THE LABOURER by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 24
Craig and I couldn't sleep after all that, and as Rob had run out leaving the door unlocked, we decided to go for a swim. There's something very special about swimming entirely naked that I'd never appreciated before when I had to be more conventional. And I also understand now why so many of those gay films are set in pools - it's really erotic to be able to stand and kiss, and play with your partner, when you're partially supported by water. We laughed and joked with each other (quietly, so as not to disturb the impregnation of Karen!), and we specially "baptised" the new pool paving by pissing all over it, watching the streams of yellow run off and into their pool!
The weeks of the break were soon over, however, and it was back to my normal routine of weekdays at college and home, and weekends at Rooney's. I'd like to think that the more "mature" attitude I'd shown to Rob carried over to college, but the more I simply sat there and took the abuse that the other guys hurled t me, egged on by Trent, the worse it seemed to get. They'd heard about my failure with that girl, too, and far from being "sorry" for me as most of the women were, they now added new levels to their taunting, as they started to suggest that I couldn't get it up at all! It was getting to the point where I was really miserable about any of the time not spent in classes: there was just nowhere on the campus it seemed to me where there wasn't some guy waiting to abuse me: I felt really out of it all. And to make it worse, I wasn't used to this: at High School I'd been really popular, as I was a real jock, on the football team and doing well for the school in track and field. So now it was just awful to have no friends, and to be followed by taunting where ever I went.
My only escape at the lunch break was to go to the phys ed building, and, if I thought about it, that was pretty humiliating, too. I mean, it's OK to be jerked off by another guy if you've ordered him to do it, isn't it? But this wasn't like that: the department head ordered me to strip as he sat there and looked at my body; then he made me stand there in front of him as he jerked me off, whilst with his other hand he spread my legs and forced his finger up my ass so he could rummage around for my prostate.
Look, I don't know about you, but I hate jerking off when I'm standing up - somehow it makes me weak at the knees, and it just isn't comfortable when you're about to shoot as you want to thrust your hips forward as if you're fucking - it really is better to lie down somewhere, or sprawl in a chair. After the first few times he introduced a new variation, too: as he sensed that I was about to cum, he'd pull his finger out of my ass and then, as he continued to jerk at my dick, he'd catch my cum in his hand. That's another thing I hated, too: even though I'd cum, he'd keep on jerking away at me to get all the "aftershocks", and for me that's a big problem: my dick gets really sensitive once I've shot the first spurt, and I always want to stop, just to leave it alone, and have it fire the remaining ones by itself. But not him - no, he wanted to keep on jerking me, and that always made me cry out as there's that exquisite feeling that's partially pleasure, partly pain, partly tickling.... Well, I expect most of you know what it's like. My knees would almost buckle as I tried to stand there, and I couldn't shout too loud in case anyone outside in the corridor heard us. Worst of all, though, was that he then told me to kneel, and I had to squat there and lap my cum from the palm of his hand - he wanted it totally clean, he always said. It's not the taste of my cum that I object to - I don't mind it at all, or any other guys', but it was just the humiliation of having to kneel, then lap it up just as if I was a dog being given a treat. I didn't like the soap he used, either: his sweating hand was right under my nose, and over the smell of my cum was the heavy odour of some really floral scent, which almost made me sneeze.
All in all, the time I spent at college during the day was pretty miserable, and in some ways therefore going home was a relief, even though things were not all that great there. It was clear that Joe was now my father's favourite: he always seemed to have a kind word for him, Joe was neatly and expensively dressed in smart casual clothes once he'd finished his work in the grounds and the yard, and of course most nights he'd share my father's bed and I'd hear them muttering and laughing together before those unmistakable sounds of fucking came through the bedroom walls. I, on the other hand, was just treated civilly by my father, with him demanding to see my reports and grades, requiring me to show him the projects I'd finished, and so on. Then, if they were not "up to standard", as he said, he'd cane me: not that it hurt particularly as he rarely gave me more than six strokes from a medium weight malaca. No, it was more the utter humiliation of the thing, being beaten as if
was still in the first few grades.
