The Labourer

THE LABOURER by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 25

All of a sudden my life seemed to be a whole lot better. But, as these things do, it was only temporary: my father told me excitedly that he'd managed to get my brothers and their wives and kids to come home for Thanksgiving.

My brothers were older than me - Mike by five years, and Bill by four. So close together in age themselves they'd always been the very best of friends as we were all growing up, and they had little time for their "kid brother" and mostly excluded me from their games and stuff. And, of course, as they got older, they just treated me almost with contempt, and when I tried to do things with them - pleading with them to go to the game, for example - they just laughed and said they didn't want to hang around with kids. They'd both gone off to the East to really good schools - dad was always complaining, in a half-serious way about how their college funds were drained totally, and Mike was now a corporate financier in Manhattan with a huge house up in Scarsdale, whereas Bill had gone into law, and unsurprisingly had specialised in commercial law. One of his big cases had introduced him to a movie studio, and his career had never looked back: now he had a string of famous, high-profile celebrities on his books, had a plush office somewhere in LA, and the almost obligatory mansion in Bel Air to go with it. I guess that compared to these two my father had perhaps some reason to be disappointed in me, but then, men need to make their own way in this world, don't they? You need to do what suits you. But perhaps, I now saw, some of my "rebellion" had been fuelled b the desire to deliberately be different from these high flyers; did I somehow know that I could never compete fully with them, and therefore unconsciously found reasons for never trying?

Anyway, they were both coming, with wives and kids - each had a boy and a girl - and I knew they would be really close again. Working on different coasts they didn't see each other all that much now, except when one or the other went to the other coast on their business trips, but when they got together it was as if the intervening years slipped away, and they were really closely bonded. I'd kind of got to like them a bit better as I got older, but each of them really turned on me when I decided not to go to college, and they ranted and raved at me about how upset I was making dad. Actually, having them argue with me like that, and then being able to ignore it all and just go out and start labouring, had been some kind of victory for me over them, I thought at the time. Now though the prospect of having them come home and finding me a slave was pretty awful.

I'd somehow hoped that my father might relent a bit on my "slave" duties and let me enjoy Thanksgiving properly, but my hopes were dashed when two days before their expected arrival he summoned me into his study. As I stood there in my humiliatingly short tunic, my father finished working on some papers that he had brought home from the office, then glanced up at me as I stood there in front of him - one good thing about the subservient position, if you're wearing a very short tunic, is that at least the hem at the front properly covers your dick as you're stooped forward, with your head down!

"I know that relations between you and your brothers were never exactly smooth, Steven", he began in a solemn tone, "But things have to be different this time. They and their families are guests in my house, and they deserve proper service and respect. I do not want to hear you arguing with them, or disobeying them, or making any kind of unpleasant scene, is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Good. Well then, your two nephews will take the beds in your room, your two nieces will be in the third spare bedroom, Mike and his wife will have the large guest suite and Bill and his wife the second guest suite. Joe will of course share with me."

"And where will I sleep, sir?"

"You can have a sleeping bag on the floor of your own room."

"Can't William Junior have the sleeping bag? He's only seven...."

"Certainly not! He is a guest in this house, remember. And it would be completely inappropriate to have guests discomforted when slaves were living high on the hog!"

As he said this, I knew that things were not going to be as I'd hoped. He went on "There will of course be a lot more work here with the house full, and so you will not be going to Rooney's at all over the holiday period as you will need to help Mrs Sheffield with the meals: although she used to do it all, she's getting on now and the load on her is too great. Consequently she will cook everything, but you will serve at table, and fetch and carry things to and from the kitchen - it's no hardship for you, as it takes you only a moment to eat that chow bar, after all."

"Sir, am I not going to be allowed to join in...?"

"Certainly not! Thanksgiving is a family festival, and you forfeited your right to be a part of this family when you chose to go off and do your own thing, culminating in this ridiculous slavery. You ought to be thankful that you are at least a slave here, well treated, properly fed, and not subject to capricious harsh punishments. When we all sit quietly before dinner on Thursday as is our custom, to think about all that we have to be thankful for, I trust you yourself will ponder on these points, Steven. You may look at your brothers and their families, and at Joe and me, and contemplate why you are not sitting there at the big dining table with us all, celebrating our good fortune and our togetherness."

