Date: Thu, 19 Jan 2006 07:19:12 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Someone Has To Do It, Part Thirteen

Someone Has To Do It

By Pete Brown        petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


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


Part  13

It's ironic, really, isn't it?  Even though a bloke
might not want to fuck, when he's properly stimulated
he still can't help getting an erection.  And Rob was
soon showing that he was physically capable of
fucking, although I was very concerned about  whether
I could control him or not if I untied him from the
bed - normally it would be no problem as I am stronger
and in better shape that he is, and I was trained in
fighting.  But when a man is aroused sexually he gets
a new strength from somewhere, and I didn't want to
risk having a full blown brawl right there in the
study:  I'd probably have won, but it wouldn't have
been a very good introduction to the pleasure of sex
for William - and if Rob was unconscious, he'd
probably lose his hard-on.

As Rob lay there watching, I decided to do it the
other way around:  I went and undid William from the
horse, and although he struggled, one arm around him
was enough:  It felt good to have his lithe body,
slippery with sweat, pressed against me, and my cock
pressed itself into him, trying to nestle in his bum
crack as we stood there looking  at his dad.  I
nuzzled at his neck and ears again to generate a bit
of sexual excitement, and whispered to him "We're
going to do something a bit different now, William....
Now, just do as I say and it won't be all that bad -
but if you struggle too much, I'll have to put you
across my knees and really spank your bum.  Do you
understand?  You've felt my hands there once before,
and when I'm sitting down with you sprawled across me,
you have to believe that it would be a whole lot
tougher!"

He was only half resisting as I moved across the room
with him towards the sofa.  Rob started to shout "No,
no... You can't be serious..."

"Rob, one more word out of you and you'll be gagged
again, and I'll give William here a little tap on the
bum, too...."

William was all tense as I gripped him and I could
feel him sweating profusely against my body.  I moved
my head down so he could feel my breath in is ear, and
whispered "Now this isn't going to hurt - you're well
stretched from the epic fuck you've just had, and your
dad isn't as big as me anyway.  So we're going to
stand on the sofa, astride your dad, and then you're
going to lower yourself onto his lap - although you
won't get there immediately, as his cock is sticking
up, as you can see.  So as you go down let your bum
spread and take his cock up into your arse, and lower
yourself ever so slowly..."

"No, Steve, please..."

"William, just don't panic.  I'm here to help you, and
provided you just do as you're told, nothing's going
to hurt you - it will be a bit uncomfortable, perhaps,
but you'll soon get the thrill of a cock inside you
again, and you'll forget all that..."

"No, Steve...."

"Yes, William.  Look, you've got to learn that in this
life, when things are inevitable, you may as well
accept them and start to enjoy them.  You're going to
lower yourself onto that cock, and there's nothing can
stop it.... So try to relax, and take the most from it
that you can.... Now, come on..."

He started to struggle as I went to get up on to the
sofa, so I pushed him away from me, grabbed his left
biceps so he couldn't go far, and slapped his bum four
times with my open palm.  He shouted, and for the
first stroke was continuing to struggle, but by the
fourth he'd sort of collapsed.  I ran my hands over
his bum to comfort him a bit, and said "Now, that's
what happens if you don't obey and do as you're told -
your father can tell you later about how he can really
punish a servant who's disobedient, or so he says, so
count yourself lucky I didn't cane you:  my hand isn't
nearly as hard at punishment as the cane is.  But
don't count on your luck holding. Now, come here..."

I gripped him around the upper body again, and I'm
sure his bum did feel warmer against me as we got up
to stand on the sofa.  Then I started to lower him,
all the time giving him instructions... You know the
kind of thing... "Bend your knees.... Slowly now....
Can you feel your dad's cock on your hole.... Right,
now very slowly, very gently.... There... That wasn't
so bad, was it?"

I was bent over the squatting boy, looking down at
Rob, and saw a look of pure hatred in his eyes.  "Hey,
Rob, how does it feel to be made to have sex with a
sixteen year old? I didn't enjoy it much earlier - so
let's see if we can't give you a better time of
it...."

I leant down to whisper in William's ears again "OK,
now the trick is to move up and down - not so high
that your dad's cock slips out.... But we want to give
him a good time, don't we?  And you're lucky, as I'm
here to help - this is a pretty athletic way of taking
cock, as your thighs have to work really hard, but
with my help, it won't be as difficult...."