I've told you how now I was only allowed to wear the revealing short tunic as I served them dinner, well, now I had to change in to it as soon as I entered the house. So if I was to be caned, as I bent over the arm of the chair, or the table, or wherever my father chose to do it, my bare ass was exposed to him and I knew he could see my dick and balls swinging there between my thighs. Things got even worse when my father decided that I should be a more general servant around the house, and on the days when my father wanted a break from fucking and Joe slept in the second bed in my room, I now also had to act as a kind of valet to him, and help him shower, dry him, and hand him his clean clothes. I know it doesn't sound much, but you've got to remember that Joe started life as the general young slave boy at Rooney's, and his job was to attend to us in the showers, shaving our balls and cracks every week as Rooney demanded, and keeping our pubes clipped and so on. Whilst all this was now done to me still when I was at Rooney's, it was such a role reversal as I now had to kneel in front of him as the water sluiced over us, and help him clean up by soaping his dick and balls. It's not right, is it? A mature, tough twenty eight year old shouldn't have to minister like that to a seventeen year old kid!
I once tried asking my father if I could have some proper work shorts, or indeed anything other than the tunic, to wear around the house, and if Joe couldn't look after himself. But he just looked at me, and said, rather sternly, "You just don't get it, do you, Steven? After all those years of unruly behaviour you need to learn to be submissive and serve others. The fact that you even ask these things continues to demonstrate that you do not appreciate what I'm trying to do for you."
"But, sir, it's so humiliating...", I said.
"Steven, it's in your own best interests. Now, run along, and fetch me the New York Times!". As he said this, my father actually gave me a little slap on the butt, under the tunic. Not as punishment, but as encouragement. I do wish people would stop doing things that they say "are in my best interests!".
Look, I'm not saying that my father was cruel or anything - after that first terrible caning he'd never done more than use it almost symbolically to remind me that he was displeased with my work or my grades - compared to the way the overseers at Rooney's tawsed us and caned us, it was like a gentle tap. I was jealous of Joe, I now realised - don't get me wrong, I didn't want my father to fuck me (well, I don't want anyone to fuck me, as you know) - but I disliked the way they were getting closer and closer, the way they shared little looks and jokes, and the way that he could watch the games on TV, for example, whereas I was sent up to my room to work. It was just as if Joe was becoming a kind of favoured son to my dad, and having him come into the house like this and almost displacing me was really hurtful. Not that Joe tried to take advantage of it, to his credit, I suppose: he never seemed to ask my father for special things (well, not in my hearing, anyway - who knows what he asked for when my dad's body was all over him after he'd been fucked!). And when I was having to act as his "valet", he seemed to be almost as uncomfortable about it as I was. No, it was more as if I suddenly realised that I didn't want to share my father with an interloper - after my brothers had left home and dad and I were alone together, I never really cared what he wanted or what he did as I was too busy doing my own stuff. But now I found myself really resenting the way in which Joe was somehow favoured, and I was mostly ignored.
That semester, though, I did at least solve one thing at college: the problem of Trent and the way he encouraged all the others to sneer at me as I was a slave. I'd been going to the phys ed building so long at lunch times now that it almost seemed to be routine to have to strip so the head of the place could jerk me off and finger my ass, and, to tell you the truth, I no longer minded all that much. After all, a guy has to cum, doesn't he? So apart from the slight discomfort of having to stand there rather than to be able to lie somewhere, I guess it was no big deal. Three was a shift in my class schedules one week, though, and I explained that I'd have to go there later the next day, and to my surprise I was told to give it a miss as the instructor was busy. Well, he'd never been busy before, so I cut a class (hoping that the professor would not notice and wouldn't send a message to my dad), and hung around in phys ed to see what was actually going on. That's not as easy as it sounds - although it was now kind of accepted that I could swim in the pool in the early mornings if I got there early enough so there were few other students around, there was no way I could use the facilities at peak times of the day as there would have been numerous complaints from other users about a slave "soiling" the place. I therefore had to pretend to be on my way between other places on the campus, and kept cutting through the building via its many entrances, keeping my eyes skinned as I did so for activity in the head's room.
