Hansom Way

All the usual disclaimers apply. The following story is entirely fictional and contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity between adult males and teenage boys. READ NO FURTHER if you are under the age of eighteen or offended by such material.

Hansom Way - Part 1

By Trevor Martindale

I entered the labour exchange a few seconds before the downpour began. The drown rat that stepped through the same doorway a minute later was not a happy man.

'Fuckin' rain,' he said, pushing past me to get away from the open doors. 'It's always fuckin' raining in this bloody country.'

'That's for sure,' I agreed.

'A young lad like you should get out of the country now, before it's overrun by all these foreigners. Australia's the place to go. It doesn't rain that much down under.'

'Yeah, right,' I replied. 'You need ten quid for the boat ride, and I ain't even got ten bob.'

'That's why we're here, son,' he grinned. 'Mr Fletcher will send us off to some crappy factory or warehouse job to work forty hours a week for a piss-poor wage packet; or in your case... How old are you, son?'

'Eighteen.'

'Old Fletcher is ex-army, so eighteen isn't good. He'll do his best to get you to take the Queen's shilling. The old git is more like a recruiting sergeant than an employment officer.'

'I know. He tried to sign me up last week, but I told him where to go.'

'Be careful, son. If Fletcher takes a dislike to you, your dole money will be stopped. He can be a right fucker when he wants to be.'

'He can be a real slowcoach, too,' I groaned. 'This place is almost empty and we still have to wait ages to be seen.'

'Don't complain,' said the man, taking off his raincoat. 'I don't want him sending me off to an interview in this bloody weather. It's still pissing down out there.'

'What sort of job are you looking for?'

'Anything that isn't too strenuous. I've heard that Miller's are looking for a warehouseman.'

'I got sacked from there last year. The governor is pretty hot on the old timekeeping. The work's easy, but the money is rubbish.'

'So you've done a bit of warehouse work.'

'Yeah, lots.'

'I'm waiting for a real gem of a job to come up. It's down by the docks,' he whispered. 'The warehouse was built in 1965, so it's only two years old. The place is a fuckin' palace. It's got proper heating and a canteen.'

'A canteen!'

'Yep, a canteen. The loading bay foreman is my brother, so I'm in line for a job when they start recruiting again. He reckons June or July.'

'How many vacancies?'

'Two or three, I think.'

'Is the money any good?'

'Yep, they pay top dollar. That's why there's a waiting list. It's real hard to get in if you don't know the right people.'

'That's a shame,' I said. 'I could have done with a job like that.'

'Tell you what, let's give Fletcher the elbow and take a walk down by the docks. We'll look in on my brother and I'll sweet talk him into putting your name on the waiting list. By the way, what is your name?'

'Colin .... Colin Baxter.'

'Honoured to meet you Colin. My name is Frank Moffett, but most people call me irresponsible,' he laughed. 'I have no idea why.'

I smiled at the half-decent joke and looked back, over my shoulder, at the two open doors. The rain had eased off a little, but it was still coming down in buckets.

'Maybe later, after the rain has stopped,' I said. 'I don't want the recruiting sergeant bawling me out for missing an appointment.'

'Yes, you're right, son. I can see that you're not the type to break the rules. I'm gonna tell my brother that; he's always on the look out for honest and decent workers.'

My interview with Fletcher led nowhere. There was a crummy job in a factory making baking foil, a labouring job at the local scrap yard, and the obligatory offer of a wonderful career in the army.

Frank had seen Fletcher before me, so he was waiting outside the labour exchange when I left.

'Another stamp on my card and two more weeks of dole money; ain't life great,' he said. 'And it's stopped raining.'

'Did he offer you any job interviews?' I asked.

'Of course, but I dodged them all. I don't want to start a job and then have to throw it in a few weeks later, when the warehouse job comes up.'

'I'm off to see a Mr Ross at the scrap yard. I'm not taking the job, but Fletcher said I have to attend the interview.'

'That's a bummer. Fletcher's always making life difficult for people like you and me. Tell you what, let's pop into my old place of work and pick up my last week's wages. We can then see Mr Ross, tell him to stick his job, and go on to see my brother at the warehouse.'

'Yeah, why not,' I said to my new-found friend. 'Did they sack you - the people you worked for last?'

'In a way - the bank pulled the plug and closed the company down a month ago. The place is empty now, apart from Harry and Ian, the two foremen. They run the office, pay off the workers when they turn up, and generally keep an eye on the place. The bank wants to sell the building before the local kids start smashing the windows.'

Frank and I walked down narrow lanes and side streets for almost twenty minutes, and in truth, I was starting to regret my decision to team up with the 'it's not too far now' man.

