Date: Thu, 16 Jun 2005 14:32:39 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Labourer, Part 30

THE LABOURER  by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 30

Everything seemed to be going to plan - my father had
even suggested that  I start work in his office as
after all my machinations in the past week or two I
was now at a loose end, and to my surprise I found I
enjoyed attending meetings and making decisions.
Actually, it was the making decisions I enjoyed - I've
never had a problem with that, and it goes with being
a tough, decisive kind of guy, I suppose.  Of course
it was boring to have to sit there and listen to all
the executives giving their carefully prepared
presentations, so after a week I banned any use of
PowerPoint in my office, and made them all stand and
just give me a brief synopsis of the problem so that I
could decide what to do.  We saved a fortune in
management time, and the business cycle speeded up to
the extent that there was a measurable improvement in
our profits, which greatly pleased my father.

When Rob had been at Rooney's for three weeks, though,
I decided  I deserved an hour or two off, and drove
over there, having warned  Rooney that Rob was to be
kept off the work crews that day and just put to work
cleaning the yard or something.  Actually,  I quite
liked  Rooney - he was a no-nonsense kind of guy, and
I found it easy to do business with him once we had
overcome our mutual worries about our past
relationship.  On our first couple of meetings, when
I'd been arranging for Craig to go back to work, he
had been a little awkward about negotiating with me as
he'd used me as a slave and of course fucked me on the
horse, but I used this to my advantage in the
negotiation to drive up the price he had to pay me for
Craig.   Now though all this was in the past, and we
shook hands like proper business associates, and sat
with a beer in his large reception room.   After I'd
enquired about Craig and made sure that Rooney was
indeed treating him no differently from any other
servant - he assured me he was, as it was too much
trouble to do anything else -  he ordered Rob to be
brought in.

Rob was just wearing work shorts and boots as it was a
mild day so there was no need of a polo, and he
shivered slightly in the air conditioning.  I could
see immediately that the three weeks at Rooney's had
already worked wonders for him as a lot of the fat had
been burned off, and he was beginning to look more
like the jock I remembered.  He stood there
obediently, head bowed, with overseer Ryan right
behind him, prod at the ready, "just in case".

"Rob, you're looking good!", I told him.  "This life
as a slave suits you, evidently."

"Thank you, sir", he mumbled.  It was good to see that
Rooney's training was so successful, and there was no
more unseemly calling out to me as there had been at
the auction.

"Want to see all of him?", Rooney asked me, and when I
nodded, he snapped "Drop the shorts!"

For a moment I saw the start of a look of panic in
Rob's eyes, but as Ryan moved his hand towards his
prod, Rob seemed to mentally shrug and undid the
button on his shorts, let them fall to the floor, then
stepped out of them.  Rooney and I got up and went
over to him, and I did the sort of examination you'd
expect a man to make of a slave he owned, feeling all
over him to gauge his muscle development, and then
hefting his dick and balls to check that all was well
there too.

"Excellent, Rob!", I remarked.  "A vast improvement
from when I last saw you at the auction.... And where
I bought your indenture."

"Sir, you bought it?  I thought Mister Rooney...."

"No, Rob.  It was me.  I couldn't see an old buddy
sold to just anyone, could I? Who knows what might
have become of you!"

"No, sir.  Thank you, sir."

"Yes, Rob, I bought your ten years.  But there's news,
good news for you.  Working as an indentured servant
suits you so much that I've had the Court extend
it.... For life!  So you're now a slave, Rob, and
after I've left, Mister Rooney will arrange for you to
be permanently marked with your new serial number.
And I've decided that you're also to get 'Property of
S Masters' tattooed on your butt and your pecs, to
avoid any confusion with the other servants here as
you're going to be working almost permanently at this
place."

"NO!", he shouted.  "You can't do that...."

