on our makeshift bed, our arms and legs wrapped together, our lips pressed close, our tongues beating, and our hands scrabbling for each others tits and dicks to stroke, caress, and stimulate each other.

All good things have to come to an end, though, and by the weekend Rob's new paving was all done, and on Friday evening Rooney's truck called to collect us. Rob didn't even say "thank you" or anything as we drove away, and Craig said to me "See, what an asshole! Still, he'd better be nicer to you in future..."

"That's blackmail!"

"Sure, Steve! You're a top, remember? A top takes control, uses his power..."

That night, back in our tiny bed in the barracks, after we'd had a lot of joshing from the other guys who saw our butts were quite red from the sun, we lay together as usual. After we'd jerked each other off and were getting ready to sleep and Craig was companionably spooned up against me, he started to tease the tip of his dick along my ass crack. I moaned gently, as it felt good, and Craig got bolder, moving my ass cheeks apart a bit and continuing to run his dick up and down, deeper and deeper. When he was deep enough so that his dick tip was brushing over my hole, I was almost squirming with the wonderful sensation of it, but then he stopped, and pushed gently.

"Hey, Craig, cut it out...", I whispered.

"Come on, Steve, you know you like the feel of my dick on your hole... Just a little way in..." As he said that, the insistent pressure of his dick to get inside of me intensified.

"No, Craig! I don't take dick - it's bad enough when Mister Rooney and Master Rob force me... Please, Craig, stop it...."

But he didn't stop, and I heard him give a little laugh, as if it was amusing. But I didn't find it at all funny. As the pressure intensified, I suddenly turned over, making Craig give a little cry or surprise as his dick was bent and popped right out of my ass crack. I put my arms around him, and pulled out bodies close, and could feel his erection stabbing into my belly. "I told you to cut it out, Craig! I don't take dick..."

"Hey, Steve, cool it, it was only a bit of fun..."

"Well I didn't find it very funny."

"But you did enjoy it, I could tell...."

"No, I didn't!". Even as I said this, I wondered if it was completely true.

We went to sleep then, but every night when we were together from then on Craig always started to play with my hole, fingering it, pushing his dick at it, and generally trying to fuck me. He got closer and closer to getting in me, and I suppose I was stupid to let it go on for so long, as I should have really insisted he cut it out. Finally, as he was spooned up against me as usual, and was nibbling at my shoulders, something I find intensely arousing, he whispered "Come on, Steve... Let me in, tonight... Just a little way..."

"No! How many times do I have to say it."

"I think you're scared, Steve. I'm not going to hurt you, you know... I know what I'm doing..."

"I'm not scared!"

"Come on, then.... Look, Rooney and your ex-buddy always have to tie you down... Let me show you what it's really all about..."

"No, Craig, please..."

"Yes, Steve, come on... Just lie there...."

Well, I wondered what he was going on about, as I was lying on my side with him lying behind me, and I'd only been fucked, and had only fucked, lying on my belly with my legs on the floor, or on my hands and knees with my ass in the air, or on my back with my legs tied back. It occurred to me that he couldn't really fuck me lying there as we were, just tease my hole with his dick, so I kind of let it go.

I was getting more and more excited by the feel of his dick on my hole, and he had his arm around me, his hand alternately stroking my belly and then moving down to play with my dick - which was rock hard. He pulled me close to him, and his breath was hot on my shoulders, and he trust forward, and "something happened" - I realised his dick had been forced into me.

I started to mutter "No, Craig", but he began to pump his hips, slowly and carefully, ever so slowly and carefully, just rocking backwards and forwards, still holding me close to him, holding my body with his arm and hand. I realised my own hand was trying to lock with his as it moved up and down my belly, and found myself stroking his forearm, and I remember feeling quite distinctly the hairs there.

"Good boy...", he was crooning into my ear "Good boy, Steve... Just relax, let me use you...."