My patience was ultimately rewarded when I saw Trent go in, and then, as I was now circling the place almost obsessively, I saw him leave about twenty minutes later looking kind of flushed - the way I did when I'd been jerked off! Could it be that the chief was using Trent as he used me? I was somehow convinced that it was: the chief had a penchant for big, fit guys I supposed, and as he was on the football team and was pretty well built, it didn't seem unlikely that Trent was being used as I was. Look, I tried to do it nicely: I managed to get Trent alone shortly after that, and asked him to stop persecuting me. After all, I told him, it was getting a bit boring, surely - it was clear that it wasn't going to get me out of the place.
He wasn't even the tiniest bit conciliatory though, and snapped "No way! Fucking slaves shouldn't be allowed in this place! At home we keep all the servants well under control, and I don't want to come to college and find myself sharing classes with a fucking slave! And if I ever find you in the showers when me and the team are in there, you'll wish you'd not, as we'll give you a shower, the sort slaves deserve: of our piss!"
"Look, Trent, I can't help it. As you so often point out I'm a slave, and I don't have any choice... My owner wants me to come here, I have to..."
"Fucking slave! Your owner doesn't teach you any manners, evidently. Don't you know all free men are 'mister'?"
"Look, Mister Trent, " I had to force it out, but it would be worth it to get him to stop. "I can't help being here, sir, and perhaps you could discuss it with my owner..."
"Fucking no way! Now, get out of my way, fucking slave... And if I see you around this afternoon a few of us will strip you and get you to do a few push-ups for the class...". He laughed evilly as he said this.
I was no longer trying to do it nicely now, and so said, still quite calmly, though "And I'll tell them about how you get jerked off in phys ed. Is that something all the football team get as special coaching?"
He just stared at me. I could tell from the look of shock on his face that it was true, that I'd struck home. But he was going to bluff it out, evidently, as he blustered "You spread lies about me or any of the guys on the football team, and you'll be dead meat, slave! Now, get out of my way. And if I see you at break this afternoon, remember what I'll do!"
He strode off, and I didn't seem to be any further advanced. In fact I was worse off, I reckoned, as they'd never threatened actual physical violence before. Trent and some of the football team had swaggered past me, brushing me off the path and onto the grass, that sort of stuff. But this idea that they'd strip me and make me perform in front of my classmates was something new. I felt really miserable, and had to resort to hiding in-between classes - and that's not the kind of thing I do as I usually take things head-on: but there was no way I could fight off a gang of football players, I knew.
Having to slink around and keep hiding all the time made life at college even worse, and I began to realise how awful it was for kids to be bullied. It had never happened to me as I was always popular, and tough. But now I certainly wasn't popular, and I found out how easy it was to incite a gang to turn on an innocent person. I desperately needed to do something, and my chance came a couple of days later when in my student pigeon hole there was a note from the head of phys ed just saying "Meeting changed. Come at 12:00." I was free, as it so happened, so went along there obediently and stood there as he made me cum, thanked him, as he'd told me he expected me to, and then, as I was going out, he said "Oh, and don't come tomorrow at all, as I have a meeting all day, off site."
As I was walking to the cafeteria (my father did not allow me any money so I could not buy lunch as he said that my bar of slave chow in the morning and in the evening was perfectly adequate, but I knew that if I hung around looking as if I was hungry, some girl would take pity on me and give me a sandwich or perhaps even a chocolate bar), Trent and a couple of the football players swaggered past, elbowing and jostling me off the path as usual. That made up my mind, and I changed direction, went back and dropped the note that I'd had into Trent's pigeon hole.
The next day I cut another class, and was waiting in the room when Trent knocked and came in. He looked shocked to see me there, and I moved behind him, closing the door, so that we were alone.
"Out of my way, fucking slave!", he blustered, "I've got a meeting in here with the head of phys ed."
"Yes, I know, Mister Trent!". My voice emphasised the "mister", contemptuously. "I know all about your meetings. But he's not coming today, and I'm here instead. So drop those pants, Mister Trent, and then you can jerk yourself off for me, as I don't touch guys' cocks like yours, as you never know where they've been..."
He blushed furiously, and tried to bluster his way out of it again. "You're mad! Now, get out of my way..."
I was still standing between him and the door, and my voice was icily calm as I said "Drop those pants, Mister. Or else I'll pull them down. Without your football buddies, with just you and me, I can, and I will..."