I nodded, Ryan prodded him, and when he had recovered
I continued calmly "Yes, Rob, I can.  And I did.  Just
as you had me extended and enslaved, so I have had the
same done to you - only this time my lawyers assure me
it will stick. And as you're now my slave, you're
going to be marked as my property, and of course
there's one more thing I need to do as an owner - get
on the horse, Rob."

"No, please...", he began, and Ryan was about to prod
him, when I made a gesture to stop him.
"Rob, you're a slave now.  Under my complete control.
Do you want to be prodded again?  Or perhaps I should
order a flogging for you, as I was once flogged,
remember?  I know from personal experience that that
would change your attitude permanently!  Now, obey me
or take the consequences - a ride on the horse as your
new owner takes his pleasure from you is nothing to
worry about - believe me, I know... Remember?"

He lay there on the leather bench part, and Rooney
himself bent down to fasten the wrist and ankle
restraints to hold him there.  I went and stood at
Rob's ass then, and ran my hand over his butt.  "Well,
Rob, I was right - working here at Rooney's Contracts
as a slave really has done wonders for you:  this butt
is getting nicely muscled now.  But I think it's still
virgin, isn't it?  I asked Mister Rooney to make sure
you weren't force fucked in the barracks, and I don't
suppose you've found a particular friend yet who
you've invited up there...."

As I said this I slid my finger down into the warm,
moist crack between his butt cheeks, and then let it
scrape over Rob's hole, watching with interest as this
caused him to start to move his body, trying vainly to
get his wrists and ankles free.  I drew back, then
brought my hand down hard across his butt - actually
it hurt me a little - but Rob convulsed satisfactorily
and gave a little shout of pain and surprise.  "Answer
me, slave!  I asked you if you were a virgin - has
anyone else ever been up your ass?"

"No, sir."

"Good, Rob.  I've always wanted to do this, always
wanted to be the first.  You were pretty quick to have
me mounted here on the horse when you got me
indentured, and it's good to know that you believe
that's the right way to behave."

"Please, sir, please, Steve... We were buddies, at
school, on the team...."

"Yes, Rob, and you were quick enough to tell me how
you'd always wanted  to ream my ass, and did, when you
had the opportunity.  Now I find that I like ass, too,
and yours is just too good to miss.  So tell me, Rob,
do you think a guy's ass should be warmed up before he
gets fucked?  Shall I give you a little light caning,
to increase the sensation in your butt when my body
slams into you as I get started?"

"Please, sir... Please don't hurt me.   And please
don't fuck me, sir..."

I just laughed, and put my hand through between his
thighs and started to stroke his dick - he was already
erect, so he must be finding the whole thing at least
vaguely erotic, I thought.  It's actually quite
interesting to jerk a guy off from that angle, anyway
- especially when his balls are nicely shaved smooth
as they bob up and down on your wrist as you work at
it, and Rob was soon moaning as I brought him to
climax.  It's not that I didn't want just to ram my
dick hard down into him without any preparation: after
all, he'd done enough to me to deserve it. But it's
actually not all that much fun for me to fuck like
that:  the big thick flange on my dick head tends to
get chafed and sore if the hole isn't nicely lubed, so
I suppose Rob was lucky, really, that I took the time
to stretch and smooth him.  He seemed to be enjoying
this part, at least, as he was soon moaning and
groaning as guys do when you play with their ass.

It's not that I would have minded stripping in front
of Rooney, as he'd seen me nude often enough, after
all.  But I decided that it would be more humiliating
for Rob if I just fucked him "casually" and made no
big deal out of it, as if it was routine for me even
though it might be pretty traumatic for him.  So I
simple unzipped my pants, got out my dick, and fucked
him like that.  Actually, there's something quite nice
about a "quickie" I find, when you don't strip off -
for the guy underneath there's that special sensation
as the pants and stuff slip over you naked butt and
thighs, and for the guy doing the fucking it somehow
says "look at me, I can have a quick one like this,
and it's just relaxing".   It was all over pretty
quickly, though, and Rooney summoned the young
servant boy who had replaced Joe to come in and clean
me off.

