Date: Sun, 12 Jun 2005 13:07:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Labourer, Part 28

THE LABOURER  by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 28

Leaving Craig and  Joe standing there, my father led
me into his study, and tossed me a bath robe.  "Here,
Steven - it's not decent for a man like you to go
around exposing himself!"

"But dad, you made me wear this..."

"No, Steven, a slave wore that tunic.  The rules are
different for men."

"But why did you do all that..."

"Because, Steven, I love you.  I love all my sons, as
fathers do.  But of the three of you, I've always had
a special affection for you.  Perhaps it was the wild
streak in you - I always had to buckle down and work
when I was growing up, and perhaps I was envious of
your freedom to not study, to chase the women.... I
always hoped you'd grow out of it, but you seemed to
be getting more and more out of control, and I knew
that if I did, or said, anything, the stubborn streak
in you would just make you all the more determined to
act as you wanted.  So I had to let you 'fall', and
then, as any father would, I picked up  the pieces.
But I knew that if I just let you live a normal life,
gave you money, you'd just be contemptuous of me, and
would do something even more outrageous to 'test' me:
that's what fathers and sons do, especially
strong-willed sons:  they constantly push the limits,
testing the love their fathers have for them."

"You needed to work out for yourself what life was
like.  I deliberately did not intervene when you
voluntarily indentured yourself - although I could
have bought your indenture then!  I failed to notice
Rob's schemes, I must say.   But once you were a
slave, I could exert a subtle power over you, by
agreeing with Rooney that you were to be physically
worked as hard as you imagined you wanted to be.  And
then I needed to demonstrate to you that you were not
stupid - I suspected all this silly rebellion about
not going to college was because you were secretly
afraid that you might fail - and you don't like
failing, do you, Steven?  Men like you believe in
themselves, and can't tolerate failure, so you go out
of your way sometimes to avoid putting yourselves in
situations where you think you might.  But as slave,
being forced to study, the pressure was off and you
could see that you could do it - as was demonstrated
today, when you graduated."

I broke in  "Dad.... Thank you... Thank you for
supporting me today.... All alone there, with them all
watching you, and you clapped on, and on..."

"Of course I did!  I'm proud of you, Steven!  Proud
you studied and graduated and came out near the top of
the class.   What father wouldn't be proud of his son,
and be proud to show the world he was proud?
Especially when you were the biggest,  best-looking,
most handsome guy there in that graduating class...
I only wish your mother had been alive to see it."

I hung my head a bit as he mentioned mom.  I didn't
know how to say it, but I had to.  "Dad, about mom...
Well, you and Joe..."

"Steven, it pains me to speak of it.  And it is none
of your business, even though you are my son. But let
me tell you that never a day goes by without me
thinking of her. But I do have urges, son, as you
do.... I could not even consider going with another
woman, and disrespecting your mother's memory.  So Joe
is perfect - he's available, and he knows how to
satisfy a man.  Indeed, you will l know that from your
own experience."

He looked at me, and I blushed.  "But dad, it's not
right..."

"What isn't right, Steven?  Me wanting sex?  A lot of
sons have difficulty in thinking of their fathers as
sexual beings, but I'm still young, you know!  Or is
it that you don't like me having sex with a man?
After that little exhibition a few moments ago with
Craig, that is slightly hypocritical of you.  Or is it
that you are in fact jealous?  Jealous that Joe, who
used to adore you, now knows what he really wants in
life?"

I just sat there, silent.  As usual, he seemed to have
all the answers.  And then I realised what I'd been
doing all my life.  Dad always was right, but I never
wanted to admit it.  I never wanted to say he knew
better than me.  So I did more and more outrageous
things, trying to "prove" that I knew better.  I'd
spent my entire life rebelling, and there was no point
- no point, not because he was always right, but
because we were different!  We had different needs,
looked at life differently.  Dad wasn't better than me
- we were the same.  Two strong men, each with our own
particular strengths.  As this realisation swept over
me, I started to smile.  I began to feel happy.  It
was as if a huge weight had been lifted off my
shoulders.

"What's so funny, Steven?", dad asked, his own face
now beginning to crease with amusement.

"Well, dad, if you're going to keep on fucking Joe,
and I'm going to be fucking Craig, we'd better move
the bedroom assignments around a bit, or else none of
us will be able to get to sleep as we listen to the
other!"  We both broke out into laughter then, and I
knew that dad and I had started on that road that
would turn us into what fathers and sons should be -
real friends.

