Date: Fri, 20 May 2005 22:42:17 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Labourer, Part 15

THE LABOURER  by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 15

The remainder of the week was almost like a vacation
for Craig and me.  Sure, the work was hard, and there
was a lot of it, and we hated not being able to piss,
and having to wear the dreadful condom-things every
day.  I didn't like Karen staring at my body, either,
although Craig didn't seem to mind and in fact he made
a bit of a joke of it.  "You are odd, Steve", he
whispered once when he saw me glaring at her as she
was looking right at my dick and balls.  "You were
supposed to be this stud, always chasing pussy and
mostly getting it, as I understand it, and yet you're
embarrassed at being seen naked by a woman.  Whereas
I, who've never been with a woman and who really ought
to hate having to display what ought to be between me
and other guys, well, I really don't care."

"But I used to know Karen socially.  She's Rob's wife,
we were buddies..."

"Did you fuck her?"

"Hell no!  She was always a stuck-up bitch.  Her
father's the richest man in town, and even though my
folks were comfortably off, there's no way she'd
associate with a guy like me."

"So why did she go with Rob, then?"

"Well he was planning to be a lawyer, and her father's
the head of a big law firm.... Perhaps she likes
lawyers?"

"Or perhaps she saw a good looking stud who's
basically weak, and who she could dominate?  Someone
she could use in bed, but control?  You know, Steve, I
reckon that ex-buddy of yours is taking it out on you
as he has such a miserable life the rest of the time."

"Oh, come on!"

"No, Steve.  You think about it - he's always wanted
to fuck with you, but never dared ask.  Even though
you were the town stud, he could have made some move
on you if he was a real man - you could only have said
'no' after all, or hit him, or something!  But he
didn't, and just wasted your friendship longing for
you and doing fuck all about it.  Then, when you
thought you could trust him to hold your indenture,
the first opportunity he has he  gets you tied down,
and proceeds to fuck the insides out of you.  And then
all this pissing stuff, which he hasn't done again -
it's all about power, as I told you.  He's trying to
control you, to dominate you, in a way that he
couldn't when you were buddies:  you're a real
aggressive top, as we know, and even though you didn't
know you liked guys then, I bet you always made the
running, always decided where you were going to drink,
always decided things..."

"Yes..."

"So there you are!  You controlled him, and now he's
having this pathetic attempt at trying to dominate and
control you.  And it might have worked, except for
these little night-time escapades..."

Rob had been coming down to the pool house every
night, and every night we'd cum over his dick and he'd
gone back to the bedroom.  As the week wore on,
though, he began to look sadder and sadder, more and
more pathetic.  And  the third night Craig insisted
that Rob went down on his knees and sucked us to an
erection before he agreed to cum on Rob.  I could see
that Rob hated doing that, but Craig kind of shrugged
when Rob protested, and said "So are you going to whip
us then, Master Rob, to make us cum over you so that
you can impregnate your wife?  Best do it quietly, as
if you hit us too hard and we scream, your wife might
come down to see what's going on...."

"Yes", Rob went on, "He's a really stupid fucker!   It
was bad enough when he might just have been divorced
and out of a job and left with no money or home.  But
what happens now?"

"How do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Steve!   Two virile guys like us, two big
loads of our cum every night.  It's bound to work.  So
when she produces the sprog, what then?  Rob's going
to be terrified all the time that you or I might say
something to the lovely Karen!  What do you think her
father might do when he realises his precious
grandchild has been fathered by an indentured servant?
 And what about Rob - at the very least he's guilty of
some sort of felony or other - artificial insemination
without all the proper approvals and consents must be
illegal here:  I reckon he'd get a long custodial
sentence, and would end up with an indenture.  What a
laugh that would be, to have Rob working for Rooney,
so we could fuck him....   He just hasn't thought this
through, he's just clutching at straws to get over the
immediate crisis without thinking about the
consequences at all."

I'd have asked Rob more about this, but Karen was
looking at us, watching us talking, and shouted "Work!
 Or else when my husband gets home, you'll be
punished!"

"In your dreams, lady", Rob whispered to me through
clenched teeth, so she wouldn't see.  "Rob won't dare
punish us now."