It was him who started it - he lunged at me, trying to throw the first punch. But it was no contest, of course - even though he was gym fit, I had fifteen pounds of solid muscle more than him from my "real work", and I soon had him pushed down on to the desk, with me grinding his face into the surface. Actually, once you've got the guy like that there's not a lot he can do about it - my fingers were digging into the sinews of his neck, and I struck gold almost immediately, finding the two pressure points that cause incredible pain with no trouble at all.
I could therefore pinion him in place with just one hand and although he could squirm and wriggle, there was no way he could get free. My other hand went underneath him, fumbling at his belt and the zipper on this pants, and then I was able to almost rip them down. Like a lot of kids he wore "designer" stretch boxers in grey, and it was a bit more tricky to get those pulled down over his butt, but then I was standing in between his legs, looking down at his ass.
I kicked at his ankles to force him to spread his legs, slapped his butt a couple of times (and you know I can do that really hard) to show him who was in charge, and then casually spread his butt cheeks apart so I could see his hole.
Trent was a hairy guy, but as I looked at it, I realised he must have been shaving down there, as I could see the dark, puckered skin of his hole and a clear area stretching forward to his balls (which, unlike mine, were however covered in his wiry, dark brown hair).
"You shave your hole then", I said conversationally, and, when he didn't reply, I pinched my fingers into his neck, causing him to cry out. "Answer me, fucker!
What's a big macho football player doing shaving his hole? Do you and your team buddies go in for a bit of real bonding...?", I snapped.
"No! But he makes me do it, for when I come here...."
I let go of his butt, brought my hand up to my face and slathered my middle finger with spit, then went back down to his butt. I pushed my finger into his hole quite easily, and he groaned as I did, that sort of groan we al l hear guys make as they don't know whether to be angry at being violated or happy at the sensation. "You're nice and loose..." I carried on with the causal tone. "So I guess you get this all the time?"
He remained silent, and I had to cause him a little discomfort in his neck before he muttered "Yes."
"So he plays with your ass as he jerks you off?"
Again, the reluctance to reply, and only after he'd grunted in pain did he utter "Yes", again.
I carried on probing with my finger, and knew I'd struck home when his whole body shuddered with pleasure. "You like that, don't you, boy? You like a man to finger your hole, and really turn you on...."
"Fucking slave, leave me alone... Look, if you stop, stop right now, we'll forget the whole thing..."
"And you'll stop taunting me? Maybe even let me hang out with you football jocks a bit? I used to play, you know..."
I knew then that he hadn't meant it, as he just shouted "I don't bargain with slaves! Now, let me up, and I'll only demand that our owner gets the whipmaster to lash you twelve times..."
Still holding his neck firmly with my one hand, I now dropped my pants, and pushed my white briefs down my thighs. I wetted my dick with spit as best I could, then parted his ass again, positioned the tip of my dick at his hole, and pushed.
Look, I've fucked a lot of guys. And I know when someone's had dick up them before, as they know what to do, and push back at you as you push in so the muscles think you're going to crap and open up for you. Trent did just that, and he only cried out because I'm long and thick, and all guys tend to do that when I enter them. I went all the way, though, and stood there, feeling the delicious sensation of the heat of his butt against my belly and thighs.
"So, Trent, you're experienced at taking dick..."
"Fuck you!"
"No, Trent... It's you who's going to get fucked...." I began to push in and out of him, gently, actually, as I didn't want him making too much noise. His little cries and moans turned to sighs of pleasure as I went at it, but after a few minutes I was almost bored, and I had to start thrusting really vigorously, slamming my pubic bone into his ass, in order to get myself to cum. He was far from quiet as I did this, and I was worried that someone might come to find out what all the noise was about; but when you're in the midst of a good fuck, you only worry about things like that marginally, as it's much more important to finish off, isn't it?
I pulled out of him then, and still holding his neck in my vicelike grip, I pulled him to his feet so we were both standing. "Kneel down!", I commanded, and as he tried to resist, I pinched my fingers a little so that he understood that non-compliance meant pain, and he sank to the floor in front of me. I used his long-ish wavy hair to clean his crap off my dick, and then let him go so that I could pull up my briefs and my pants - somehow it's rather undignified to stand there with briefs around your thighs, don't you think?