"And one more thing!", he said as I gave an almost despairing sigh. "The last Thanksgiving we were all together I did not think that you properly respected the nature of our family and were almost contemptuous of your brothers, and me, and our success. I want no repeat of that - if there is even the vaguest suggestion that you are disrespectful to the family, or the great institution of our country and its many benefits, I will not hesitate to put you over the nearest piece of furniture, pull up your tunic, and cane you. Right there and then: in front of the entire family. It might even be a good thing, as it will show the grandchildren how important respect for the family, and all it stands for, is."

I shuddered. "Please, sir, please - surely you're not going to make me wear this tunic? Not with the wives, and kids... And my brothers...?"

"Of course you will wear that tunic. You are a slave, Steven, and it helps everyone to remember that, not least of all, you! You cannot fail to remember what your actions in the past have led you to every time the hem of your tunic scrapes over your penis."

"But sir, it's shaming..."

"Nonsense! How can it be shaming for a slave to be performing his duties, dressed as his owner desires? If you were a free man and went around exposing yourself, that would be different. But you are a slave, and provided you are obeying your owner's orders, you have nothing to fear, nothing to be ashamed of. And, anyway, your brothers have seen you totally naked many times, their wives are used to seeing them naked, I imagine, and so to see their former brother in law like that should be no shock, and the children - well, they're only children and they do not have that silly sense of embarrassment that you appear to be experiencing. So remember - the slightest transgression, and you'll be over the table, or a chair, and caned!"

It wasn't going to be a good Thanksgiving for me, I knew. Not only was I going to have all this utter humiliation from my brothers, but I wasn't going to get to see Craig at all, and at Rooney's Contracts Thanksgiving was one of those rare days in the year when the normal rules were relaxed: we only had to work until two p.m., and then were allowed to laze around for the rest of the day!

My father had hired a couple of limos to collect them all from the airport, and they all arrived simultaneously - my brothers had decided to rendezvous at the airport as their flights were scheduled to arrive only a few minutes apart, so they could talk together on the drive: they and their wives had therefore taken one limo, putting the four kids into the second one. As they drew to a halt my father snapped at me to unload all the bags, and he then did the obligatory "greeting" stuff - throwing his arms around my brothers, kissing the wives, picking the kids up and almost throwing them in the air.... It was a typical family reunion, except that he then had to introduce Joe to everyone, and I skulked around at the rear of the limos, hoping not to be seen as I hauled their mass of bags out of the trunks and carried them into the house: I just knew that work like this would make my tunic ride up, and I just wasn't ready for this exposure to my brothers and sisters in law.

I actually managed to avoid any confrontation with all of them until they had all gone up to their rooms to freshen up and change, and then all clustered together on the big covered porch at the back for tea and cookies. I was in the kitchen, and kindly old Mrs Sheffield volunteered to take the things out to them. I was so relieved, but when she came back to fetch more hot water for the tea kettle, she said "I'm sorry, master Stevey, but your father ordered me to send you out with it. He told me to remind you of his conversation with you in his study the other day..."

There was nothing for it, was there? And, anyway, I couldn't hope to avoid contact with them for three days, could I? So, futilely tugging at the hem of my tunic to make it "stretch" as far as possible, I took the kettle and made my way out on to the porch. Bill was always the most demonstrative of my brothers, and with his deep Californian tan he really did look good as he sat there in his expensively casual clothes. As he saw me, he leapt to his feet, and cried out "Hey, Steve! Where have you been hiding? Hey, it's good to see you...."

He put his hand on my shoulder and held me a little away from him, as you do, and went on "You look great, Steve! I wish I had the time to spend keeping my body in such great shape. But I'd nix the haircut if I were you... It makes you look really 'hard', cropped like that... And the clothes! Well, I know it's hot and humid around here, but that's taking things a bit extreme...."

I didn't know what to say, but my father cut in. "William, please remember what we discussed on the telephone. This is not your brother, Steven. This is the house slave, Steve. It will make life easier for all of us - especially for Steve - if you remember that, and treat him appropriately."

Turning to me, he went on "Leave the tea kettle - and we'll summon you again if you are required."

As I turned to leave, my tunic snagged on a bit of the rattan that was poking out from the porch furniture, and for a few moments, all my dick and balls were on complete display. At once Bill shouted out "Hey, dad, there have been some more changes in Steve, I can see that now! Not only is his hair short... But it's short everywhere! And there's something else missing, too..."

I was blushing with embarrassment, but the kids were playing some game or other in the corner and hardly noticed, and my sisters in law, although they got a long, good look at me, seemed to be amused verging on uninterested.

