THE LABOURER by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 26
I got through Thanksgiving dinner somehow. We're not a religious family and so we don't say prayers or anything, but after everyone had sat down, my father had opened champagne, and I had gone around the table filling everyone's glasses (even the children, customarily, got a tiny drop in their glasses), we usually all toasted and then sat silent for a minute "counting our blessings" as the family called it. I looked down the table at this set of happy, prosperous people, and stood there against the wall, feeling really out of it with my head bowed and feeling ridiculously exposed with my tunic barely concealing my nakedness.
As I went out to collect the first of the dishes from Mrs Sheffield, I heard my father say to Amy, Mike's youngest, "So, tell me, Amy, you're the youngest here - what have you got to be thankful for?"
"I'm glad I'm not a slave like Steve, grandfather", she piped. "I'd hate to have to show all my body to everyone else!"
The whole family roared with laughter, and I noticed that Joe joined in, the bastard. And all I could do was blush furiously as I went into the kitchen.
Still, as I said, I got through it somehow, and breakfast the next morning again. And, of course, as I stripped off in "my" bedroom that night the two boys had been laughing and giggling at me, and were whispering to each other how they'd never be "nailed" and how "they'd hate to have mommy pushing something up their thing-ies".
I hadn't slept well, though, just in the sleeping bag on the hard floor, and wasn't in a particularly good mood that day. The wives announced that they wanted to go off to the mall for the start of the sales, and my father offered to drive them as, he said, it would be good to give Mike and Bill a bit of time alone, to "bond" again, as they didn't see each other all that often.
They sat in the den watching re-runs of the game, and drinking, of course. I was kept pretty busy running backwards and forwards to the kitchen for fresh bottles. My father called them at around noon to say that he and the women and the kids had decided to eat out, and as Mrs Sheffield was not coming in until that evening, they ordered me to go out and make them a sandwich. "Oh, and be sure not to get any of that pubic hair of yours in it", Bill called out, with Mike joining in, almost helpless with laughter as they added "Not that you've got much left, as we can all see if you move too quickly."
I pulled cheese, dill pickles, roast beef, mustard and mayonnaise all together into two giant sandwiches - the saliva running down my throat as I did it, as the smell was so intoxicating to a guy who now only was fed chow bars (and surreptitiously ate little bits of it that fell off as I sliced the cheese and cut the beef). I really was pissed off at the way my brothers were treating me, and the way they'd just joked about how I had to go around nearly naked, and I remembered what waiters were reputed to do to customers who were surly: I lifted up the top slice of bread of each sandwich, sucked my mouth to fill it with saliva, and let a long drool fall on to "garnish" the filling properly! Then, putting the top back on, I proudly carried them back into the den and watched my brothers fall on them as if they hadn't eaten for days.
Mike saw me watching them, and to my surprise and amazement suddenly said "Steve, you look as if you'd like some of this - the way you're watching us it's as if they don't feed you: but that can't be true, as you're in stunning shape. I've never seen your body looking fitter and more buff" Still, would you like some cheese, or beef?"
I nodded, hardly able to believe it, and he told me to kneel in between them as they sat together on the couch. Mike tore a small morsel of cheese out of is sandwich, tossed it in the air, and shouted "Catch!".
I went to grab it as it fell, and he snapped "No hands! Catch it in your mouth.", then turning to Bill went on "Do you remember this game in the frat? How we made the pledges try to catch bits of candy, and then, if they couldn't to crawl around the floor picking them up?"
Bill laughingly agreed, and Mike said "So OK, Steve.... Catch it in your mouth, and if not, you crawl and get it, OK?"
Furious and humiliated, but remembering what my father had said about acting like a "proper" slave", I just mumbled "Yes, sir."
"Wait a minute, though, Mike!". Bill could hardly speak now as he was laughing so much. "Didn't the pledges have to strip off - it was so funny to see all those guys crawling around in their boxers and briefs."
