Someone Has to Do It

Someone Has To Do It

By Pete Brown petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 9

We had a really great meal that night - or was it just that I was relaxed, knowing that both master and mistress were away? Pavel had done rich onion gravy and loads of buttery mash, and with that you could either have faggots, or liver - and not that poncey calves' liver you get in fancy restaurants, but proper strong pigs' liver. I like them both, and after a hard day at work I was ravenous, so Pavel slipped some of both on my plate. And afterwards there was a big traditional spotted dick, with golden syrup as well as a big jug of yellow custard. I sat there at the table almost rubbing my belly, I was so content, and it felt as if I needed to let my jeans out a notch, too.

Up in the bedroom I was hoping to get a read of that Economist I'd found, but the single 25W light bulb made it much too dim, and fucking Marco started on again about having sex. "Shut the fuck up, will you, Marco", I groaned. "You saw how much I had to eat tonight - look, my belly's almost swollen with it! I couldn't fuck tonight, even if I wanted to."

"So you like my food, do you, Steve?" Pavel chimed in.

"Fuck, yes. Where did you learn to cook like that? All these traditional things, just like my old ran used to make."

"When I was indentured they decided to send me to catering college to increase my value - simple arithmetic, I suppose: Twenty two year old, worth X for a ten year indenture; catering college for six months costs Y, and then twenty three year old with nine and a half years to run is worth Z, where Z is much bigger than X and Y! Mind you, it was no easy ride: they make you work at it fourteen hours a day, to pack it all in. And if you make too many mistakes..."

"...yeah, they punish you. I know. So did you come straight here then?"

"Yes. They took me 'on approval' - I had to cook them a dinner. And then the master fucked me - which I wasn't expecting. I mean, I was a trained chef...."

"For fuck's sake, Pavel", Ian cut in. "What did you expect? A twenty three year old, slim, blond, nice lean body...."

"But in my country there was no indenture, and if men fucked, they did it because they both wanted to...."

"Well I can't help it if you come from the boonies! We're civilised here! You should have stayed down on the farm if you didn't want a real taste of modern life." We all joined in Ian's little joke, and Pavel slid across and moved in to Ian's bed - I saw his long, thin legs slide sensuously beside Ian, and Ian leaned across and kissed him, wrapping Pavel's slim body in his big tanned arms.

The next moment the sheet was ripped off me, and Marco was again straddling my belly as he'd done before. "Come on, Steve! You don't have to fuck me.... I'll do the fucking...."

He was reaching behind him and stroking my cock, and this, together with the sensuous feel of his hairy thighs along my body as he knelt there taking most of his weight, plus that wonderful feeling of warmth you get when a bloke's bum is resting on you, was enough to make me hard.

Marco was evidently pretty good at this, as he raised himself up a bit, then expertly guided my cock at his arsehole as he lowered himself on me. He leaned forward, and started rocking backwards and forwards so my cock slid in and out of him, and, well, you know how it is - that's not really very satisfying, is it? So I reached out and grabbed his hips and pushed him upright so more of my cock slid in to him, and then I began to thrust my hips upwards so that I gave him a real fucking.

I know it's not everyone's taste, but after a heavy meal it's not bad to make the other bloke do most of the work, and young Marco was really active, and a bloody hard worker - he bounced up and down as I thrust away, his own cock beating up and down like a demented pendulum as he did so, and it didn't take me all that long to cum. I liked the feeling of his hairy bum resting back down on me then, and he leaned right forward and rubbed his hairy chest over my smooth pecs, which made my nips quite excited! "See, Steve" - he was laughing, almost - "I told you it wouldn't be too strenuous for you.... An old guy like you has to relax.... How old are you?"

"Thirty five."

"Ten years older than me! An old man!"

"You'll wish you were in such good shape as me when you get to my age...."

"Of course I will! I'll have been free for five years, I'll have made a stack of money, bought an indentured, and will be fucking every night!"

"Would that be a male or s female indenture, Marco?", Ian cut in.

"Oh Ian, you're making fun of me. One of each, of course - the man for fun and excitement, and the woman for when I want to experiment to make sure I satisfy my wife..."

"Oh, so you're going to get married as well? What will she say about the man servant, then?"