He carried on rocking backwards and forwards, and waves of pure unadulterated pleasure were going through me. I could almost hear myself moaning, and I knew I had broken out into a hot sweat, as I could almost feel Craig's body slithering over mine as he worked away. He kept breathing into my ear, murmuring encouragement, telling me to relax, and repeating over and over "You're a good boy, Steve..."

I don't know how long it went on for. It felt like for ever. But then his gentle thrusts became just a bit more insistent, and his strokes just a bit longer.

It was no longer quite so much fun, and I realised what was happening - we were no longer playing a more sophisticated game of enjoying each others bodies, but Craig was fucking me! Yes, in a wonderful, loving way, but I was getting fucked nevertheless. I tried to pull away, but Craig pressed his hand down into my crotch and held my balls. My own hand tried to pull him away off them so I could move my body right away, and his gentle, loving tones changed. Suddenly he hissed in my ear "Hold still, you fucker... I'm almost coming... Don't spoil it for me...."

"Cut it out!", almost shouted, still unsure as to whether I wanted to let all the other guys know what was happening. I tried to pull forward as I said this, and in response, Craig really squeezed my balls!

"Fucking behave, boy!....". His own tone was now a command, no longer a whispered intimacy between two lovers. He stabbed almost savagely forward, then I heard "Jesus fucking Christ.....", and Craig's body tensed, and then went still.

There was silence for a few moments, then I heard Craig say in my ear "You're an ace fuck, Steve, I always thought you would be. I'll need to give you a bit of training as you don't really grip my dick properly... And we can't go through all this every night, as sometimes I'll just need to ram it home with you on your back...."

"Craig.... Craig, what are you going on about?"

"Hey, Steve, there can only be one real top in a place like this, and I've been wondering which one of us it was going to be. Then I saw how you didn't really use Rob, and I knew you were probably just playing at it, so I decided to fuck you! It took a long time to get there, but you're my boy now - I had to go through all this gentle stuff, leading you on, getting you closer and closer, as I knew I probably couldn't easily just force you. You can still fuck the other guys when I don't want to use you, but you've got to agree you liked taking my dick, didn't you?"

"Craig... We were meant to be buddies..."

"Hey, we are. But when I need to fuck you, you know that I'm the real top, OK?"

"No, it's not OK... You used me, you fooled me, that's not what buddies do, Craig...."

"Oh quit whining! You're almost as bad as Rob. Look, we're good together, and we don't need to change that... In fact I don't want it to change. But I have needs as a man, and I wasn't getting it from you. Now you know what it's like to take my dick, it will be best for both of us, Steve..."

"Fuck you, Craig..." I pulled away from him as I said this.

"No, Steve! It's you who gets fucked, boy! Now stop all this foolishness, just acknowledge that I'm in charge ,and lets' get some sleep..."

I turned on him and hit him. I felt humiliated that he'd used me like that. But, worse that than, totally betrayed. I thought we were real buddies, equals, but all the time he'd been using me, just waiting a chance to slip his dick into me so that he could start to totally control me. I hit out at him. And once one blow had landed, he responded automatically, and soon we were rolling around the floor, kicking, punching, and trying to seriously hurt each other.

We're both big guys, as I've told you, and none of the other guys seemed to want to interfere as we fought. We didn't care - I was outraged, and wanted, no needed, to re-establish my own sense of self importance. And Craig was soon fighting just to stay alive as with my anger and indignation I got an almost berserk kind of strength and determination to beat the shit out of him. We thrashed around on the floor, pushing the beds this way and that, and all the other guys were, I guess, just too scared to get involved and to try to stop us as we tried to beat the shit out of each other. I remember pummelling Craig, repeatedly smashing my fists into him wherever I could, and gradually I wore him down. I was astride him, alternatively punching at his face and smashing his head onto the floor, when my whole body was thrown aside, and I lay twitching helplessly on the floor.

When I recovered a bit, there was Ryan, one of the overseers, standing over me holding my prod. "Very good, you piece of shit! I've never been able to use it on full power before...". My whole body felt as if it was frozen, except for the seemingly random motions of my limbs as I struggled to breathe. I couldn't stop, or even more aside, as his boot drew back and smashed into my ribs.

