THE LABOURER by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 30
Everything seemed to be going to plan - my father had even suggested that I start work in his office as after all my machinations in the past week or two I was now at a loose end, and to my surprise I found I enjoyed attending meetings and making decisions. Actually, it was the making decisions I enjoyed - I've never had a problem with that, and it goes with being a tough, decisive kind of guy, I suppose. Of course it was boring to have to sit there and listen to all the executives giving their carefully prepared presentations, so after a week I banned any use of PowerPoint in my office, and made them all stand and just give me a brief synopsis of the problem so that I could decide what to do. We saved a fortune in management time, and the business cycle speeded up to the extent that there was a measurable improvement in our profits, which greatly pleased my father.
When Rob had been at Rooney's for three weeks, though, I decided I deserved an hour or two off, and drove over there, having warned Rooney that Rob was to be kept off the work crews that day and just put to work cleaning the yard or something. Actually, I quite liked Rooney - he was a no-nonsense kind of guy, and I found it easy to do business with him once we had overcome our mutual worries about our past relationship. On our first couple of meetings, when I'd been arranging for Craig to go back to work, he had been a little awkward about negotiating with me as he'd used me as a slave and of course fucked me on the horse, but I used this to my advantage in the negotiation to drive up the price he had to pay me for Craig. Now though all this was in the past, and we shook hands like proper business associates, and sat with a beer in his large reception room. After I'd enquired about Craig and made sure that Rooney was indeed treating him no differently from any other servant - he assured me he was, as it was too much trouble to do anything else - he ordered Rob to be brought in.
Rob was just wearing work shorts and boots as it was a mild day so there was no need of a polo, and he shivered slightly in the air conditioning. I could see immediately that the three weeks at Rooney's had already worked wonders for him as a lot of the fat had been burned off, and he was beginning to look more like the jock I remembered. He stood there obediently, head bowed, with overseer Ryan right behind him, prod at the ready, "just in case".
"Rob, you're looking good!", I told him. "This life as a slave suits you, evidently."
"Thank you, sir", he mumbled. It was good to see that Rooney's training was so successful, and there was no more unseemly calling out to me as there had been at the auction.
"Want to see all of him?", Rooney asked me, and when I nodded, he snapped "Drop the shorts!"
For a moment I saw the start of a look of panic in Rob's eyes, but as Ryan moved his hand towards his prod, Rob seemed to mentally shrug and undid the button on his shorts, let them fall to the floor, then stepped out of them. Rooney and I got up and went over to him, and I did the sort of examination you'd expect a man to make of a slave he owned, feeling all over him to gauge his muscle development, and then hefting his dick and balls to check that all was well there too.
"Excellent, Rob!", I remarked. "A vast improvement from when I last saw you at the auction.... And where I bought your indenture."
"Sir, you bought it? I thought Mister Rooney...."
"No, Rob. It was me. I couldn't see an old buddy sold to just anyone, could I? Who knows what might have become of you!"
"No, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Yes, Rob, I bought your ten years. But there's news, good news for you. Working as an indentured servant suits you so much that I've had the Court extend it.... For life! So you're now a slave, Rob, and after I've left, Mister Rooney will arrange for you to be permanently marked with your new serial number. And I've decided that you're also to get 'Property of S Masters' tattooed on your butt and your pecs, to avoid any confusion with the other servants here as you're going to be working almost permanently at this place."
"NO!", he shouted. "You can't do that...."
I nodded, Ryan prodded him, and when he had recovered I continued calmly "Yes, Rob, I can. And I did. Just as you had me extended and enslaved, so I have had the same done to you - only this time my lawyers assure me it will stick. And as you're now my slave, you're going to be marked as my property, and of course there's one more thing I need to do as an owner - get on the horse, Rob."
"No, please...", he began, and Ryan was about to prod him, when I made a gesture to stop him. "Rob, you're a slave now. Under my complete control. Do you want to be prodded again? Or perhaps I should order a flogging for you, as I was once flogged, remember? I know from personal experience that that would change your attitude permanently! Now, obey me or take the consequences - a ride on the horse as your new owner takes his pleasure from you is nothing to worry about - believe me, I know... Remember?"
