Date: Fri, 20 Jan 2006 03:35:07 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Someone Has To Do It, Part Fourteen

Someone Has To Do It

By Pete Brown        petebrownuk @ yahoo.com


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


Part  14


I had enough money left, and enough cunning to fool
enough people, to be able to find out in the next two
days that what the driver had told me was true.  The
three metre high fence ran across the landscape, and
there didn't seem any way through except for the major
roads - all the minor ones had been blocked off, and
there were customs posts on the open ones.  I managed
to get back into Bristol, and realised that even had I
been able to buy a ticket at Bristol Temple Meads, it
wouldn't have done me any good as at the entrance to
the platform for trains to Wales there was a passport
checker.

It was raining, and I was pretty miserable, and to get
out of the weather  I went into the museum, feeling
that this was an odd thing to be doing on my last day
of freedom.  With all my money gone, starting to get
hungry, I thought I might as well give myself up.  I
mooched around looking at the exhibits, and saw the
special displays about Brunel and the railways and
steamships he built,  and went off to a pub for one
last pint - I doubted I'd ever taste alcohol again.

I nursed it, making it last, and there was a big match
on the TV, so I thought I might as well watch that.  A
group of squaddies came in to watch, too, waiting for
transport to take them back to their base as they'd
all come back from leave, and as I sat there I so
envied them:  I used to be like them, with a proper
job, money to spare....  I felt do depressed, I didn't
shout when a goal was scored, hardly even noticed it,
in fact.  The lads were pretty far gone, and one
shouted to his mates, pointing at me, "Look at that
miserable git... What's the matter, mate, don't you
like Chelsea winning?"

Well, even though  I was about to become an indentured
again, I wasn't going to have that.  So I snapped
"Watch your mouth, and be careful who you call a
miserable git, sonny!"

He launched himself at me, fists flailing, and of
course I had no problem in stopping him - he probably
hadn't finished training, and was half drunk, and he
looked really pathetic sitting there in the middle of
the floor, clutching at his belly.  I grabbed a bottle
off a table and smashed it in half, and thrust the
jagged end at the rest of them as they came towards
me.

"Your mate went for me!",  I shouted.  "And I was a
soldier, too.  Now, any of you lads want to try in a
fair fight, that's OK - I like a good scrap.  But not
five on to one...."

They backed off, and we heard a police siren in the
background - I assume the landlord had pushed the
panic button.

"Get your mate on his feet..."  I snapped, "...and
then all sit down...."

They were used to obeying orders, and did as they were
told, and I went and sat in-between them.  The coppers
came in, and saw us all sitting there, and began the
usual "What's been going on here, then..."

The squaddies' corporal  just looked at them and said
"Sorry, mate, just a bit of a misunderstanding between
friends.... It's OK now...."

The copper looked at me, as I was so obviously
different from the young squaddies.  "Are you OK,
sir?"

"Fine, officer.  There's no problem here.  These lads
just invited me for a drink, as I was in the forces
myself."

He looked very suspicious.  "I ought to arrest all of
you..."

"Give us a break, mate.  We're on our way back to
camp, for the second half of our training.... We'll be
in the clink if you report us..."

The coppers looked at each other, and then at me.
"Are you sure you're OK, sir?  You're sure these
soldiers weren't bothering you?"

"Oh yes, fine.  I was sitting here with my drink, and
they had a bit of an argument... But it wasn't
serious....  They spilled my pint, that's all, but
they're going to buy me another one, I know..."   I
winked at the PC as I said this, and it kind of broke
the ice.

"Right, then.  But no more trouble, OK?  You lads make
sure you get the transport to camp.... And be sure to
buy this gentleman a drink...."

Afterwards, the corporal went and got me another pint,
plonked it down in front of me, and grinned.  "Thanks,
mate.... We'd have been in deep shit...."

"I know.   I used to be in, as I said."

"Is that where you learned to fight?  You stopped
Darren pretty quick..."