Craig was right, too.  That night he told Rob to bring
beer with him down to the pool house, and after we'd
cum all over Rob's dick, Craig and  I sat there and
had something that we'd never had since our
indentures.  As we sat in the darkness, drinking our
beer, our arms around each others shoulders, I thought
what a waste my life had been all the time I'd been
growing up:  I could have been drinking like this with
a guy like Craig, enjoying real closeness with another
guy.  And I was so convenient just to put the bottles
down and then start to roll around on our makeshift
bed, our arms and legs wrapped together, our lips
pressed close, our tongues beating, and our hands
scrabbling for each others tits and dicks to stroke,
caress, and stimulate each other.

All good things have to come to an end, though, and by
the weekend Rob's new paving was all done, and on
Friday evening Rooney's truck called to collect us.
Rob didn't even say "thank you" or anything as we
drove away, and Craig said to me "See, what an
asshole!  Still, he'd better be nicer to you in
future..."

"That's blackmail!"

"Sure, Steve!  You're a top, remember?  A top takes
control, uses his power..."

That night, back in our tiny bed in the barracks,
after we'd had a lot of joshing from the other guys
who saw our butts were quite red from the sun, we lay
together as usual.  After we'd jerked each other off
and were getting ready to sleep and Craig was
companionably spooned up against me, he started to
tease the tip of his dick along my ass crack.  I
moaned gently, as it felt good, and Craig got bolder,
moving my ass cheeks apart a bit and continuing to run
his dick up and down, deeper and deeper.  When he was
deep enough so that his dick tip was brushing over my
hole,  I was almost squirming with the wonderful
sensation of it, but then he stopped, and pushed
gently.

"Hey, Craig, cut it out...",  I whispered.

"Come on, Steve, you know you like the feel of my dick
on your hole... Just a little way in..."  As he said
that, the insistent pressure of his dick to get inside
of me intensified.

"No, Craig!  I don't take dick - it's bad enough when
Mister Rooney and Master Rob force me... Please,
Craig, stop it...."

But he didn't stop, and I heard him give a little
laugh, as if it was amusing.  But I didn't find it at
all funny.  As the pressure intensified, I suddenly
turned over, making Craig give a little cry or
surprise as his dick was bent and popped right out of
my ass crack.  I put my arms around him, and pulled
out bodies close, and could feel his erection stabbing
into my belly.  "I told you to cut it out, Craig!  I
don't take dick..."

"Hey, Steve, cool it, it was only a bit of fun..."

"Well I didn't find it very funny."

"But you did enjoy it, I could tell...."

"No, I didn't!".  Even as I said this, I wondered if
it was completely true.

We went to sleep then, but every night when we were
together from then on Craig always started to play
with my hole, fingering it, pushing his dick at it,
and generally trying to fuck me.  He got closer and
closer to getting in me, and I suppose I was stupid to
let it go on for so long, as I should have really
insisted he cut it out.  Finally, as he was spooned up
against me as usual, and was nibbling at my shoulders,
something I find intensely arousing, he whispered
"Come on, Steve... Let me in, tonight... Just a little
way..."

"No!  How many times do I have to say it."

"I think you're scared, Steve.  I'm not going to hurt
you, you know... I know what I'm doing..."

"I'm not scared!"

"Come on, then....  Look, Rooney and your ex-buddy
always have to tie you down... Let me show you what
it's really all about..."

"No, Craig, please..."

"Yes, Steve, come on... Just lie there...."

Well, I wondered what he was going on about, as I was
lying on my side with him lying behind me, and I'd
only been fucked, and had only fucked, lying on my
belly with my legs on the floor, or  on my hands and
knees with my ass in the air, or on my back with my
legs tied back.  It occurred to me that he couldn't
really fuck me lying there as we were, just tease my
hole with his dick, so I kind of let it go.

I was getting more and more excited by the feel of his
dick on my hole, and he had his arm around me, his
hand alternately stroking my belly and then moving
down to play with my dick - which was rock hard.  He
pulled me close to him, and his breath was hot on my
shoulders, and he trust forward, and "something
happened" - I realised his dick had been forced into
me.

I started to mutter "No, Craig", but he began to pump
his hips, slowly and carefully, ever so slowly and
carefully, just rocking backwards and forwards, still
holding me close to him, holding my body with his arm
and hand.   I realised my own hand was trying to lock
with his as it moved up and down my belly, and found
myself stroking his forearm, and I remember feeling
quite distinctly the hairs there.

