The Labourer

THE LABOURER by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 10

"You mean you want to hurt him a bit, see how much pain he can take?"

"Yes, Mike. I fucked him last time, and perhaps I will again today after I've warmed up his ass. But I'd like to see how tough Steve really is - as well as being the big stud all the time I've known him and always having had him turn down any offers of sex, he's always made out he's so big and strong, always worried about his body... Well, I'd like to find out how tough he really is. Can we put him on the horse and then I'll flog him, or something?"

"No! You can' d to that, Rob! Look, I came here because I wanted to work. I expected to be caned and tawsed to get the most out of me. But you can't just punish me for nothing. It's not fair....", I burst out.

"Shut the fuck up, Steve!", Mike cut in. "You're wrong. We can do anything we like with you. You're a ten-year indentured servant, remember? And the indenture owner had very wide powers to do whatever he likes with a ten-year man. And, in any case, you just spoke without permission - you know the penalty for that - punishment! So if you need a reason for what Master Rob's about to do to you, that can be it!"

I was shocked into silence. I remembered how my period of indenture had been increased from five to ten years. But it still seemed wrong. I mean, a man shouldn't be punished for nothing, should he? "Mister Rooney, sir", I began again. "I'm not really a ten-year servant - Rob said he'd let me go after five, which is what we agreed on initially..."

"I told you to shut the fuck up!", Rooney snarled again. "I don't care what was agreed - in law, you're a en-year man, and that's all that matters. A man doesn't bargain with an indentured servant - the law's the law, and that's that! We have complete power over you, provided we don't permanently main you. And we're going to use it. What makes you think that a punishment has to be 'fair', anyway? An indenture owner can do what he likes. Master Rob wants to try causing you a little pain, and that's his choice. You're an indentured servant, and your only role is to take it."

He turned to Rob, and said "We can just flog him over the horse, here, and then you can fuck him when his rump's really tender. Or would you like to be a little more inventive?"

"What do you mean, Mike?"

"Oh, I have a small room here where I sometimes take servants who require special treatment - really harsh punishment. We could take him there, and you could play a lot harder - there's more scope to get at all his body if he's restrained properly, and I've got a number of interesting little gadgets that you might want to try.... If you're really interested in testing how tough he is, we'd better go there, as he's pretty used to caning and stuff now - I think we could probably beat away at his butt for hours and he'd not really 'appreciate' it."

"I'll be guided by you, Mike!". This was Rob speaking, my oldest buddy. The guy who'd agreed to be my indenture holder and do the right thing by me. I decided to have one more try.

"Rob, please! This isn't fair! OK, punish me for speaking out of turn, but you can't go off and just punish me for fun..."

Before Rob could reply, Rooney had touched me with a prod! This hadn't happened to me since I was brought to Rooney's Contracts, as in "normal" life the overseers just used the cane and the tawse, but they all carried the prod things around, hanging from their belts. As I had done once before, I was thrown to the floor as all my limbs went into spasm and the wave of agony crashed through me, just as if a bucket of scalding water had been thrown over me. I was not even able to really cry out, as my teeth were clenched tightly together with the shock. All I could do was writhe around on the floor, just hoping that the fiery agony that seemed to be flowing along all my nerves would go away.

"Look at him", I heard Mike say. "I think we're going to have quite an interesting time. He's had an erection - some men do that when you start to hurt them, and they're the ones it's really fun to work with: you can see if you're getting through to them by the amount that their dick is stretching!"

I'd kind of recovered by now and Rooney pushed me ahead of him from the big living room into a part of the house I'd never been in to before. He rested the end of his prod in the small of my back, just above my ass crack, and I had that horrible, sick feeling that if I faltered, or disobeyed him in any way, I'd be in that almost indescribable agony again.

We went into a plain room, just bare brick walls and a concrete floor with a drain in one corner. Rooney had ordered me to open the door, and as I pushed at it I realised it was very heavy indeed, and I heard Rooney turn to Rob and remark "It's not completely soundproof, but it stops the worst of the noise - I've found that it upsets the other servants if they really hear a guy screaming his lungs out!"