Well, the whole story came out.  After all, what had I
got to lose?  They were amazed when they heard about
what had happened to me, and I warned them to make
sure they got a "proper" trade in the army, and didn't
just end up as a fighter, like me, or they might find
themselves in the same position a few years down the
line.  Then, as they drank more, they decided it was
fucking unfair, how I'd been treated.  And they had a
whip-around to give me the remains of their money they
hadn't spent on leave.  It was good to see that there
were still some nice people in the world.

"Thanks... But it's not going to do me any good...
I'll be captured soon enough...", and I explained how
I couldn't even buy food in most places.   They did at
least then go up ad buy me a pie, too,  as I was
pretty much starving.

A sergeant came into the pub then and told them to get
on their feet as transport to the camp was outside,
and we said goodbye, and I told them again to be
careful for their future.  We went out into the street
together, and the corporal motioned me to get into the
back of the truck, when the sergeant wasn't looking.
"It will get you out of the city, at least...."

Without that lift I don't think I'd have made it.  As
we trundled along  I saw the railway line, and then
the idea came to me:  the Brunel tunnel under the
Severn!  That nineteenth century miracle, that's still
in use.  I thought they'd have it guarded, but it was
worth a try.

I said a final goodbye to the squaddies and walked
alongside the railway tracks, noting that there was
only a fence to keep animals and kids off the line.
The high speed trains hurled along, but not all that
often, and I trudged through the rain until I finally
saw the tunnel mouth - a great black hole cut into the
embankment, with amazingly ornate brickwork all around
it.

It was  good that that Brunel thought big!  I
remembered from the museum that he built the line to
take the big, wide-gauge trains he favoured, and of
course the modern ones all use a much narrower gauge
so there ought to be a lot of room in the tunnel, not
like on the London tubes, for example.  So although it
was scary as I climbed the fence and made my way into
the tunnel, I wasn't all that worried:  it was pitch
black, of course, but I'd read that there were
"refuges", little alcoves in the brick walls, every so
often in the walls where workers could wait for trains
to pass -   and  I found I needed them!  Even though
the modern trains were narrower, they went so much
faster that I was terrified that I was going to get
sucked under them.  So I had to listen very carefully
for the merest hint of a train, then blunder
desperately forwards or backwards, to a refuge, and
flatten myself against the wet brickwork - and I had
some pretty narrow escapes, I think.

I've never been so glad to see the open air again,
but the Welsh  were a bit cleverer than the English -
they did at least have some sort of guard at their
end, who noticed me stagger out!

____________________________

I've been in Cardiff Jail for two years now.  Well,
I'm an illegal immigrant, aren't I?  But my social
worker says that there's no danger of me being sent
back to England, as the Welsh Parliament has said that
it considers indenture - well, permanent indenture -
to be a breach of the European Human Rights Directive,
so I can't be deported.  So I've only got one more
year to do, and then I'll be free again, although all
the other blokes here say it's really tough out there,
as there is absolutely no work for the unskilled -
Wales was always run down, and with the English now
having so much work done by indentured servants, there
isn't even the traditional "escape" of going off to
live and work there.  Still, Dai says that's not a
problem for us - Dai, my cell-mate, that is.

I reckon I'll be OK, though, as Dai seems to know the
ropes, and he wants me to carry on working for him:
he's really tough himself, but sometimes "size counts"
and he reckons that having a bloke like me who not
only is tough but looks it, will save an awful lot of
bother.  It just shows you what his fucking system
does to people:  I was a proud soldier, good at my
job, serving my country, until they threw me out.
Then all the work  I could get was basically fucking
and training blokes, and then they indentured me and I
got really fucked over, literally.  And even when I
tried to assert my rights, the Welsh locked me up in
here, and now it seems that I'm going to have to live
out the rest of my life as a criminal - all the stuff
Dai's engaged in is dodgy!