"Good boy...", he was crooning into my ear  "Good boy,
Steve... Just relax, let me use you...."

He carried on rocking backwards and forwards, and
waves of pure unadulterated pleasure were going
through me.  I could almost hear myself moaning, and I
knew I had broken out into a hot sweat, as I could
almost feel Craig's body slithering over mine as he
worked away.  He kept breathing into my ear, murmuring
encouragement, telling me to relax, and repeating over
and over "You're a good boy, Steve..."

I don't know how long it went on for.  It felt like
for ever.   But then his gentle thrusts became just a
bit more insistent, and his strokes just a bit longer.
 It was no longer quite so much fun, and I realised
what was happening - we were no longer playing a more
sophisticated game of enjoying each others bodies, but
Craig was fucking me!  Yes, in a wonderful, loving
way, but  I was getting fucked nevertheless.  I tried
to pull away, but Craig pressed his hand down into my
crotch and held my balls.  My own hand tried to pull
him away off them so I could move my body right away,
and his gentle, loving tones changed.  Suddenly he
hissed in my ear "Hold still, you fucker... I'm almost
coming... Don't spoil it for me...."

"Cut it out!", almost shouted, still unsure as to
whether I wanted to let all the other guys know what
was happening.  I tried to pull forward as I said
this, and in response, Craig really squeezed my balls!


"Fucking behave, boy!....".  His own tone was now a
command, no longer a whispered intimacy between two
lovers.  He stabbed almost savagely forward, then I
heard "Jesus fucking Christ.....", and Craig's body
tensed, and then went still.

There was silence for a few moments, then I heard
Craig say in my ear "You're an ace fuck, Steve, I
always thought you would be.  I'll need to give you a
bit of training as you don't really grip my dick
properly... And we can't go through all this every
night, as sometimes I'll just need to ram it home with
you on your back...."

"Craig.... Craig, what are you going on about?"

"Hey, Steve, there can only be one real top in a place
like this, and I've been wondering which one of us it
was going to be.  Then I saw how you didn't really use
Rob, and I knew you were probably just playing at it,
so I decided to fuck you!  It took a long time to get
there, but you're my boy now - I had to go through all
this gentle stuff, leading you on, getting you closer
and closer, as I knew I probably couldn't easily just
force you.  You can still fuck the other guys when I
don't want to use you, but you've got to agree you
liked taking my dick, didn't you?"

"Craig... We were meant to be buddies..."

"Hey, we are.  But when I need to fuck you, you know
that I'm the real top, OK?"

"No, it's not OK... You used me, you fooled me, that's
not what buddies do, Craig...."

"Oh quit whining!  You're almost as bad as Rob.  Look,
we're good together, and we don't need to change
that... In fact I don't want it to change.  But I have
needs as a man, and I wasn't getting it from you.  Now
you know what it's like to take my dick, it will be
best for both of us, Steve..."

"Fuck you, Craig..."  I pulled away from him as I said
this.

"No, Steve!  It's you who gets fucked, boy!  Now stop
all this foolishness, just acknowledge that I'm in
charge ,and lets' get some sleep..."

I turned on him and hit him.  I felt humiliated that
he'd used me like that.  But, worse that than, totally
betrayed.  I thought we were real buddies, equals, but
all the time he'd been using me, just waiting a chance
to slip his dick into me so that he could start to
totally control me.  I hit out at him. And once one
blow had landed, he responded automatically, and soon
we were rolling around the floor, kicking, punching,
and trying to seriously hurt each other.

We're both big guys, as I've told you, and none of the
other guys seemed to want to interfere as we fought.
We didn't care - I was outraged, and wanted, no
needed,  to re-establish my own sense of self
importance.  And Craig was soon fighting just to stay
alive as with my anger and indignation I got an almost
berserk kind of strength and determination to beat the
shit out of him.  We thrashed around on the floor,
pushing the beds this way and that, and all the other
guys were, I guess, just too scared to get involved
and to try to stop us as we tried to beat the shit out
of each other.  I remember pummelling Craig,
repeatedly smashing my fists into him wherever I
could, and gradually I wore him down.  I was astride
him, alternatively punching at his face and smashing
his head onto the floor, when my whole body was thrown
aside, and I lay twitching helplessly on the floor.