I changed my grip so that my hands were under his
armpits - his pit hair was agreeably soft and silky
(and very sweaty!), and began to pull him upwards, and
then to lower him.  He soon seemed to get the rhythm,
and gradually  I found he was doing it himself, with
only the merest guidance from me.  He really started
to bounce up and down on Rob's cock, and as I looked
down I could see his own cock flying up and down in
sympathy with the motion.

I'm not sure that Rob actually shot a load, as after a
time I got bored with just watching, and really wanted
to take part again.  So I let William go right down so
he was squatting in his father's lap, with my hands on
his shoulders not so much to hold him down, but to let
him know that he should stay there.

"That was good, wasn't it, Rob?  You've never fucked
me like that, which is surprising as you can be a lazy
bugger, and having  the other bloke do all the work
ought to appeal to you.  Still, there won't be a
chance now.  I pity poor old Marco and Pavel and Ian,
though - I expect you'll have them bobbing up and down
on you most nights from now on!"

"Oh Steve, you're forgetting.... Even after you've
lost your balls - and I'm thinking now that we'll take
that cock off, too - you've still got an arse.  I was
thinking I might sell you, but not now, oh no - I'm
going to keep you here, naked all the time, with just
about half an inch of cock sticking out of your crotch
as a pathetic reminder of what you used to be like and
as a warning to other.  And then I'll fuck you, and
fuck you, and fuck you....  And I'll give orders that
the others are to do so too - after all, you won't be
any good at satisfying them, will you?"

"Rob, stop your sick fantasies!  I'm out of here.
You've had me for the last time..."

"You'll never get away.  You'll be dragged back, and I
think I'll have you docked here - I'll get a doctor to
come around, and have all the servants lined up to
watch..."

"We'll see about that!"  Actually,  I was worried, as
I didn't see how I was going to escape.  But what the
hell.  I was enjoying giving Rob  a dose of his own
medicine.

"So, Rob - this little sex party you've laid on this
evening... It's a bit one-sided, isn't it?  I've been
fucked twice, and I've fucked once.  William has
fucked once and been fucked twice, and you, Rob...
Well, you've fucked twice.  Do you see something
missing, something that needs to be done, to bring a
pleasing air of symmetry to the whole proceedings?"

"Steve, if you make a break for it now, get the fuck
out of here and try to get away, I promise I won't
call the police for half an hour..."

"That wasn't the answer I was looking for, Rob!  Two
and one, one and two, and two only.  What's missing,
Rob?  Has being married to a hot-shot lawyer addled
your brain, so you can't reason things out for
yourself?"

I saw him just glaring, and was in half a mind to slap
his face to get a bit of respect from him, but time
was moving on.  "OK, Rob, if you give up, I'll solve
the puzzle for you.  It's obvious when you think about
it - Rob's got to take cock!  The problem is, Rob, who
should do it?  There's no 'fair' way, really - if
either William or I fuck you, we end up as two-two.
Still, that's life, isn't it?  So, Rob, perhaps I'll
give you the choice - who's it going to be, Rob?
Young William, who won't hurt all that much as he's
still got a relatively small cock, and he'll shoot
almost immediately anyway?  Or me - well, Rob, you
know how I do it, don't you?  And it will take a long
time, and my nice thick juicy cock will give you a
good stretching..."

"You can't be serious!  You can't expect William to
fuck his dad..."

"He'll do as he's told, Rob.  Especially with me
holding him, and my hand ready to give him some
'instruction' on his bum if he fails to obey..."

"Please, Steve... Please, I'm begging you, don't make
him do that..."

"It's not me, Rob.  I'm giving you a choice.  It's you
who'd be making him do it if you choose him.  All you
have to do is to ask me to fuck you instead...  That's
simple enough, isn't it?  After all, we used to be
mates, and it's not as if we haven't been more
intimate recently - you've fucked me often enough....
So come on, which is it going to be?  Quick and easy
with William, your son, or, shall we say, 'more
intense', with me?"

"You can't ask a man to make that choice..."

"I'm not asking, Rob.  I'm telling you... Now,
choose..."

"Steve, please... You can't ask a man to choose who's
going to rape him..."