"In my time they had to be totally naked. But I guess you came along when the new rules were introduced about the humane treatment of pledges", Mike replied. "There was a lot of discussion about what was and what was not acceptable in hazing, and I think I was the last year that was allowed to make them do it nude."
"Still, that shouldn't stop us now...", he went on. "Strip off, Steve. You've got a nice body, and we want to see it."
For the next fifteen minutes I had to crawl around the den in front of the half-drunk men as they tossed me little scraps of cheese, beef and pickle. They laughed as they saw my balls swinging beneath my ass, and when they tired of the game, I had to kneel in front of them on all fours as they kicked off their loafers and used my back as a rest for their sweaty feet - I could feel the moisture on me through the wool of their socks.
"Fuck me, but those were good times when we were at school inn that frat", Mike went on. "And fucking Steve threw it all in dad's face. And we'd have been able to get him into the same frat, too. And look at him now - a slave."
"Yes, what do you think's going to happen to him?"
"You mean when dad dies?"
I listened with sudden interest. Mike went on "Dad talked to me about it, as he's been to his lawyers and re-done his will. Slaves can't own property or anything, so it was no good dad leaving anything to Steve any more. He's told me that he was going to split everything between you and me equally, instead of three ways, but then was advised that for tax planning purposes it would be better to leave something for our kids, into a trust. So Steve's share is going into a family trust, for the benefit of our kids, and we're the effective trustees, so between us we'll control all his estate anyway."
"Sounds great to me. I expect dad has it all sorted out properly - the tax implications of fucking it up are horrendous. Mind you, I'm surprised he didn't ask me - I do a lot of family settlements, tax avoidance stuff...."
"Yes, but it's easier this way, not to involve you so there's no suspicion of unfairness or anything. It's not that I don't trust you, little brother, but when it comes to money...." Mike laughed as he said this, and they clinked their beer bottles together cheerfully.
"Well, you should know, about money, Mike! All those interesting, I think is the right word, deals you do...." They laughed again, and clinked their bottles again.
"Still", Bill went on, "It is interesting in one sense.... If dad doesn't sell Steve first, we'll get to be his owners." Both men laughed now, Bill banged his socked feet up and down on my bare back, and called out "So how do you like that, Steve? You'll be the property of your brothers. All those times when you were a kid and you wouldn't do simple things for us like fetching us a soda from the fridge, and in a few years time you'll be our slave and have to do everything we want. Absolutely everything!"
Both men laughed even louder now, clinking their beer bottles together, as they were clearly more drunk that I'd thought.. Then Mike said "Hey, bro, why don't we try him out? As he's going to belong to us anyway, we could start practising at training our brother. He was a real pain in the butt as a kid, a right little cocksucker. How about we show him what the real world's like for a slave, and give him a real pain in the butt. Or maybe even have him be a real cock sucker....?"
"Get up, Steve! On your knees.", Mike commanded, and I knelt there in front of them, looking at them angrily.
I just realised I'd become millions of dollars poorer - dad was a pretty big man financially, and I'd just heard what had happened to my share.
"Hey, Mike, that's a great idea...", Bill chipped in. "My wife's got this servant that she made me buy her, as she said every one in Bel Air now has one, and he spends half his life in her pussy, so much so that when I get home she isn't interested. So I have to make do with a girl at the office, and that makes all the other servants there jealous.... But she gives good head, and I've found it's better in the middle of the day as you don't get so sweaty... So shall we have Steve here demonstrate his powers? From what dad was saying last night he's seriously into guys now... Who would have thought, that Steve the stud would have turned into Steve the fag?"
"Aw Bill, I'm not sure - he is still our brother...."
"I think we ought to stop even thinking like that, much less talking about it. If some fancy lawyer heard us referring to him as our brother, it might weaken any case that might be brought in a family court about dad's will.... Even though, legally, he is a slave, the courts might rule that as a sibling he still has some rights. It's better to treat him like the slave his is."