Somehow I survived dinner that evening and the long, lazy late breakfast they all had on Thanksgiving morning itself. Our family's tradition was to have dinner a about six, leaving plenty of time in the afternoon to watch the big game. It was unseasonably warm, though, and the women decided they'd rather lie by the pool, and agreed to watch the kids swimming so that the men could watch the TV in peace. There was the usual harvest of dead insects on the surface, though, so as Joe was joining my father and Mike and Bill, I was told to go out and clean them off so that the swimming would be better.

I hated missing the game, but knew I had to do as I was told this holiday, so went out and started to walk up and down with the sweeper and net. One of my sisters in law, lying there in a minuscule two piece costume, suddenly called out "Hey, Steve - you're cleaning the pool, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well at home, the pool boy always does it naked! It's not right to have pool cleaners dressed when we're all in our costumes, so strip it off. Your father said we were to treat you just as if you were a slave, and slaves do pool duty bare-assed."

I looked at her almost in horror. This woman was married to my brother! And there were young kids all around, too. She looked at me for a moment, and went on "Didn't you hear me? Get that tunic off, and get it off now. Or do I have to get Mister Masters out here and get him to discipline his slave? I'm sure he wouldn't want to be seen to have disobedient servants in the house..."

There was nothing for it. I reached behind my neck and with one smooth movement pulled the thing up over my head, feeling my dick jerk upwards as all my belly muscles tightened. Then I had to work away, feeling it bobbing up and down as I walked the length of the pool, and conscious of the eyes of the two women watching my every move. I could hear them talking too, as I worked away in the calm afternoon air, with just the muted sounds of the TV coming from inside the family room.

"My, he's certainly a specimen, isn't he? I remember when I first married Mike, he had a body like that. Ahhh, happy memories - he spends too long behind his desk now - by the time he gets back to Scarsdale all he wants to do is slump, with a drink. We may as well not have a tennis court and a gym in the house."

"Bill's the same. The only time he does any exercise is when he's invited to a client's house and plays a bit of tennis as a social prelude to serious business.

I'd wish he did more, as I like hard muscle in a man..."

"Yes, I've almost forgotten what it's like not to have those 'love handles' in the way when I want to wrap my legs around his body."

To tell you the truth, I was astonished that they were talking about their husbands like this, but then, I suppose that's what women do when they think men can't hear them. And as a slave, I evidently didn't count as a "man" - they must be so used to living their lives surrounded by servants that they automatically tuned them out.

"You should get Mike to buy an estate worker with a nice body for you... You've got a few acres, haven't you? Well get Mike to buy someone to keep it in trim - mow the lawns, prune the woods, that sort of stuff... And of course make sure he's one with a good body, so you can use him. I used to be lonely in that great big place stuck up in the hills until my friends suggested Bill should be told to buy a good-looking stud for the grounds.... And now, well... Most afternoons, you know.."

"You don't, do you? Doesn't Bill mind?"

"Oh no, we have a completely open marriage. He knows that young Gary keeps me amused in the afternoons, and I never mind if he has one of the servants at the office - male or female. It would be different of course if we were having a serious affair, but it's different with a servant, isn't it?"

"How?"

"Well, it's not about love or even passion: it's more of a 'transaction'. Bill and I went to the auctions and I picked Gary out - he's twenty, still a baby really, but like all twenty year olds he's really horny. I wanted someone with a nice trim body - not big, like Bill and Mike - and a nice small tight butt.

And a big dick of course... Bill was quite amused, and the only argument we had was to whether we should get one with a bit bigger ass - Bill was afraid that if he ever wanted to take Gary himself, he'd split him in half - I expect Mike is big there, isn't he, like Bill? Looking at Steve it seems that big dicks must be a genetic thing in their family! I wonder if Mister Masters is like that - if he is, I feel sorry for that Joe!"

"You don't mean Mister Masters is.... is, well... doing it with Joe, surely?"

"Of course he is! Why would an old man otherwise buy a young, attractive slave like that? He must have cost a packet - the prices of servant contracts are high enough, and with the extra flexibility you get with owning a slave... Anyway, as I said, Bill and I argued a bit, but it's not turned out to be a problem - if Bill's really horny and I'm not some nights, he just goes out to the pool house and fucks Gary - after the first few times he looked a bit rueful when he was with me the next day, and said he was hurting... but then, men's asses are designed to accommodate men's dicks, aren't they?"