He lay there on the leather bench part, and Rooney himself bent down to fasten the wrist and ankle restraints to hold him there. I went and stood at Rob's ass then, and ran my hand over his butt. "Well, Rob, I was right - working here at Rooney's Contracts as a slave really has done wonders for you: this butt is getting nicely muscled now. But I think it's still virgin, isn't it? I asked Mister Rooney to make sure you weren't force fucked in the barracks, and I don't suppose you've found a particular friend yet who you've invited up there...."
As I said this I slid my finger down into the warm, moist crack between his butt cheeks, and then let it scrape over Rob's hole, watching with interest as this caused him to start to move his body, trying vainly to get his wrists and ankles free. I drew back, then brought my hand down hard across his butt - actually it hurt me a little - but Rob convulsed satisfactorily and gave a little shout of pain and surprise. "Answer me, slave! I asked you if you were a virgin - has anyone else ever been up your ass?"
"No, sir."
"Good, Rob. I've always wanted to do this, always wanted to be the first. You were pretty quick to have me mounted here on the horse when you got me indentured, and it's good to know that you believe that's the right way to behave."
"Please, sir, please, Steve... We were buddies, at school, on the team...."
"Yes, Rob, and you were quick enough to tell me how you'd always wanted to ream my ass, and did, when you had the opportunity. Now I find that I like ass, too, and yours is just too good to miss. So tell me, Rob, do you think a guy's ass should be warmed up before he gets fucked? Shall I give you a little light caning, to increase the sensation in your butt when my body slams into you as I get started?"
"Please, sir... Please don't hurt me. And please don't fuck me, sir..."
I just laughed, and put my hand through between his thighs and started to stroke his dick - he was already erect, so he must be finding the whole thing at least vaguely erotic, I thought. It's actually quite interesting to jerk a guy off from that angle, anyway - especially when his balls are nicely shaved smooth as they bob up and down on your wrist as you work at it, and Rob was soon moaning as I brought him to climax. It's not that I didn't want just to ram my dick hard down into him without any preparation: after all, he'd done enough to me to deserve it. But it's actually not all that much fun for me to fuck like that: the big thick flange on my dick head tends to get chafed and sore if the hole isn't nicely lubed, so I suppose Rob was lucky, really, that I took the time to stretch and smooth him. He seemed to be enjoying this part, at least, as he was soon moaning and groaning as guys do when you play with their ass.
It's not that I would have minded stripping in front of Rooney, as he'd seen me nude often enough, after all. But I decided that it would be more humiliating for Rob if I just fucked him "casually" and made no big deal out of it, as if it was routine for me even though it might be pretty traumatic for him. So I simple unzipped my pants, got out my dick, and fucked him like that. Actually, there's something quite nice about a "quickie" I find, when you don't strip off - for the guy underneath there's that special sensation as the pants and stuff slip over you naked butt and thighs, and for the guy doing the fucking it somehow says "look at me, I can have a quick one like this, and it's just relaxing". It was all over pretty quickly, though, and Rooney summoned the young servant boy who had replaced Joe to come in and clean me off.
I sat there on the couch next to Rooney watching my cum slip down the inside of Rob's thighs as he still lay there, now sobbing quietly. The boy gently washed my dick with a warm scented face cloth, and Rooney asked me what my plans were for Rob now. "Oh, now I've taken his cherry, use him just as a normal slave.
He's no different from any of the others. Cane him, tawse him, and if he ever needs it, you have my full authority to have him whipped - flayed, that is. Even though I own him, like Craig, I won't be taking him away from here - just work him, work him hard. I have no further interest in him, he's just a slave."
"But for sex?"
"Oh, I don't care. It's easier for you if he's properly integrated with the others, though, isn't it? Being Rob I don't expect he'll ask another guy to fuck him, but now he's broken, it's of no importance to me.
Perhaps you'd better get whoever has replaced Craig as your aggressive top to give him special attention for the next few weeks, though, as the lesson needs to be rammed home, no pun intended!"
"Would you like to watch? I can have Sam bought in now."
"Yes, I've got a few minutes, and it would be amusing to see him used again."
Rooney called out for Sambo to be brought in from the barracks, and I raised my eyebrows quizzically. "Yes, Sambo. He's a nigga.", Rooney explained, "But I don't like to be thought to be prejudiced, so I remember to call him Sam, normally."