We went out together, arm in arm, and dad took Joe off
up to bed.  Craig was still standing there, naked, and
I stripped off my own clothes.   "In the pool,
Craig!", I shouted, as I jumped in.  He stood there
looking down at me as I trod water, as he had never
been as keen on swimming as I was, and said "No, I'll
give it a miss tonight.  It's been a long day - I was
really worried when the transporter came and stuffed
me in that cage and drove me off... I thought I'd
never see you again..."

"Fucking slave!", I shouted, only half seriously,
"When your owner tells you to do something, you'd
better obey, or else you'll feel the weight of a cane
across your butt - and I've got really strong arms,
Craig!"

He jumped in, and we clung together in the water,
laughing, kissing and playing with each other, more
like young guys than mature men.  But even as we did
this, a thought was playing through my mind:  was I
really joking when I'd ordered Craig into the pool?
And had he joined me as he thought I might have been
serious?  I could see that this business of being his
owner, rather than just a fellow slave, was going to
need sensitive handling.

The problem arose in a more serious form later that
night.  Until things were sorted out Craig and I were
sharing my room and there were only the two narrow
beds in there - not that that was any particular
hardship, a we  were used to sharing a single narrow
bed at Rooney's.  I got in first, and Craig stood
there, hesitating, looking at me, and at the other
bed.  I raised up the sheet so he could see my naked
body, dick hard, and smiled, and he at once rushed
over and thrust himself down beside me, and we did
that lovely shuffling around you both do as your
bodies accommodate each other.  He started to kiss me
passionately and then broke off, and made a dive for
my nips - he was in a playful mood, I could tell, and
he always thought it funny to make feints at my nips
as he knew I was so sensitive, and it always made me
squirm and wriggle.

"No, Craig...", I said, as I always did, laughing...
And then, as his head bobbed down again and I tried to
stop him, he pushed my arm out of the way and had
another go.  Above our almost helpless giggling I said
again "No.... Craig.... Stop it..... Oh.....".   Craig
doesn't have a really sensitive place like that, but I
managed to grab his balls and gave them a friendly
squeeze.  "Now stop...", I whispered, and Craig said,
matter of factly, "OK, then... I'm tired, anyway..."

I let his balls go and went to kiss him, and
immediately his head went down and he nipped my left
tit.  I admit I was tired, and I never really liked
these games with my nips, so I snapped "Fucking  hell,
Craig... You said you'd stop..."

"...and you know I'm a liar, Steve... Now....".  He
lunged at me again, and I lost it.  All the worry, all
the frustration, everything, had just been too much
that day.  "I said stop!", I shouted, and something in
my voice must have worried him, as he slowly drew
away, and just lay there, almost inert, beside me.

"Was that an order, sir?"  he asked, quietly.  "Are
you giving me orders now, sir?"

"No, you idiot!  I just don't like you going for my
nips, you know that...."

"But we were playing, like we always do.  And your
voice... Are you going to give me orders, sir?"

"Craig, you know what you mean to me.  No, I'm not
going to give you orders.  You're my best buddy, my
lover... Come on, you know how we are together."

"No, Steve.  I knew how we were.  I knew how we were
right up to the moment when your father gave me to you
as a present.  Now I'm your slave, your possession,
and that changes things.  When you order me into the
pool, order me to stop playing with your nips.... Is
that an order, or a request, or just 'fun', like we
used to have?  You know that phrase, sir, 'You Can't
Be Friends With A Slave...' - it's now taken out of
context and most people have never read the famous
book.... But it's true, isn't it?  I can never know
when you're really serious and it is an order, or when
it's just the way that two buddies speak to each
other."

I lay there quietly for a moment, conscious of the
wonderful sensation of Craig's body pressed close to
mine everywhere.  He was right in one way, I suppose,
but I didn't want things to change.  I wanted us to be
as we always had been - just two guys together.  I
leaned over towards him and kissed him deeply, and we
thrashed around in passion, our dicks  sandwiched
together between our bodies.   When we broke, I
whispered "Does that answer your question, Craig?"

He was silent, though, as his head went down and
started to suck and kiss my dick, and I began to moan.
 Look, I love it when Craig treats my dick like this -
it's what we always did, and soon I would go down on
him.  But this night was special, and I wanted
something more, I really wanted to relieve the tension
I'd had all day.  And I was missing not having a
proper fuck, as I would have had at Rooney's.  So as
he lay there sucking at me, his big muscular body half
curled up, I let me fingers slide down his ass crack,
and began gently to probe at his asshole, pushing a
finger in, then bringing it back to my mouth to lube
it with spit, then entering him again.   My erection
was so hard and the sensations form my dick so severe
that I knew I was on the point of cumming, so I
slapped his ass playfully, and when he came off my
dick and looked at me, I whispered "I want to fuck
you, Craig...."

