THE LABOURER by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 28
Leaving Craig and Joe standing there, my father led me into his study, and tossed me a bath robe. "Here, Steven - it's not decent for a man like you to go around exposing himself!"
"But dad, you made me wear this..."
"No, Steven, a slave wore that tunic. The rules are different for men."
"But why did you do all that..."
"Because, Steven, I love you. I love all my sons, as fathers do. But of the three of you, I've always had a special affection for you. Perhaps it was the wild streak in you - I always had to buckle down and work when I was growing up, and perhaps I was envious of your freedom to not study, to chase the women.... I always hoped you'd grow out of it, but you seemed to be getting more and more out of control, and I knew that if I did, or said, anything, the stubborn streak in you would just make you all the more determined to act as you wanted. So I had to let you 'fall', and then, as any father would, I picked up the pieces. But I knew that if I just let you live a normal life, gave you money, you'd just be contemptuous of me, and would do something even more outrageous to 'test' me: that's what fathers and sons do, especially strong-willed sons: they constantly push the limits, testing the love their fathers have for them."
"You needed to work out for yourself what life was like. I deliberately did not intervene when you voluntarily indentured yourself - although I could have bought your indenture then! I failed to notice Rob's schemes, I must say. But once you were a slave, I could exert a subtle power over you, by agreeing with Rooney that you were to be physically worked as hard as you imagined you wanted to be. And then I needed to demonstrate to you that you were not stupid - I suspected all this silly rebellion about not going to college was because you were secretly afraid that you might fail - and you don't like failing, do you, Steven? Men like you believe in themselves, and can't tolerate failure, so you go out of your way sometimes to avoid putting yourselves in situations where you think you might. But as slave, being forced to study, the pressure was off and you could see that you could do it - as was demonstrated today, when you graduated."
I broke in "Dad.... Thank you... Thank you for supporting me today.... All alone there, with them all watching you, and you clapped on, and on..."
"Of course I did! I'm proud of you, Steven! Proud you studied and graduated and came out near the top of the class. What father wouldn't be proud of his son, and be proud to show the world he was proud? Especially when you were the biggest, best-looking, most handsome guy there in that graduating class... I only wish your mother had been alive to see it."
I hung my head a bit as he mentioned mom. I didn't know how to say it, but I had to. "Dad, about mom... Well, you and Joe..."
"Steven, it pains me to speak of it. And it is none of your business, even though you are my son. But let me tell you that never a day goes by without me thinking of her. But I do have urges, son, as you do.... I could not even consider going with another woman, and disrespecting your mother's memory. So Joe is perfect - he's available, and he knows how to satisfy a man. Indeed, you will l know that from your own experience."
He looked at me, and I blushed. "But dad, it's not right..."
"What isn't right, Steven? Me wanting sex? A lot of sons have difficulty in thinking of their fathers as sexual beings, but I'm still young, you know! Or is it that you don't like me having sex with a man? After that little exhibition a few moments ago with Craig, that is slightly hypocritical of you. Or is it that you are in fact jealous? Jealous that Joe, who used to adore you, now knows what he really wants in life?"
I just sat there, silent. As usual, he seemed to have all the answers. And then I realised what I'd been doing all my life. Dad always was right, but I never wanted to admit it. I never wanted to say he knew better than me. So I did more and more outrageous things, trying to "prove" that I knew better. I'd spent my entire life rebelling, and there was no point - no point, not because he was always right, but because we were different! We had different needs, looked at life differently. Dad wasn't better than me - we were the same. Two strong men, each with our own particular strengths. As this realisation swept over me, I started to smile. I began to feel happy. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
"What's so funny, Steven?", dad asked, his own face now beginning to crease with amusement.
"Well, dad, if you're going to keep on fucking Joe, and I'm going to be fucking Craig, we'd better move the bedroom assignments around a bit, or else none of us will be able to get to sleep as we listen to the other!" We both broke out into laughter then, and I knew that dad and I had started on that road that would turn us into what fathers and sons should be - real friends.