"I don't know... I've never thought about it. I know some of the women at the Country Club do have 'extra services' from the tennis coach, as he's a servant. And some of the massage men, too, I suppose.... And I guess they're used by the men and the women. But how do you get on with this Gary... "

"Oh, very well! Just after we'd got him, though, I had to stop taking the pill as I was getting high blood pressure, and that threatened to cut out some of the fun as I can't bear condoms - I wanted Bill to have him vasectomised, but apparently as he's only an eight year servant, this isn't possible. But then someone recommended 'the nail', and I haven't had any more problems since then."

"The nail?"

"Oh yes, they're really popular out on the coast - haven't you seen them in New York?"

As she was speaking, my sister n law picked up her handbag and rummaged around in it, and brought out something which glinted in the sunshine.

"Here'''' this is mine: I always carry it with me, 'just in case'."

"How...?"

"Oh, it's probably easier to show you." She raised her voice, and called out "Steve, get over here."

Blushing with embarrassment, I went and stood in front of my sisters in law, and looked at the thing lying there on the table between them. It was about four inches long, and looked just like a large nail - a highly polished, thin stainless-steel shaft, and a small circular steel head.

My sister in law reached out and grabbed hold of my dick. I instinctively jerked backwards, my dick slipping out of her hand. "What the fuck....?", I demanded, angrily.

Her tome was icy. "Slave, how dare you! You are a slave, aren't you? Mister Masters told us you were to be treated just like a common slave, and slaves don't move away when a free woman is handling their bodies! Now, get back here, assume the submissive position, before I call Mister Masters and my husband!"

Oh, what the fuck was I supposed to do? Gritting my teeth in frustration, I went and stood in front of the two women, and clasped my hands behind my back, conscious of them against the warmth of my skin on my butt. The long, thin fingers of my sister in law with their sharp bright red nails, like talons, reached out and took my dick once more. As she stroked my dick, she turned to my other sister in law and said "You need to have the slave erect first.... Normally, that's not a problem with Gary - I only have to get him to drop his pants and he's hard as a rock But Steve seems to be different - if I didn't know better, I'd say he was afraid of women."

"Oh no, Mike always tells stories about Steve's behaviour - he was always studding and fucking around town..."

"Well he doesn't seem very interested now. Ah.... He's responding...."

I felt myself blushing all over as my erection started, and she went on "Still, at least he's been decently cut: Is Mike still ridiculously attached to his foreskin? I've wanted Bill to have his cut off for years, as it's sort of a bit out of the ordinary when he does go off to clubs and stuff, and he does need to be ultra-conventional in his line of work - clients expect that of their lawyers. But he won't - he said his dad is like that, his brothers are like that, and he won't let me have William Junior done, either. Still, now that we know Steve's succumbed, I'll have to have another go at Bill!"

Both women laughed, and then Bill's wife aid to Mike's "Look, you'll have to help me with the next bit - it's OK with Gary now, as he's used to it, but the first few times they can kick up a terrible fuss. Steve's already been ridiculously skittish, so grab his balls and hold him steady, will you?"

Mike's wife hesitated, and was told "Oh, come on! He's only a slave. And fortunately Mister Masters has him nicely shaved smooth, so there's nothing distasteful about it. Just get a firm hold of them - but your thumb and forefinger in a circle between his body and his balls, and that will hold him."

I felt mortified, to have one woman stroking my dick and another gripping my balls. I remember the sun shining in my eyes, and the scent of their expensive perfumes wafting up to me as I stood there over them. Then I almost shrieked with the sudden, unexpected pain. I did jerk back - slightly - but the grip of the claw-like fingers around my balls stopped me. I went to grab at my sister in law's hands, which were causing me this, and she snapped "Keep your hands on your butt, Steve, or else it will be the cane on it! "

"See", she said to her sister in law, "As I said, it always hurts the first few times, but you have to insert the shaft of 'the pin' right down the urethra - it has a blunted end, so there's very little danger of you damaging him provided you do it slowly and smoothly."

Look, have any of you ever had a sample taken form your dick? I once thought I'd picked up something form one of the women I'd been with, and went along to the local STI clinic for tests. I'd thought that they'd just take blood, or piss, or perhaps even cum from me, but I had to lie there on an examining couch, my boxers around my knees, whilst a nurse said she'd "take a little sample, a swab, really, so please just lie there quite still, Mister Masters."

Yes, I'd been a "Mister Masters", in those days, someone who she respected, even though she was going to do something vile to me. She had one of those cotton bud things, and she took my dick in one hand quite calmly (and in those clinical surroundings I never even thought of getting an erection), and with the other started to poke the bud down my piss slit! Well, she only went in half an inch at most and kind of twirled it around to get her "sample", but even so I had to use all my will power to lie still and not to shout out - having something pushed into your dick REALLY hurts, believe me! And it's that sort of pain that makes you want, want desperately, to move away from it, something I couldn't do.