When I recovered a bit, there was Ryan, one of the
overseers, standing over me holding my prod.  "Very
good, you piece of shit!  I've never been able to use
it on full power before...".  My whole body felt as if
it was frozen, except for the seemingly random motions
of my limbs as I struggled to breathe.  I couldn't
stop, or even more aside, as his boot drew back and
smashed into my ribs.

I think I'd have been seriously injured as Ryan
continued to kick at me, except that the other
overseers called him off, and then gradually, very
gradually, I managed to get first to my hands and
knees, and then haul myself to a standing position.  I
could see Craig still lying there, and there was an
incredible amount of blood all over him, over me, and
all over the floor.

We were both marched off towards the main house, the
overseers constantly threatening us with their prods,
and into the big reception room, and made to stand
there in front of the fireplace as I had before.
There was a flurry of activity as Mister Rooney came
into the room. He didn't waste an instant. "Who's
responsible for this?", he demanded.  "Who started
it?"

Craig and I both stood there, heads bowed
submissively, both shifting slightly on our feet as
our bodies tried to adjust to minimise the pain we
were both in.  "If you don't speak up, I'll consider
you equally responsible...."

Shit!  I mean, it was Craig's fault, fucking me and
then telling me about how he'd been trying for so long
to do it.  But I'd struck the first blow, I suppose.
"I'm waiting", Mister Rooney continued.  "Isn't one of
you man enough to admit to causing all this?"

Well, I wasn't going to let that go, was I?  Craig
might be a deceiving liar, but at least I was a proper
man.  "It was me", I muttered.  "I struck him first."

Rooney's eyes swivelled to stare at me.  "I might have
known!  You've never really adapted to being an
indentured servant,   I should have known that this
'voluntary' thing would have attracted an odd ball.
At least with criminals they understand that they're
being punished.  But I won't have this -  I won't have
my servants fighting!  Especially not fighting to the
extent that they might hurt each other - your
contracts are valuable assets of mine, and I won't
risk having them devalued.  Yo will need to be made an
example of, to show the others that this type of
behaviour just will not be tolerated here."

I stood there, half hoping that Craig might say
something, might tell Rooney that it was at least
partially his fault.  After all, Rooney knew that we
were both tops, and if he punished us both too hard,
the general welfare of all the guys would suffer.  But
on the other hand I wanted to stand up there and take
it like a man, by myself.  That would show Craig who
was a real top, who was tough enough to take anything
that Rooney could hand out.

"So have you anything to say?", Rooney asked me, his
eyes blazing with fury.

"No."

"That's it!  That's absolutely it, Steve!  Everything
I've said to you about servants showing proper
respect! And you dare to stand here in front of me,
dripping with the blood of one of my servants that
you've injured, and you're not even humble enough to
use the proper form of address to your indenture
owner!  I was going to punish you harshly for
fighting, but it's just been doubled!  Twenty lashes,
proper lashes, from the public whipmaster.  Evidently
the cane and the tawse have not been enough to tame
your hide - well, perhaps this will do it."

I know it's stupid, but actually a tiny thrill of
excitement ran through me.  All the other guys had
talked form time to time about the public whipmaster,
and how it was the most terrible punishment imaginable
to be put onto the whipping post and whipped.  I
remembered them saying that even the toughest guy was
reduced to a quivering heap when this happened.  I'd
show them that I was different.  I'd show them that I
was tough, that I could take it.  There would be no
doubt after this who was the top dog amongst the
servants - Craig would always be number two from then
on.  As these thoughts raced through my mind I began
to get an erection - well, even though I was hurting
all over, one eye was closing shut as a huge bruise
swelled on my cheek, and I was having difficulty
breathing as my ribs were so painful, the idea of
proving myself so publicly was just overwhelming.

"Take Craig back to the barracks and clean him up!",
Rooney commanded.  "And take Steve and lock him down
in the holding cell - that will cool down him down a
bit.  Let's see how he's feeling in the morning."

Craig never even looked back at me as he was led out,
his lovely back and butt all covered in sweat and
blood from where we were fighting.  Then Ryan pointed
his prod at me and aimed me out of the room.  "You
heard Mister Rooney, fucker,", he snapped.   "I
enjoyed seeing you after the prod earlier, and it's
still set on maximum.  Get your ass moving...."