"Hey, Steve, we don't do that, remember..."

"Oh, come on... Tonight's special...."

"No, Steve."

Look, I was already half in a frenzy, all fired up.
And this fucking thing had never really been sorted
out between us - we'd both fucked each other, but
hadn't repeated it as we could never decide who was
the real top.  We both topped all the other guys at
Rooney's, and it was kind of exciting, as I've told
you, to almost be racing to see who could do it
better, and fastest.  But we'd never worked out which
of us was the real dominant one, and who would have to
take it from the other, so I guess we kind of dodged
the issue by just "messing around" together in bed,
and only fucking the other guys.  I ought to have left
it alone.  I ought to have just let him suck me off or
jerk me off, and then done the same to him as we had
done so many, many times before to our complete
satisfaction.  But I needed a good fuck, I really did.
 And the one glass of wine I'd had with my father had
really gone to my head as I was so unused to alcohol.
The combination of this and my sexual excitement
caused me to lose any sense of caution, and to cease
to worry about and problems I might be building up.

"Oh, come on Craig...", I said, my tone light, and
friendly.  "Just tonight, it's a celebration.  Come
on, open up for me, on your knees, and let my dick
in..."

"No, Steve!  You know  I don't take it..."  As he said
this, Craig went down on my dick again, and began to
excite me in the way that only his tongue could.  But
wanted to fuck, and as my excitement mounted, I moaned
"No... No.... I want to fuck.....", then as he seemed
to be paying no attention, I lost it.

"Craig, I want to fuck!", I snapped suddenly.  "Come
on, on your knees, and spread that ass for me..."

"No way, Steve!  Come on, you know the game..."

"Craig, I'm serious.... I want to fuck!  It's no big
deal, I've fucked you before..."

He looked at me then, and for the first time in a long
time he didn't seem to have that lazy smile on his
face.  "Is that an order, Steve?  Are you going to
order me to take your dick, sir?"

"Oh don't be stupid! I want you to want me, Craig.
It's what guys do together who really like each
other."  But even as I said this, I knew it wasn't
going to work.  Craig and I were locked in a battle, a
battle to determine who was really the top man between
us.  We may not be physically fighting it out - when
I'd probably lose anyway, as Craig had spent a whole
lot more time really working his muscles in the last
years than I had.  No, this was a battle of wills,
something that would shape our relationship for all
time. Something I therefore couldn't afford to lose.

"No, Steve.  But I'll fuck you, if you're desperate
for sex...."

"You know I don't take dick, Craig."

He looked at me again.  "Are you going to order me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can't be friends with a slave, Steve.  I told you
that."

"Craig, don't be so fucking stupid!  We're buddies...
All I wanted was to celebrate tonight, it's no big
deal, after all... But yes, if you're going to be
stupid about it, I guess I might just order it!"

What Craig did then was really stupid.  He got out of
bed, walked across the room to  the punishment horse,
and lay down on it, spreading his legs wide, very
provocatively.  He was bidding up the stakes, turning
what ought to have been a fun fuck in bed into
something much more serious.  "Come on then, sir", he
almost jeered.  "Come and take me, sir."

Look, it's stupid, I know.  But when you're being
challenged like that, you can't give in, can you?  I
ought just to have called to him to come back to bed.
Or even just gone over there and slapped his ass
lightly and turned it into a game, then kissed him,
and had a bit of fun rolling around on the floor
together.  But I just can't act like that - challenge
me, and I rise to it.

I almost threw the sheet off myself, and took two big
strides over to stand beside Craig.  "Fuck me then,
sir!", he challenged again, and that was it.  I don't
think he thought that I would dare go ahead.  But  I
was almost beside myself with rage at his childish
behaviour, so I bent down and snapped shut the
fastenings, holding his wrists and ankles to the legs
of the horse.  I watched with interest as he tested
them, tugging at each in turn, then kind of bucking
his body, as if that would help!

"Just ask me to let you go, Craig...", I whispered to
him, running my fingers through his hair, and letting
them trail along his beautiful muscled back.  His
whole body writhed as  I did this, but he remained
stubbornly silent.  I let my hands caress his lovely
hard, muscled butt, running my finger tips over r the
little ridges from recent canings, a thing we often
did in bed.  Come on, Craig", I whispered quietly
again, "Just ask me to let you go, and I will..."