Frank was a tall, thin man in his early thirties. He had a long, thin face and blond hair, which was cut really short. He wore a dark grey raincoat over a light grey suit, and looked more like an office worker than a warehouseman. His claret coloured tie looked old and expensive, and his shoes were black brogues.

In contrast, I was dressed in a black bomber jacket, a white shirt that was a size too big for me and blue jeans that needed a belt to stay up. Being tall and thin, I found it hard to find off-the-peg clothes that actually fitted me. My long, blond hair and good looks were unable to compete with the scarecrow outfit, which I had finished off with a pair of black, Chelsea boots.

The building we eventually entered was a real dump. It, and the others in the narrow lane, looked uninhabitable and ripe for demolition. Hansom Way had a canal and high wall on one side and a row of twelve buildings on the other. The ground floor of each three-storey structure had once been a stable, originally designed to house a hansom cab and horse. The floor above the stable had stored feed and fresh straw, and the top floor had housed the cabby and his family.

Number six had been stripped of all its internal walls and fittings, and was now just an empty shell. Only the top floor was semi-habitable.

'Greetings, fellow humpers,' said Frank to the two men sitting at a table, playing cards. 'This is Colin Baxter.'

The top floor was just one open space, with windows front and back and nothing covering the wooden floor boards. A table and four chairs stood in the centre of the floor, and three oblong packing cases stood in a stack by the back windows.

'Greetings, fellow humper,' said Harry, grinning. 'And greetings Colin, friend of the best humper in town.'

I just smiled and looked around me. The building had clearly not been used for ages. The stairs that led up to the top floor were more than a little rickety, and the handrail on the first floor had been removed completely.

'No one has worked here for ages,' I said, not realizing the danger I was in by stating the obvious. 'What's this all about, Frank?'

'Just hark at him,' said Ian. 'For your information, boy, a humpie and three humpers worked here yesterday. The humpie is over there in that case, the one on the bottom.'

I began to edge toward the stairs.

'Where are you going, Colin?' asked Frank, placing his hand on my arm. 'You can't just walk out on us now. You're our new humpie.'

I froze completely when Frank tightened his grip on my arm. I knew I was in danger, but I was far too scared to move.

'You can play this the hard way or the easy way, son,' said Frank. 'It's entirely up to you.'

I looked at the two men sitting at the table. They were both well-built and rugged looking. Ian was in his early thirties and Harry was in his mid-forties. They resembled two English rugby players that had just lost a game to the French. Ian had short, brown hair and a broken nose; Harry had even shorter brown hair, thinning on top, and a stare that could kill. They both wore run-of-the-mill working clothes and heavy, Tuff boots.

I knew it was now or never. I turned toward the stairs and foolishly sealed my fate. The floor boards were extremely hard and unyielding. I went down like a sack of potatoes - Frank had been brought down with ease and was now sitting on my back, holding my head down.

'Bundle!' exclaimed Ian, as he stood up to join battle.

'Grab his legs, Ian,' said Harry. 'He won't be able to run away if we hobble his pins.'

'Fuck off, you bastards,' I shouted at the top of my voice. 'You're in big trouble now. The police...'

'Shut up, squirt,' snapped Ian. 'The Old Bill won't catch us. We're too clever for them.'

I tried to move, but Frank and Ian had my body pinned to the floor and there was nothing I could do.

It took Harry a few minutes to get the horse-bit gag into my mouth and the straps secured around my head. The bastard was none too gentle when it came to forcing my teeth apart - his fingers knew all the right places to push and poke.

He then stood up and wandered down to my feet. I did all I could to stop him taking off my boots, but arching my feet was never going to do it.

'The longer you resist, the longer you stay,' said Frank. 'The lad in the box wouldn't play ball, so he stays in the box until he learns his lesson. You could be out of here by teatime, but only if you co-operate.'

I had no idea what they were going to do to me. Why had Harry taken off my boots; and why was he now taking off my socks?

'What a nice pair of size nines, and look at those lovely toes. I'm going to have a lot of fun playing with these little beauties.'

'Just strap his ankles together, Harry,' said Ian. 'You can play with his feet later.'

'Temper, temper,' replied Harry. 'Let's not fight over our new bum-boy.'

That's when the penny dropped. The word 'bum-boy' had set off a major alarm bell in my head. These men were planning to stick their cocks up my arse. They were fairies, but fucking strong fairies.

Harry fastened leather straps around my ankles, which were held apart by a metal connecting rod and clips.

'Excellent,' said Frank, as he removed his raincoat and threw it over the back of a chair. 'That should stop him running away.'

