Date: Wed, 11 May 2005 15:47:12 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Labourer, Part 10

THE LABOURER  by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean, Mike?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How?"

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

"Are you sure, Mike?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rob nodded, and now it was Rooney kneeling on front of
me, and gripping my balls.  If the pain from the first
two pincers was bad, what happened next was so totally
unexpected, and so totally different - if you can
categorise pain at all, this was in a different class:
 "jagged" and "sharp" and cutting".  Rooney got to his
feet, and when my screaming had stopped, said casually
to Rob "That little triangle of skin underneath the
dick head is so especially sensitive - the more so in
uncut guys.  When the teeth bite into it, it's always
interesting to see how they start to scream all over
again."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This is itself interesting", he told Rob.  "If you
ever need to punish a servant without leaving marks on
the skin, it's quite a suitable thing to do - before
long the pain in his calf and thigh muscles will
become almost indescribable as he tries to keep all
the weight on his toes like that - rather like a
ballet dancer always having to be on points and never
allowed to touch the ground with the flat of the foot.
 He won't really appreciate it, of course, as he's
hurting so much all over already and you ought just to
bring him in here one day and leave him handing there
for a couple of hours like that. But that's not the
best of it....."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nothing!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End Of Part 10