There was no furniture as such in the room, just a very utilitarian flogging horse, and a strange device hanging down from the ceiling, It was to this that Rooney directed me, and told me to stand next to it: a very thick, solid bar of polished wood that was suspended by a chain. I stood there, and Rooney told me to stretch my arms out along the bar, whereupon he used Velcro bindings to lash my wrists to the end. A thin leather strap then went around my chest and up and over the bar, so that my body was held to it firmly, too, without risk of damage to my neck. Rooney went over to the wall and turned a handle, and the heavy beam to which I was now attached started to move upwards on its chain, and he continued until with my feet a little apart, my whole body was starting to stretch.

"There", he said to Rob, "This is a good starting position. His body's stretched out, but not so much that he's got trouble with breathing - if we want, we can always raise him right up off the floor later, and then it's a bit like a crucifixion - if he has to take all the weight of that muscled body on his arms, he won't be able to breathe properly, and it's good to see them struggle to try to hold themselves there and not suffocate. But for now, I think we want him to be able to breathe easily - once he realises that he's going to scream and scream and scream, it's the start of the process of really breaking him. I've seen a lot of men in here who try to remain silent, as they think it's the manly thing to do, just to stand there and take it. But once they realise they have to scream, it's the beginning of the end - they know then that they're totally in my power, and that it's only my mercy that will ever release them from the pain they're in."

"So do you routinely bring the servants in here, Mike?"

"No, actually - most of them are on shorter terms, so I don't have the power to really punish them. And it's not all that good for discipline, actually - they need to know that if they fail to work hard the consequences will be severe and immediate. But if I start routinely hurting them, just for my own pleasure, it rather takes away from that somehow. So it's only occasionally I get to use this room, and I wouldn't have bought Steve here normally as he's a good worker once he's been 'reminded' that he needs to give me everything."

Rob was moving around the room looking at the shelves that covered one wall, and picking up this and that and looking at them closely. He interrupted, asking Rooney what something was that he was holding in his hands. "Here, I'll show you....", was the reply, and Rooney and Rob came over and stood in front of me.

Rooney reached out and took hold of my left nip, and squeezed it, quite hard. I gave a little gasp, as I'm sensitive there, and Rooney smiled. "Right, Rob - lesson one: Steve here has sensitive nips, so those spring pincers you have there will really hurt him. Take one of his nips and rub it between your fingers to excite it and make it erect, then put the pincers on and let go - the spring will drive the serrated edge into the nip, and we'll probably see an interesting reaction...." "But won't it hurt.... The ends look sharp.... They'll did into his flesh..."

"Exactly, Rob! Into the tender, sensitive nipple. You saw how he flinched when I just squeezed it - imagine how it's going to be when the pincer bites!" I could see Rob staring intently at me and at the metal things in his hand. There were beads of sweat all over his forehead, and I assumed he was trying to pluck up courage to continue - after all, I suppose he'd never done anything like this before. Then he did it - his thumb and forefinger started to roll my left nip around, and I began to squirm and gasp with the sensation - not so much a hurt, as a combination of the strongest tickling you can imagine and a kind of sharp stabbing as his finger nail occasionally bit in. I saw Rooney give a nod, as if to say that Rob had done enough, and Rob stopped, took one of the tiny pincers, put it on my nip, and let go.

I was determined not to scream or shout, having heard what Rooney had said. But I gave a long, low groan as the tips of the pincers bit into my sensitive flesh. I couldn't help it - I kicked out, too, lashing my feet towards Rob. At once Rooney pushed Rob aside, and struck my thighs on the front with a long, thin cane, twice on each one. I really gasped now, as normally you're only caned on the back of them, of course, and the front is so much more sensitive. "Keep fucking still!", he snapped. "If your foot had touched Master Rob, you'd be in real trouble now."

He nodded at Rob again, and Rob now started to roll my right nip, before releasing a pincer onto it. My whole chest felt as if it was on fire and there seemed no end to it - I mean, when they cane you, you get the initial sting and then the dull ache, but it starts to wear off. The pain coursing through me now seemed to have no end - as long as the pincers had their grip on me, I knew it would continue.