As he said this, Bill pulled the zipper of his pants down, shuffled a bit to get comfortable on the couch, fished around inside his fly, and brought his dick out. His wife was right, actually - we are all alike in this respect, that we've all got long, thick dicks.
And, like I used to be, Bill's head was covered by a thick, meaty 'skin. Dad once told us that he didn't believe in having part of a man cut off, and so unlike almost all of our contemporaries at school we'd remained whole: guys used to look at us oddly in the showers sometimes, and it was only when I went on a vacation to Europe that I realised that it wasn't "normal" to 'skin guys routinely at birth.
"Get down on it, boy", Bill rapped.
"I don't suck dick!", I snapped back.
"Fucking slave, do as you're told! Now, I want a real nice blow job, lots of feeling, lots of sensation... And no spilling of the cum..."
"I told you I don't suck dick!" Well, that's not quite true, of course. But it's no use saying "I only suck my lover's dick" at times like that, is it?
"You know, Steve, I thought Dad's methods were taming you!". Bill's tone was kind of unpleasant now, but he was smiling at Mike as he spoke. "But they don't seem to go very deep, Perhaps you don't know, but a slave doesn't refuse an order from a free man - especially not from the sons of his owner, sons who are going to become his owner one day! And all that respectful stuff you were shooting yesterday... All the 'sirs' and 'ma'ams' seems to have vanished, too. Now, get down on my dick, or get ready to be punished..."
Well, I didn't care, did I? After all, I could take the cane, even though I was a bit apprehensive about exactly how much it would hurt. There were two of them, they were still big, powerful guys, and they both seemed to have servants at home. So they were presumably used to punishing them."
"No!", I yelled.
Bill got to his feet, his dick lopping loosely out of his fly, and fumbled in his pocket. He got out his keys, fiddled for a moment, and then I was writhing on the floor, my limbs all cramped, by body twitching uncontrollably. I wanted to cry out, to scream with the pain, but my jaws seemed to be almost locked shut and all I could do was make incoherent squeals of agony. Bill stood there watching me for a minute or two, then as I fought to get under control, he showed his key ring to Mike. There, next to the electronic thing that powered up his BMW was another similar one.
"Seen one of these?" He asked conversationally. "A new import from Japan. Have they reached the East Coast yet? It packs all the power of a standard slave prod into something you can carry around conveniently in case your servants need disciplining: and those little cunning yellow chaps have even combined it with some sort of tazer technology, so you don't even have to touch him. Only fifty bucks, and good for twenty zaps... Although one or two is usually enough for even the worst behaved servant, I find."
He looked down at me lying there, and went on "So, Steve, one down, nineteen to go.... Now, are you going to be a good, obedient slave, or do you want to try for a few more shots?"
Look, I know you're all going to think I'm a real wimp, but if you haven't been prodded, you don't really know what it's like and you shouldn't judge. When I was first a servant, I could take two or three prods, but now I knew it just wasn't worth it: for one thing, the second and third ones were always worse, as the nerves were are already sensitive and the effect seemed to be sort of cumulative. And for another, perhaps I'd learned that real lesson of slavedom: the slave can't win! The owner always has another prod, or another whip, or can call the whipmaster, or the slave police... There's just no percentage in bugging the system.
Wearily, I managed to pull myself to my knees, and bowed my head. "Good..." Bill muttered, as he sank back in to the couch, and I shuffled forward so that I could rest my hands on his knees to steady myself, and bent my lips towards his dick.
It's not that easy to give an uncut guy real pleasure until he 'skins back, is it? I mean, you can lick at the shaft and at the 'skin, but until you can get at the dick head and that little pleasure triangle underneath, it's hard work. Of course once your tongue can start to play with the piss slit, and you can nibble at the flange of the head, it gets a lot easier, and I had my work cut out initially to arouse Bill enough so that I got full access to him. There was the usual slightly acid, slightly off-colour taste to his dick head as however careful you are there's always a bit of stuff under your 'skin, but after I'd controlled my reaction, it wasn't all that different form playing with Craig, and Bill was soon moaning and groaning and starting to thrust his hips up and down to meet my mouth as I worked away. His hands were caressing my head almost in ecstasy, and then I got the first taste of his cum - that initial tang of salt, that tells you that the balls are about to fire.