I sat there on the couch next to Rooney watching my
cum slip down the inside of Rob's thighs as he still
lay there, now sobbing quietly. The boy gently washed
my dick with a warm scented face cloth, and Rooney
asked me what my plans were for Rob now.  "Oh, now
I've taken his cherry, use him just as a normal slave.
 He's no different from any of the others.  Cane him,
tawse him, and if he ever needs it, you have my full
authority to have him whipped - flayed, that is.  Even
though I own him, like Craig, I won't be taking him
away from here - just work him, work him hard.  I have
no further interest in him, he's just a slave."

"But for sex?"

"Oh, I don't care.  It's easier for you if he's
properly integrated with the others, though, isn't it?
Being Rob I don't expect he'll ask another guy to fuck
him, but now he's broken, it's of no importance to me.
 Perhaps you'd better get whoever has replaced Craig
as your aggressive top to give him special attention
for the next few weeks, though, as the lesson needs to
be rammed home, no pun intended!"

"Would you like to watch?  I can have Sam bought in
now."

"Yes, I've got a few minutes, and it would be amusing
to see him used again."

Rooney called out for Sambo to be brought in from the
barracks, and I raised my eyebrows quizzically.  "Yes,
Sambo.  He's a nigga.", Rooney explained, "But I don't
like to be thought to be prejudiced, so I remember to
call him Sam, normally."

"I thought you only used white guys in your work
teams, Rooney.  Why the change?"

"Oh, yes, as a rule, I do only use whites - I don't
think I had any niggas when you were here, did I?
It's easier to control white guys, you see, as they
react better to the cane, whereas I find niggas
intrinsically idle and lazy, so they need more
punishment to get the same output, and then they just
don't seem to mind caning as much.  If you take those
difficulties, and the fact that most of our clients
are rich folks in the suburbs, as you'll know from
your time here, and they don't like a lot of niggas
running around their properties:  in fact, it's one of
the selling points of my service, that they won't be
affronted by a load of niggas when they want to watch
the work.  I think folk are always worried that the
niggas will start clapping and singing, or dancing
around or something - you know how those stereotypes
are."

At that moment the door opened, and this big nigga,
clad only in the tiny work shorts, came in and stood
neatly there in the submissive pose in front of us.
Look, I'm a big guy and usually big men don't
"register" with me particularly, but this nigga was
huge!  He must have been at least six eight, and his
body was proportionately big all over.  Rooney said
casually "Unclothe", and as soon as he'd dropped his
shorts, I saw that his dick was on the same heroic
scale.   Rooney told him to erect, and as he did, I
almost gasped out loud: it looked almost as big as a
baby's arm.

The general overwhelming power and strength of the
huge physique was somehow heightened by he fact that
he was completely shaved all over - his bald head,
smooth chest and belly led on down to a completely
hairless crotch, which, even so, did not manage to
detract from the size of his dick.  His whole skin
glowed softly under the lights, and Rooney, seeing me
almost gasping in astonishment, said "I use skin oil
on him - it looks good, doesn't it?  And you wait
until he's working - when he starts to sweat, it beads
most attractively all over him."

"And he's a top?", I asked.

"Of course!  As I said, I don't buy niggas normally,
but when I was looking for replacements for you and
Craig, I saw this one at the auctions and I knew he
was the solution to a lot of potential difficulties.
I have no problems now with guys complaining they
don't get enough fucking - Sambo just does them when
he wants, and they're grateful not to be chosen all
the time!  When that dick of his goes in, even the
most experienced bottom finds it just a little
difficult to take!  And, actually, he works quite
well, too, surprisingly.  I'm not sure I really get
the maximum out of him as he's like all of them and
doesn't really react to the cane, but even if I only
get ninety percent, that's still one hell of a lot of
work from a body that size and condition."