"I thought you only used white guys in your work teams, Rooney. Why the change?"
"Oh, yes, as a rule, I do only use whites - I don't think I had any niggas when you were here, did I? It's easier to control white guys, you see, as they react better to the cane, whereas I find niggas intrinsically idle and lazy, so they need more punishment to get the same output, and then they just don't seem to mind caning as much. If you take those difficulties, and the fact that most of our clients are rich folks in the suburbs, as you'll know from your time here, and they don't like a lot of niggas running around their properties: in fact, it's one of the selling points of my service, that they won't be affronted by a load of niggas when they want to watch the work. I think folk are always worried that the niggas will start clapping and singing, or dancing around or something - you know how those stereotypes are."
At that moment the door opened, and this big nigga, clad only in the tiny work shorts, came in and stood neatly there in the submissive pose in front of us. Look, I'm a big guy and usually big men don't "register" with me particularly, but this nigga was huge! He must have been at least six eight, and his body was proportionately big all over. Rooney said casually "Unclothe", and as soon as he'd dropped his shorts, I saw that his dick was on the same heroic scale. Rooney told him to erect, and as he did, I almost gasped out loud: it looked almost as big as a baby's arm.
The general overwhelming power and strength of the huge physique was somehow heightened by he fact that he was completely shaved all over - his bald head, smooth chest and belly led on down to a completely hairless crotch, which, even so, did not manage to detract from the size of his dick. His whole skin glowed softly under the lights, and Rooney, seeing me almost gasping in astonishment, said "I use skin oil on him - it looks good, doesn't it? And you wait until he's working - when he starts to sweat, it beads most attractively all over him."
"And he's a top?", I asked.
"Of course! As I said, I don't buy niggas normally, but when I was looking for replacements for you and Craig, I saw this one at the auctions and I knew he was the solution to a lot of potential difficulties. I have no problems now with guys complaining they don't get enough fucking - Sambo just does them when he wants, and they're grateful not to be chosen all the time! When that dick of his goes in, even the most experienced bottom finds it just a little difficult to take! And, actually, he works quite well, too, surprisingly. I'm not sure I really get the maximum out of him as he's like all of them and doesn't really react to the cane, but even if I only get ninety percent, that's still one hell of a lot of work from a body that size and condition."
I stood there looking at him, and at Rob who was now whimpering quietly as he lay there. And I thought about how tight Rob had been when I'd fucked him. It didn't seem possible that the monster dick I was seeing could fit in Rob, and my instinctive reaction was to tell Rooney to send Sam away. But then calmer thoughts intruded, and I recognised that as his owner, it was up to me to make the right decisions for my slave: sooner or later Sambo would decide he wanted to fuck Rob, and then it would be in the barracks and might be messy - Sambo might have to hit him and slap him about a lot to subdue him, and then, his temper aroused, it would by no means be a simple fuck. No, it would be kinder for Rob, and better for me as there was less risk of lasting damage to my property, if Sambo took him now.
The young servant boy had finished washing my dick now, and was looking at me to see if I wanted him to tuck it away for me in my pants, but I waved him away, and asked Rooney to tell Sambo to fuck Rob, but to make sure that there was as little tearing of the anus as possible. It's important to get these protocol things right, isn't it? Sambo was Rooney's servant, and it would be inappropriate for me to order him around with his owner in the room.
Rob mad so much noise as Sambo pushed his giant dick into him that I asked Rooney to get the young servant boy to take a handkerchief and gag him. I was glad I had left my dick out, too, as it was, as Rooney had said, really interesting to see the beads of sweat all over the huge back, butt and thighs as he methodically fucked away at Rob - a Rob who had totally given up and was just lying there still, not even trying to move his body as the epic session went on.