We went out together, arm in arm, and dad took Joe off up to bed. Craig was still standing there, naked, and I stripped off my own clothes. "In the pool, Craig!", I shouted, as I jumped in. He stood there looking down at me as I trod water, as he had never been as keen on swimming as I was, and said "No, I'll give it a miss tonight. It's been a long day - I was really worried when the transporter came and stuffed me in that cage and drove me off... I thought I'd never see you again..."
"Fucking slave!", I shouted, only half seriously, "When your owner tells you to do something, you'd better obey, or else you'll feel the weight of a cane across your butt - and I've got really strong arms, Craig!"
He jumped in, and we clung together in the water, laughing, kissing and playing with each other, more like young guys than mature men. But even as we did this, a thought was playing through my mind: was I really joking when I'd ordered Craig into the pool? And had he joined me as he thought I might have been serious? I could see that this business of being his owner, rather than just a fellow slave, was going to need sensitive handling.
The problem arose in a more serious form later that night. Until things were sorted out Craig and I were sharing my room and there were only the two narrow beds in there - not that that was any particular hardship, a we were used to sharing a single narrow bed at Rooney's. I got in first, and Craig stood there, hesitating, looking at me, and at the other bed. I raised up the sheet so he could see my naked body, dick hard, and smiled, and he at once rushed over and thrust himself down beside me, and we did that lovely shuffling around you both do as your bodies accommodate each other. He started to kiss me passionately and then broke off, and made a dive for my nips - he was in a playful mood, I could tell, and he always thought it funny to make feints at my nips as he knew I was so sensitive, and it always made me squirm and wriggle.
"No, Craig...", I said, as I always did, laughing... And then, as his head bobbed down again and I tried to stop him, he pushed my arm out of the way and had another go. Above our almost helpless giggling I said again "No.... Craig.... Stop it..... Oh.....". Craig doesn't have a really sensitive place like that, but I managed to grab his balls and gave them a friendly squeeze. "Now stop...", I whispered, and Craig said, matter of factly, "OK, then... I'm tired, anyway..."
I let his balls go and went to kiss him, and immediately his head went down and he nipped my left tit. I admit I was tired, and I never really liked these games with my nips, so I snapped "Fucking hell, Craig... You said you'd stop..."
"...and you know I'm a liar, Steve... Now....". He lunged at me again, and I lost it. All the worry, all the frustration, everything, had just been too much that day. "I said stop!", I shouted, and something in my voice must have worried him, as he slowly drew away, and just lay there, almost inert, beside me.
"Was that an order, sir?" he asked, quietly. "Are you giving me orders now, sir?"
"No, you idiot! I just don't like you going for my nips, you know that...."
"But we were playing, like we always do. And your voice... Are you going to give me orders, sir?"
"Craig, you know what you mean to me. No, I'm not going to give you orders. You're my best buddy, my lover... Come on, you know how we are together."
"No, Steve. I knew how we were. I knew how we were right up to the moment when your father gave me to you as a present. Now I'm your slave, your possession, and that changes things. When you order me into the pool, order me to stop playing with your nips.... Is that an order, or a request, or just 'fun', like we used to have? You know that phrase, sir, 'You Can't Be Friends With A Slave...' - it's now taken out of context and most people have never read the famous book.... But it's true, isn't it? I can never know when you're really serious and it is an order, or when it's just the way that two buddies speak to each other."
I lay there quietly for a moment, conscious of the wonderful sensation of Craig's body pressed close to mine everywhere. He was right in one way, I suppose, but I didn't want things to change. I wanted us to be as we always had been - just two guys together. I leaned over towards him and kissed him deeply, and we thrashed around in passion, our dicks sandwiched together between our bodies. When we broke, I whispered "Does that answer your question, Craig?"
He was silent, though, as his head went down and started to suck and kiss my dick, and I began to moan.
Look, I love it when Craig treats my dick like this - it's what we always did, and soon I would go down on him. But this night was special, and I wanted something more, I really wanted to relieve the tension I'd had all day. And I was missing not having a proper fuck, as I would have had at Rooney's. So as he lay there sucking at me, his big muscular body half curled up, I let me fingers slide down his ass crack, and began gently to probe at his asshole, pushing a finger in, then bringing it back to my mouth to lube it with spit, then entering him again. My erection was so hard and the sensations form my dick so severe that I knew I was on the point of cumming, so I slapped his ass playfully, and when he came off my dick and looked at me, I whispered "I want to fuck you, Craig...."