I think I'd have been seriously injured as Ryan continued to kick at me, except that the other overseers called him off, and then gradually, very gradually, I managed to get first to my hands and knees, and then haul myself to a standing position. I could see Craig still lying there, and there was an incredible amount of blood all over him, over me, and all over the floor.

We were both marched off towards the main house, the overseers constantly threatening us with their prods, and into the big reception room, and made to stand there in front of the fireplace as I had before. There was a flurry of activity as Mister Rooney came into the room. He didn't waste an instant. "Who's responsible for this?", he demanded. "Who started it?"

Craig and I both stood there, heads bowed submissively, both shifting slightly on our feet as our bodies tried to adjust to minimise the pain we were both in. "If you don't speak up, I'll consider you equally responsible...."

Shit! I mean, it was Craig's fault, fucking me and then telling me about how he'd been trying for so long to do it. But I'd struck the first blow, I suppose. "I'm waiting", Mister Rooney continued. "Isn't one of you man enough to admit to causing all this?"

Well, I wasn't going to let that go, was I? Craig might be a deceiving liar, but at least I was a proper man. "It was me", I muttered. "I struck him first."

Rooney's eyes swivelled to stare at me. "I might have known! You've never really adapted to being an indentured servant, I should have known that this 'voluntary' thing would have attracted an odd ball. At least with criminals they understand that they're being punished. But I won't have this - I won't have my servants fighting! Especially not fighting to the extent that they might hurt each other - your contracts are valuable assets of mine, and I won't risk having them devalued. Yo will need to be made an example of, to show the others that this type of behaviour just will not be tolerated here."

I stood there, half hoping that Craig might say something, might tell Rooney that it was at least partially his fault. After all, Rooney knew that we were both tops, and if he punished us both too hard, the general welfare of all the guys would suffer. But on the other hand I wanted to stand up there and take it like a man, by myself. That would show Craig who was a real top, who was tough enough to take anything that Rooney could hand out.

"So have you anything to say?", Rooney asked me, his eyes blazing with fury.

"No."

"That's it! That's absolutely it, Steve! Everything I've said to you about servants showing proper respect! And you dare to stand here in front of me, dripping with the blood of one of my servants that you've injured, and you're not even humble enough to use the proper form of address to your indenture owner! I was going to punish you harshly for fighting, but it's just been doubled! Twenty lashes, proper lashes, from the public whipmaster. Evidently the cane and the tawse have not been enough to tame your hide - well, perhaps this will do it."

I know it's stupid, but actually a tiny thrill of excitement ran through me. All the other guys had talked form time to time about the public whipmaster, and how it was the most terrible punishment imaginable to be put onto the whipping post and whipped. I remembered them saying that even the toughest guy was reduced to a quivering heap when this happened. I'd show them that I was different. I'd show them that I was tough, that I could take it. There would be no doubt after this who was the top dog amongst the servants - Craig would always be number two from then on. As these thoughts raced through my mind I began to get an erection - well, even though I was hurting all over, one eye was closing shut as a huge bruise swelled on my cheek, and I was having difficulty breathing as my ribs were so painful, the idea of proving myself so publicly was just overwhelming.

"Take Craig back to the barracks and clean him up!", Rooney commanded. "And take Steve and lock him down in the holding cell - that will cool down him down a bit. Let's see how he's feeling in the morning."

Craig never even looked back at me as he was led out, his lovely back and butt all covered in sweat and blood from where we were fighting. Then Ryan pointed his prod at me and aimed me out of the room. "You heard Mister Rooney, fucker,", he snapped. "I enjoyed seeing you after the prod earlier, and it's still set on maximum. Get your ass moving...."