"Oh Rob, it's not rape - it's just three blokes
together for a night of sex, isn't it? That's what you
gathered us here for - how can that be rape? But
you're probably right - I'm so used to not being
allowed to make a decision on anything, that I've
almost forgotten what it's like!  So I'll fuck you
Rob.  And just to show you that I'm not an unthinking
sadist, I'm going to make it easy for you, and stretch
you and lube you...  So we need some lube, and I think
we've used up all the stuff you made me produce early
on."

I was still holding my arm around William as he
remained squatted on his father's cock, and I leaned
close to him again and said calmly "Now, you saw how a
man can be told to produce lube earlier on, didn't
you?  So why don't you show your dad and me how you
can do it?  Get wanking...."

"Steve, no, please... I can't do it in front of
dad..."

"You can and you will.   Just start wanking yourself,
think lovely thoughts, and feel the warmth of your
dad's cock still up your arse, and it will all come
right, you'll see...."

"No, Steve..."

"Yes, William.  And I'll make it easier for you - you
remember how your dad showed you how to play with my
nips earlier on, and how that made me go hard?
Well...."

I wrapped my other arm around his lithe body now, and
started to play with his nips with both my hands - I
don't know if you've ever noticed, but blokes' nips
only seem to come in two sizes:  big and dark and
fleshy aureoles with big nips, like I've got.  Or
small, pink ones, with tiny nips.  Well, William's
were the latter, but as I teased then, they did go
hard, and just about gave me enough to be able to get
my fingers on and really start to tweak.  I could feel
his body thrusting, trying to get away, but with my
arms wrapped around him, his dad's cock up his arse,
and his legs bent underneath him, there wasn't a
chance, was there?    Still, I could see the required
result, and his cock was jutting out from him, first
horizontal, and then, as a young bloke's can, it rose
above that.

"OK, William, come on now.... Show us how you wank, or
shall I do it for you?"

He started to stroke himself then, and it was clear he
was an expert at it, like most young blokes (and, I
suppose, most blokes in general!).  He gasped at me
"The ashtray, Steve... To
catch it..."

"No need, just let it fly...."

He carried on, and suddenly I saw the telltale signs
of spots of clear pre-cum landing on Rob's chest,
followed almost immediately by a couple of big streaks
of proper cum.  You have to envy young blokes, don't
you?  To be able to produce that much cum twice in one
night!  And with such force - they had sprayed right
up and it was trickling down from Rob's neck!

He sat there, panting, and I whispered to him "Good
lad!  Now, I'm afraid it's back on the horse for
you..."

"Steve, please... Don't fuck me again..."

"No, I'm not going to.  But I've got to put you
somewhere, as your dad and me have some unfinished
business.... You heard me...."

William walked back over to the horse, and I only
clamped one of his wrists o the front legs so he had a
lot of movement.  Then I went back over to the sofa.
"So, Rob, you used to like breaking in guys to sex,
just as I had to.  But you did it even when it wasn't
your job.... Like when I came here, and since then.  I
think it's time you found out how truly dreadful that
is, don't you?"

"Don't be such an idiot, Steve!  We both used to do it
as we were instructors, and the servants coming
through the training centre needed to be broken in -
someone had to do it.  And when you came here - well,
you're a lifetime indenture, aren't you?  And everyone
knows that one of the reasons people are prepared to
pay highly for such a contract is that the men and
women involved can be used in whatever way you want.
Julie is quite within her rights to use you for her
pleasure, as I am within mine.  But you're so far in
the wrong, Steve:  you're breaking the law, by
molesting your master.  And you're wrong morally too -
I had every right to fuck you, as you're my servant
and I'm your master.  But it's totally unacceptable
for a servant to fuck his master..."

"That's bullshit, and you know it, Rob!  We were
mates, and you fucked me.  Fucked me against my will,
not as two blokes who like each other might do after a
few pints when there's no women around. It's as simple
as that. So now it's just the reverse - I've decided
to fuck you, and that's all there is to it.  No right
or wrong, no laws, nothing:  you wanted to fuck me,
and now I want to fuck you.  It's just a matter of
who's in charge, who's controlling the scene, isn't
it, really?  You were, and now I am."

"...and I will be again, Steve.  So think on, about
that, before you do anything stupid."

I smiled down at him.  "Come on, Rob.  Let' stop
dissembling.  Let's get your ankles up around your
neck so I can see you properly..."

I reached down for his feet, but he resisted.  I
smiled at him again.  "Do you remember what you did
last time I tried to stop you lifting my legs?  Or,
rather, when you thought, or said you thought, that I
was resisting you?  If you want to avoid a cane on
your arse, Rob, you'd better start co-operating...."