"She will be glad. I am an Italian. A proud Italian stallion. She will be glad that he is there to take some of my ardour out, so that when I then go to her, it will not be so vigorous."

All four of us laughed then, and Marco pulled himself off my cock, and slid down beside me. His hand reached out and gently stroked my pecs. "But oh, Steve, no wife will have a breast as good to feel as this muscle here...."

"Cut it out, will you, Marco... And get back into your own fucking bed! I want to get some sleep.... And with that cock of yours stabbing at me all the time, I won't be able to."

The next day at our tea break Ian sat really close to me again, and as we talked he gradually brought the conversation around to sex. "You know, Steve", he said quite causally, "For someone who doesn't like sex, you put on a pretty good performance last night..."

"I never said I didn't like sex. I like sex as much as the next bloke. More so, probably. I'm fit and active, and a bloke who's like that in one part of his life is like that everywhere...."

He smiled quietly. "Ah, so you do like sex! But you don't like it with the mistress...."

"That's not sex, that's fucking humiliation. She's deliberately humiliating a big strong bloke by turning him into some sort of sex slave..."

"Quite lot of blokes would be glad to be a sex slave to a strong, dominant woman...."

"Well not me! There's only one thing a woman needs from me... A big strong cock!"

"And what does another bloke need from you, Steve?" As he said this Ian's hand slid down onto the crotch of my jeans. "...a big strong cock, like I can feel now...."

"No, Ian..."

His other hand went to my pecs, and he began to tweak my left tit playfully. Well you can guess what happened to my cock then, and this of course encouraged him - the hand on my crotch went up, and then worked its way down past my waistband. I felt his strong, calloused fingers on my cock, and I whispered "No, Ian..."

"Shut up, Steve....", he murmured, but very quietly, very softly, as his lips locked onto mine.

Look, I've never kissed another bloke before. I mean, it's not the sort of thing you do, is it? In my work I'd fucked a lot of them, and that's different. But kissing another bloke - well, it's so kind of intimate, isn't it? I felt myself becoming flustered, and I went to grip his wrists to stop him playing with my cock and my tit, but as he did so, he pressured my lips apart and his hot, moist tongue was in me, forcing itself against mine. It was as if some primeval reflex was operating - I let go of his wrists as if I no longer wanted to stop him, one arm went around his waist and the other around his head, and I pulled him close to me.

You know how it is when you're really snogging - your breath starts to synchronise with his, your tongues are writhing and twining together, and your body tries to emulate them - the feel of Ian's bare skin against mine as we twisted and moved together, as if trying to make our two bodies one, was so sensuous that I heard myself moaning. And Ian's fingers carried on stroking my cock, which was now almost painful as it strained against my jeans in its desperation to burst free.

We came up for air, and Ian smiled at me. "Wow! For someone who doesn't like blokes, Steve, you seem pretty experienced..."

I sat there silent for a moment, amazed at myself and at the reaction of my body. "Yes... Wow!", I agreed.

"Let's get naked.... Come on...."

"The work, Ian...."

"Fuck it! The master and mistress aren't here, and Finch never comes down this way...."

He was tearing off his jeans now, his cock absolutely hard and sticking up way above the horizontal. I found myself doing the same, and then we embraced again and started to kiss, and quite automatically we began to move our hips, so that our cocks rubbed against each other and our hard bellies. My hands reached down and cupped the halves of his bum and pulled him even closer to me, and his hands did the same to my bum.... And then his fingers wormed their way down my crack and he was scratching gently at my arsehole.

We fell to the floor, and rolled around a bit, clutching, stroking, grappling with each other, our legs intertwined, and our cocks so stiff that it was hurting. We stopped for a moment, faces just inches away from each other, panting and gasping from our frenzy, and laughing as we were swept onwards in some sort of delirium. "OK, Steve, now for the fucking of your life...."

"No way! Let me show you what my cock can do - remember, I was a trainer, and I know how to use it..."

We grappled some more, but I was bigger and stronger than he was, and it was no real contest, really. I soon had him on his back, then I pushed his hands above his head and held them there with one of mine as my body forced his legs apart, and with my other hand I stiffened my cock and aimed it at his hole.