They put me in Dai's cell when I first came here, as
he always likes first pick of the new arse.  I think
they go out of their way to humiliate new prisoners:
I'd expected to be stripped and searched when I
arrived at the prison, and so wasn't surprised when I
heard the guards snap on a rubber glove so they could
probe my arse for "contraband", but then why didn't
they allow me to put the uniform on?  Making a bloke
walk the length of the cell block completely starkers
just doesn't seem right.  And if they always put the
new blokes in with Dai, that was doubly unfair.

I went into the cell they pointed out (it was our free
association time, so the door wasn't locked, and
that's what made my naked walk particularly
humiliating - all the other blokes were hanging around
on the landings, and they could all get a good look at
me.  Not that I've got anything to be ashamed about,
as you know, but it does take away a man's dignity to
have several hundred other men all looking at him and
pointing and jeering, doesn't it?  I'd only just put
on my uniform, and was deciding whether I wanted the
top bunk or the bottom, when Dai came in.

He didn't even bother to say "hello" or anything, but
ordered me to strip off!    "Fuck you!", I told him.
"You had a chance to get an eye full with all the
other blokes out there..."

I was completely taken by surprise when he didn't even
respond,  but attacked me.  He's one of those really
pugnacious little Welsh terriers - to look at him,
you'd think he'd have no chance in a fight.  He's six
inches shorter than me, and slight, but he just laid
into me with his fists, and I laughed at first as  I
could so easily hold him off.  I didn't know about his
reputation, of course, and after a time I decided that
he needed to be taught a lesson - I've met these
bullying types before, and they need taking down a peg
or two - someone has to do it sooner or later, and it
might as well be me.  As well as having the advantage
of power  and size, I really fancied a fuck.

I forced him across the bottom bunk and didn't bother
to strip him completely, just yanked his trousers and
underpants down, and then fumbled at my own to get my
cock out.  He's got a really bony arse, little thin
white buttocks, and he carried on squirming even
though it must have been obvious to him that I could
do what I liked with him.  So I slapped him a few
times, just to signal that he'd better watch it,
seeing my hand prints start to glow red on his bum.
And then as he was being so obnoxious, decided to fuck
him without any preparation, to really teach him a
lesson.  Well, not without any preparation at all -  I
did spit into my hand and wet my cock before forcing
my way in to him.

You'd have thought that he'd never taken cock before,
the way he carried on struggling.  I mean, in a prison
you expect  blokes to have sex, don't you?  So I
forced his head down into the bunk, almost cutting off
his air supply, and that shut him up.  It wasn't a
good fuck though - at Weybridge I'd got used to doing
it long and sensual with Ian and Pavel and Marco, and
this was just short, hard and brutal and it didn't
take me long to shoot.  Still,  I think there's room
for everything, and it certainly did make a change to
force myself on to him and to dominate him so totally,
and my cock got a good workout as he was so tight.
But being so thin and bony it wasn't much fun to lie
on him afterwards.

He was absolutely seething with rage when I did let
him up, and he needed to understand who was boss here,
so I told him to shut the fuck up, and when he didn't,
I slapped his face (and I've probably mentioned to you
before that with the power of my arms, it isn't a good
thing to be on the receiving end of my hand).   He
just hurled himself at me again then, and it was only
when the blood spurted out of my arm that I realised
that this was serious.  We were in a fighting stance
across the small cell and I could see that in his hand
he'd got one of those home-made weapons you  hear
about  - a toothbrush, where the head had had slits
cut into it which now carried two razor blades - he
looked as if he knew what he was doing with it, and in
the army they tell you there's a problem when you're
up against a determined knife fighter and there's no
room to manoeuvre.

We circled, dodged, weaved in and out of each other,
and there was just no way I could get close enough to
him to really disable him - not with my arm already
spraying blood everywhere, and his wicked looking
weapon constantly slashing out at me.   My size was a
real disadvantage here - he was so much more nimble,
and my trousers were still down around my ankles, and
when I tripped and stumbled, he was on me!  Holding
the blade right against the skin of my throat he stuck
his face right into mine - he was bright red, and  I
could see the veins in his temple pulsing with rage,
and flecks of spit flew out of his mouth onto my face.