I stood there looking at him, and at Rob who was now
whimpering quietly as he lay there. And I thought
about how tight Rob had been when I'd fucked him.  It
didn't seem possible that the monster dick I was
seeing could fit in Rob, and my instinctive reaction
was to tell Rooney to send Sam away.  But then calmer
thoughts intruded, and I recognised that as his owner,
it was up to me to make the right decisions for my
slave:  sooner or later Sambo would decide he wanted
to fuck Rob, and then it would be in the barracks and
might be messy - Sambo might have to hit him and slap
him about a lot to subdue him, and then, his temper
aroused, it would by no means be a simple fuck.  No,
it would be kinder for Rob, and better for me as there
was less risk of lasting damage to my property, if
Sambo took him now.

The young servant boy had finished washing my dick
now, and was looking at me to see if I wanted him to
tuck it away for me in my pants, but  I waved him
away, and asked Rooney to tell Sambo to fuck Rob, but
to make sure that there was as little tearing of the
anus as possible.  It's important to get these
protocol things right, isn't it?  Sambo was Rooney's
servant, and it would be inappropriate for me to order
him around with his owner in the room.

Rob mad so much noise as Sambo pushed his giant dick
into him that  I asked Rooney to get the young servant
boy to take a handkerchief and gag him.  I was glad I
had left my dick out, too, as it was, as Rooney had
said, really interesting to see the beads of sweat all
over the huge back, butt and thighs as he methodically
fucked away at Rob - a Rob who had totally given up
and was just lying there still, not even trying to
move his body as the epic session went on.

When the nigga had at last cum, and Rooney explained
that another of his benefits was that he was so laid
back that he could fuck away for hours if we wanted.
I allowed Rob to be ungagged, and it gave me a certain
satisfaction to hear his piteous cries and sobs.  You
may think I'm harsh, but you have to remember what
he'd done to me - a man deserves revenge, after all.
Rooney asked me if  I wanted to fuck Sambo then, and I
have to confess I was tempted:  the sight of him
fucking Rob had revived me and my dick was hard, and
the thought of slipping it between those huge muscular
buttocks was really exciting.  Then again, I'd never
fucked a nigga, and that was also somehow very erotic
- I could imagine the contrast between my tanned skin
and his jet black one, and I have to confess I was
vaguely curious to know whether his ass hole was as
black as the rest of him, or was the lighter tone of
the palms of his hands.  And, of course, there's a
powerful kind of "historic memory", isn't there?   The
white master and the black slave, and all that stuff
from the 1800s.  But I looked at my watch, thanked
Rooney politely, and said I had to go.

As luck would have it, the crew with Craig in it was
just coming back as Rooney was bidding me goodbye a
the door, and rather than have another trip to deliver
him back to our house, I said he could ride along with
me.  Rooney suggested I have another drink whilst
Craig was cleaned up an changed, but I thought it
would be rather appealing to be with him when he was
all hot and sweaty, so asked Rooney to have him
brought over straight away.

My dick, already excited by watching the nigga fuck
Rob, gave a little jump when I saw Craig waiting by
the car.  He was in the proper subservient position,
was wearing only his work shorts and boots as I
supposed he'd already taken the polo off during the
heat of the afternoon, and so the tawse marks across
his back and shoulders could be clearly seen though
the sheen of sweat that covered him.  There's
something so totally erotic about a big, tough guy
who's obviously been working hard all day and who is
stinking of sweat, that I almost asked Rooney if we
could go back inside so that I could fuck Craig there
and then. But I was still very careful about how I
treated Craig, and thought that if I mixed business"
with "pleasure" he wouldn't like it - he'd see me
fucking him at Rooney's as if I was thinking of him as
just a slave , and so I told him to get into the car.

Once we were out of the drive, though, I considered we
were "off duty".  I stopped for a moment to kiss Craig
as I could no longer resist the exciting smell of the
pure maleness of him as his sweat filled the car, then
told him to take his shorts off.  I love to see a guy
wriggling to drop his pants or shorts in a car - that
kind of bracing action as they push their hips up to
get the clothes off is somehow very interesting.

"Not worried about the interior, then?", Craig asked
me, his sexy smile breaking out all over him.