I know it's not a good idea to fuck a guy without lube and without stretching him a bit first, but my cock was leaking pre-cum so after a few seconds of relative discomfort (for me... And a bit more for Ian!), I started to slide smoothly. And it was a really great fuck - one of the best I've ever had - I did everything: short, fast strokes; long slow ones; and sometimes I pulled right out and rammed in hard with that fantastic "slap" as your bodies collide. Ian's reaction to all of this was hat made it, though - he cried, moaned, his body thrashed and writhed, his legs wrapped themselves around my waist and squeezed me, and his head bobbed up and down, in a frantic effort to get at my mouth and kiss me.

You just can't sustain sex like that, I don't care who you are. All too soon my whole body arched and my spunk pumped out, as I cried in sheer ecstasy from it.

I lowered myself down onto him, taking most of my weight on my forearms, and now we did kiss - well, as well as we could, through our laughter, and the sheer joyous nonsensical noises we were making.

We were both soaked in our sweat, and as our hearts stopped racing Ian broke away from my passionate kissing and grinned at me. "So, is this the Steve that doesn't really like sex with blokes?"

"Oh, it was nothing.... I just thought you needed to see how a real professional did it...."

We both laughed again, and suddenly Ian looked a bit more serious. "OK, stud! So now it's my turn..."

"Ian, no. I don't take it...."

"Oh come on, Steve.... You told me a few minutes ago that you didn't like sex with blokes at all..."

"No, seriously..."

"Steve, shut your mouth, will you. What's the problem?"

"I was fucked when I was indentured.... It was awful... It hurt... I was humiliated....."

"Shhh, shhh... Trust your mate Ian here, Steve. Look, when you did your 'training' - did it hurt the servants, and were they humiliated?"

"Yes, but that was my job... Someone had to do it..."

"Quite! So when whatever trainer fucked you, he was probably just doing his job as well. Now, with me.... Here, safe, with a bloke you like... It's going to be all different.... Just trust me, Steve..."

I don't know how long it took. Time seemed to stand still. Ian kissed me, caressed me, and then gradually a finger stroked at my arse hole, and later I felt the warmth of the tip of his cock nudging and asking for entry, and then he was in. Always, if I tensed or seemed uneasy, he stopped and backtracked and then when I was calm and happy again, pressed inexorably onwards. And when he started to fuck me, so slowly and gently, I just couldn't help moaning and crying out with the sheer joy of having this lovely bloke's big cock buried inside me.

It was like working away in a dream that afternoon - my arse was sore, but sore in a wonderful way: I was always conscious of a deep, comforting kind of heat spreading from my arse as we worked away, and every time we looked at each other, big grins broke out. We spent dinner in an agony of anticipation - we both wanted to get off to bed, but we had to sit there and wade our way through Pavel's huge thick oxtail stew with root vegetables and pearl barley, and then jam roly-poly with more of his thick creamy custard. The only thick creamy thing I could really focus my brain on was cum - and how I was going to pump it into Ian again, and, probably, how he would do the same to me!

It seemed odd at first. I mean, when I was working I used to fuck blokes all the time, and I never much minded if there was an audience - quite often I'd make the other servants watch as I took my fill of one of their number, as an aid in conditioning them. Or perhaps there'd be a party of distinguished visitors being shown around, and my boss liked them to see how an "expert" did it. But the moment we got up to our little room and Ian and I were tearing our jeans off, I became really embarrassed at the thought of Marco and Pavel watching us! They didn't make it any easier, either - both of them threw themselves down on their beds and watched as Ian and I embraced and started frantically kissing, and then they started making remarks about how erect our cocks were, and even betting with each other as to who would fuck who first.

I couldn't stand it, and when they didn't stop after I'd broken off for a moment, Ian told them to turn over and get to sleep and leave us in peace. Then when they took no notice of him, I lost my temper. I grabbed Pavel by his arm, dragged him to his feet, and then holding him firmly so he couldn't escape, slapped his bum several times - and I can really hit hard, ad I've got strong arms, as you know. The slaps echoed around the room, and I threw him back down onto his bed, with him almost howling with the sheer unexpectedness of what had happened to him - and the stinging in his ass, I suspect. Marco just lay there absolutely astonished, and went to say something.

"One more word out of you, either, Marco, and you'll get the same... Take a look at Pavel's bum and you'll see my hand prints on it, and I think he'll tell you it hurts!"