"Now, boy-o, take care... One false move and it won't
only be your arm that's spraying blood.  Have you ever
seen it when an artery's cut?"

"You wouldn't dare... The guards...."

"Listen, boy-o, why do you think you're in here?  I
get the pick of all the new arrivals.  The guards and
I have this little understanding, see?  They want a
quiet life, with everything ticking over nice and
easily,  with no trouble with the prisoners, and
that's what I deliver.  And in return they keep their
noses out of prisoner disputes... And if they did find
your body in here, it would just be moved somewhere
else, or they'd say that you couldn't stand it, and
had topped yourself.  So wise up - I run this
place...."

I looked up at him, and  I could see he was probably
telling the truth.  I'd heard that this is what it
could be like in prisons, where the guards just handed
over to criminal gangs.  He must have  read something
in my eyes as he snarled "So  take it nice and easy
now.... And turn over, as we've got a bit of business
to do...."

He kept his weapon at my throat as I did as he
ordered, and then he fucked me.  I've told you how
sometimes I do it to blokes when they're flat on their
faces, and how it makes for a good fuck even though it
can really be very uncomfortable for the bloke's ass -
and Dai evidently knew this, too - he made no attempt
to get my arse up off the ground, but spread my legs,
lay on me, and went straight in.  And then when he
started "stirring" around, he laughed as I cried out
in some distress.    The worse of it, though, was that
when he'd done, still holding the weapon to my throat
he made me turn over on to my back, and I then had to
clean his cock up as he squatted on my chest - and
remember I had been on the road for days, and in the
prison showers there really wasn't a way of really
cleaning my insides out, so his cock was covered in my
shit as well as his cum, and it was utterly foul.  He
kept me there, then, an evil smile on his face, as he
began to piss, pushing the weapon into my skin just so
that it didn't draw blood, but enough to signal quite
clearly that I was to drink it down.

When he'd finished he contemptuously shook his cock so
that the last drops of his piss flew over my face, and
then stood up,  to look down on me.  I just lay there,
wondering whether to kick out at him and take him
down, but he said softly "Easy, boy-o.  The last big
tough soldier like you who tried something stupid was
found buggered with this knife the next day.  Imagine
what it would feel like to have this up your arse, and
then to have it rotated.  They wondered how it was
possible for a bloke to be overpowered in the showers,
and then to have his arse hole carved up, all without
the screws seeing, but  I can assure you it was.
Perhaps you'd like to ask him -  you'll recognise him
when you see him, by the colostomy bag!"

He carried on looking down at me, and I nodded
slightly.  "Good.  So you understand I'm in charge.  I
run this place, and as long as you understand that,
we'll be OK."  He stared at me again for a few more
seconds, then his whole attitude changed.  "Get up
then, you daft bugger!  We'd better do something about
that arm before you bleed to death...."

I've still go the scar from that first meeting on my
forearm.  I suppose compared to what Rob had done to
me it's not all that bad.  He was surprisingly tender
as he bandaged my arm, and then he asked me about my
life and I told him why I was there.  "You poor
bastard!" - he sounded very sympathetic.  "It's OK for
me, as I grew up with all of this.  But you thought
you had it made, didn't you, being a soldier and all
of that?  A nice job for life, a bit of money...."

"Yes."

"Well me, you see, we never had anything.  A Council
house, dad drank himself to death, my mother was a
slag.... I never bothered at school, as it was easier
to do a bit of nicking, stuff like that.  I was doing
all right, too - had things nicely wrapped up on the
estate by the time I was twenty four - no one dared
argue with me or anything, as they knew I've got a bit
of a temper, and I don't mind getting tough.  The
local coppers were like the screws in here - provided
we kept it all quiet and it was only thieving and
stuff on the estate, they didn't mind too much, and I
made sure the other blokes never did anything stupid
like attacking fans when they came to the Arms Park
for the big matches... Just waited until they were
drunk, then took their money, credit cards, harmless
stuff like that."