The holding cell was off the passage that connected
the main house to the barracks.  I'd always wondered
what some of the doors that lined this walkway were
for, and had just assumed that they were mostly store
rooms of some kind.  But when Ryan pulled a heavy door
open, inside was just a are space - totally bare.
There were cement walls, a cement floor, and a
fluorescent tube in the ceiling behind a tough-looking
glass cover.  The only relief from the bareness was a
hole in one corner, and a piece of rubber sticking out
just above it.

"Right, in you go!!  The hole's for crapping in.  And
if you suck at that rubber you'll get water.", Ryan
snapped.  "If there's any mess in the morning, you'll
be punished even before the public whipmaster
arrives."

I went in, and the chill of the chard walls and floor
struck at me almost at once.  "Sir", I said, trying to
sound reasonable, "Please may I have at least a
blanket to keep warm?"

"Hey, fucker, this is a punishment cell!  There's more
ways of punishing you than the cane and the tawse, you
know.  By the time we let you out tomorrow morning
you'll have cooled down a bit, I can tell you!  Now,
have a good look around...."

As he said this, Ryan stepped outside and slammed the
heavy door.  I heard the locks engage, and as I was
just deciding whether to get some water and to try to
wash the blood off me, the light went out.  It was
pitch black, and as I tried to find the door and pound
on it to attract Ryan's attention, I knew it was
useless.  Even when I had managed to find the heavy
steel and began beating at it with my fists, to the
best of my ability, there was that totally dull, dead
sensation that means that the sound is not getting
through.  And then it occurred to me that it was
probably Ryan who'd turned out the light anyway, so
all my protesting was useless.

I began to shiver, and tried to wrap my arms around
myself, but the pain from my ribs and belly where
Craig had punched me and Ryan had kicked me was just
too intense.  I tried sitting on the floor, which was
hard, and cold, then struggled to my feet.  I was
shivering a little now in the dank coldness, and if I
could have, I'd have done some exercises to try and
get warm - but then, I reasoned, it was probably only
about ten p.m. now, and Ryan had said "tomorrow
morning", so I'd got at least eight, probably ten,
more like twelve, hours in there:  I couldn't ever
exercise that long.

I began to realise why it was a "punishment cell".  If
you've ever been in the total darkness, you'll know
that that's bad enough:  I mean, even is a so-called
"dark" room in a house or something, there's always
some light.  But in this cell not a chink of light got
through the door, and there was no window or anything,
 so it was utterly, totally dark. If I moved around at
all, I was in danger of bumping into the walls as I
lost all spatial awareness.  When I needed to piss,
remembering what Ryan had sad about mess, I literally
had to crawl about the floor to locate the crap hole.
And similarly, when I needed water as I was
desperately thirsty after all  the effort and sweating
of the fight, I had to grope around the walls to
locate the rubber spigot.

If the darkness was bad, the cold was worse.  Look, I
don't suppose it was all that cold really - not down
to freezing or anything.  But I was totally naked, and
had absolutely nothing to cover myself with.  The cold
struck through m feet, but if I sat, or even lay down,
it was even worse.  There was just no way of getting
warm, and my teeth began to chatter and my limbs to
shake, as time went on.

The third aspect of the punishment was of course that
I had absolutely no ideas of the time - I had no way
of knowing whether I'd been there one hour or two, or
even for just a fee minutes.  Every time I thought I
could take no more and I'd just lie there and die of
the cold, something said "yes, but it's only a few
more minutes- you can take it."  But was it a few more
minutes, or a few more hours?

When I did eventually hear the sound of the locks on
the door operating,  I almost sobbed with joy.  I knew
I must be blue with cold, and I'd long since stopped
even shaking - my skin now felt icy to my touch.   As
the door opened the light almost hurt my eyes, and I
stood there, blinking and squinting, but grateful for
the last of warm air that came in from the corridor.

Both Ryan and Sean were there, prods at the ready, and
next to them stood a guy I'd never seen before.  He
was in a smart uniform - a kind of derivative of the
tight breeches and shirt that the Highway Patrol wear
- with a military-style cap on his head.  He looked to
be in his mid fifties, but incredibly hard and tough:
he sported a small, well trimmed moustache, and his
body almost bulged out of his clothes, not from fat,
but from solid muscle.  As he crossed his arms, I
could see all the muscles in his biceps rippling.  He
was heavily tanned, and from the way he carried his
body upright and moved in quick, precise movements, I
guessed he was probably ex military.