"No. That's why I have leather.  Even though you're
sweating enough to stick to them, you won't harm the
seats."  The worst is that we'll get some of those
Californian Potato Chips!"

"It wasn't my sweat I was thinking about...", he
muttered as he reached over and pulled my hand down
into his crotch.  "...but I think I need a bit of
relaxation after I've been slaving away all day....
Get to it!" For someone who generally didn't much like
sex games and such, as he was more into straight
fucking, Craig could surprise me sometimes. And it
wasn't his sweat I was worried about, either, but the
production of Californian Potato Chips - they're easy
enough to get off smooth calf leather when cum has
dried, but from the soft, crinkled leather of my car
seats, I wasn't so sure.

At dinner that night after Craig had finished serving
us, he sat next to me as usual munching his slave
chow, and I was feeling in such a good mood from the
afternoon's activities with Rob (and Craig's body in
the car home - after I'd jerked him off, he'd leaned
right across me and I'd had his heavy body resting on
my thighs as I sped along, as he sucked me to a
climax), that I decided to reward him.  We didn't
really do desserts in our house, except when we were
entertaining, but most meals ended with fruit of some
sort - whatever was in season:  cherries,
strawberries, raspberries... and there was of course
always apples, pears and bananas in the centre of the
table.  I remember how I'd really missed fruit when I
was a slave just eating chow, and so occasionally I
rewarded Craig with a bit -  I'd slide a strawberry to
the edge of my plate and indicate to him that he could
take it , or I'd cut a sliver off my apple and feed it
to him.

He needed a treat, I decided, so I took a banana from
the fruit bowl, peeled it, and lay it on my plate.
Craig's passion is bananas, and his eyes never left my
hands as I worked away, and he watched me as I cut
three very thin slices from the centre of it, and ate
them, one by one.  I then cut three more, then picked
one up and held it in front of his nose so he could
smell the heavy odour from the ripe fruit, and nodded
to him so he could open his mouth and take it gently
from my fingers (that's one advantage of having a
slave rather than a dog - even a well trained dog
tends to bite your fingers when you give him a
treat!).  As I did the third one, my father became a
little irritated.  "Steven, please stop playing with
Craig at the table!  You're a grown man now.  If you
want to play, take the banana to your room - I'm sure
you two men could find a whole variety of things to do
with it then!"

"Sorry, dad", I replied, smiling - I'm sure his double
entendre was deliberate.  Then I held my fingers in
front of Craig so that he could lick at them to get
the last vestiges of flavour from me.  Look, you may
think I was not treating Craig very well in all of
this, as fruit doesn't cost a whole lot, does it?  But
you've got to remember that during the day he was a
slave, and slaves eat chow, or at least mine do.  It's
completely balanced and properly nutritious, and it
just doesn't do slaves any good to allow them "treats"
and little extras:  how many people do you see walking
dogs around that are grossly overweight, as their
owners feed them, and then let them have scraps from
the table, dog chews, and all that crap?  I didn't
want Craig to get fat, and a whole lot of sweet stuff
isn't good for you anyway -  so it was just another
example of the way I was acting in his own best
interests, as a considerate and thoughtful owner
should.

That night, though, as we lay in bed together, Craig
ran his hand almost thoughtfully over my belly, then
stopped, propped himself up on one elbow so that he
was looking down at me.  "What's the matter?", I
asked.

"There's nothing there."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"Steve, there's nothing there!  You used to have nice
hard ridges of muscle, but now it's just skin and
stuff."  His hand stroked around me, and he went on
"And I think that's a little love handle starting
there....   You're not getting enough exercise, buddy.
 You'll soon be as fat as that friend of yours Rob
was, until he got working properly at Rooney's - like
a lot of guys he was pretty disgusting the first day,
and he's only just started to be really in shape.  In
fact, he'll soon be good enough for me to fuck, if we
ever get an hour or so off from work on a site...."

"You fuck on site still?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, you and me...."