I really did want this to end, and I almost prayed for
him to say something, but as he lay there, his silence
became almost insolent.  "Craig, answer me...", I
almost pleaded. "Come on, be sensible, and let's go
back to bed..."

"Fuck you!", he muttered.  And that was it!  I'd had
enough.  Something inside me snapped.

It was almost as if I was watching myself do it.  It
wasn't "me", it was another part of me that took up
the big, flat semi-flexible paddle that my brothers
had left with my dad after that first Thanksgiving.  I
brought it down hard on Craig's butt repeatedly,
seeing the three inch wide stripes of bright red
appear against his tanned skin.  The first blow was so
unexpected that he didn't have time to react, but that
paddle had the power to hurt in a way that the cane
and the tawse didn't - by the time I'd thrashed him
eight times, he was crying out and his limbs were
jerking uncontrollably as his body tried everything it
could to get out of the way.

I stopped then, and stood there, my breathing laboured
from my exertion.  I could feel the pulses pounding in
my temples - was it from the effort, or the rage, or
the sexual excitement?  I ran my hand over his butt,
feeling the heat radiating from it now.  And I gave
him another chance, honestly I did. "OK, Craig - you
only have to ask, you know.  Ask me to let you free,
and come back to bed..."

"Fuck you!", he muttered again, this time in a
strained tone as he fought to hold back his gasps of
acute discomfort.  He just wasn't going to give in,
and I couldn't let him challenge me like that, could
I?  It wasn't a master/slave thing - well, not
totally. It was more one strong man daring to
challenge another, and neither could back down, each
had to bid up the hand he was playing.  It was sexual,
too, of course - when you've just beaten a guy and
felt the heat from his rump and know that you've
"tenderised" him ready for you, it's really erotic,
isn't it?  I was rampantly erect, and leaking pre-cum
which was drooling slowly down on to the floor.

"You asked for this, Craig!", I almost shouted, as I
totally lost control now, positioned myself between
his outstretched legs, pulled his ass cheeks apart
almost brutally, positioned my dick, and thrust it
home.

Craig screamed.  A genuine scream.  I knew I must have
hurt him, thrusting myself in all the way, hard and
fast, without stopping and without having prepared
him.  I rested against him, my belly and thighs
pressed right up to him, feeling the heat radiating
from his butt.  "You want me to stop?", I enquired,
and all I got back was a shake of his head just lay
there on the horse. Well, if he'd been sensible and
asked, I would have.  But if he was going to play
silly buggers, well I could too - so I fucked him.

Afterwards, of course, I felt a bit bad about it.  I
mean, I know what it's like to be strapped to the
horse, unable to move, and to be force fucked.  But at
the time I was in the heat of my arousal, and I was
pissed off with Craig for not being sensible.  The
more I thought about it, though, the more I realised
that perhaps it wasn't a wholly bad thing to have
done:  he was my slave, after all, and I suppose we
shouldn't have expected things to be able to have gone
on exactly as they had before.  Maybe if he learned
the lesson now about who was really in charge it would
save him a lot of trouble later.   Maybe save us both
a lot of trouble.

Craig didn't see it that way, though, and when I undid
the straps to free his wrists and ankles, he just lay
there.  "Oh, come on, Craig - it wasn't that bad!", I
said in as conciliatory tone as I could.

Still he lay there, and I began to get worried.
"Craig, are you OK?" I dropped down by his head as I
said this, and put my hand on his cropped hair to move
his face so I could see it.

"Yes, sir", he replied, his tone blankly neutral.
"Does this slave have your permission to get up, sir?"

"For fuck's sake, Craig!  Stop this play-acting, will
you?  We're buddies, remember?  And in this room at
least, we're equals.  OF course you can get up"

"Yes, sir", he said, in that same flat manner, got to
his feet, and then just stood there, in the
subservient pose.

"Craig, if you don't stop acting stupidly, I'll give
you something to really be upset about!"

"Yes, sir.  You have already punished me once tonight,
sir, and I can take another, sir."

The stupid fuck was really getting to me now, and I
could feel my anger rising.  He was doing this
deliberately, I could tell.  He was trying to make me
do something to him that I'd feel sorry about later.
I deliberately tried to calm my raging anger at him
for not behaving properly - this should have been a
great night, a night when we were free of the worry of
his being sold, and instead of that, we were
squabbling and arguing like two school kids.  "Craig,
get into bed, and stop being so fucking stupid!".