Both men stood there looking at me, and I noticed Rob licking his lips as if in anticipation of what was to come. "I told you he was going to be fun", Rooney remarked. "See how he's gone erect? A man who truly appreciates pain always gets an erection when you start out - mind you, as the evening continues, I think he'll lose it. So perhaps we'd better capitalise on it...."

"How?"

"Get three more of those pincers.... and do his dick head. 'Skin him back, and attach them to that nice thick flange around his dick head... But watch out, as he may be unable to prevent himself from kicking out at you - best to hold his balls just in case, as however much he wants to buck then, he can't!"

"Are you sure, Mike?"

"Yes. Pain isn't just about flogging , you know! These little pincers can be just as effective...."

Rob knelt in front of me, and all I could do was watch helplessly as my oldest friend took my dick in his hand and used his thumb, quite roughly, to push my foreskin back. I felt my dick, already erect, give a little jerk as Rob stimulated it, and then his hands were on my sac.

"That's right", Mike told him. "Get a really good grip. Thumb and forefinger circled above the balls, then pull down a bit.... You don't want him to be able to move at all..."

I got that horrible sickening sensation as Rob tugged down at my balls - I mean, you're always terrified that another guys is really going to hurt you, even without meaning to, when he's holding your balls, aren't you? And Rob seemed to be in some sort of fever of excitement, and didn't seem in any mood to be particularly careful! I wanted to try to get away, I'd have done almost anything - but with my arms held rigidly and Rob's hand grasping my sac like this I knew it was futile to even try. So I just had to stand there, in dreadful apprehension of what was about to happen to me. My dick was stretching upwards so hard it was almost hurting, and I knew that it would be so engorged with my blood that one of those pincer things - that was still causing me dreadful pain in my nips - would be absolute agony there.

And then it came. And in spite of not wanting to, I screamed. And I carried on screaming as the sharp teeth of the pincers bit into the delicate flesh of my dick head.

Have you ever screamed? Really screamed? Been so totally unable to control yourself that you've just had to throw your head back and shout out, unable to stop? Added to the pain there's then that terrible feeling of being totally out of control, totally unable to help yourself, and you know, what's more, that it's a very public display you're making. There's no more hiding what's happening, as the whole world knows you've lost it. They know that you're not man enough to take it, that you're starting to crumble.

Then the second pincers bit, and if it's possible to imagine things getting worse, it did!

Rob stood up, and looked at Rooney. "Hey, Mike, he's screaming already!"

"Yes. Most men can't stand the pincers on their dick head. But we've still got one to go.... And that's the worst! Shall I show you?"

Rob nodded, and now it was Rooney kneeling on front of me, and gripping my balls. If the pain from the first two pincers was bad, what happened next was so totally unexpected, and so totally different - if you can categorise pain at all, this was in a different class:

"jagged" and "sharp" and cutting". Rooney got to his feet, and when my screaming had stopped, said casually to Rob "That little triangle of skin underneath the dick head is so especially sensitive - the more so in uncut guys. When the teeth bite into it, it's always interesting to see how they start to scream all over again."

"So what would you like to do to him next?", he went on. "We could squirt a mild acid into his eyes - very painful - but perhaps you'd like him to be able to see what's going on? Or we could continue to work on his dick - one of those thin steel rods there pushed along his piss canal, with a little muscle rub cream on the end..... But then, if we want to see how much we have to punish hi before he cums spontaneously, that tends to spoil things."

"I was thinking more of a conventional beating", Rob cut it. "Look, this other stuff, it's a bit like torture, rather than just punishment..."

"Not getting squeamish, are you?", Mike replied, laughing. "I thought you rather liked causing pain when you first caned him...."

"Yes, Mike. But there's pain and pain... A tawsing never really hurt, well, not after the initial effects, after all. But some of this stuff... I'm not sure. I think I'd rather just do the regular stuff..."

"Oh, suit yourself - he's your indenture, after all. But remember, you can get at all of his body now, not just his butt... You want to make the most of it. You saw the way he reacted when I caned the front of his thighs... So don't just beat his butt this time, go for the front of him, too - a cane across the ribs, or a tawse on those nips of his, if we take the pincers off.... And then there's a little trick I want to show you with his dick, as it's unusual to have a guy in here who's still got his 'skin...."