But this 'nail' thing wasn't just going in a tiny bit - I had to grit my teeth and do everything I could to stop from shouting out, as all four inches disappeared down the centre of my dick, until the little round head was resting against my piss slit.

"There!", she said. "I told you he'd need to be held.

After the first few times they get more used to it - I suppose it's like being taken by a man: the first time you're not stretched or anything. But you soon get used to it! Well, Gary can take it right down now without a murmur... Mind you, he doesn't like the next bit."

"Actually, I can see this is quite fun as a bit of foreplay. I rather like the idea of sticking something into a man, as he sticks his thing into us. But how does it help with sex after that?"

"Isn't it obvious? With that nail down his dick, he can't shoot - and to make it perfectly secure, you also put a drop of SuperGlue glue under the nail head so it sticks to the skin of his dick head. Then absolutely nothing can get out, not even one of his little swimmers! You can have all the pleasure of sex with him without a condom, and be perfectly safe."

"But doesn't it hurt him...?"

"No, as you saw, it's just a little discomfort as it goes in. And, of course, it focuses his mind on sex amazingly: he knows he can't shoot, so he has to try to do everything he can to avoid it... I've had some incredibly long sessions with Gary, and he's kept going long after a young guy would normally have unloaded. You can almost feel it in his balls, all the cum churning around, denied an outlet! And even if he loses his ardour a little, with that thing down the middle, his dick stays harder. Of course it's a bit of a problem for Gary when I've orgasmed and I tell him to get out..."

"Why?"

"Well, first of all, he's got to get the nail unstuck from the head of his penis. With the SuperGlue, you always take a layer of skin off - and men are VERY sensitive there, around their piss slit! The poor dear is always whining on about how raw and sore his is, but of course I tell him it's part of the job! But I don't want to hear it all the time, so I send him away to get unstuck, And then, of course, as he pulls it out, he's desperate to ejaculate, and quite often I understand he sprays cum everywhere... Or urine, as sometimes the foolish lad has drunk a lot as he works and when I call him in hasn't had time to empty his bladder. I can tell you that sometimes he's looking really uncomfortable after one of our long sessions - desperate to urinate or ejaculate or both: it's a real incentive to work really hard at getting me to orgasm! I sometimes wish Bill could be 'nailed', to make him more attentive to me."

"It certainly seems alike a good idea - so ecological, too, not using up any of the earth's resources, no rubber trees to be cut down or whatever it is they do to make latex. I'll get one off the Internet as soon as I get home - and you're right: Mike can buy me a servant for the grounds, someone young and lithe."

I carried on standing there, feeling the weight of the "nail" dragging my dick down. It was still very uncomfortable, and it felt as if the inside of my dick was on fire! God knows how it would feel if I had it SuperGlued to me, and then I had to pull it off - I mean, we all know what it feels like if the very tip of our dick is sore, don't we? Imagine that, all read and raw, day after day.

"Shall I show you how it glues in?", I then heard, to my horror. "It would be amusing to stick it in, then see how it keeps Steve erect like this."

"Oh no! It would put me off dinner tonight, to be served with that monster sticking out in front of him.

Imagine, as he leaned over to serve me, it might skewer me in the eye!"

"So while he's got it in loosely, shall we have a bit of fun?"

"But he's our brother in law..."

"WAS our brother in law, you mean, he's a slave now. And you heard his father say how we were to treat him exactly like a slave - well, when I'm staying with friends, I expect their servants and slaves to be available if I want a little pleasure... And it might be interesting to see how much of a stud Steve really is - all those stories his brothers tell...

"No, I think not. That might be carrying it a bit far. But, as I understand it, he's more likely to want to stick it up that young Joe.... He's kind of cute, don't you think?"

Both women fell about laughing then, and I was relieved when I was told that I could take the nail out - I went to turn away, as you naturally do when you do something to your dick when others are watching, but was ordered to remain facing them as I gently teased the thing out of me - you know how it is, you're terrified of causing yourself more pain, so you do it very slowly indeed, and you can't help hunching up over it almost, as if that helps.

The nail was covered in what I assume was pre-cum as I finally got it out, and I could feel my dick dribbling a few drops of urine out, as it tried to do something to ease the irritation in my urethra. Both women then called me "vile" and "disgusting", and told me to go indoors, clean myself up properly, and come back with cool drinks for them and the kids.

End Of Part 25