That shut him up - it was just the same in the army, where I learned that trick: the new recruits were always disrespectful of us older guys until we'd picked one or two of them and taught them a lesson, although it was easier there as two or three of us could grab one of them and it didn't mater how strong he was as we could always overpower him, pull down his combats and pants, and tan his bum. And it was more humiliating for them, too, with the whole of the barracks room watching.

Ian, though, seemed to have been surprised, if not shocked, by what I'd done. He pulled my head close to his and whispered "Steve, control yourself! Marco and Pavel were only having a bit of a laugh..."

"...at my expense, Ian."

"...Even so, there was no need to do that to Pavel."

"It shut him up, didn't it?"

"Steve, I think you're a bully! There was no need to humiliate him like that. A good clip around the ear would be OK.... But spanking his bum..."

"Oh shut the fuck up, Ian, let's...." I reached for his cock, and started to stroke it, and went to kiss him, but he pulled away.

"No, Steve. You can't leave it like that. And leave me alone..."

"Ian, I just want...."

"Go and apologise to Pavel."

"You can't be serious..."

"I am."

"Well fuck you! He's not hurt - much - and it was his fault."

"You made him look like a naughty kid, Steve. Go and say you're sorry."

I shook my head, and reached for his cock again, but Ian grabbed me by the wrist and stopped me. "I mean it, Steve. Unless you apologise to Pavel, I don't want you as a mate..."

Well, I didn't have much choice, did I? I mean, a bloke can't just give in, especially when he's right! There's just no way I could do what Ian wanted me to -

a man doesn't apologise, does he? He just forgets it, and it kind of goes away, in time. Only wimps go around saying they're sorry to everyone.

"Come on, Ian, be sensible... You and me, we've got a night's fun ahead... I was looking forward to it."

"Steve, you heard me! Get and apologise to Pavel, and do it now!"

Well, if I had been wavering, Ian's tone would have really made up my mind. You don't take orders like that from another bloke, do you? So I reached down to take his cock again, and now Ian's strong hand gripped me even harder. "Fuck off out of here, Steve. I was serious."

It was kind of exciting, actually, having Ian like this, so fierce, gabbing hold of me, and being so dominant. And I'm sure that if it came to a fight, I could have easily overcome him. Come to think of it, fucking him after overpowering him might be a lot of fun.... But something made me stop. "Come on, mate.... Don't be fucking stupid..."

"Fuck off, Steve...."

I could tell he meant it this time, as he seemed to be in a right huff, and turned over, so his back was to me. I just lay there, looking at his lovely skin, and I tried to put my arm over him to grab his cock, but he pushed me away again, and lay there immobile and passive. I felt like a right fool then, just lying there next to him, so I got out of his bed and went to my own, and got in, and then there was the problem of what I should then do - I'd been really looking forward to or night together, and even those few minutes with him touching me, the feel of his hot breath on me, the touch of his hands, had all served to inflame my senses. My cock was rock hard, and I needed to wank - but I knew the moment I started to do that the others would hear me, and might even start to laugh about the fact that Ian had kicked me out!

My cock was really aching, though, and so there was only one thing to do - I got out of bed again, my cock jutting out hard in front of me, and went over to Pavel's bed. He was lying there looking at me, and kind of half sat up, obviously expecting that I was there to apologise. He was really surprised, therefore, when I pulled the covers off him, grabbed his ankles and pulled them up around me neck, and started to position my cock to push into him.

"No....", he shouted, almost in terror. "No, Steve, don't...."

"What do you mean? You were begging for it the other night?"

"I don't want you to fuk me, Steve, not tonight...."

Well I wasn't going to have that, was I? I mean, it wasn't up to him - he was just a bottom guy, and they have to be grateful when blokes like me decide they are going to give them a good time! So I just ignored him, and pushed my cock in past him, and he began to writhe and shout, and generally make a huge fuss about nothing.

Marco came over and started to try to pull me away, but my temper was really up now - and I was in a frenzy of sexual passion, anyway, and anyone with any sense will tell you that you don't interfere with a bloke when he's in the middle of a fuck! So I just hit out at him, and with my strength, and as it was so unexpected, Marco went flying across the room, hit the floor, and kind of collapsed in a heap. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ian getting out of bed and starting towards me, and I snapped "Keep out of this, Ian!"

