Date: Tue, 7 Jun 2005 22:33:41 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Labourer, Part 25

THE LABOURER  by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 25

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

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

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

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

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

"Sir, yes, sir."

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

"And where will I sleep, sir?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, ma'am."

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

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

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

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

"Bill's the same.  The only time he does any exercise
is when he's invited to a client's house and plays a
bit of tennis as a social prelude to serious business.
 I'd wish he did more, as I like hard muscle in a
man..."

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

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

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

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

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

"How?"

"Well, it's not about love or even passion:  it's more
of a 'transaction'.  Bill and I went to the auctions
and I picked Gary out - he's twenty, still a baby
really, but like all twenty year olds he's really
horny.   I wanted someone with a nice trim body - not
big, like Bill and Mike - and a nice small tight butt.
 And a big dick of course...  Bill was quite amused,
and the only argument we had was to whether we should
get one with a bit bigger ass - Bill was afraid that
if he ever wanted to take Gary himself,  he'd split
him in half - I expect Mike is big there, isn't he,
like Bill?  Looking at Steve it seems that big dicks
must be a genetic thing in their family!  I wonder if
Mister Masters is like that - if he is, I feel sorry
for that Joe!"

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

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

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

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

"The nail?"

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

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

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

"How...?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

"Oh no!  It would put me off dinner tonight, to be
served with that monster sticking out in front of him.
 Imagine, as he leaned over to serve me, it might
skewer me in the eye!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

End Of Part 25