When the nigga had at last cum, and Rooney explained that another of his benefits was that he was so laid back that he could fuck away for hours if we wanted. I allowed Rob to be ungagged, and it gave me a certain satisfaction to hear his piteous cries and sobs. You may think I'm harsh, but you have to remember what he'd done to me - a man deserves revenge, after all. Rooney asked me if I wanted to fuck Sambo then, and I have to confess I was tempted: the sight of him fucking Rob had revived me and my dick was hard, and the thought of slipping it between those huge muscular buttocks was really exciting. Then again, I'd never fucked a nigga, and that was also somehow very erotic - I could imagine the contrast between my tanned skin and his jet black one, and I have to confess I was vaguely curious to know whether his ass hole was as black as the rest of him, or was the lighter tone of the palms of his hands. And, of course, there's a powerful kind of "historic memory", isn't there? The white master and the black slave, and all that stuff from the 1800s. But I looked at my watch, thanked Rooney politely, and said I had to go.
As luck would have it, the crew with Craig in it was just coming back as Rooney was bidding me goodbye a the door, and rather than have another trip to deliver him back to our house, I said he could ride along with me. Rooney suggested I have another drink whilst Craig was cleaned up an changed, but I thought it would be rather appealing to be with him when he was all hot and sweaty, so asked Rooney to have him brought over straight away.
My dick, already excited by watching the nigga fuck Rob, gave a little jump when I saw Craig waiting by the car. He was in the proper subservient position, was wearing only his work shorts and boots as I supposed he'd already taken the polo off during the heat of the afternoon, and so the tawse marks across his back and shoulders could be clearly seen though the sheen of sweat that covered him. There's something so totally erotic about a big, tough guy who's obviously been working hard all day and who is stinking of sweat, that I almost asked Rooney if we could go back inside so that I could fuck Craig there and then. But I was still very careful about how I treated Craig, and thought that if I mixed business" with "pleasure" he wouldn't like it - he'd see me fucking him at Rooney's as if I was thinking of him as just a slave , and so I told him to get into the car.
Once we were out of the drive, though, I considered we were "off duty". I stopped for a moment to kiss Craig as I could no longer resist the exciting smell of the pure maleness of him as his sweat filled the car, then told him to take his shorts off. I love to see a guy wriggling to drop his pants or shorts in a car - that kind of bracing action as they push their hips up to get the clothes off is somehow very interesting.
"Not worried about the interior, then?", Craig asked me, his sexy smile breaking out all over him.
"No. That's why I have leather. Even though you're sweating enough to stick to them, you won't harm the seats." The worst is that we'll get some of those Californian Potato Chips!"
"It wasn't my sweat I was thinking about...", he muttered as he reached over and pulled my hand down into his crotch. "...but I think I need a bit of relaxation after I've been slaving away all day.... Get to it!" For someone who generally didn't much like sex games and such, as he was more into straight fucking, Craig could surprise me sometimes. And it wasn't his sweat I was worried about, either, but the production of Californian Potato Chips - they're easy enough to get off smooth calf leather when cum has dried, but from the soft, crinkled leather of my car seats, I wasn't so sure.
At dinner that night after Craig had finished serving us, he sat next to me as usual munching his slave chow, and I was feeling in such a good mood from the afternoon's activities with Rob (and Craig's body in the car home - after I'd jerked him off, he'd leaned right across me and I'd had his heavy body resting on my thighs as I sped along, as he sucked me to a climax), that I decided to reward him. We didn't really do desserts in our house, except when we were entertaining, but most meals ended with fruit of some sort - whatever was in season: cherries, strawberries, raspberries... and there was of course always apples, pears and bananas in the centre of the table. I remember how I'd really missed fruit when I was a slave just eating chow, and so occasionally I rewarded Craig with a bit - I'd slide a strawberry to the edge of my plate and indicate to him that he could take it , or I'd cut a sliver off my apple and feed it to him.
He needed a treat, I decided, so I took a banana from the fruit bowl, peeled it, and lay it on my plate. Craig's passion is bananas, and his eyes never left my hands as I worked away, and he watched me as I cut three very thin slices from the centre of it, and ate them, one by one. I then cut three more, then picked one up and held it in front of his nose so he could smell the heavy odour from the ripe fruit, and nodded to him so he could open his mouth and take it gently from my fingers (that's one advantage of having a slave rather than a dog - even a well trained dog tends to bite your fingers when you give him a treat!). As I did the third one, my father became a little irritated. "Steven, please stop playing with Craig at the table! You're a grown man now. If you want to play, take the banana to your room - I'm sure you two men could find a whole variety of things to do with it then!"