"Steve.... Don't...."

"Ian, stay out of it! This is all your fault anyway...." I saw him coming at me, fists clenched, but I am so much bigger and stronger that as he got within range, a punch to his belly - which he wasn't expecting - caused him to double up. And then I suppose it was a bit tough for Pavel, as I was in such a rage and so excited that I spared him nothing - thrusting into him with all my power, and just pounding away with all my might.

When you're all fired up like that it doesn't take you long to cum though, does it? And I stood there, towering over Pavel, sweat dripping off me, and seeing his face contorted with pain. He was almost sobbing as I pulled out of him, but the way I was feeling then, I didn't care - I just went back to my own bed and fell into it, and as you often do after a really good fuck, I fell straight asleep.

There was a problem the next morning, though - they blokes all ignored me as we were getting up, and at breakfast, and fucking Pavel only gave me half a bowl of porridge, and no one would pass the sugar to me and I had to get up and make a point of going to the end of the table to get it myself. Then he offered "seconds" to everyone except me, and when I told him I'd like some more - there was plenty in the pot - he ladled out some more, and then quite deliberately spat into it!

The little bastard deserved to have me push it into his face, and I felt my temper flare, but Finch was sitting there watching and had his hand on the collar control, so I knew I had to restrain myself. But what was I to do then? If I just left it and went away, they'd all laugh at me and know that Pavel had bested me. And hitting Pavel was out, so instead I did the only thing I could - I went and sat back down, and spooned it all down - well, I was hungry, and, after all, a bloke's spit isn't all that bad: you get enough of it when you kiss, don't you?

Ian gave me really vile work to do that morning, too - wading around in the near-freezing water of the ornamental pond, to get the dead leaves and stuff out.

And when I went to the potting shed to try and get warm, he hadn't made me a mug of tea, refused to speak to me, and just snapped "Get back to work - we don't really have breaks here. A tough guy like you, who can force other guys into having sex, ought to be able to work without a break, too."

Well, if that's the way it was to be, so be it, I thought. Anyway, I knew it was only a matter of time until all this was forgotten - that's the way blokes are, as I've said. Still, it was a pretty miserable sort of day as I liked talking to Ian as we worked, but my day went from bad to worse: as we went back to the house, Finch saw me and snapped "Go and get cleaned up - no time for dinner - the master's back, and wants to see what the mistress bought. And if you ask me, she didn't make a very wise choice.... Watch it, Steve - you deserve punishment for what you did last night, but I make it a habit not to interfere in personal matters between you four, unless it affects your work. But I'm watching... Remember!"

I just shrugged. I worked hard, after all. And maybe this master wouldn't be so bad after all - perhaps he'd appreciate a bloke who really worked his guts out, and all this talk of caning and stuff just happened to those lazy fuckers like Marco and Pavel. So I made a special effort to look really clean and tidy, and even scraped the razor a bit down the side of my balls, as it felt a bit rough and the grommets weren't due for another week. And I made sure my cock was nice and neat down my thigh, so it looked good, and I did a bit of bending and stretching and so on, so that my muscles were nicely toned and there was that agreeable light sheen that a really faint sweat brings to the male body.

Finch led me up the now familiar stairs, and we waited outside the big doors until we were told to go in. There, to my utter amazement, was Rob!

I took a couple of steps forward in excitement, my hand outstretched. "Rob...."

At once my collar tingled, and Finch hissed "Fucking stand still, and shut up!".

"That will be all, Finch, thank you.", Rob muttered, and stood there, looking at me as Finch went out and shut the door.

"Rob...."

"Steve, when we last met, I told you that it was really desirable for free men and indentures to understand their places, and for the indentures to be properly respectful. That's doubly so now, as my wife bought your indenture! You really do have to understand that although we were once mates, all that's over - you call me 'master' now...."

"But Rob, how did you get here? This house, the servants...."

"This is the last time I'll remind you, Steve, to be respectful! But I'm sure I told you when we were working together that my wife had money, and that she liked me to work though as it kept me occupied. Well, as you can see, she's got a lot of money - money from her dad, and what she makes, as she's a real hotshot corporate lawyer. So I go to work every day - and it's not bad, actually: it gets me out of the house, it keeps me in good shape, and, more importantly, I enjoy it...."