"I'll have you whipped...", he started.
"I don't think so, Trent. Not if you don't want all the guys on the team to know how well you take dick, and how you've come here to be jerked off, day after day."
"They'll never believe a slave! I'll say you raped me, and that was the first time."
"And I'll tell them that you shave your hole and your taint.... And I bet at least a couple of them might grab you in the showers and take a look, just out of curiosity... And then they'll wonder why you do that, won't they? Why would a man shave his hole and not his balls, unless he wanted to make it nice and easy for another guy's dick to slide in and out..."
"I'll tell them it's because the phys ed guy made me..."
"...and you'll also tell them about those little sessions with his finger up your ass, as he jerks you off?"
I just sneered at him as I pulled my briefs and pants up and zipped up. As he knelt there in front of me I grabbed his chin and held it, and said, calmly and quietly. "Look, Trent, believe me: you don't want to star slinging any mud around. Sure it would get me whipped, but your reputation would be lost, as well. I doubt they'd want you on the football team if they knew what you did as a hobby. So just keep your trap shut, OK? And make sure that in future there's no more leading of the other guys in taunting me: I swear that the next time you do that I'll tell everyone what you're really like."
With that I turned and left, laughing to myself about how he'd now have to go and find a shower if he didn't want the smell of his crap in his hair spoiling the afternoon's classes.
In fact, I didn't have any trouble with Trent from then on - he was wary of me, and didn't provoke problems, and even on one occasion called to a group of guys who were taunting me that had better things to do. So all I now needed to do was fix the head of phys ed, and after a couple of weeks when it all seemed to have gone quiet on the Trent front, I felt bold enough to act.
I've told you how he liked to sit there with me standing in front of him as he jerked me off, and one day it was happening as usual, with me feeling really pissed off at having to stand therewith my pants around my ankles and my briefs around my knees as he fingers stroked me. Just as I was about to cum, I reached down and grabbed his wrist, and using all my power and strength aimed my dick directly at his face!
I shot a huge load, with a lot of force, and it went all over him, covering his glasses, and sliding down the valley of his nose and over his chin, to drip onto his shirt and tie.
"What the fuck....?", he shouted, really pissed off with what has happened.
"Oh, sorry", I said quietly. "You know, I guess that's a real problem. It might happen again, almost any time. Still, it's only cum, isn't it.... It washes out easily."
"I can't take this home... My wife would see it!"
"Well, sir, perhaps you'd better be more careful in future. Maybe you should confine your activities to younger guys, regular fresh men, like Trent - you can probably control them better than an older guy, like me."
"You did it deliberately, slave! And if you do it again, I'll tell your owner..."
"And if you do, I'll tell your wife! Now, I think it's time we stopped all this. I'm going to carry on using the pool in the morning and the gym, and I don't mind if you watch me trying on the jockstraps and stuff you'll still find for me. But no more jerking off - well, not for me, at least. Although I think you should continue to work away at Trent, as he's a bit of a hothead. Do we understand each other?"
As I said this, I reached down and wiped a little of the cum that was still oozing out of my dick onto my finger, then reached towards him, pushing my finger at his lips.
"Get that away from me, you're disgusting ...."
"Sorry, sir... I thought you liked cum. I don't mind eating it, as you've seen me do, often. But next time, who knows what might happen? If I don't shoot it all over you again, and do catch it in my hand as you like me to, you might find that hand all over your face. I'm very strong, sir, as you know.... And you can't really stop me, can you?" As I said this, I pushed my finger towards his lips again, and although he grasped my wrist with his hands, he discovered that what I'd said was true: I really am strong, and he had to sit there as I smeared my cum over his lips.
"Get out!", he screamed at me. "Get out, and don't come back..."
"Sir, I will be back. I need fresh gym stuff, and you've got to find it for me. And I've decided that you're so pathetically weak, that you need help: so get Trent in here tomorrow, and then when you have him strip and start to jerk him off, I'll watch, just in case you need any assistance in subduing him. He won't mind, I'm sure, as he and I have a kind of, well, understanding, you might call it!".
I felt really good all afternoon, knowing that I'd now fixed the bastard, and from time to time, it wouldn't hurt Trent for me to see his humiliation.
End Of Part 24