"Hey, Steve, we don't do that, remember..."
"Oh, come on... Tonight's special...."
"No, Steve."
Look, I was already half in a frenzy, all fired up. And this fucking thing had never really been sorted out between us - we'd both fucked each other, but hadn't repeated it as we could never decide who was the real top. We both topped all the other guys at Rooney's, and it was kind of exciting, as I've told you, to almost be racing to see who could do it better, and fastest. But we'd never worked out which of us was the real dominant one, and who would have to take it from the other, so I guess we kind of dodged the issue by just "messing around" together in bed, and only fucking the other guys. I ought to have left it alone. I ought to have just let him suck me off or jerk me off, and then done the same to him as we had done so many, many times before to our complete satisfaction. But I needed a good fuck, I really did.
And the one glass of wine I'd had with my father had really gone to my head as I was so unused to alcohol. The combination of this and my sexual excitement caused me to lose any sense of caution, and to cease to worry about and problems I might be building up.
"Oh, come on Craig...", I said, my tone light, and friendly. "Just tonight, it's a celebration. Come on, open up for me, on your knees, and let my dick in..."
"No, Steve! You know I don't take it..." As he said this, Craig went down on my dick again, and began to excite me in the way that only his tongue could. But wanted to fuck, and as my excitement mounted, I moaned "No... No.... I want to fuck.....", then as he seemed to be paying no attention, I lost it.
"Craig, I want to fuck!", I snapped suddenly. "Come on, on your knees, and spread that ass for me..."
"No way, Steve! Come on, you know the game..."
"Craig, I'm serious.... I want to fuck! It's no big deal, I've fucked you before..."
He looked at me then, and for the first time in a long time he didn't seem to have that lazy smile on his face. "Is that an order, Steve? Are you going to order me to take your dick, sir?"
"Oh don't be stupid! I want you to want me, Craig. It's what guys do together who really like each other." But even as I said this, I knew it wasn't going to work. Craig and I were locked in a battle, a battle to determine who was really the top man between us. We may not be physically fighting it out - when I'd probably lose anyway, as Craig had spent a whole lot more time really working his muscles in the last years than I had. No, this was a battle of wills, something that would shape our relationship for all time. Something I therefore couldn't afford to lose.
"No, Steve. But I'll fuck you, if you're desperate for sex...."
"You know I don't take dick, Craig."
He looked at me again. "Are you going to order me?"
"What do you mean?"
"You can't be friends with a slave, Steve. I told you that."
"Craig, don't be so fucking stupid! We're buddies... All I wanted was to celebrate tonight, it's no big deal, after all... But yes, if you're going to be stupid about it, I guess I might just order it!"
What Craig did then was really stupid. He got out of bed, walked across the room to the punishment horse, and lay down on it, spreading his legs wide, very provocatively. He was bidding up the stakes, turning what ought to have been a fun fuck in bed into something much more serious. "Come on then, sir", he almost jeered. "Come and take me, sir."
Look, it's stupid, I know. But when you're being challenged like that, you can't give in, can you? I ought just to have called to him to come back to bed. Or even just gone over there and slapped his ass lightly and turned it into a game, then kissed him, and had a bit of fun rolling around on the floor together. But I just can't act like that - challenge me, and I rise to it.
I almost threw the sheet off myself, and took two big strides over to stand beside Craig. "Fuck me then, sir!", he challenged again, and that was it. I don't think he thought that I would dare go ahead. But I was almost beside myself with rage at his childish behaviour, so I bent down and snapped shut the fastenings, holding his wrists and ankles to the legs of the horse. I watched with interest as he tested them, tugging at each in turn, then kind of bucking his body, as if that would help!
"Just ask me to let you go, Craig...", I whispered to him, running my fingers through his hair, and letting them trail along his beautiful muscled back. His whole body writhed as I did this, but he remained stubbornly silent. I let my hands caress his lovely hard, muscled butt, running my finger tips over r the little ridges from recent canings, a thing we often did in bed. Come on, Craig", I whispered quietly again, "Just ask me to let you go, and I will..."