Ian and Harry took hold of my arms, pulled them above my head and linked them together with wrist-straps and another metal rod. I was then turned over, picked up by the two rods and dropped onto my back from a height of two or more feet. An almighty thud echoed round the room as my body hit the wooden floor.

Frank and Ian lifted me up and dropped me on the floor two more times. The pull on the wrist- and ankle-straps was extremely painful, especially when I was swung back and forth a couple of times before being let go.

'You should have been more co-operative, son,' said Frank.

'I bet he wished he had now,' added Ian. 'Let's get all these clothes off him. He's bound to look a lot better in the altogether.'

None of my clothes were spared the knife. Everything I was wearing was cut and ripped off me. The two men slashed away for some ten minutes, but miraculously, I wasn't even nicked by the two ultra-sharp knives they were using.

'He's so pretty,' said Harry, as he bent down to pick up the remnants of what I had been wearing. 'And he's so pale and skinny, too.'

A sack was pulled from the tool bag that had contained the leather straps and metal rods. Ian and Harry filled it with everything I had walked in with, including my wristwatch and boots.

'Let's treat our new bum-boy to a trendy haircut,' said Ian. 'Where's the razor and scissors, Harry?'

'In the tool bag, with that aftershave you like,' answered Harry, grinning. 'I made up a fresh batch this morning.'

All the hair around my genitals was removed with a sharp razor. I was far too scared to move, but still Frank held a knife to my throat and made sure that I didn't. I was then sat up and relieved of the horse-bit gag.

'He's nice and placid, Frank,' said Harry. 'Unlike that little bastard you brought back yesterday. He was a right pain in the arse.'

'Yeah, but it only took us a couple of hours to break him,' put in Ian. 'They all break in the end, or finish up in the canal.'

The tip of Frank's knife was pointing at my left nipple when Harry and Ian began shaving off my golden locks. I was as bald as an old coot by the time the horse-bit gag was back in place. And boy was that gag needed. The large bottle of aftershave that Harry had mixed up was a real eye watering concoction. I yelled into the gag as the liquid, which smelt like TCP, was splashed all over my head and genitals.

'Look at him go,' said Frank, laughing. 'I love it when they react like that.'

I sat on the floor and cursed myself for being so naïve. All that stuff about a cushy job down by the docks was crap; and I had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. I had been set up by three queers, and like a moron, I had walked into the trap with eyes wide shut.

The next humiliation to befall me was an ice-cold shower. I shuddered and shook, and bit on my gag when Harry emptied a bucket of water over me.

'Stand him up and thaw him out,' said Frank to Ian. 'Take our young guest for a little walk. It'll help him dry off.'

The metal rod between my wrist-straps was removed to allow my arms to be secured behind my back. I was then fitted with a leather collar, which had a long chain attached to it.

'Change that ankle-rod for a chain, Harry,' said Frank. 'We don't want him falling over and breaking his legs.'

Round and round and round I went, like a horse being trained for dressage. Ian stood in the centre of the training ring and held the chain taut. Frank and Harry stood outside the imaginary circle and slapped me across the arse as I walked by.

My fear of being buggered was now coupled with the fear of being held captive and tortured for God knows how long. I knew I wouldn't be able to tackle any one of these bastards, so I had zero chance against three. My only hope was to do their bidding until they got bored and let me go. Of course, I had no back-up plan if that didn't happen.

'He's a fine looking boy,' said Harry to Frank. 'You really know how to sort the wheat from the chaff.'

'Yep,' replied Frank, grinning. 'This one had "weak and willing" written all over him. I knew he wouldn't be any trouble.'

'And look at that lovely cock,' put in Ian. 'I'm really looking forward to licking that little charmer into shape. I like 'em small and uncut.'

'It was bigger than that before I poured the bucket of water over him,' said Harry. 'They all shrivel up when the cold water hits 'em.'

The soles of my feet were splintered and sore by the time I was ordered to stand still. My arse was also in pretty poor shape, especially the right-hand cheek.

'Let's bend him over the table, wash out his arsehole and introduce him to the black mamba,' said Frank. 'We'll see how much rubber he can take.'

The ordeal that followed lasted an hour or more. I was bent over the tabletop and tied down with an array of ropes. My legs were bent at the knees, spread apart and tied to the table with more rope. Harry ensured that my arse-crack was denuded of all its hair before cleaning out my rectum.

'He's real tight down here,' said Harry. 'We better use a smaller dildo. The mamba could damage his prospects for good.'

'Nonsense,' said Frank. 'Grease him up good and give the mamba a whirl. Colin can take it.'