Well, unlike young William, I didn't spare him as I
got him ready - four fingers, and a lot of pressure to
stretch him.  And I made him suck my fingers clean,
even though he choked and gagged at the smell and
taste of his own shit.  The fuck wasn't as spectacular
as I'd thought it was going to be, though:  like a lot
of things, the anticipation is better than the
actuality.  I'd thought for so long about getting
revenge on Rob, about how I'd fuck him until he was
raw and sore, that when it came to it, it was a bit of
an anticlimax.  Sure, I forced my way in.  And then  I
was pretty brutal in constantly stabbing at him as
hard as I could, pulling right out and then almost
"charging" back in to his hole as it was still open,
and so on.  But somehow it seemed "mechanical" - it
was almost as if I was a very good actor, following a
detailed script of how you really fuck a bloke hard
and totally humiliate and use him,  rather than being
a proper stud and really enjoying the sex.

Still, at the end of it, when I'd finally shot my load
and was lying on top of him, he was whimpering and
sobbing, although I felt nothing:  it was as if I was
empty inside.  I decided to mark him with a series of
love bites, so that his bitch of a wife, Julie, would
know what had gone on, and enjoyed hearing him moan
again as my teeth took his tender flesh.   But then it
was over.  I looked at him, sprawled across the sofa,
and almost laughed as he looked so pathetic:  he was
no longer the man who owned servants, who used them
vilely, who beat them - he was just a man lying there
recovering from the fucking of a lifetime!

Now, though, the horrible reality of my position began
to strike home.  I was trapped inside this place, and
had nowhere to go.  I left them tied there and ran up
to Rob's bedroom, and pulled stuff out of the
wardrobes until I found some of his things that
vaguely fit me, then went downstairs again.  He was
still lying sprawled there, and  I sat beside him and
took his balls in my hand.   OK, Rob - it must be
possible to turn off the perimeter fence thing:
where's the control?"

He just shrugged, and so I gave him just a little
squeeze on his balls, watching with interest as his
face contorted in pain.  "I think you heard me, Rob.
Where is it?"

This time his shrug and my squeeze, a lot less gentle,
resulted in him crying out in agony.

It was William who shouted "Please, Steve, don't hurt
dad... The control's hidden in the second drawer on
the left in dad's desk...."

I tore the drawer open, and instead of a normal blank
space, saw a sophisticated control unit with switches,
and a LED display that said "Enter passcode".

"What's the passcode, William?"

"I don't know, Steve."

So I squeezed Rob's balls again, and although he
shrieked, he didn't say anything.  It was William who
sounded desperate "Steve, I don't know, I swear.
Please, don't hurt dad - he never told me the
passcode."

I looked down at Rob.  "I believe him.  So I guess
it's up to you, Rob, to tell me how to turn this thing
off..."

He smiled. "Fuck you, Steve!  I'm never going to tell
you.  Without it, you're trapped here, and sooner or
later I'll be released, and then you're off to be
de-balled and stubbed.  If I tell you, you'll probably
kill me before you go.  So you can forget me even
thinking about telling you..."

I squeezed his balls again, and he screamed.  Above
his gasps and the retching noises he was making, he
managed to stammer out "I'll never tell you, fucker!
There's a limit to what you can do to my balls, and
you're almost there.   I'll never tell you,  Never,
understand?"

I went over to the antique ornamental case that held
his canes, and chose a medium lightweight one:
capable of cutting the skin when wielded the sort of
power I could apply.  Standing in front of him,
flexing it, he looked up.  "You're wasting your time.
 You can flog me if you like, but I'm never going to
tell you.  The pleasure of seeing that crotch of yours
without your cock and balls will more than repay any
pain you can cause in the short term.  So, strike
away... I can take whatever you can dish out, just as
you survived being flogged by me....

He struggled as I grabbed his ankles and pulled them
in turn back above his head.  It was tricky to tie
them to his spread-out arms, but when I'd finished his
bum was very neatly exposed:  the long thighs, the
arse hole, everything.  Rob lay there, looking at me
from between his legs, totally defiant.

"The passcode, Rob."

"Fuck you!"

So I hit him,  Hit him four times, with all my
strength.  And watched with some satisfaction as the
red lines broke out on his white flesh and then the
blood started to run down from them.  Rob was
screaming, of course, and I thought about gagging him
again, but decided against it as I know a man needs to
be allowed to express himself fully at times like
this.   Finally he stopped, and still lay there,
glaring at me.