I really did want this to end, and I almost prayed for him to say something, but as he lay there, his silence became almost insolent. "Craig, answer me...", I almost pleaded. "Come on, be sensible, and let's go back to bed..."
"Fuck you!", he muttered. And that was it! I'd had enough. Something inside me snapped.
It was almost as if I was watching myself do it. It wasn't "me", it was another part of me that took up the big, flat semi-flexible paddle that my brothers had left with my dad after that first Thanksgiving. I brought it down hard on Craig's butt repeatedly, seeing the three inch wide stripes of bright red appear against his tanned skin. The first blow was so unexpected that he didn't have time to react, but that paddle had the power to hurt in a way that the cane and the tawse didn't - by the time I'd thrashed him eight times, he was crying out and his limbs were jerking uncontrollably as his body tried everything it could to get out of the way.
I stopped then, and stood there, my breathing laboured from my exertion. I could feel the pulses pounding in my temples - was it from the effort, or the rage, or the sexual excitement? I ran my hand over his butt, feeling the heat radiating from it now. And I gave him another chance, honestly I did. "OK, Craig - you only have to ask, you know. Ask me to let you free, and come back to bed..."
"Fuck you!", he muttered again, this time in a strained tone as he fought to hold back his gasps of acute discomfort. He just wasn't going to give in, and I couldn't let him challenge me like that, could I? It wasn't a master/slave thing - well, not totally. It was more one strong man daring to challenge another, and neither could back down, each had to bid up the hand he was playing. It was sexual, too, of course - when you've just beaten a guy and felt the heat from his rump and know that you've "tenderised" him ready for you, it's really erotic, isn't it? I was rampantly erect, and leaking pre-cum which was drooling slowly down on to the floor.
"You asked for this, Craig!", I almost shouted, as I totally lost control now, positioned myself between his outstretched legs, pulled his ass cheeks apart almost brutally, positioned my dick, and thrust it home.
Craig screamed. A genuine scream. I knew I must have hurt him, thrusting myself in all the way, hard and fast, without stopping and without having prepared him. I rested against him, my belly and thighs pressed right up to him, feeling the heat radiating from his butt. "You want me to stop?", I enquired, and all I got back was a shake of his head just lay there on the horse. Well, if he'd been sensible and asked, I would have. But if he was going to play silly buggers, well I could too - so I fucked him.
Afterwards, of course, I felt a bit bad about it. I mean, I know what it's like to be strapped to the horse, unable to move, and to be force fucked. But at the time I was in the heat of my arousal, and I was pissed off with Craig for not being sensible. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realised that perhaps it wasn't a wholly bad thing to have done: he was my slave, after all, and I suppose we shouldn't have expected things to be able to have gone on exactly as they had before. Maybe if he learned the lesson now about who was really in charge it would save him a lot of trouble later. Maybe save us both a lot of trouble.
Craig didn't see it that way, though, and when I undid the straps to free his wrists and ankles, he just lay there. "Oh, come on, Craig - it wasn't that bad!", I said in as conciliatory tone as I could.
Still he lay there, and I began to get worried. "Craig, are you OK?" I dropped down by his head as I said this, and put my hand on his cropped hair to move his face so I could see it.
"Yes, sir", he replied, his tone blankly neutral. "Does this slave have your permission to get up, sir?"
"For fuck's sake, Craig! Stop this play-acting, will you? We're buddies, remember? And in this room at least, we're equals. OF course you can get up"
"Yes, sir", he said, in that same flat manner, got to his feet, and then just stood there, in the subservient pose.
"Craig, if you don't stop acting stupidly, I'll give you something to really be upset about!"
"Yes, sir. You have already punished me once tonight, sir, and I can take another, sir."
The stupid fuck was really getting to me now, and I could feel my anger rising. He was doing this deliberately, I could tell. He was trying to make me do something to him that I'd feel sorry about later. I deliberately tried to calm my raging anger at him for not behaving properly - this should have been a great night, a night when we were free of the worry of his being sold, and instead of that, we were squabbling and arguing like two school kids. "Craig, get into bed, and stop being so fucking stupid!".