"But Rob..."

"OK, Steve, that's it! I told you last time we met that you needed to be respectful, and I warned you again today. You really can be an obstinate fucker, I know, and there's only one way of training an obstinate servant into obedience that I know of.... Get those jeans off, and bend over the arm of the couch here!"

"Rob, cut the crap, please...."

I almost fell to the floor as my collar sent a shock rippling through me.

"No, Steve. It's you who has to cut the crap! Now, strip those jeans off, and let me have a look at you - I understand my wife ordered a couple of little modifications to you - and then I'm going to give you a little lesson, as I did the last time we met, in obedience!"

Watching him watching me as I pushed down my jeans I felt a bit embarrassed - not about having to do it , as such, but more because at one time I'd thought of this bloke as a mate, and you're not ready to accept a mate telling you to do things like that, are you? Still, I didn't even try to turn around or anything, and made no attempt to hide my cock - I've got nothing to be ashamed of, after all.

"Come over here, and put your hands behind your head so I can inspect you.", he said calmly in a tone that said he knew I wouldn't dare disobey him. I stood there, and somehow that position makes you feel very vulnerable - your pits, chest and belly are all just there, with nothing to hide them, and you know that to make any attempt to do anything means a big noticeable movement as your hands come down. And as your neck is slightly back, it even makes your pecs and hips thrust forwards a bit, as if you're "offering" your body to the bloke.

Rob ran his hand over my pecs, his fingers stroking the valley between and underneath them just as his wife's had when she had done this, and he looked into my eyes. "This certainly is an improvement! With all that fur gone, I can really see you properly now - and I never realised before how those big aureoles before really enhance the look of your nips...."

As he said this, Rob grabbed each of my nips between his thumbs and forefingers, and started to roll them around - something that made me groan with that strange mixture of pain, pleasure and excitement that those of you who are equally sensitive there will recognise. I also felt my cock start to stir in response, and I saw the corners of Rob's mouth begin to turn up in a half smile.

Fortunately he didn't linger, though, and his hand roamed on down over my belly. "My wife asked me to decide on whether this should go the next time the grommets come, Steve" - his fingers were flickering idly to and from across my treasure trail. "I think it could be nice to see your navel and those belly muscles all naked and glistening with sweat, but on the other hand, a nice dark, well pronounced trial like this does make you look really - well, masculine, I suppose you'd say. I'll have to think about it, I suppose, but there's no hurry - I could, after all, have it removed next time, see how I feel about it when I've watched you for a few days, as you could always be allowed to grow it again if I chose."

I hated having to stand there and listen to him discussing my body like this, without giving me any choice in the matter at all. I mean, a bloke's body is kind of personal, isn't it? But I was discovering that as a servant I had absolutely no choice, no control, at all.

His fingers were on my cock now, and as he teased at the flange around my cock head, he looked into my eyes again. "This must have been a big change for you, Steve! But on the whole, I do think it really does improve you... I always remember the way you used to try to hide your cock head, even when some of us had come along to watch you fuck! You're so much sleeker and kind of streamlined without it - and you definitely look better circumcised when you're flaccid - not that I expect that happens too often, with all those good-looking guys sleeping in the same room! You always told me you only fucked as it was your job - is that still so, or did the delights of Ian, Marco and Pavel tempt you to be a little more adventurous in your sex life?"

When I didn't reply, I felt his fingers tightening on my cock, and he raked a nail across my piss slit, causing me to wince. "Answer me, boy!"

"Yes...", I muttered, a bit embarrassed.

Again, the pain as he raked my piss slit once more. "You really are trying, aren't you, Steve? You were going to get two strokes of the cane before, but you've just done it again: you didn't answer, and when you did, you were sullen and disrespectful. So now it's four."

He really was smiling now, as he went on "So, our Steve, the 'I'm only fucking them as someone has to do it' guy, has discovered the pleasures of real sex, has he? How amusing - all that time at the training centre, and all those opportunities for a bit of extracurricular activity, and you have to wait until you're indentured to find out that you really like sex after all."

