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©Jim Stewart

Chapter One

The wind was really howling across the high pasture before it roared down through the clump of trees and hit the thick stone walls of Top Ridge Farm. The old house had sheltered behind Pikedale Crag, high in the Yorkshire hills for three hundred years. The ‘new’ slate roof had weathered only eighty winters according to his family records, but Andy knew it would survive tonight’s late spring gale. There had been worse. He snuggled down further into the big old farmhouse bed. Moonlight picked out the shining brass of the Victorian superstructure; rails and knobs and good sturdy posts. Their mother had been surprised when he and his brother had turned down her offer of two modern single divans. The big old bed had been part of his life for the whole twenty years.

‘Where the fuck is Dan?’ wondered Andy as another blast of wind smashed rain against the window and ripped at the old beach trees. He heard a branch crack. ‘There’ll be wood to haul and saw tomorrow ... that’s if he hasn’t got pneumonia or a hangover. What some people will do to get their end away’ he mused as he lay listening to the torrential rain. ‘At least he didn’t go on his stupid bike. Mind you, he’d probably be glad of his waterproof suit even inside the old land-rover tonight!’

Andy pictured his older brother driving back from Bradford, where he seemed to find an inexhaustible supply of  ‘pussy’. He imagined being with him in the old rattle-trap of a farm jeep squeaking and leaking as it ploughed along country back-lanes in the storm. Dan drove the way he did other things ... with more aggression than finesse.

‘Maybe he took a sweater and oilskins’ he thought, remembering that it was already raining when Dan set off, togged up in his ‘city’ gear with plastered-down hair. He remembered calling it ‘Poofy’ before running for his life. Maybe Dan wouldn’t remember tomorrow ... but he probably would. ‘If he’s pissed tonight he’ll likely end‑up in a ditch again ...’, but the image that came to his mind was of his muscular elder brother with hands like hams, hauling the wheel of the van around muddy country lanes dressed from head to foot in his black naval oilskin suit and rubber farm boots.

‘He cares enough about his ‘City’ clothes to have changed in the car-park before driving home’ he thought. Andy wondered if his brother had bothered to put any clothes on under the oilskins. He knew from experience just how much of a sweat you can work up even sitting around in those Foul Weather suits that they both often wore and worked in. He smiled to himself as he luxuriated in the warmth, and imagined how his heavy ex-navy suit made him sweat until water began to swill around inside his heavy industrial wellies ... especially if you’re forced ... the whole suit buttoned tight shut ... not even allowed to open the high collar and mouth cover in the hood. There had been times when Dan had made him ... Andy’s reverie was brought to an abrupt end as the sound of their old motor roared above the wind.

Heavy tyres ground to a halt in the yard. The dogs didn’t bother to bark. They knew it was Dan, who they feared and adored as the ruler of their lives. Andy also knew that his mother, Meg, alone in her big double bed along the passage, would go to sleep at last. Tomorrow, she wouldn’t ask Dan where he’d been so late. As long as he and Andy were up and milking by five-thirty she wouldn’t challenge his right to lead a free and private life. Since their father died Dan was master of Top Ridge. Legally, he and his younger brother were equal partners ... but only as far as working the farm was concerned.

Andy listened for the creak of the old stairs. He could usually tell by the rhythm of his tread, how much beer his brother had supped ... almost to the pint. It took longer than usual. If he’d worn his ‘skins’ he’d be taking them off by the back door. Twenty-three years old he may be and tough as nails, but the Master of Top Ridge wouldn’t risk the rough edge of his mother’s tongue by bringing work clothes beyond the pegs by the back door. The tread on the stairs when Andy heard it was not erratic, but deliberate enough to sound as if Dan was concentrating hard. “Semi-pissed, but at least he’s taken his shoes off” thought Andy as he prepared to play dead.