"Hey, Steve, we're buddies here, we agreed.  But you
yourself said I'm a slave during the day.  And if we
ever had any spare time in a site, you know we always
fucked... You yourself did, lots of times.  So of
course I do."

I can't say I was pleased!  I'd kind of imagined that
Craig and I had something special, that we  were a
couple, kind of exclusive.  Rob was the exception, and
you can I'm sure see why, and I didn't go around
fucking other guys generally.  Well, there had been
Joe, but that was a bit different, too...

"I'm not getting fat!  I work really hard all day at
the office, then on the weekends we work out, we
run...."

That sexy smile again, and he again rested his hand on
my belly. "It's not enough though, is it?  Sure, we
work out, and we run, but you always stop first, and I
can't persuade you to keep going....  You may say you
work hard at that office, but it's not real work, is
it?  You're just sitting at a desk...  But don't worry
- you'd have to get really fat before I stopped loving
you."

I didn't like Craig characterising my time at the
office as "not real work", as I thought I worked
fucking hard.  Indeed, dad had more and more turned
over the day to day operation of the business to me,
and now spent his time entertaining and visiting
important clients.  But  I could see what Craig meant
- it's hard to work away at weights, or a rowing
machine.  And I did give up when we were running -
Craig could run further and faster than me and didn't
even raise a sweat, and I can't bear to be "bested" at
things like that, so I didn't try.

"No, I'm not getting fat" I said again.  "Most guys of
my age would die for my body."

"Only if they couldn't have mine", Craig said, again
smiling, so  I couldn't really get angry with him.
"Come on, Steve - quit fooling yourself!  You may be
better than ninety nine percent of guys, but you're
nothing like as good as you were when we were both
slaves!  You're going soft, and it shows.  But don't
worry.... I'll still love you, even when your belly's
so big you need to use a mirror to see your dick!"

He laughed as he said this, and I could hardly think
about it as his head made a dive for my nips, and we
began one of those fantastic sessions where we used
each other in every way possible as we knew from long,
long experience what was needed to really excite the
other.

The next day, though, I noticed my pants were just a
little tight - or was I just being hyper sensitive?
But  I admit that I could understand what Craig was
going on about, as if I looked objectively at myself,
the hard lines of my muscles had disappeared.  Having
noticed that, I felt uncomfortable all day, somehow -
I like perfection, which is why the business was doing
even better than when my father ran it, and now I
wasn't perfect. I was cross with my subordinates,
irritable when things did not go right, and generally
stalked around our offices like a bear with a sore
head.

The next day was a Saturday, and I got up early,
slapping Craig awake, too, so we could get a real hard
workout in our gym, but after an hour or so I just
knew it wasn't working - I "cheated" by not pulling
the bars right down, not touching my shoulders to my
knees as I did sit-ups, and all that sort of stuff.
Craig, of course, did it all properly, and did more
than me; and all the time, even though he said
nothing, I could just tell that he was thinking that
he was right, that I was getting soft.

At about ten, the tension was more than I could bear,
and I went and showered as Craig carried on working
away.  I came back, and snapped "Hey, Craig, enough!
Don't rub it in.  You've made your point!".

He at once stood up, stood there, head bowed, and said
quietly "Sir, sorry, sir. But what point was I making,
sir?"

I realised then that it was all in my head, that I'd
been imagining that he'd been silently criticising me.
 Craig didn't have the subtlety to do that sort of
thing - even though he was in slave mode, if he had
wanted to tell me something, he would have done so
outright.  I felt pretty desperate then, knowing that
I was "giving in" to myself, and was going to go and
check my e-mail, or go off to the mall, or something,
when it came to me.

I threw off my clothes, and just put on a jock, and
went back to the press, adjusted it so I could lie on
my belly to lift weights to strengthen my shoulders
and forearms, and before I settled down to the
routine, handed Craig a cane.