He turned, muttered "Yes, sir", and deliberately got
into his own bed.  It made me so cross, I had a good
mind to haul him out and really thrash him on the
horse!  But that's what he wanted,  I think: he wanted
to goad me into losing my temper, so he could
demonstrate his superiority, and I was determined to
best him in this.  I mean, you do need someone to be
properly in control, and we couldn't go through the
rest of our lives with not knowing who that was.  When
we were both slaves it wasn't so important, as we were
both subject to Rooney's control and we could pretend
we were equal.  But now I needed to demonstrate to him
that I was the top dog, I was in charge - not only
because I owned him, but because I was actually
cleverer than he was, and I wasn't so stupid to have
got caught for a lot of petty crimes as he had been
when he was first indentured!

Remaining icily calm, I got in beside him and spooned
up to the back of him.  His body was rigid, and he
deliberately tried not to get any satisfaction from my
body.  I had to force one of my legs between his,
instead of indulging in that great exciting mutual
thrashing around, and then I had to put my arm over
him, and let my hand slide seductively over his hard
belly, to start to tease his pubes, and move on to his
dick.  Even though he was trying his hardest not to be
interested, he couldn't stop his natural reaction to
having my fingers play with his dick and tickle his
balls, and I felt his erection growing as I worked at
it.

My thumb flicked at the sensitive little triangle
underneath his dick head, and  I was rewarded by a
little moan of pleasure.  I bit into his shoulder
gently, then raised his arm so that I could push my
nose and tongue into his pits, and then nipped the
sensitive soft flesh there with my teeth, making him
start to squirm and moan with excitement.  "Come on,
Craig!", I whispered. "You know you want to play....!"

Quick as a flash, he turned over to face me - it's
surprising how fast Craig can move when he wants to -
and I saw a faint trace of that familiar seductive
smile.  "Bastard...", he murmured, then, before I
could protest or say anything, he darted down and gave
my nip a painful bite , causing me to wriggle and
squirm in turn.  And after that, of course, there was
no stopping us!  We made hard, rough, passionate love,
and I knew that even though we still had a lot of
stuff to work through, things were going to be all
right.

The next morning, when I woke up eventually,  I
couldn't help but love Craig as I looked at his face,
composed in sleep still, as he lay there wrapped
around me somehow.  I decided not to wake him by
slapping his ass, but gently and carefully started to
tease his rock hard dick, being rewarded by little
sighs and moans as the pleasure of it all evidently
penetrated into his dreams.  Just as he was about to
cum, I shouted "Craig!", right into his ear, and he
woke up with a great start, sitting bolt upright just
as his dick fired a big spurt of cum all down him.

He saw me laughing, and joined in, and we lay there
together for a moment, completely helpless.  "You turn
now...", he muttered, and reached for my dick.

"No time for that, Craig.  I've got work to do
today....  Look, I want you to do stuff around the
yard and estate generally here, OK?  It's not hard,
and I'll only whip you if I get back and find you've
been slacking!"   I said this with a laugh, but I
think it was important to let him know that I was in
charge generally now, even though I had no intention
of actually using a whip on him.  We got up, showered
together, then it occurred to me that there was
another, subtle way of emphasising to Craig that he
had a new status, so as I pulled on my neat shirt and
chinos, I casually tossed him the tunic that I'd had
to wear around the house.

Puzzled, Craig pulled it on, then reached for his
shorts, believing that it was just some sort of long
polo.  "No, buddy - that's it, for around the house
and grounds", I told him.  "It's pretty good, actually
 keeps you nice and cool when you're working, let's me
see the best parts of the gorgeous man who's my best
buddy, and when I want you naked, it just pulls off
over your head in one quick movement!"  As I said
this, I jerked upwards on the collar of it to show
him, so that the whole of his tackle was exposed, and
I gave him a playful slap on his naked butt.

He looked a bit unhappy, though, when he had to go
into the dining room like that, and my father raised
his eyebrows slightly at me, as if asking "What's
this, then?"

"Craig's going to work around the estate today, dad",
I told him, "And this will keep him cool.  Can I
borrow the car, as  I want to go off and see a
lawyer?"

Mrs Sheffield brought in the breakfast then, but I
decided it would be better if Craig stuck to the slave
chow for the time being - after all, I didn't want him
getting fat, did I?  My father, Joe and I ate our
breakfast as Craig sat there, his eyes following the
food into our mouths - it's not so bad eating chow
when that's all there is, but the smell of ham, eggs,
toast and coffee does make it harder, I knew from
experience.  Still, he'd better get used to it, as he
was going to be living with us in the house now, not
in a barracks.

End Of Part 28