Daniel Albert Belkirk, named after seven generations of Master of Top Ridge, opened the door latch very very quietly, more out of respect for his mother down the hall than his brother. Once inside the familiar room he needed no light to open the Adidas sports‑bag he used for Saturday rugger club and take out his carefully folded slacks, best shirt and sporty new raglan jacket. He dropped the shoes. “Shusshh” Dan remonstrated with him self noisily. “Mustn’t wake up the whole house ... but I suspect that little brother isn’t really asleep“  he commentated for Andy’s benefit as he peeled off his sweaty flannel shirt and old cord pants. “Probably waiting up to hear what randy adventures his brother’s been having. Probably been pulling on his dick ever since he went to bed three hours ago. Perhaps I should have taped it all up so he couldn’t play with it, like I used to when he was little. Left him lashed to the bed while big brother wasn’t around to keep an eye on him. Jeeze my feet are frozen!”

“Then keep your socks on,” hissed Andy emerging from under the bed cover.

Dan sat heavily on the edge of the old iron-framed bed. “Why, when I’ve got a warm and hunky young buck to snuggle down with.” Andy repressed a response as his brother’s icy feet snaked around his legs, effectively trapping them, and the brawny arms circled his chest from behind so that frozen fingers could nestle into his armpits. “Any complaints?” Dan’s question provoked no reply. Andy knew better than to complain. “What day is today?"

“Friday” replied Andy resignedly.

Dan smiled in the warm darkness. “Time for the fifth Black Mark you earned last weekend.” He gently withdrew one arm and with his fingers located in turn the four neat round bruises on his brother’s back. Andy flinched only as his brother touched yesterday’s Black Mark. Then, carefully selecting a spot just above Andy’s left shoulder-blade, Dan’s teeth prepared to inflict another hicky-bite, a punishment technique he had perfected many years ago. Andy did not flinch as Dan’s teeth ground together to leave their temporary reminder of who is Master of Top Ridge farm. As Dan’s powerful fingers returned to find the warmth of his armpit, Andy sighed and prepared to sleep. In spite of the storm which still raged and roared he could relax now his brother was home and where he belonged.

Chapter Two

Meg listened as the sound of manly voices shouted and whooped and hollered ... and laughed. Those boys are crazy, she thought. Boys! They’re men, damn it! They stopped being boys three years ago ... overnight ... when their dad ... Dan was 20 then and Andy only one year into Agricultural college. They’d really surprised everybody. Even down in the village where people had shaken their heads and told one another that those two young hooligans could never take on the responsibility. They’d lived to eat their words. Young Dan seemed to grow up overnight when his Dad had ... she blocked the thought from her mind and busied herself with pastry that was the envy of the village. Her mind strayed back to the subject. During that terrible two months when their father lay in hospital Dan’l and young Andy had both proved that, in spite of their reputation for larking around, they could handle the work. The perpetual roughhousing between the brothers hadn’t stopped, but it never interfered with the smooth running of the farm. Young Andy had had to make an even bigger leap to maturity; from first year college student to equal-third partner in a profitable Yorkshire hill-farm. He could hold his own with Dan’l ... not physically perhaps ... but he had a shrewd mind. Maybe one day he should go back and get his college degree. He’d always been the brainy one ... and book mad. History, geography, science ... Andy always came top at school. But for all that, he was a born countryman and had always used his eyes and ears ... and his good Yorkshire common sense.

Even with no college degree young Andy was the forward planner of the trio at Top Ridge. His plans for building a modern milking parlour which Dan’l hadn’t much liked and Meg had thought were a bit outlandish were already paying dividends. Even Mr. Prentice at the bank had admitted publicly that it was ‘an extraordinarily astute decision.’ No, she hadn’t regretted for a minute allowing them to take on the responsibility, even in the face of so much local opposition. Now they were regarded as the leaders of the Young Farmers Association ... and the Rugby Club. She smiled as she thought of their antics and carryings-on. The yelling in the yard brought her to the kitchen window. They were at it again. ‘Crazy tykes,’ she thought, ‘clearing those broken branches in this weather.’