"So why are you in here, then?"

"The bastards at the Social Security filmed me walking
around and having a bit of a soccer match with my
mates, when I'd been claiming benefit for being unable
to work with a broken leg!  The fucking magistrate
went on and on about 'scroungers' and 'cheats' and
'living of the state' - well, what did he think he was
doing, but living off he state? - and said I needed to
be made an example of as it was a 'flagrant' abuse."
He stopped for a moment.  "Nothing to do with the
local coppers, see?  Their inspector even spoke up for
me in court, saying I was 'a real help in keeping
crime statistics in the area down' - which is  true,
of course!  But here I am, and it's not all that
different from outside, now I've got it nicely
organised."

"Do you fuck all the new blokes, then?"

"Yes.  It shows them who's boss.  I run a tight ship
in here - and the screws like it that way.  I keep
everything under control, and they have no problems,
see?  You're the only one who's ever fought back  -
it's mostly local lads in here, see, and they all know
the rules of the game.  Trust some fucking Englishman
to come in and upset things."

"Look, I'm sorry, OK?  It's just that I've escaped
from being forcibly fucked whenever my master wanted
to do it... And I'm not about to start again...."

He asked me about things then, and sounded genuinely
shocked when I explained about how the only work I
could get was training indentured servants, and then
how I'd been indentured for life.  "Fuck me, Steve,
the thought of being made into a  slave because you
don't work.... That would be me, if they had this
system here."

"Hey, Dai... Look, I'm sorry.."

"For what?"

"Fucking you... It was just that when you told me to
strip, and said you were going to fuck me, something
snapped... I thought I'd escaped all of that when I
came here, and once I was out of this place I'd be
able to go and do what I wanted.  It sounds as if
things are as bad work-wise here as they are in
England...."

"How the fuck should I know, Steve?  As I told you, I
don't believe in work.  There's the Social, and then a
bit of thieving, and a bit of this and that...    Mind
you, it's tough being around the house all the time,
with the wife always nagging at me and the nippers
screaming...."

"You've got kids?"

"Two, and I'm about to give her a third as otherwise
it's too difficult to keep an eye on her.... She's
always sniffing around the other blokes, trying for a
quick one... Especially when I'm in here.  So I keep
her pregnant, and that puts them off, I can tell you."

"How long have you been in for, then?"

"Two years, and one more to go, with time off for
'good behaviour'."

"Anyway, I'm sorry about fucking you..."

"It's no problem.  But next time, stretch me a bit
first, will you?  My arse is fucking sore!"

"Next time?"

"Yes, I've been thinking that I need someone around to
keep an eye open for me - watch the other bastards
when my back is turned.   We're getting a lot of
spades in here now and they're not like normal blokes
- they gang up on us natives, and I may need help.
You're really very handy with your fists, and a big
bloke like you... Well, it takes away most of the
problems before they get serious, doesn't it?  They
take one look at you, and they do as they're told...
And I'm getting tired of beating guys up..."

"Dai, I don't think... Look, I don't want to break the
law or anything,...."

"You've got no choice, Steve.  When you're out of here
you'll be on the Social, and for a single guy that's
no fun any more.  They'll make you live in a hostel,
you'll never have enough to eat properly, or buy new
clothes...  There's no work, you know.  And it's the
same in here - unless you want to eat prison slop all
the time, you need to be working the system.... And a
new bloke like you has no chance...."

"I'm not sure...."

"...and of course you've got a nice body.... I'd like
you to stay..."

"I'm not going to have you fuck me all the time..."

"Steve, in here, you're going to get fucked!  Now
there's a lot worse than me -  it's a fact of life:
all prisoners get fucked.  If it isn't me, it will be
some of the screws who come in to your cell one night
and have a bit of fun....  Better the cock you know,
than the cock you don't...."

I thought a bit, then nodded.  I guess he was right.
"I don't want all that noise when I fuck you though,
Dai...."

"What makes you think you're going to fuck me?"