The pain was truly indescribable. I screamed into my gag as the solid piece of rubber was pushed into my virgin hole, stretching it to the limit. Tears rolled down my cheeks as my nostrils flared and I bit down on the bar in my mouth.

'Hold onto the table, you two,' said Harry. 'He's moving it all over the place.'

'How far is it in?' asked Ian.

'Quite a way,' answered Harry. 'He's very accommodating.'

'Excellent,' said Frank. 'I told you he could take it.'

The black mamba retreated a little, then pushed forward and screwed itself deeper into my inner sanctum. This move was repeated four or five times, triggering more muffled screams from the 'weak and willing' teenager.

My cock began to twitch and enlarge as the dildo continued to lance my rear end. I had no idea why the traitorous member was, on its own volition, reacting so positively to my misfortune: the bloody thing was getting bigger and bigger as the assault continued.

'Nice,' said Ian. 'He's taking it up the arse like a real trooper. Look at those rosy red cheeks and tears. The pain must be excruciating.'

'And look at that hard-standing cock,' added Frank. 'I think our new humpie likes being fucked.'

'That's as far as I can go,' Harry interrupted. 'Give me that chain, Frank.'

The chain attached to the back of my collar was handed to Harry, who ran it along the length of my spine and down my arse-crack. The mamba was somehow fastened to the chain as it was looped round the base of my cock and secured with a small padlock.

'He's sweating like a pig,' said Ian.

'He should be grunting like a pig,' replied Frank. 'Grunt like a pig for me, boy.'

With snot dripping from my nostrils, I did my best to comply.

'Grunt some more, boy,' ordered Ian.

'And keep grunting until I tell you to stop,' added Frank.

The sound of a pig with a large, foreign object stuck up its arse could be heard for some five minutes. The three men stood back to admire their prize and congratulate themselves on how quickly they had broken me.

'Stop grunting, boy,' said Frank. 'You're giving me a headache.'

'He looks so fuckable,' said Harry. 'Shall we replace the mamba with something a little less demanding?'

'You speak for yourself,' chide Ian. 'This humper's cock is just as demanding as that lump of rubber; and what's more, it's full of mouth-watering vitamins.'

'In your dreams, super cock,' Harry sneered. 'That lump of rubber is twice as big as your todger.'

'Size isn't everything, dozy bollocks,' snapped Ian. 'It's the way you expand your humpie's horizons; the way you fuck his brains out; the way you distribute all those essential vitamins. It's poetry in motion.'

'Pack it in, you two,' said Frank. 'You sound like those two old queens in the Yorkshire Grey. Pull the plug, Harry, and get him ready for some real cock. He's done really well, so let's give him a treat.'

It felt like the mamba had split me in two, so I was more than grateful to Harry when he released the chain and gently pulled the dildo from my rectum. I ached all over, both inside and out. My muscles had never supported my body in such an awkward position, so they were screaming out for relief.

The three men stripped off in front of me and began pulling on their uncut cocks, which were all larger than my own. I gaped at the cocks as they each grew in girth and length.

Thankfully, the dildo had prepared me for the gang-bang. I bit on the bar in my mouth as Frank took hold of my hips and pushed his cock deep into my battered hole. I grunted and groaned as he power fucked my rear end and shunted the table a couple of feet towards the back windows.

'That's it, Frank,' shouted Ian. 'Fuck him good.'

'And give him something to remember you by,' added Harry.

The two men laughed as they watched their friend fuck my brains out with his hard-standing cock. He hammered away at my rear end like a man possessed, and all I could do was hold on tight and wait for the storm to pass.

The table moved two more times that day. Ian was the next to step up and give me something to remember him by. He was far more aggressive than Frank and kept slapping me hard across the arse-cheeks as he pumped me full of vitamins.

'That was fuckin' sweet,' he said, withdrawing his cock from my burning hole. 'You've done well, Frank. He's one of the best boys I've humped in a long while.'

'Yes. I knew he was going to be hot and easy,' said Frank.

'And still his cock is rock hard and begging for a little rub-a-dub-dub,' said Harry. 'Look at all that pre-cum on the floor.'

'It's a shame we can't help the poor sod shed his load,' said Ian.

'That's right,' snapped Frank. 'So let's not think about it and get on with our work.'

Harry was quick to step into the breach and take over from Ian; and unlike the two steeplechasers that had gone before him, he took forever to complete the course. His rhythmic, piston-like stroke action never gave me a moments rest. I moaned into my gag as he abused my hapless body for what seemed like hours.

Harry began his climax with a series of low snorts, which grew louder and louder as he hammered home his assault on my arsehole. For one last time his ball-sac slammed into the back of mine as it gave up its seed.

'Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!' he shouted, squeezing my hips with his powerful hands.

'Stay in there, Harry,' said Ian. 'Don't let any of that hot spunk leak out.'

'Give him everything you've got,' added Frank.

My lungs sucked in more air as Harry's buttocks nudged the table and my body forward a little more. He was clearly determined to keep his cock inside me for as long as possible, so when it did eventually shrink and slip out, he wasn't best pleased.

'Nice one,' said Frank to Harry. 'You humped him real good.'

'I'll do better next time,' replied Harry, slapping me hard across the arse. 'I was holding back for the boy's sake.'

'We didn't,' put in Ian. 'Frank and I fucked him at full throttle. Maybe you're getting too old for this sort of thing.'

'Fuck off!' snapped Harry. 'I was holding back for the boy's sake. He's new to this kinda stuff.'

'He's new to this kinda stuffin', you mean,' Frank joked.

The words, 'do better next time' made me groan. Harry was planning to fuck me again, so clearly the men were going to keep me captive for a good while yet.

'See if our new humpie enjoyed his first gang-bang, Frank,' said Ian.

I groaned again when Frank crouched down behind me and took hold of my cock, which was still hard-standing and aching for attention.

'His cock is as hard as a rock,' he said, laughing. 'I should really take care of it, but...'

A loud grunt and another one of my groans interrupted the bastard in mid-sentence - he had released my cock just as the word 'but' had passed his lips. Every fibre of my being was now hoping that he wasn't going to leave me on the very brink of a climax.

'I was about to say,' he continued. 'I don't think Colin would want me, a man, to wank him off.'

I frantically shook my head in disagreement.

'See! The lad isn't very keen on the idea at all,' he said, misinterpreting my head movements on purpose. 'I knew he wouldn't want a man to satisfy all those pent-up urges.'

My tormentor continued to dream up pathetic reasons why he shouldn't wank me off; and as he did so, I felt the gentle caress of his fingertips on my hairless ball-sac.

'C'mon, Frank,' said Harry. 'Grab hold of his cock and jack him off. The poor sod looks like he's about to have a fit.'

'That's true,' said Frank, 'but will he thank me for it in the morning. He might think I had taken advantage of him.'

I shook my head in desperation and let out a grabbled and muffled appeal for relief.

'There you go; he's shaking his head again. I told you he wouldn't want a man to release the seed in this ripe, little ball bag.'

My cock twitched uncontrollably as Frank tugged on my ball- sac and blew a lungful of warm air up and down my arse- crack. He then took hold of my manhood and gave it a gentle squeeze.

My entire body shook as the table and I lurched forward a few more inches. My tormentor's caress had triggered a climax that was going to keep me moaning and groaning for a very long time.

'Fuck me!' exclaimed Ian. 'He's shot his bolt already.'

My body shook again as jets of semen erupted from the end of my aching cock and flew through the air. I knew I could be beaten for losing control and spoiling Frank's fun, but there was nothing I could do about it: my treacherous cock had decided it wasn't going to be tormented any more.

The semen continued to flow as I thanked my lucky star that Frank was encouraging me to 'keep it coming, son' and not threatening to beat me up. Also, I was glad that the bulk of my body was being supported by the tabletop and not my awkwardly placed and restrained legs, which were wobbling like jelly.

'Look at all that spunk on the floor,' said Harry. 'Our new humpie is a veritable sex machine.'

'And look how far it's travelled,' added Ian. 'He could have had someone's eye out with that first effort.'

'Let's get him untied and cleaned up,' said Frank. 'We can box him up before we get the other one out.'

The three men released my bonds and dragged me over to where a rope hung from the ceiling. My arms were raised above my head and the wrist-straps attached to the rope.

'Make him sparkle, lads,' said Frank.

Harry tipped a bucket of ice-cold water over my head; and as I recoiled from the shock, Frank and Ian began scrubbing me down with brooms. Another bucket of water was poured over my head when Harry went to work on my arse-crack with a small scrubbing brush.

After the clean up, I was released and wrapped in an old army blanket. The men then laid me out in one of the empty packing cases and screwed down the lid.

Each case was some six to seven feet long and large enough to hold a full-grown man. Four handles, made of rope, were fitted to the outside of the coffin-like box, with a breathe hole above each one.

All my restraints, including the horse-bit gag, had been removed before I was packed away in the wooden box; however, I was under strict instructions not to make a sound until the lid was opened again.

(c) Trevor Martindale, July 2008

All comments welcome (attaboy-jo-jo@hotmail.co.uk)