The holding cell was off the passage that connected the main house to the barracks. I'd always wondered what some of the doors that lined this walkway were for, and had just assumed that they were mostly store rooms of some kind. But when Ryan pulled a heavy door open, inside was just a are space - totally bare. There were cement walls, a cement floor, and a fluorescent tube in the ceiling behind a tough-looking glass cover. The only relief from the bareness was a hole in one corner, and a piece of rubber sticking out just above it.

"Right, in you go!! The hole's for crapping in. And if you suck at that rubber you'll get water.", Ryan snapped. "If there's any mess in the morning, you'll be punished even before the public whipmaster arrives."

I went in, and the chill of the chard walls and floor struck at me almost at once. "Sir", I said, trying to sound reasonable, "Please may I have at least a blanket to keep warm?"

"Hey, fucker, this is a punishment cell! There's more ways of punishing you than the cane and the tawse, you know. By the time we let you out tomorrow morning you'll have cooled down a bit, I can tell you! Now, have a good look around...."

As he said this, Ryan stepped outside and slammed the heavy door. I heard the locks engage, and as I was just deciding whether to get some water and to try to wash the blood off me, the light went out. It was pitch black, and as I tried to find the door and pound on it to attract Ryan's attention, I knew it was useless. Even when I had managed to find the heavy steel and began beating at it with my fists, to the best of my ability, there was that totally dull, dead sensation that means that the sound is not getting through. And then it occurred to me that it was probably Ryan who'd turned out the light anyway, so all my protesting was useless.

I began to shiver, and tried to wrap my arms around myself, but the pain from my ribs and belly where Craig had punched me and Ryan had kicked me was just too intense. I tried sitting on the floor, which was hard, and cold, then struggled to my feet. I was shivering a little now in the dank coldness, and if I could have, I'd have done some exercises to try and get warm - but then, I reasoned, it was probably only about ten p.m. now, and Ryan had said "tomorrow morning", so I'd got at least eight, probably ten, more like twelve, hours in there: I couldn't ever exercise that long.

I began to realise why it was a "punishment cell". If you've ever been in the total darkness, you'll know that that's bad enough: I mean, even is a so-called "dark" room in a house or something, there's always some light. But in this cell not a chink of light got through the door, and there was no window or anything,

so it was utterly, totally dark. If I moved around at all, I was in danger of bumping into the walls as I lost all spatial awareness. When I needed to piss, remembering what Ryan had sad about mess, I literally had to crawl about the floor to locate the crap hole. And similarly, when I needed water as I was desperately thirsty after all the effort and sweating of the fight, I had to grope around the walls to locate the rubber spigot.

If the darkness was bad, the cold was worse. Look, I don't suppose it was all that cold really - not down to freezing or anything. But I was totally naked, and had absolutely nothing to cover myself with. The cold struck through m feet, but if I sat, or even lay down, it was even worse. There was just no way of getting warm, and my teeth began to chatter and my limbs to shake, as time went on.

The third aspect of the punishment was of course that I had absolutely no ideas of the time - I had no way of knowing whether I'd been there one hour or two, or even for just a fee minutes. Every time I thought I could take no more and I'd just lie there and die of the cold, something said "yes, but it's only a few more minutes- you can take it." But was it a few more minutes, or a few more hours?

When I did eventually hear the sound of the locks on the door operating, I almost sobbed with joy. I knew I must be blue with cold, and I'd long since stopped even shaking - my skin now felt icy to my touch. As the door opened the light almost hurt my eyes, and I stood there, blinking and squinting, but grateful for the last of warm air that came in from the corridor.

Both Ryan and Sean were there, prods at the ready, and next to them stood a guy I'd never seen before. He was in a smart uniform - a kind of derivative of the tight breeches and shirt that the Highway Patrol wear - with a military-style cap on his head. He looked to be in his mid fifties, but incredibly hard and tough: he sported a small, well trimmed moustache, and his body almost bulged out of his clothes, not from fat, but from solid muscle. As he crossed his arms, I could see all the muscles in his biceps rippling. He was heavily tanned, and from the way he carried his body upright and moved in quick, precise movements, I guessed he was probably ex military.