His fingers moved down and started to caress and fondle my balls, and, as you do whenever someone else is holding those precious parts of you, my whole body went tense as you just cant help imagining how painful it would be if they squeezed them hard.

"Pity about the vasectomy, though, eh? So no little Steves! But, you know, I'll swear they're bigger than when I last caught sight of them! I don't know whether it's because they're all nice and smooth now, or whether it's because you can see them properly without all that unruly shock of hair covering them, or because it's true what they say, and a bloke's balls put on about five percent when he's tied off. What do you think, Steve? Was it worth having the little snip to get bigger balls?"

"No.... Master."

"Ah, you're learning. So you wouldn't trade bigger balls for not being able to breed?"

"I wouldn't, master. Mine were bigger than most anyway, so I didn't have anything to worry about when other blokes looked at them!" I thought I'd trumped him with that one, as his balls were just average, I reckon.

The smile that had been playing on his face disappeared. "Still, my wife did a good job, I reckon - she's a good selector of male flesh. I've been pleased with all the boys she's bought so far - she seem to have a talent for picking those with nice fuckable arses - and, if my memory serves me correctly from last time we met, you're in the same category: still, we'll find out, soon enough, won't we? But first, you've got to learn to obey, and obey properly, so we'll need to pick up where we left off in the training centre. Now, lie across the arm of the couch.... And get that bum of yours nice and high in the air...."

It was as if he was being deliberately provocative then, trying to get some reaction from me. He had an ornate carrying case that he opened to reveal a selection of canes, and he stood in front of me, brandishing them around to get the "feel" of them, and experimentally swishing them through the air. And as he did so he muttered things like "Perhaps not this one - too thin, and he might bleed and it will go on the new carpet...", and "I'd forgotten this good heavy one, and maybe the bruising will keep his mind focussed for a few days..."

Finally he made a choice, and came and stood by me. I felt his hands running over my bum, as he told me, as if it was the most normal thing in the world "It will be a good few days until this is as nice and smooth again, you know, Steve! I've chosen a nice, medium-weight Malaca, so there'll be a lot of bruising, but more importantly, the weals will be very pronounced and will take several days to subside - you won't be doing a lot of sitting down! And I've decided that as you've got four strokes coming, two will be on each cheek - if I move around from side to side, a whole lot more of the muscle will be exposed to the stroke: that's one of the only difficulties with men with nice rounded arses like yours - if you just strike at them generally, only the bits around the crack really feel it. But with proper positioning, almost the whole of that lovely big muscle can appreciate the punishment. Now....."

There's something you never forget about the sound of the cane as it slices down through the air towards you - that "swish" that alerts you to what's to come. It's too late to let you do anything about it, of course, even if you could. But your brain remembers the sound, as it's followed so immediately by that spike of agony as the cane hits you. And just as the spike dies away, the dull, sodden ache rolls in to take over from it. That's what's so diabolical about the cane - that combination of the sharp, acidic, searing initial shock, and the long-lasting dull agony that follows immediately behind it. That and the utter humiliation of having one man physically punish another, of course - especially as , by its nature, a caning has to be done on the bare skin of your bum.

I screamed, of course. It's not that I'm afraid of pain or anything, but you just can't help it, can you?

The sheer unexpectedness of the blow as it lands, and then the physical effects of it on all the nerve cells in your skin. I tried not to, of course, and I even half buried my face in one of the fancy silk cushions of the couch, biting in to the material as I fought to control myself and stuff something between my teeth to stifle my cries.

When he'd done the four he'd promised me, Rob came to stand by my head, almost triumphantly. I don't know what he was planning to say, but he say the silk cushion all damp from my spit, and the teeth marks in it, and snapped "My wife will be very cross about that, Steve! She hardly wants your spit on her cushions, does she? She took a long time choosing those.... I think you'd better have two more strokes, in advance, so to speak..."

"She doesn't mind my spit in her cunt!", I rapped back. I just can't seem to control myself, and always want to get he better of someone else in an argument.

Rob went bright red with rage, shouted "You insolent fucker! I'll teach you...."

I lost count after the tenth stroke, and probably mostly passed out as my beating continued. And afterwards it wasn't just on my bum, either - my thighs were especially painful where the bright red weals ran across them.

End Of Part Nine