As soon as my mouth was full of his bland cum, I carried on sucking for a few moments, until his cries of pleasure turned to one of discomfort, then pulled off him, and knelt there looking at him.
"Pretty good!", he finally said, giving my head a patronising stroke. Then "So, Mike, your turn..."
"I thought you guys out in the West Coast were into real raunchy sex!", my other brother chuckled. That looked like pretty vanilla stuff to me - a typical ten dollar blow. I prefer to do something a bit more vigorous if I'm not having cunt or ass. But I'm not sure Steve here is up to it... Wait on...."
I knelt there, with Bill stroking my head as if I was some sort of animal, until Mike reappeared. "I'd got these as a sort of joke 'hostess gift' for dad", he said. "After he kept e-mailing me about how good this Joe was, I thought he needed some toys to spice things up a bit, in case he got bored. Here...." He tossed me something. "Hands behind your back, and fasten your wrists in these."
"These" were leather wrist restraints. I knelt there, looking at them, and Mike went on "Do as you're told, Steve. I don't want to have to hurt you, but I will be obeyed. Now cuff your hands behind your back, now, or another dollar will go to the Japs and their little gadget...."
Feeling utterly miserable I fumbled around, and felt the things click shut behind me. It's funny, isn't it - before I was naked, kneeling there, afraid of the zapper thing. And now, in addition, I felt totally and utterly vulnerable. Before, they might have really hurt me with the zapper. But now they had even more power and control over me, as whatever they chose to do, I was almost powerless to resist.
Mike leaned forward and fastened a collar around my throat - a black leather collar, that seemed to have handles hanging down from the sides of it. He tightened the buckle so that I could still breathe properly, and murmured "Not cutting into your skin, is it? We need room to work...."
"No" was all I could say, and at once Mike slapped me across the face, hard. I was unable to stop it, and the force of the blow almost knocked me totally off balance. It was so totally unexpected, and my face was stinging, and my ears were ringing, after it.
"Steve, you've forgotten your manners! Now, try again."
Still smarting from the pain, but not wanting to show it, I muttered "No, sir."
"That's better! Now, I don't think I can trust you... No, I know I can't trust you. So open wide... "
I knelt there, wondering what he was going on about. Another hard slap, this to the other side of my face. I was reeling now, and Mike snapped "I said 'open wide. Open your mouth, you young fucker.... This is all about sucking dick, isn't it?"
I did so, knowing I was powerless, and he pushed something in. As I said, you learn as a slave that at some point resistance is futile. I could taste the same expensive soap on his fingers that I remembered him using when he first came home on vacation from college. When his fingers me out, I soft of champed down to see what was in my mouth - I didn't think it was something to eat, but you never know. To my surprise, found I couldn't close my mouth at all - there was some sort of wedge between my back teeth that slipped over them and which I couldn't dislodge with my tongue.
Mike stood up and slipped his pants down and then right off. "A man needs to be able to move around a bit for this", he said to Bill, who was watching with interest as his brother's pale blue cotton boxer shorts followed. He took two steps towards me, reached down, and pushed my head into his pubes - his wiry hair scratched at my skin, and as my ground his hips around a bit, his dick and balls were pushed successively over my forehead, eyes, nose, and chin. My nostrils filled with the maleness of him - the faint smell of dried piss, but above all that special scent that is only in and around a guy's pubes.
"There", he said, I'm not sure whether to me or to Bill. "Now he's got my scent. You need to give a slave the scent of you, to start to excite you."
As he was saying this, he held my chin in one hand, and with the other gripping the root of his dick, he started to swing it at me, so that it fell across first one of my cheeks and then the other, making a gentle "slap", "slap" sound: hitting as it did my already stinging cheeks, his heavy dick was actually moderately painful, and I tried to say so, but could only get inarticulate gargling noises out of my mouth.