He turned, muttered "Yes, sir", and deliberately got into his own bed. It made me so cross, I had a good mind to haul him out and really thrash him on the horse! But that's what he wanted, I think: he wanted to goad me into losing my temper, so he could demonstrate his superiority, and I was determined to best him in this. I mean, you do need someone to be properly in control, and we couldn't go through the rest of our lives with not knowing who that was. When we were both slaves it wasn't so important, as we were both subject to Rooney's control and we could pretend we were equal. But now I needed to demonstrate to him that I was the top dog, I was in charge - not only because I owned him, but because I was actually cleverer than he was, and I wasn't so stupid to have got caught for a lot of petty crimes as he had been when he was first indentured!
Remaining icily calm, I got in beside him and spooned up to the back of him. His body was rigid, and he deliberately tried not to get any satisfaction from my body. I had to force one of my legs between his, instead of indulging in that great exciting mutual thrashing around, and then I had to put my arm over him, and let my hand slide seductively over his hard belly, to start to tease his pubes, and move on to his dick. Even though he was trying his hardest not to be interested, he couldn't stop his natural reaction to having my fingers play with his dick and tickle his balls, and I felt his erection growing as I worked at it.
My thumb flicked at the sensitive little triangle underneath his dick head, and I was rewarded by a little moan of pleasure. I bit into his shoulder gently, then raised his arm so that I could push my nose and tongue into his pits, and then nipped the sensitive soft flesh there with my teeth, making him start to squirm and moan with excitement. "Come on, Craig!", I whispered. "You know you want to play....!"
Quick as a flash, he turned over to face me - it's surprising how fast Craig can move when he wants to - and I saw a faint trace of that familiar seductive smile. "Bastard...", he murmured, then, before I could protest or say anything, he darted down and gave my nip a painful bite , causing me to wriggle and squirm in turn. And after that, of course, there was no stopping us! We made hard, rough, passionate love, and I knew that even though we still had a lot of stuff to work through, things were going to be all right.
The next morning, when I woke up eventually, I couldn't help but love Craig as I looked at his face, composed in sleep still, as he lay there wrapped around me somehow. I decided not to wake him by slapping his ass, but gently and carefully started to tease his rock hard dick, being rewarded by little sighs and moans as the pleasure of it all evidently penetrated into his dreams. Just as he was about to cum, I shouted "Craig!", right into his ear, and he woke up with a great start, sitting bolt upright just as his dick fired a big spurt of cum all down him.
He saw me laughing, and joined in, and we lay there together for a moment, completely helpless. "You turn now...", he muttered, and reached for my dick.
"No time for that, Craig. I've got work to do today.... Look, I want you to do stuff around the yard and estate generally here, OK? It's not hard, and I'll only whip you if I get back and find you've been slacking!" I said this with a laugh, but I think it was important to let him know that I was in charge generally now, even though I had no intention of actually using a whip on him. We got up, showered together, then it occurred to me that there was another, subtle way of emphasising to Craig that he had a new status, so as I pulled on my neat shirt and chinos, I casually tossed him the tunic that I'd had to wear around the house.
Puzzled, Craig pulled it on, then reached for his shorts, believing that it was just some sort of long polo. "No, buddy - that's it, for around the house and grounds", I told him. "It's pretty good, actually
keeps you nice and cool when you're working, let's me see the best parts of the gorgeous man who's my best buddy, and when I want you naked, it just pulls off over your head in one quick movement!" As I said this, I jerked upwards on the collar of it to show him, so that the whole of his tackle was exposed, and I gave him a playful slap on his naked butt.
He looked a bit unhappy, though, when he had to go into the dining room like that, and my father raised his eyebrows slightly at me, as if asking "What's this, then?"
"Craig's going to work around the estate today, dad", I told him, "And this will keep him cool. Can I borrow the car, as I want to go off and see a lawyer?"
Mrs Sheffield brought in the breakfast then, but I decided it would be better if Craig stuck to the slave chow for the time being - after all, I didn't want him getting fat, did I? My father, Joe and I ate our breakfast as Craig sat there, his eyes following the food into our mouths - it's not so bad eating chow when that's all there is, but the smell of ham, eggs, toast and coffee does make it harder, I knew from experience. Still, he'd better get used to it, as he was going to be living with us in the house now, not in a barracks.
End Of Part 28