The rain still hadn’t let up ... but there they were, happy as pigs ... roping them to the tractor trailer. Young Andy was trying to rope Dan onto the trailer with the logs. She smiled as Dan neatly escaped and chased his brother threateningly before jumping onto the tractor and driving off, leaving Andy to follow behind as best he could through the mud and pouring rain. ‘Still, they’re warm and well covered’ she thought as she turned to build up the fire and deal with her baking. ‘They’ll need a good warm place and a hot meal by the end of the day.’  She knew that when ever they came in they always seemed well tired ... but happy with the lives they’d chosen for themselves.

Out in the lashing rain Andy’s Wellington boots were almost being sucked off his feet by the mud around the gate. Practically trapped up to his knees in deep wet slime he struggled to keep moving. If Dan knew he was practically helpless, God knows what devilment that evil mind might be inspired to, thought Andy. Like the time when he slipped on the loft ladder in the barn and was rash enough to call for help. Finding his brother caught by his coat halfway between ground and loft, Dan’s help had consisted of lashing Andy’s wrists to the rung they were clinging to and then systematically lashing every part of his body to the lower rungs until totally immobilised from fingers to boots ... including his damned cock, which had been pulled out and laced to a convenient rung! ‘To save him from falling off’ Dan had said. He’d then given his butt a few playful whacks with an old cart-horse harness leather strap (‘To teach him to be more careful’) before leaving him tied there until supper time.

The deep mud gave an almighty squelch as Andy’s boot came free and, suddenly off balance, he sat back flat in the mud. Luckily Dan had ordered him to wear the big ex-army one-piece green waterproof suit. So ... mud was no problem ... it would hose down. The sweat inside the suit was no problem either because he’d included a shower unit in his design for the new milking parlour which was finished last October. Their mother (and the Bank) had thought a shower‑bath was an extravagance ... but she was happy to have her boys come in to supper scrubbed and sweet smelling in clean clothes . She was also happy that Dan was allowing his younger brother to make decisions and including him in his long‑term plans for Top Ridge.

“Get your mucky ass in here! “ a sharp voice snapped. Dan stood framed in the doorway to the old barn where the dripping logs were already unloaded from the trailer. His black oilskin suit was still running with water but he’d pushed back the hood and face cover and was stripping off the new heavy black industrial plastic gauntlets he’d bought at the Cattle Market last week. Dan instinctively knew a good piece of equipment when he saw one. His trips into local towns often produced spectacular finds in the backstreet army surplus stores. For instance the tall rubber waders they both used when sheep‑dip time came around were like no other waders Andy had ever seen or dreamed about. He’d suggested getting some at the fishing shop ... but Dan had come home triumphant with hobnailed, leather soled sewer-mans heavy duty waders for both of them. A Tank Suit made from heavy canvas with metal zips from neck to ankles was something else Dan had picked up. It was thickly padded and water repellent (to some extent). Andy had only learned this when he’d been forced to spend the night out on the open fells in it. His brother always liked to ‘test the efficiency’’ of any new piece of gear that took his fancy.

The first time Andy had been in the Tank Suit started out as a brotherly trip to the local cinema. Because he wasn’t often allowed to ride with Dan on his motorbike, the Tank Suit had been suggested as an economical alternative to bike leathers like the ones Dan had bought himself a few months before their father’s death. But the night at the pictures ended abruptly for Andy as soon as they’d ridden out of sight of the farm house. Dan had turned onto a muddy lane and up onto the fells. Producing heavy gloves, a balaclava and the inevitable supply of good solid rope, Dan had lashed Andy to a metal five barred gate. Feet apart lashed at ankles, knees, thighs, waist and chest; arms pulled back over the top bar and wrists and ankles lashed to the back of the bars. There are knots that can’t be worked free, and a field gate high on an exposed hillside on a stormy night doesn’t get many casual passers-by, so Andy was there until his brother decided to let him loose. After the pictures turned out, Andy heard his brother’s motorcycle approach along the muddy track ... but having inspected the knots and checked Andy’s circulation, Dan drove away again, deaf to his brother’s pleading and shouted abuse. By five o’clock next morning Andy was too stiff and cold to do more than climb into the land rover and have a long hot shower while his brother did the morning milking single-handed.