"A bit of dick whipping conditions a guy, too", he went on. "It shows him you're really in control. And it makes you go hard!" He was almost laughing as he said this, and, indeed, his dick was now a solid shaft of muscle, and he easily 'skinned himself back so that his moist dick head was right in front of my nose. Once again I had that incredible male scent, but this time almost overwhelmed by that special smell of dick - a mixture of piss and pre-cum - and I couldn't help but see that he was already leaking a tiny droplet, as it hung there on his piss slit.
"Right, Steve. I like to take a man orally, but none of this licking and sucking.... A slave's throat is there to be fucked, and that's what I'm going to do.
Now the handles on the collar are to help me pull you right down onto my dick - a lot of strong guys like you are very reluctant to do it, and just pulling your hair, especially when it's cropped like yours, is unnecessarily difficult. But with the handles, with your jaws wedged open, and with your hands cuffed behind you, I think I can have a pretty good time, although I'm not so sure about you...."
As he finished speaking, and with Bill now watching in sheer fascination, he leaned forward, pushing his dick into my mouth. At first it was OK, but as he moved forward the thick shaft began to fill my mouth and I tried to pull back - and at once was stopped as Mike's hands were now holding firmly ono the handles on my collar. He pushed forward again, and now it touched the back of my throat, and at once I began to retch... But it had no effect: it didn't matter what I did, I couldn't pull away, I couldn't shake my head free as his dick was already so deep in my, and I couldn't bite down on his dick because of the wedge. He eased off a moment, and I knelt there, coughing and spluttering, tears beginning to stream down my face as they do when those gag reactions have been triggered so violently.
"That was just the taster, as you might say, Steve...", he remarked evilly. "Next time, I'm going right down the throat..."
As he said this, he pushed forward again, I started to gag, but now it was worse, far, far worse, as he pushed on so that his dick began to slide down my gullet. I was panicking now- no, my body was panicking, quite automatically - as my throat was filled with dick and I could no longer breathe. I was shaking my head violently, trying futilely to get my arms free of their restraints so I could tear at his, and began to throw my body around in an effort to get free.
He pulled out again, and now I was heaving and coughing and choking and almost vomiting. My breath was coming in great gasps, snot was cascading down my nose and tears down my face.
"So, Steve... Even though you're a fag now, you've never had a proper man really throat fuck you!", he said with relish. "Well, here goes again..."
He plunged into me once more, thrusting his dick right down my throat almost without stopping. All the same things happened, but now he was easing himself in and out, almost as if he was fucking me. I had to get away. I had to escape. My body knew it was dying, and was prepared to do anything to get free. The violence of my reactions made me lose my balance, ad it was only Mike's strong hands holding on to the handles on my collar that kept me in him. As I lay there now, he sank to his knees, following me down, and when he did withdraw, I really was retching now. His dick, as I saw it waving in front of me, was now covered in a thick layer of my mucus. I wanted to beg him, to plead with him, to implore him to stop. I wanted to offer him my ass, anything, as long as he'd let me live. But I couldn't get any words out - not only was the gag thing still keeping my jaws apart, but the choking had affected me so that I could hardly scream.
He reached behind him and picked up something else - waving it in the air I saw it was a long, wide, semi- stiff paddle made of thick leather. "OK, Steve, back on my dick..."
I managed to mutter "No...", as I lay there, gasping and panting. "Back on my dick, boy!" he commanded again, then brought the paddle crashing down on my butt as I lay there, causing me to buck and writhe with the new pain. "OK, boy, back on my dick, back on your owner's dick...", he said, and without giving me any choice in it, he slapped the paddle very hard on my butt again, the plunged in and began fucking me once more.
I was dimly aware of Bill watching in amazement all this time, as my brother, now almost crouching over me, heaved and hauled at my collar to keep his dick rammed deep down my throat as my body writhed and thrashed around on the floor in front of him, and as he flailed at me with the heavy paddle. The sounds of his passion, the slap of the paddle, and my inarticulate screams, shouts and cries must have made a very erotic spectacle, as I saw Bill starting to sport an erection as Mike continued to rape my throat.