He uncrossed his arms, and reached out to feel my
body.  I took a step back.  "Easy, son!", he said in a
not unkind voice, but one that was clearly used to
commanding, and being obeyed.  "Now this is going to
be tough for you, but this first part of it isn't so
bad.  I need to get an idea of your general physique
and general musculature so I know which whip to use
later today.  It's important that I get the weight
right, as too heavy a whip on a light guy can simply
flay him to ribbons, and too light a whip on a
tough-looking guy like you doesn't really give the
proper degree of punishment, and we wouldn't want
either of those, would we?"

I just stood there, looking at him.

"Look, son", he went on.  "You're being punished for
fighting, and your indenture holder has told me that
you can be wilful and disrespectful.  Now it's got
pretty bad for you already, but I'd advise you not to
make it any worse, so in your own interests I'd advise
you to show me a little respect, and to answer my
questions promptly and properly.  Now, we wouldn't
want you to be flayed, or to escape punishment, would
we?"

"Sir, no, sir", I mumbled.

"Good.  Were you ever in the service?"

"Sir, no, sir."

"I thought not.  Soldiers always act respectfully,
even if they don't feel it.  But you seem to be a nice
enough guy... Now, come over here, and kneel in front
of me so I can examine your neck and shoulders."

I took a couple of steps forward, and knelt down in
front of him.  I saw his crotch bulging in front of
me, and caught a whiff of that special male scent that
hovers around all guy's trousers.  As my knees pressed
into the hard cement, his fingers pried into the
muscles on my shoulders, and then his hands took hold
of my head and twisted it back and forth.  His fingers
felt really hot against my icy skin, and somehow he
seemed to be in charge, in control as his blunt,
stubby thumb almost made me cry out when it dug into
my muscle.

"OK, son.  On your feet.  Stand easy!"

I stood there in front of him as his calloused palms
ran down the side of my ribs.  I winced and cried out
when he squeezed them gently, as I was so painful from
the previous night.  At once he pulled back, and said,
gently, "Easy, son... It will soon be over."

On down my thighs, then he went behind me and I felt
his calm, firm hands running down my back, his fingers
probing into my waist.  It was just as if he was
sizing up some prize specimen of animal at a County
Show, and he had no hesitation at all in testing the
musculature of my butt.  He didn't pry into my crack
or hole, though, as there was nothing overtly sexual
in his examination - he hadn't, for example, even
brushed his fingers against my dick when he was
examining my front.

He came and stood in front of me again, and told me to
raise my arms up in the air, above my head.  "Now,
son, this is going to hurt you just a little.... Just
stay still, perfectly still...."

As he said this he reached up into my pits, took a
pinch of hair between his thumb and forefinger, and
yanked it out!  Hey, don't try this at home!  If you
want smooth pits, use clippers and a razor, and don't
try to uproot the hairs there as your skin is
incredibly tender there and it hurts like fuck!

He stood there holding the little bunch of my hair,
smiling slightly.  "That wasn't so bad now, was it
son?  Of course later on it will be far worse - when
the end of the whip coils around into your pits and
snags itself in your hair, quite a lot of I will be
ripped out as I pull the whip back.  But the little
test I've done shows there'll be no permanent damage -
just a whole lot of noise from you!"

He turned to Sean and asked "Does Mister Rooney like
them gagged during punishment, or are they allowed to
scream?"

"I think he normally lets them scream - it's a better
lesson for the others."

"Son, that's it, then, until we meet again later.  At
least your indenture owner is a merciful man - letting
you scream helps you to dissipate the pain more
easily.  And, believe you me, the whip is like nothing
else you have ever experienced.... You haven't been
whipped before, have you?"

"Sir, no, sir."

"I didn't think so.  When I ran my hands over your
back and butt I couldn't feel any of the residual
signs - the little patches of hard flesh under the
surface, where the muscle never recovers properly and
the body kinds of fences it off in a cyst.  But don't
worry - I know my job:  you'll really hurt, but there
won't be any permanent damage - well, not to your
body, at least.  I think you'll find your mind is
altered, permanently."

With that he stepped out, and Ryan slammed the door
again, leaving me once more in the black and the cold.

End Of Part 15