"Go on, Hit me!"  His tone was scornful.  "You know as
well as I do, Steve, that after a time you can't hurt
me any more - so just hit away.  I'll have my revenge
- maybe I'll schedule you for a caning every week, to
give time for the last one to wear off...."

I picked up the very whippy thin cane and let Rob see
me flex it.  "Remember how this one is used, Rob?  You
think I can't hurt you any more?  I seem to remember
you used this on my arsehole.... So shall we try
that?"


He started screaming before I struck, and then sat
there looked defiant again as he realised I hadn't
actually done it.  I just couldn't.  I remember the
complete and absolute agony that had caused me, and
there was just no way I could inflict that on another
man, not even a bastard like Rob.

"So, Steve, you're starting to see sense... Now, just
release me, and I'll only have you castrated and
stubbed, and will only cane you once a month..."

"I think you're right, Rob, I can't hurt you enough to
make you tell me.  Not because you won't break, but
because I'm not a complete bastard like you.  So we're
going to do something different...."

I took a heavier cane this time, as I'd had enough of
blood.  Rob started shouting as he saw my intention,
but I had to go ahead with it.  Poor William's bum
looked so frail and innocent as he lay there on the
horse, and I whispered "Sorry, lad, but this has to be
done...."

I gave him only two strokes, and then right across his
bum, so that the whole length of the cane didn't make
contact and four little red marks appeared on the
rounded mounds of him.  He cried out, of course, but a
cane like that is designed to leave a dull, throbbing
ache rather than a searing stinging pain, and so he
just lay there sobbing.

Moving back to stand in front of Rob, I said "The
passcode?"

"You bastard.  Leave him alone - he hasn't done
anything to you..."

"...except fuck me!  He's sixteen, Rob, and a man.
And a man has to take responsibility for his own
actions.  You egged him on, but he wanted to do it...
And now he's suffering the consequences.  So, are you
going to give me the passcode, or shall I continue
educating William?"

"One three seven two."

"You're sure, Rob?  I've heard about these 'panic'
codes... Are you sure that's the one that turns it
off?  If I hear the alarms going, I promise you that
I'll beat William so hard that he never enjoys sex,
not ever...."

Rob just shook his head, and so I went to the box and
keyed the numbers in.  A red light lit up above
"system disarmed".  Cautiously I went over to the
corner and picked up the controller, and pressed the
button - not a tingle from my collar!

"Well, that was sensible.  Now you just lie there,
Rob, and I'll leave William on the horse, and I'll be
off...  I expect Finch will find you in the morning."

I raced upstairs to our bedroom - look, it was no use
doing anything about Pavel and Marco as they were
quite happy there, so I didn't tell them about the
control system being off, but instead told Ian to
"come with me as the master wants you as well
tonight."

Once we were out of the room, I hugged him.  "Come on,
mate... We're off..."

And then when he looked puzzled, I explained hat we
were escaping.  Ian's reaction shocked me, then "No,
Steve... I'm not coming."

"I thought you liked me... I thought we'd escape, be
real mates...."

"Steve, get real!  You won't escape!  Even though you
can get over the barrier, they'll find you. And they'd
find me.  And then what?  There are worse places than
this.  And I like it here.... Well, compared to
Bermondsey, it's paradise...."

"Ian, you're little worse than a slave!  You have to
work naked, the master can decide to fuck you again,
once I'm gone..."

"...but I'm well fed, I've got blokes to fuck whenever
I want to, and I like the life, outdoors, growing
things...."

We were down the stairs by now, heading towards the
potting shed.  Inside I got the big, heavy loppers we
used for pruning the biggest trees.  "Try these on my
collar...."

"Steve, if you tamper with it, it will kill you..."

"It's turned off,  I told you..."

"No, Steve, I can't risk it..."

"You've got to, Ian.... If I don't get this off,
you're right, I'll never make it.  And then I'll be
castrated, stubbed...."

"No, Steve,  I can't risk it... I like you too
much.... Let's go back inside and tell the master
you're sorry.... He'll probably only have you whipped
then...."

"Ian, I can't stand it!  I've got to get away.  If you
really do 'like' me.... Help me!"