My body knew it was going to die, deprived of oxygen and unable to control itself. But Mike evidently knew what he was doing, as periodically, for just long enough, I could take deep drafts of air - but these somehow only served to make the retching and spluttering worse. It seemed to go on for hours, but in practice it can only have been minutes, as Mike was totally unable to hold out. He finally let me go, and I dropped to lie flat on the floor, my chest heaving as I continued to almost vomit, great fits of coughing punctuating everything, and with me unable to stop myself making pathetic cries and howls in-between. Snot was continuing to pour out of my nose, tears to stream down my cheeks, and now I was covered in sweat, too: it had broken out all over me, and was running in foul-smelling rivulets down my ribs from my pits.
"There!", Mike said triumphantly. "There's another lesson from your elder brother, Bill. That's the way to use a guy's mouth and throat."
"A-fucking-mazing!", Bill added, "I must get myself one of those training collars!"
"...or a servant with long hair", Mike added helpfully. "It's about the only argument I know for not keeping a servant's hair neatly cropped, like Steve's is. With long hair you can get a good grip, and the servant is a lot less likely to struggle as it's just too painful. But don't forget to get a jaw wedge - even when a servant has done it a few times, you can't trust him: there's something almost automatic that can take over sometimes that causes him to bite down in agony, or ecstasy.... And you don't want to get your dick bitten off!"
"Right on, brother. I'll send away for one as I've got a certain reputation to maintain and I can't be seen going into one of the sex shops in the area."
"How about you have this one?", Mike replied. "Knowing dad, he's probably got one already to use with that cute young guy. I'll send him some wine, or something, and you can keep this one - you're staying on tomorrow, aren't you? If we can get rid of the women again, you could try it out and I can give you a few tips."
"You think dad really is giving it to that young guy?"
"Not only think so, know so. He does talk to me occasionally as I'm the eldest, and he's confided that he really misses mom, and that here's no way he'd take another woman. But he's got urges, just like us: and why do you think he bought a nice-looking young guy like that? At that age a servant with a relatively slim body must be quite easy to control in bed, and you know dad - he always likes to be in control, it's a family trait. So I'd think that Joe gets the insides fucked out of him most nights. But perhaps Steve can tell us... Or perhaps Steve has special knowledge about Joe... Come on, Steve - spill the beans: does Joe take dick, or give it?"
I lay there, silent. There was a great "slap", and I screamed as the paddle crashed across my shoulders now. "Speak up, Steve. Does Joe take dick Indeed, have you dicked him, fag?"
What was the point? They'd just beat me until I answered, and so I just mubmled "Yes, sir."
"Hey", Bill said, jokingly, I think. "I'll have to mention this to some of the folk I know who are always looking for creative ideas for movies. A dad and a son both dicking the same slave... That should get all the old guys in the audience really turned on."
"Yes, especially as the young slave seems to prefer the older guy, as he doesn't even seem to make eye contact with Steve. That's a real turn on for the guys in the audience with real spending power: an older guy who so turns on a young slave that the young slave would rather be fucked by him that by a big, hung, handsome muscle stud!"
Both of them started to laugh, as they bent over me to undo my restraints. I winced as the collar was taken off, as the violence of my struggles had cased it to almost cut me, and bruise my neck severely even though it was thick and seemed to be padded. And, of course, I knew my butt and back would be glowing bright red with the paddle marks.
"Mike, won't dad be cross when he sees what you've done to Steve? Look at these marks on him..."
"No, not a chance. He never looks at Steve's face, only keeps his eyes down looking to see if Steve is going to flash his dick again. And his back and butt are covered by that tunic, unless for some reason he has to strip tonight. In any case, I can always tell dad that we were training Steve to be a better, more obedient slave - that should go down well.
End Of Part 26