"Right, Craig!  Take this, and the moment I slack, the
moment you see me not doing things properly.... Use
it:  I've just worn a jock, as I expect to be sweating
a lot this morning, and anyway it will hurt more on
the bare flesh."

"I can't cane you, sir..."

"Craig, that's an order!", I said, patting him on the
back confidently, and lying down to start.

The first time he brought the cane down it was really
hesitantly and I barely felt it, but as the morning
progressed, Craig quite entered into the spirit of the
thing, and by lunch time, he'd also found a tawse, and
my butt, thighs, back and shoulders were glowing and
stinging and throbbing with the pain that I remembered
drove me to work my very hardest.

Joe came in to the garage, saw me, gasped, and told me
that lunch was on the table.  I was so glad to finish,
but Craig looked at me, not smiling now, and said
quietly "Sir, it's probably best you don't eat lunch
if we're going to work this afternoon."

Well, I had been planning to watch a movie that
afternoon, but seeing how Craig expected me to work, I
couldn't bear to be seen to be giving up.  So  I
snapped "Quite right, Craig.  Thank you", and to Joe,
I added "Give my apologies to my father, and tell him
we'll get together for dinner - but that I want no
wine tonight, just water."

Joe rotted off, and Craig said "Sir, would it be
better if on Saturdays and Sundays we did a bit of
role reversal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, during he day, instead of you being the owner
and me the slave, you could be a slave, too - it would
be easier for me to beat you, sir."

I laughed, put my arms around him - that was a treat,
as I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be covered
in sweat and holding another sweaty slave next to me -
 and told him "Hey, Craig, no way you're going to be
an owner!  But we'll both be slaves, OK?  And you can
treat me as you like."

"OK.  Down on your hands and knees, as I need a fuck."

"Craig, what are you talking about?"

"You heard me! I want to fuck.  I'm a top, remember,
and I'm boned.  So hands and knees, and get ready for
me to fuck you."

"No, Craig.  We always negotiate this, remember?"

"Fuck you, Steve!  We may negotiate when you're the
owner and like playing at things like that.  Or when
we're 'buddies'.  But now we're slaves, working away
together.  And I'm a top, and I'm the boss slave
around here... And if you're not on your knees
immediately, I'll have to make you...."

When I still didn't do anything, Craig rushed at me,
and I realised just how much fitter and stronger he
was than me!  We rolled round and round on the floor,
arms and legs flailing, and he easily overpowered me.
Even then he'd have had problems fucking me if he
hadn't  been able to grab a length of hose that was
lying on the garage floor and quickly use it to bind
my arms together - it doesn't matter how strong you
are, you can't completely overcome another guy to the
point of being able to get your dick in him unless you
do tie him or something (unless you knock him out, and
then the fuck's no fun, is it?).

Afterwards, as I was lying there underneath him, his
dick still skewering me, he lay his whole body right
along the length of mine, and put his lips close to my
ear.  I could feel his hot breath on me and the
sensual slipperiness of his body as it moved gently
over mine, and he whispered "So, Steve, who's the top
now?"

I ought to have been totally pissed off,  I suppose,
but, after all I had told him we could be slaves
together.  And I didn't have the energy for another
round of argument about the roles of owners and
slaves.  And, the more  I thought about it, the more I
realised I'd enjoyed it - somehow, having been
forcibly fucked (but not very hard, I suppose, as
force fucking goes) was actually erotic in a way that
sex with Craig normally wasn't!  So I turned to face
him, as best I could, and let him see me smiling as I
said "Only for the moment, Craig, old buddy!  A few
more weekends of this forced workout and I'll take
you, and your ass..."

"I look forward to it", he grunted as he eased himself
out of me, then lightly sprang to his feet and helped
me up.  "I look forward to you trying to take me,
Steve.... This fighting before fucking is a pretty
good way of working out who's the real top guy!"