"Sorry, dad", I replied, smiling - I'm sure his double entendre was deliberate. Then I held my fingers in front of Craig so that he could lick at them to get the last vestiges of flavour from me. Look, you may think I was not treating Craig very well in all of this, as fruit doesn't cost a whole lot, does it? But you've got to remember that during the day he was a slave, and slaves eat chow, or at least mine do. It's completely balanced and properly nutritious, and it just doesn't do slaves any good to allow them "treats" and little extras: how many people do you see walking dogs around that are grossly overweight, as their owners feed them, and then let them have scraps from the table, dog chews, and all that crap? I didn't want Craig to get fat, and a whole lot of sweet stuff isn't good for you anyway - so it was just another example of the way I was acting in his own best interests, as a considerate and thoughtful owner should.
That night, though, as we lay in bed together, Craig ran his hand almost thoughtfully over my belly, then stopped, propped himself up on one elbow so that he was looking down at me. "What's the matter?", I asked.
"There's nothing there."
"What the fuck do you mean?"
"Steve, there's nothing there! You used to have nice hard ridges of muscle, but now it's just skin and stuff." His hand stroked around me, and he went on "And I think that's a little love handle starting there.... You're not getting enough exercise, buddy.
You'll soon be as fat as that friend of yours Rob was, until he got working properly at Rooney's - like a lot of guys he was pretty disgusting the first day, and he's only just started to be really in shape. In fact, he'll soon be good enough for me to fuck, if we ever get an hour or so off from work on a site...."
"You fuck on site still?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Well, you and me...."
"Hey, Steve, we're buddies here, we agreed. But you yourself said I'm a slave during the day. And if we ever had any spare time in a site, you know we always fucked... You yourself did, lots of times. So of course I do."
I can't say I was pleased! I'd kind of imagined that Craig and I had something special, that we were a couple, kind of exclusive. Rob was the exception, and you can I'm sure see why, and I didn't go around fucking other guys generally. Well, there had been Joe, but that was a bit different, too...
"I'm not getting fat! I work really hard all day at the office, then on the weekends we work out, we run...."
That sexy smile again, and he again rested his hand on my belly. "It's not enough though, is it? Sure, we work out, and we run, but you always stop first, and I can't persuade you to keep going.... You may say you work hard at that office, but it's not real work, is it? You're just sitting at a desk... But don't worry - you'd have to get really fat before I stopped loving you."
I didn't like Craig characterising my time at the office as "not real work", as I thought I worked fucking hard. Indeed, dad had more and more turned over the day to day operation of the business to me, and now spent his time entertaining and visiting important clients. But I could see what Craig meant - it's hard to work away at weights, or a rowing machine. And I did give up when we were running - Craig could run further and faster than me and didn't even raise a sweat, and I can't bear to be "bested" at things like that, so I didn't try.
"No, I'm not getting fat" I said again. "Most guys of my age would die for my body."
"Only if they couldn't have mine", Craig said, again smiling, so I couldn't really get angry with him. "Come on, Steve - quit fooling yourself! You may be better than ninety nine percent of guys, but you're nothing like as good as you were when we were both slaves! You're going soft, and it shows. But don't worry.... I'll still love you, even when your belly's so big you need to use a mirror to see your dick!"
He laughed as he said this, and I could hardly think about it as his head made a dive for my nips, and we began one of those fantastic sessions where we used each other in every way possible as we knew from long, long experience what was needed to really excite the other.
The next day, though, I noticed my pants were just a little tight - or was I just being hyper sensitive? But I admit that I could understand what Craig was going on about, as if I looked objectively at myself, the hard lines of my muscles had disappeared. Having noticed that, I felt uncomfortable all day, somehow - I like perfection, which is why the business was doing even better than when my father ran it, and now I wasn't perfect. I was cross with my subordinates, irritable when things did not go right, and generally stalked around our offices like a bear with a sore head.
The next day was a Saturday, and I got up early, slapping Craig awake, too, so we could get a real hard workout in our gym, but after an hour or so I just knew it wasn't working - I "cheated" by not pulling the bars right down, not touching my shoulders to my knees as I did sit-ups, and all that sort of stuff. Craig, of course, did it all properly, and did more than me; and all the time, even though he said nothing, I could just tell that he was thinking that he was right, that I was getting soft.