Very reluctantly, Ian took up the heavy thing and got
the blades on my collar.  I watched, almost seething
with impatience, as his muscles strained as he tried
to close the handles, and then it worked - there was a
"snick" sound, and the thing fell away.  Ian came
right close to me and pulled at my collar, his muscles
heaving again as he pulled it open, and handed it to
me.

"Right, Ian... Now for you..."

"Steve, no... I told you."

"Ian, it's not 'liking' me, is it?  I though you and
me had something else going.  I've never said this to
another bloke before, so I don't know how to do it....
I don't just 'like' you, Ian, it's more... You know
that... And I thought you were the same...."

"I do, Steve!  You know that.  And that's why I don't
want you to carry on like this.  There's still time to
apologise to the master, and then we can be
together...."

Look, I think I'd have convinced him ultimately, if
I'd had more time - I'd just have crushed him in my
arms, kissed him, played with his cock, and then
fucked him.   But we heard the distant sound of police
sirens.  And at the same time, there was a kind of
"fizzle" from my collar as it lay on the floor.

"That's the police, Steve!  Quick, back and see the
master, before they get here..."

"But how...?  I left them really secure..."

"He probably gave you a fake code  - one that turned
off the barrier, but also silently alerted the
monitoring station, and when they tried phoning back,
Finch would have gone to see what was the problem...."

"That bastard...."

"That clinches it, Steve... Now, you go!  I've got to
stay now..."

I took one look at him, and saw he was serious, and
gave him a quick kiss.  I pulled on some clothes and
my boots, and sprinted down the garden and over the
fence.  All my plans, such as they were, were in
tatters:  I'd thought about taking the car and driving
into London.... But now I was running across the
manicured lawns and tasteful shrubberies of the other
houses on St George's Hill, very conscious of the moan
of the police sirens behind me.

I skulked along the edge of the Byfleet Road,  keeping
 in the shadows and trying to hide myself as much as
possible as I made my way towards the station -
there's a lot of traffic along there, but not many
pedestrians in that affluent part of Surrey, and I
didn't want to look conspicuous.  There was an
unanticipated problem, though,  when  I got down to
the station building at the bottom of the hill: even
though I'd got my stash of euros, I couldn't use them
in the machines as a notice pointed out that under the
anti-terrorism regulations tickets could only be
bought after your National Identity Card had been read
-  and as an indentured, I didn't have one of those,
did I?

Fortunately just before the next London train was due
another bloke came down the ramp, and he too was
dressed in "work" clothes.  I pulled the collar of my
sweater up a bit, and as he bought a ticket, muttered
"Can you buy one for me too, mate?"

He looked at me, and saw that I was obviously a
labourer, and said quietly "It's illegal, you know..."

"Yes, but I forgot my ID this morning..."

"Pull the other one, mate!  I reckon you're an
illegal, aren't you?"

I almost froze as I heard him say that, but he had
used the word "illegal" and not "indentured", so
instead of hitting him, I bluffed it out.

"No..."

"Yes, I reckon you're one of those illegals from
Wales... So you haven't got an ID card, have you?"

"No. Look..."

"It's OK by me, mate.  I think it's stupid the way you
all broke away from us, left the UK,  but there you
are.  And now there's no work over on your side of the
border, all you Welsh blokes are coming over here....
And they won't let you in, will they.  What do you do
anyway?"

"I'm a landscape gardener."

"Out of the frying pan into the fire, then!  There's
no work here for the likes of you, as it's all done by
Indentureds now...."

"It's tough.  They hardly pay me anything.  But I can
get some work occasionally, especially around here....
When they're buying a new servant or something...
What about you, though?"

"Chippie.  Well, more of a cabinet maker, really.  I
can still get work, as I've got the skills, but it
gets harder and harder as more and more blokes are
indentured...."

He looked at me again.  "I reckon you deserve a
chance.  It must be tough, being away from home....
Where are you going?  Waterloo?"

He put his ID card into the machine, pressed the
"cash" button, and held out his hand for my notes.
"No, make it a through ticket to the Underground - all
zones."

We went down on to the platform together, and I'm sure
that just as the train doors started to close I heard
the wail of sirens up on the road...  I was so worried
that I said goodbye at Clapham Junction, and then, to
try to confuse things, walked the distance to Clapham
Common to get the tube, rather than taking a bus.