“Get your filthy ass in here!“ Dan’s voice repeated, snapping Andy back to the present. He obediently trod his way past Dan into the old barn. His muddy suit hissed and squeaked and his boots squelched into the straw‑littered barn which housed the tractor and other farm implements. Farm implements! Instruments of torture; an old square frame chain rake which hadn’t been used on a field for years could be employed in innumerable ways if you have Dan’s fertile imagination. Several other sturdy old metal ‘constructions’ of dubious origin and purpose had been saved from the scrap yard and stored in the barn to add to Dan’s 'games'. Not only in the barn. Up on the moor edge, four old metal grids had been welded together into a solid mansize cage. Ostensibly an isolation pen for a randy ram, it had held Andy prisoner for many a cramped and humiliating day or night.

Andy looked meekly at his brother, hoping to win a smile. It had already been a busy and tiring day and it would soon be milking time ... but Andy knew the signs. His brother could handle the milking alone and often did. He waited as his powerful brother, massive in his black oilskins, inspected him gravely. “You mucky‑looking fuck‑pig. Just look at that suit. You have two choices. Two hours hog-tied on the barn floor then I hose you down where you lay ... or four hours tied to a tree at the end of the orchard in the rain to wash that shit off.”

“Four hours !” exploded Andy who didn‘t much enjoy being hog-tied on his stomach with his hands securely roped to his boots (because Dan had developed a knack of getting his ankle well up against his wrists).

“It’ll be supper time in three.”

 “Not if I tell Mam we want to cut these branches and stack ‘em before it’s dark,” the older man explained in a reasonable tone  “and she won’t come out here because of the rain ... and when I’ve done the milking I’ll even cut the flipping logs ... because you’ll be stood out there in the pissing rain unable to move a finger to wipe the drops off the end of your nose. And I’ll jack off just picturing you all done up in your big green suit ... the mud just being washed down, down, down and over your big butch wellies.”

As Dan said his say, his fingers traced patterns on the muddy waterproof, and then his fingers gently smeared Andy’s handsome face with thick ribs of not quite liquid earth ... which also carried a strong percentage of cow shit and urine. Andy stood impassively. He knew from long and painful experience not to resist his brother when he was in this familiar mood. “Which is it to be? Hog-tie or the orchard?”

Andy sighed. “Orchard ... for three?”

“No deals” said his brother as he began to make a careful choice between the plentiful selection of rope in the old feed bin and the variety of well‑used leather straps hanging from a row of nails in one of the horse stalls. Andy was relieved it wasn’t to be the chain which hung in assorted lengths from the central support pillar of the barn .

“Put your hood up and close the neck snaps ... it’s pissing down. Don’t want you to get wet ... just a little steamy perhaps. Here, carry these, shit face.” The various coils of rope were slammed into Andy’s stomach. Dan grinned at his brother and was pleased when the mud-caked face grinned back. He’s a tough little sod and game for anything, he thought as he walked out into the rain confident that his brother would follow without serious complaint.

By the time the brothers were half way to the end of the orchard furthermost from the house, most of the mud had already disappeared from Andy’s suit. It glistened in the rain which had, if anything, increased in it’s shear weight. The wind had dropped and rain fell ‘in stair-rods’ as the locals said. The peak on the hood of Dan‘s naval oilskins kept some rain off his face which was also protected by a high buttoned flap that covered his mouth and nose leaving only two shining eyes visible. In contrast Andy’s one-piece green suit was an army ‘chemical’ protective suit which would in normal circumstances have been worn with a gas mask. Andy almost wished that Dan had ordered him to bring one out ...but he didn’t so the rain lashed and splashed his face as he followed the broad-shouldered black oilskin back.