At about ten, the tension was more than I could bear, and I went and showered as Craig carried on working away. I came back, and snapped "Hey, Craig, enough! Don't rub it in. You've made your point!".
He at once stood up, stood there, head bowed, and said quietly "Sir, sorry, sir. But what point was I making, sir?"
I realised then that it was all in my head, that I'd been imagining that he'd been silently criticising me.
Craig didn't have the subtlety to do that sort of thing - even though he was in slave mode, if he had wanted to tell me something, he would have done so outright. I felt pretty desperate then, knowing that I was "giving in" to myself, and was going to go and check my e-mail, or go off to the mall, or something, when it came to me.
I threw off my clothes, and just put on a jock, and went back to the press, adjusted it so I could lie on my belly to lift weights to strengthen my shoulders and forearms, and before I settled down to the routine, handed Craig a cane.
"Right, Craig! Take this, and the moment I slack, the moment you see me not doing things properly.... Use it: I've just worn a jock, as I expect to be sweating a lot this morning, and anyway it will hurt more on the bare flesh."
"I can't cane you, sir..."
"Craig, that's an order!", I said, patting him on the back confidently, and lying down to start.
The first time he brought the cane down it was really hesitantly and I barely felt it, but as the morning progressed, Craig quite entered into the spirit of the thing, and by lunch time, he'd also found a tawse, and my butt, thighs, back and shoulders were glowing and stinging and throbbing with the pain that I remembered drove me to work my very hardest.
Joe came in to the garage, saw me, gasped, and told me that lunch was on the table. I was so glad to finish, but Craig looked at me, not smiling now, and said quietly "Sir, it's probably best you don't eat lunch if we're going to work this afternoon."
Well, I had been planning to watch a movie that afternoon, but seeing how Craig expected me to work, I couldn't bear to be seen to be giving up. So I snapped "Quite right, Craig. Thank you", and to Joe, I added "Give my apologies to my father, and tell him we'll get together for dinner - but that I want no wine tonight, just water."
Joe rotted off, and Craig said "Sir, would it be better if on Saturdays and Sundays we did a bit of role reversal?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, during he day, instead of you being the owner and me the slave, you could be a slave, too - it would be easier for me to beat you, sir."
I laughed, put my arms around him - that was a treat, as I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be covered in sweat and holding another sweaty slave next to me -
and told him "Hey, Craig, no way you're going to be an owner! But we'll both be slaves, OK? And you can treat me as you like."
"OK. Down on your hands and knees, as I need a fuck."
"Craig, what are you talking about?"
"You heard me! I want to fuck. I'm a top, remember, and I'm boned. So hands and knees, and get ready for me to fuck you."
"No, Craig. We always negotiate this, remember?"
"Fuck you, Steve! We may negotiate when you're the owner and like playing at things like that. Or when we're 'buddies'. But now we're slaves, working away together. And I'm a top, and I'm the boss slave around here... And if you're not on your knees immediately, I'll have to make you...."
When I still didn't do anything, Craig rushed at me, and I realised just how much fitter and stronger he was than me! We rolled round and round on the floor, arms and legs flailing, and he easily overpowered me. Even then he'd have had problems fucking me if he hadn't been able to grab a length of hose that was lying on the garage floor and quickly use it to bind my arms together - it doesn't matter how strong you are, you can't completely overcome another guy to the point of being able to get your dick in him unless you do tie him or something (unless you knock him out, and then the fuck's no fun, is it?).
Afterwards, as I was lying there underneath him, his dick still skewering me, he lay his whole body right along the length of mine, and put his lips close to my ear. I could feel his hot breath on me and the sensual slipperiness of his body as it moved gently over mine, and he whispered "So, Steve, who's the top now?"
I ought to have been totally pissed off, I suppose, but, after all I had told him we could be slaves together. And I didn't have the energy for another round of argument about the roles of owners and slaves. And, the more I thought about it, the more I realised I'd enjoyed it - somehow, having been forcibly fucked (but not very hard, I suppose, as force fucking goes) was actually erotic in a way that sex with Craig normally wasn't! So I turned to face him, as best I could, and let him see me smiling as I said "Only for the moment, Craig, old buddy! A few more weekends of this forced workout and I'll take you, and your ass..."