Rob picked up a cane, but Mike told him to get another. "If you're going to hit his front, it needs a different cane", he was told. "For the butt, it needs to be springy but relatively heavy as the muscle there is so thick. But for the front, you need something a little lighter, and thinner, so it stings a whole lot more....."

Look, I'm not going to bore you with telling you just how awful that caning was. If you've ever been hit hard with a thin cane all over your chest, belly and thighs, you'll understand that there are just no words to describe it. And when I thought it must be over, as there wasn't an inch of my skin that wasn't glowing a fiery red from the onslaught, Mike pulled Rob a little back so that he could see, and then brought the cane down several times on my biceps as they lay stretched out along the wooden beam! This was a wholly new area of unbelievable hurt, a new kind of pain coursing through me, and if I hadn't by now been almost hoarse, I'm sure my cries would have penetrated even the thickest door.

They worked all over my back, too. And the back of my thighs. And the back of my calves. I no longer had any separate feelings of pain as every nerve in my body was firing, sending sparks of agony through me.

Both men stood there, looking at my red body as I hung in front of them. I could hardly hold my head up, and I was so relieved that it was all over. Rob and Mike were wiping the sweat off themselves, and almost laughing as they told each other what hard work it was to really cane a servant! But it wasn't over - suddenly, Mike came over to me and simply pulled the pincers off my tits and dick. I suppose I'd somehow "forgotten" what these were doing to me, but as they came off, blood rushed back in and the nerves were stimulated all over again; and, if anything, it hurt more than when they had applied them in the first place.

Mike was laughing as he saw me twitching helplessly - If I could have rubbed my tits or dick, it would have been better. But as it was I just had to stand there and take it.

"Do you want to finish off with something just a little different, then?", he asked Rob, who nodded, almost eagerly. I just hung there as Mike went over to the shelves and came back with a rod about a yard long with cuffs at either end. He bent down and attached them to my ankles, pushing my feet apart, then went to the wheel on the wall and adjusted it so that my body was now stretched totally taught, and I was standing on my tiptoes to relieve the pressure on my lungs in order to be able to breathe.

"This is itself interesting", he told Rob. "If you ever need to punish a servant without leaving marks on the skin, it's quite a suitable thing to do - before long the pain in his calf and thigh muscles will become almost indescribable as he tries to keep all the weight on his toes like that - rather like a ballet dancer always having to be on points and never allowed to touch the ground with the flat of the foot.

He won't really appreciate it, of course, as he's hurting so much all over already and you ought just to bring him in here one day and leave him handing there for a couple of hours like that. But that's not the best of it....."

He reached for my dick, which was now only about half erect, and pushed it upwards against my belly, pulling the foreskin right forward over the head. I gave a yelp of pain as he pushed a pin through the end of my 'skin and a small fold of my belly that he pinched between his thumb and forefinger, so my dick was now held up there (yes, even with a hard six-pack like mine, there's still some skin that can be used like that).

I don't know what you call a tawse with only one thin leather strap - not a whip exactly, as it's got a longer handle and shorter thong. But Mike now stood in front of me, and said softly to Rob "This is the last bit of his skin that hasn't felt the lash.... It needs a little skill at first to get it right.... Shall I show you?"

Rob licked his lips again in nervous anticipation, and nodded. I wondered what was going to happen, and as best I could braced myself for the coming shock. Then I knew, as my world exploded. All my other suffering was forgotten as the tip of the tawse, moving at high speed as Mike flicked his wrist, whistled up between my legs and the tip cut in to the delicate tissue of my ass hole. I might have been hoarse from screaming already, but the fire and ice effect of this thin leather cutting into me there gave me a new impetus just to howl like a demented animal. And Mike flicked again, and again, and again.

Finally he stopped. "As I said, this needs skill - want to try?"

"No", Rob replied, sounding perhaps just a little shocked. "I might damage him...."

"Oh, it's hard to do permanent damage with this little thing. He'll be so sore for a few days- crapping will be agony, and there's no way he can take dick - although if we put him on the horse now, it might be amusing... Come on, you'll never learn if you don't try. You need to get experience somewhere...."