He was grinning, too, and I shook my arms at him to
indicate that he should untie me, but instead of that
he dropped to his knees, put one arm around my butt to
hold me firmly to him (ouch!  Those cane marks!), and
started to suck me off.  He looked up at me, took my
dick out from between his lips for a moment, and
drawled "I'm not finished with you yet though,
Steve.... I'm going to drain your balls so you're
really tired this afternoon, so I can really cane
you....  And you know how sensitive you are when
you've cum?  Well, prepare to squeal like a stuck pig,
as the moment I've got your cum in my mouth I'm going
to go on and on licking and sucking..."

I did, of course - I've told you how sensitive my dick
is.  And afterwards we couldn't exercise for at least
half an hour as we were both so overtaken with passion
that we just wanted to lie there in, our limbs
entwined, as we kissed and caressed with a fervour
that we hadn't had for some time.

It caught up with me, of course.  At the office on
Monday my butt was so sensitive that it was really
uncomfortable to have to sit in my chair and listen to
the fools whining on about this and that.  As a
consequence my meetings and briefings were even
shorter than usual, and so by mid afternoon I was
finished and drove over to Karen's.

She greeted me with a "social" kiss as usual, and I
stood up, rather than sitting beside her on the couch.
 We exchanged the usual politenesses, and then I got
straight down to business. "There's no simple way of
putting this nicely, Karen", I told her bluntly.  "But
I've had some tests done, and both of the boys are
mine."

"So?  You know I know they're not Rob's, and that
they're either yours, or that slave's."

"Yes, and that's the problem.  I was rather hoping
that one was mine, and one was Craig's.  And as they
aren't, I need to redress the balance.  Craig would be
really upset, if he found out, which he will, I
suppose.  We're partners, equals - or, rather, we
always scrap about who's really the best!  And if he
found out that my little swimmers were more vigorous
than his, it would hurt his pride terribly.  And I
don't want that -  I need him to be strong, and
vigorous."

"Oh, Steve - spare me the intimate details of your sex
life! So what are you suggesting?"

"You need to have a couple more kids, and we have to
fix it so that they're Craig's."

"You are mad, Steve.  You know that, do you?  Mad,
crazy,  living in a different world...."

"No, it seems perfectly reasonable to me.  I've had
you watched, Karen, and in spite of the hard exterior
you show the world, you actually love those boys.  So
I don't see the problem with having a couple more..."

"Utterly crazy!"

"So let's cut the crap, shall we, and let's talk
numbers.  I've just been made Chief Operating Officer
of the company, so name your price... A doubling of
the allowance at least?  Or would you like your old
place back?  I see it's being auctioned next week as
part of your father's bankruptcy:  we could stop that,
and I'll buy it for you, your folks can move back in,
a generous allowance will let you, and your father, be
the pillars of society here again... Those parties in
the big ballroom.... Lots of servants again...? "

She looked at me critically now.  "You can't afford
that.  Daddy spent four or five million a year...."

"That's not a problem.  My father's company is mine
now, in effect, and I can spent absolutely what I
like.  I'll buy the house as an investment property on
its books, the servants can be paid for out of the
normal payroll...  We can put most of the running
costs against the company - the IRS will never find
out....  It's yours for the asking...."

"But I can't have more children/  You're forgetting
one important factor."

I knew I had her!  She'd moved on from considering the
house and stuff - that was a done deal!  Now all we
were arguing about was the fine detail.  "And what's
that, Karen?  You're still fertile, aren't you?"

"You show a surprising lack of knowledge about the
female body, Steve, for someone who had so much
experience of it!  Of course I'm fertile.  I'm only
twenty seven.  But I couldn't possibly have kids, as
I'm not married."

"Now it's you who knows nothing!  Being married has
nothing to do with it, it's just  cum that
fertilises..."

"No, idiot!  Spare me Human Biology 101!  I can't have
kids if I'm not married, as it would destroy our place
in society. There's no point in being the leader of
the social set if they won't come to the parties at
the house of a 'scarlet woman'."

I smiled slowly at her.  "We can fix that, Karen!  And
tie up a lot of loose ends at the same time."

End Of Part 30