It felt so odd to be "free" again, walking the
streets.  But in a sense I wasn't "free" at all -
every time I saw a policeman, or even a closed-circuit
TV camera, I began to worry.  And I soon found out
that life on the run was going to be a lot harder than
I'd imagined - a whole lot of the little bars and
restaurants along the road had a little green sticker
in the windows with a pictogram of a plastic card on
it, an the motto "No card, no service.  We're Crime
Fighters."  Even with those euros, it looked as if I
was going to be hungry.

Fortunately there was a chocolate machine on Clapham
Common Station, and I filled my pockets, and on the
journey towards Central London I wondered what the
fuck I was going to do.  With no ID card, it looked as
if I couldn't work, or eat, and I felt pretty certain
I couldn't get a room or anything, either.  It was
getting late, too, and near the time of the last
train, so I changed onto the Piccadilly at Leicester
Square , and headed West.

Hounslow West Station is pretty much in the middle of
a residential suburb, built in the 1930s - mostly
given over to workers at the airport, I suppose.  But
at least I wasn't totally conspicuous in the streets
as there were people going about their business as
it's pretty much a 24-hour operation.  I trudged
towards the A4 and fortunately there was an all night
caff that was clearly used by lorry drivers.  In the
steamy warmth inside they didn't seem to mind too much
about ID cards, and I laid out a pile of my
diminishing euros on a big plate of bacon, sausage,
toast, beans, eggs, fried bread and black pudding  -
it was fucking marvellous:  good as Pavel's cooking
was ,he was never allowed to serve us a proper fry-up
like this.

I watched the drivers eating, finally selected one - a
huge fat slob, who looked lonely - and went and bought
another big mug of tea, then went and sat at the same
table.  He was lonely, I guess, as he wanted to talk -
and all I could really do was listen anyway, as I had
no idea who was in the running for "the cup", or who
was who on the latest celebrity game show on TV.
But finally I got a word in edgeways and asked him
where he was going, and another torrent came out about
the way he was really put on, as no one else in his
depot wanted to go to Wales, and he'd got this stuff
for Cardiff...."

Well, as I said, he looked lonely, and he liked
talking, and I was a willing passenger.... We'd been
bowling along the M4 for a couple of hours when the
endless flow of drivel stopped suddenly.  "All right,
boy-o, time for you to earn your passage.... Get your
head down and get started..."

I was astonished, and just sat there in the cab.
"Listen, you're an escaped indenture.... And if you
don't want me to get on the mobile and call the
police, you'll start to repay me for the ride... Now
get your head down...."  As he said this, the driver
put his podgy hand down and unzipped his fly.

"How did you know?"

"I listen to the radio - there's not much else to do.
And they said a big, strong bloke had escaped in the
West London area.  And then there's you neck...."

Instinctively I reached up and felt my non-existent
collar.

"...that line in the tan.  You wore a collar until
very recently, didn't you?"

"So why did you give me a lift?"

"I told you - get your head down, and get to work...."

"Look, just let me out..."

"One call is all it takes...."  His hands were
stroking at his crotch now.  "One little call, and
you'll be back with your master.  So come on... I know
all about you indentures - you get used for sex, so
what's the problem?"

Well he was right, I suppose.  So I leaned over, and
put my head down - his jeans stank of stale piss, and
I thought he clearly didn't pay much attention to
personal hygiene as I got his cock out - something
reaffirmed as his 'skin pulled back as  I started to
lick at him and the vile smell of dried cum, piss and
sweat assailed me.  Still, once I'd cleaned it up, it
wasn't all that different from other cocks, except of
course that  I was used to sex with nice trim, fit
guys, who usually were clean before we started, and as
I worked away at this cock I had to contend with his
huge flabby thighs and overhanging belly getting in
the way.  I think it was that, rather than his cum,
that really made me feel sick.

Afterwards he made me keep me head down in his lap as
he said he liked to feel my skin against his cock, and
he started laughing.  "I get a lot of blokes like
you.... You all think you'll get in to Wales, and then
it will be OK.  But it isn't going to work.... Not
since they built the fence."

"What fence?"

"All along the border.  Electrified.  The English
built it, to keep you intentureds from escaping, and
the unemployed from Wales from flooding in here.  And
they check the passports on the Severn Bridges and the
other  crossings...."

"Passports?"

"Well, them or ID cards, as Wales in is the EC too.
But you don't have either, do you?"

"No."

"So that's you stuffed, then.  You won't make it
across the border."

End Of Part Thirteen