"I've had a lot of men, Dai, remember?  I know the
ones who genuinely hate it, and the ones who say they
hate it because that's what they have been taught to
say.  But sometimes, when you're fucking a guy who
isn't used to taking cock, you can just tell that they
really want it.  Mind you, that bony ass of yours...
There's no meat on your body.... "

He grinned.

____________________________________

Well, I learned a lot of stuff I never even knew
about.  I learned how to be polite to the screws,
whilst relying on them to make life easier for us:
Dai really did have the place sewn up tight, and he
ran all the rackets -  men knew that if they didn't do
as Dai said, they were likely to be put in solitary,
or have privileges withdrawn.  And we in turn
"policed" the place for them - new arrivals were
always put in with us, and as both Dai and me are
really handy with our cocks, they got to learn what
their proper place was.  And it was mostly sweetness
and light from then on.

I've even got a kid on the way!  Yes, even here, from
in prison.  You remember Dai said he believed in
keeping his wife pregnant, well, I found out how:
the prison service thoughtfully handed out condoms,
not that we ever used them, of course, as you don't
want the sensation of a bloke's arse against your cock
dulled, do you?  The  only use Dai  had for them was
to wank with one on before her visits, then to tie it
off and stick it in his mouth - wives ere allowed a
greeting kiss, when he shovelled it into her mouth
with his tongue, and then he told her to go off to the
lavatories and stick it up herself!

Dai and I got along really well - in bed, as well as a
working partners, and as we lay there one night he
said "Didn't you ever want a son, Steve?"

"I guess so.  But I never  met a woman..."

He kissed me, and pushed is body closer to mine,
bringing his thigh up between my legs so that I could
feel his skin warm on my arse hole.  "Well, Steve, I
think it's time my missus got a bit of a shock - she's
been going out at night with some of her mates, and
that's normally the start of jumping into bed with
some bloke, which is why I decided to get her pregnant
again.  But  I reckon it's too easy for her, with my
kids.... They're kind of skinny, take after me.  Now
if she got a really big baby, one who took his size
from his dad, who's six-something... A bloke like you,
Steve... That would really let her know what pregnancy
and childbirth was all about when it came to come out
of her....  So she's coming in tomorrow, so  that
condom.... We'll fill it with your spunk...."

"Dai, you can't do that..."

"Why not, Steve?   She's my wife, and I can do what I
like with her...."

So there you are.  It turned out that it worked, and
there's a kid waiting for me when I leave here - Dai
has to call it his, of course, as it's his missus and
he'd be a laughing stock if anyone knew it wasn't his.
 But we'll know.  Dai reckons we'll carry on working
together to run his "empire" when we leave here, as my
size will be a big help in getting his rackets
established again.  Mind you, he tells me that we'll
have to live on the Council estate, as however much we
make, we can't let it show or else the Revenue will be
down on us.  And he says that I've got to sleep on the
sofa in their house, as it "Wouldn't look right" if he
didn't sleep with his wife.  "But, Steve, she's a lazy
cow, you know.  Once I've fucked her senseless, she
snores like a trooper.  Then I'll be down those
stairs, and with you...."

He saw me looking a bit strangely.  "You'll be OK.
You can curl up on the sofa with a blanket, and then
I'll slip in beside you - it will be fun, in the
middle of the night....  And you want to live with us,
don't you?  See how little Evan is growing up?"

"Hey, I don't want my kid to have a Welsh name...."

Dai just smiled.  "Steve, sometimes I think you're
really prejudiced!"

I don't know.   I seem to have come a long way.  And
now, all this.... Still, that's life, isn't it?  You
don't always get chances and choices.  You just have
to do it.  It's not a rehearsal for something else -
this is it!  I reckon I'm lucky to have found Dai like
this - the world's a big, cold place without proper
mates.  And how much closer can you get than him and
me?  Look, I don't want to leave you thinking that I'm
looking forward to a life of crime all that much, but
it goes on, doesn't it, everywhere?  And I suppose
someone has to do it.

THE END