He uncrossed his arms, and reached out to feel my body. I took a step back. "Easy, son!", he said in a not unkind voice, but one that was clearly used to commanding, and being obeyed. "Now this is going to be tough for you, but this first part of it isn't so bad. I need to get an idea of your general physique and general musculature so I know which whip to use later today. It's important that I get the weight right, as too heavy a whip on a light guy can simply flay him to ribbons, and too light a whip on a tough-looking guy like you doesn't really give the proper degree of punishment, and we wouldn't want either of those, would we?"

I just stood there, looking at him.

"Look, son", he went on. "You're being punished for fighting, and your indenture holder has told me that you can be wilful and disrespectful. Now it's got pretty bad for you already, but I'd advise you not to make it any worse, so in your own interests I'd advise you to show me a little respect, and to answer my questions promptly and properly. Now, we wouldn't want you to be flayed, or to escape punishment, would we?"

"Sir, no, sir", I mumbled.

"Good. Were you ever in the service?"

"Sir, no, sir."

"I thought not. Soldiers always act respectfully, even if they don't feel it. But you seem to be a nice enough guy... Now, come over here, and kneel in front of me so I can examine your neck and shoulders."

I took a couple of steps forward, and knelt down in front of him. I saw his crotch bulging in front of me, and caught a whiff of that special male scent that hovers around all guy's trousers. As my knees pressed into the hard cement, his fingers pried into the muscles on my shoulders, and then his hands took hold of my head and twisted it back and forth. His fingers felt really hot against my icy skin, and somehow he seemed to be in charge, in control as his blunt, stubby thumb almost made me cry out when it dug into my muscle.

"OK, son. On your feet. Stand easy!"

I stood there in front of him as his calloused palms ran down the side of my ribs. I winced and cried out when he squeezed them gently, as I was so painful from the previous night. At once he pulled back, and said, gently, "Easy, son... It will soon be over."

On down my thighs, then he went behind me and I felt his calm, firm hands running down my back, his fingers probing into my waist. It was just as if he was sizing up some prize specimen of animal at a County Show, and he had no hesitation at all in testing the musculature of my butt. He didn't pry into my crack or hole, though, as there was nothing overtly sexual in his examination - he hadn't, for example, even brushed his fingers against my dick when he was examining my front.

He came and stood in front of me again, and told me to raise my arms up in the air, above my head. "Now, son, this is going to hurt you just a little.... Just stay still, perfectly still...."

As he said this he reached up into my pits, took a pinch of hair between his thumb and forefinger, and yanked it out! Hey, don't try this at home! If you want smooth pits, use clippers and a razor, and don't try to uproot the hairs there as your skin is incredibly tender there and it hurts like fuck!

He stood there holding the little bunch of my hair, smiling slightly. "That wasn't so bad now, was it son? Of course later on it will be far worse - when the end of the whip coils around into your pits and snags itself in your hair, quite a lot of I will be ripped out as I pull the whip back. But the little test I've done shows there'll be no permanent damage - just a whole lot of noise from you!"

He turned to Sean and asked "Does Mister Rooney like them gagged during punishment, or are they allowed to scream?"

"I think he normally lets them scream - it's a better lesson for the others."

"Son, that's it, then, until we meet again later. At least your indenture owner is a merciful man - letting you scream helps you to dissipate the pain more easily. And, believe you me, the whip is like nothing else you have ever experienced.... You haven't been whipped before, have you?"

"Sir, no, sir."

"I didn't think so. When I ran my hands over your back and butt I couldn't feel any of the residual signs - the little patches of hard flesh under the surface, where the muscle never recovers properly and the body kinds of fences it off in a cyst. But don't worry - I know my job: you'll really hurt, but there won't be any permanent damage - well, not to your body, at least. I think you'll find your mind is altered, permanently."

With that he stepped out, and Ryan slammed the door again, leaving me once more in the black and the cold.

End Of Part 15