"Mike, I'm not sure I want that kind of experience.... I mean, Steve was my buddy. A little caning and tawsing's one thing, but, well, you know...."

"Suit yourself. But there's just one more thing we need to do...."

Mike flipped his wrist four more times, and this time the flying tip of the tawse slashed into the delicate skin of my sac. I couldn't help it - I vomited, as the punishment tore through my balls.

Rob looked a bit horrified as I stood there with the vomit sill falling from my slack mouth and trickling down my tortured chest. Mike just laughed, though. "That often happens - makes a good finale, don't you think? Now, are you sure you don't want to fuck him? I can guarantee he'll scream and shout as every touch of your body against his will be a huge problem for him... And with those lash marks right across his hole, he'll thrash around like you can't even begin to imagine...."

"No thanks. Shall we get him down now?"

"No, leave him - I'll get one of the servants to do it, and they can take him straight out to the barracks, if you're sure you've finished with him."

They went out of the door, leaving me standing there on tiptoe, and as usual Mike was right - the pain in my calves and thighs was terrible, even overlaid on top of everything else I had experienced. How could they do this to me? I mean, caning me when I was working was one thing, but this was just pure, savage brutality.

I thought that I was going to faint as the agony in my limbs got worse and worse the longer I was left there.

I tried "sagging" to relieve my legs, but then I couldn't breathe. I don't know how long it was - time seems to lose all meaning when you're like that, until the door opened and Craig came in, just wearing a pair of work shorts.

He rushed over to me "Jesus fucking Christ, Steve! Here....."

He tore at the leather thong that had almost cut into my flesh as it held me to the bar, then released the Velcro on my wrists. I couldn't hold myself, and just sagged forwards into his arms, but immediately cried out as my hot angry skin touched his. Seeing my pain, he let me down, gently, ever so gently, to the floor - lying there wasn't all that much better, but he could at least them undo the rod holding my ankles apart.

He knelt beside me, and looked at my dick. "Jesus fucking Christ", he repeated. "There's a pin through your dick....."

"No, only my 'skin", I managed to say, weakly.

He reached out and held my dick in his big strong fingers, then there was a momentary twinge as he pulled it out. He continued to kneel there, looking at me almost in despair. "Fuck, Steve! What did you do to deserve this?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh, come on - guys don't get punished like this for 'nothing'! You must really have pissed off Mister Rooney about something...."

"No, honest! Nothing. They just did this for fun. Their fun, that is...."

I could see Craig shaking his head, as if in disbelief. But then he said calmly "Are you OK? Shall I get you back to the barracks - that's what Mister Rooney told me to do."

"I don't think I can walk..."

His strong arms came down and somehow I managed to get to my feet. It was agony to have to put my arm around his shoulders for support - my caned biceps started to scream all over again - but somehow I managed it, and slowly, very slowly, and excruciatingly painfully, we made our way back to the barracks.

Craig insisted we stop in the showers, and somehow managed to get the things to just dribble water gently, as any strong spray would have only added to my difficulties. He stood there with me, at first supporting me, but then gently, so gently that it was incredible that a big tough guy like him could do it, he began to soap me to try to relieve my pain. I heard him exclaiming angrily as he saw the teeth marks, still dribbling blood, in my nips. And when he got down to my dick, and I flinched as he went to gently 'skin me back, he burst out in anger. "Those bastards!... I'll...."

"No, Craig, you mustn't do anything. They hold all the cards, you know that...."

At that moment his hand went up between my thighs, and now I screamed. Craig leaped back, not realising how tender my ass hole and balls were, and thinking that he'd done something wrong. And I was in a terrible dilemma - should I tell him what they'd done, and have his anger boil over to the point that he might charge out and do something stupid, or should I let him think it was his fault?

With all my skin and muscles screaming, I reached down and held his head in my hands. "Craig, it's OK.... Buddy.... Thank you....."

That's the first time I'd thought of Craig like that. Before this, he was just another servant, a top, like me, who I competed with for guys to fuck. Now he had shared my outrage, and been so tender, he seemed so much more.

End Of Part 10