"I look forward to it", he grunted as he eased himself out of me, then lightly sprang to his feet and helped me up. "I look forward to you trying to take me, Steve.... This fighting before fucking is a pretty good way of working out who's the real top guy!"
He was grinning, too, and I shook my arms at him to indicate that he should untie me, but instead of that he dropped to his knees, put one arm around my butt to hold me firmly to him (ouch! Those cane marks!), and started to suck me off. He looked up at me, took my dick out from between his lips for a moment, and drawled "I'm not finished with you yet though, Steve.... I'm going to drain your balls so you're really tired this afternoon, so I can really cane you.... And you know how sensitive you are when you've cum? Well, prepare to squeal like a stuck pig, as the moment I've got your cum in my mouth I'm going to go on and on licking and sucking..."
I did, of course - I've told you how sensitive my dick is. And afterwards we couldn't exercise for at least half an hour as we were both so overtaken with passion that we just wanted to lie there in, our limbs entwined, as we kissed and caressed with a fervour that we hadn't had for some time.
It caught up with me, of course. At the office on Monday my butt was so sensitive that it was really uncomfortable to have to sit in my chair and listen to the fools whining on about this and that. As a consequence my meetings and briefings were even shorter than usual, and so by mid afternoon I was finished and drove over to Karen's.
She greeted me with a "social" kiss as usual, and I stood up, rather than sitting beside her on the couch.
We exchanged the usual politenesses, and then I got straight down to business. "There's no simple way of putting this nicely, Karen", I told her bluntly. "But I've had some tests done, and both of the boys are mine."
"So? You know I know they're not Rob's, and that they're either yours, or that slave's."
"Yes, and that's the problem. I was rather hoping that one was mine, and one was Craig's. And as they aren't, I need to redress the balance. Craig would be really upset, if he found out, which he will, I suppose. We're partners, equals - or, rather, we always scrap about who's really the best! And if he found out that my little swimmers were more vigorous than his, it would hurt his pride terribly. And I don't want that - I need him to be strong, and vigorous."
"Oh, Steve - spare me the intimate details of your sex life! So what are you suggesting?"
"You need to have a couple more kids, and we have to fix it so that they're Craig's."
"You are mad, Steve. You know that, do you? Mad, crazy, living in a different world...."
"No, it seems perfectly reasonable to me. I've had you watched, Karen, and in spite of the hard exterior you show the world, you actually love those boys. So I don't see the problem with having a couple more..."
"Utterly crazy!"
"So let's cut the crap, shall we, and let's talk numbers. I've just been made Chief Operating Officer of the company, so name your price... A doubling of the allowance at least? Or would you like your old place back? I see it's being auctioned next week as part of your father's bankruptcy: we could stop that, and I'll buy it for you, your folks can move back in, a generous allowance will let you, and your father, be the pillars of society here again... Those parties in the big ballroom.... Lots of servants again...? "
She looked at me critically now. "You can't afford that. Daddy spent four or five million a year...."
"That's not a problem. My father's company is mine now, in effect, and I can spent absolutely what I like. I'll buy the house as an investment property on its books, the servants can be paid for out of the normal payroll... We can put most of the running costs against the company - the IRS will never find out.... It's yours for the asking...."
"But I can't have more children/ You're forgetting one important factor."
I knew I had her! She'd moved on from considering the house and stuff - that was a done deal! Now all we were arguing about was the fine detail. "And what's that, Karen? You're still fertile, aren't you?"
"You show a surprising lack of knowledge about the female body, Steve, for someone who had so much experience of it! Of course I'm fertile. I'm only twenty seven. But I couldn't possibly have kids, as I'm not married."
"Now it's you who knows nothing! Being married has nothing to do with it, it's just cum that fertilises..."
"No, idiot! Spare me Human Biology 101! I can't have kids if I'm not married, as it would destroy our place in society. There's no point in being the leader of the social set if they won't come to the parties at the house of a 'scarlet woman'."
I smiled slowly at her. "We can fix that, Karen! And tie up a lot of loose ends at the same time."
End Of Part 30