Suddenly Dan came to a halt by a surprisingly young and narrow tree trunk. As the black suited figure systematically roped the green suited figure to the tree in the pouring rain, if anyone from the local Young Farmers had happened on the scene ... they wouldn’t have been in the least bit surprised. The antics of Dangerous Dan and Randy Andy Belkirk had long since stopped surprising anybody. After any local Rugby Club booze up, soccer win, cricket match or local dance if any rowdy bawdy ‘skylarking’ took place, the locals knew that the two Belkirk brothers would certainly be the instigators. People shook their heads but secretly approved ... even the women. The gossips reasoned in their down-to-earth Yorkshire way that it was only natural ... healthy ... for growing lads to indulge in horseplay ... usually a bit ‘cheeky.’  In any farming community it was strictly between the lads ... if it sometimes got a bit near the knuckle ... well ... all good clean fun.

The younger element in the community had grown up aiding and abetting in the Belkirk brand of practical jokes and physical mayhem. A couple of pints was excuse enough. Like the Stag night that ended with the bridegroom-to-be, submerged in the local river up to his neck tied into a canvas parcel sack that the local post masters son had willingly provided. Since they were aged 13 and 10 respectively Dan and Andy had been the wildest of the local wild bunch. A couple of ‘Real lads’ the villagers admitted with that mixture of disapproval and grudging admiration. There were some who thought Dan’s influence on his younger brother wasn’t good. A more refined and bookish young chap Andy always seemed to be, but in every escapade he’d always been there in the thick of it, grinning his familiar likeable grin.

At present the grin was almost literally being wiped off his face by the torrential rain. Thank God Dan had let him put thick waterproof gloves on. They and the suit gave him some protection from the ropes. If Dan did his usual thorough job, in four hours time each rope would feel like a band of steel: Andy knew from practical experience. Dan was working quickly and thoroughly - feet well apart, wrists close to his sides downwards (which was something to be thankful for), but roped separately to the tree trunk ... so no chance of gaining any slack there, thought Andy, and his elbows weren’t roped yet which surprised him and gave him some hope ...

Dan gave a final pull on a knot and stood back, his eyes smiling out from inside the black shining hood. Andy flexed his body tentatively. Surprisingly, Dan hadn’t circled his chest or waist, and his arms and legs had an unusual amount of freedom. Naturally, the expertly tied ropes would not allow him to free himself but the low degree of restriction was a surprise.

“That feel OK?” asked Dan from behind the thick oilskin wall of his mouth cover. Andy needed to blow rain from his lips before saying “Fine” without sounding too comfortable. Looking down he was able to see that the glistening olive green plastic was already completely free of mud. Water dripped from the end of every finger of the heavy black industrial gloves which had even been allowed to stay trucked inside the cuffs of the suit to keep out the rain. Except for his face Andy was totally proof against the steady downpour, in fact every other part of his head and body was quite cosy and warm.

As if his Machiavellian brother could read his thoughts, Dan took a final piece of cord and began to attach it to a loop on top of Andy’s hood. As his head was tilted back and upwards, the full force of the stinging rain began to beat down onto the unprotected face. In panic Andy tried to turn his head from side to side, but the tough plastic hood had other loops over each ear which were already being linked by rope around the tree making any head movement impossible. Andy cried out in pain and frustration as Dan stood back to observe the writhing figure. Almost his whole body was free to thrash and move except the efficiently lashed boots and gloved wrists ... and, of course, the totally immobilised head.

“No ... please” said Andy as the rain stung his eyes and froze his nose.

“What?” said his brother placing his heavily hooded and muffled ear closer to Andy’s tortured face.

“No, please” yelled Andy desperately trying to rip the loops off his hood.

As the rain beat a loud tattoo on Dan’s broad black oilskin shoulders he leaned even closer to the struggling victim. The efforts brought increased showers of rain from the branches of the young tree. Damn me! !, Andy suddenly thought, was that on purpose? Using a tree that would sway about slightly and bring down more water. Even as he thrashed his body and struggled to free his hood, Andy couldn’t help admiring his brother’s perpetual fiendish ingenuity. With a supreme effort he managed to drag his face fractionally to one side. Strong fingers reached out to Andy’s throat and began to unsnap the high protective collar of the green suit.

“You having trouble, little brother?”

In anger and relief Andy wrenched his head away from the tree trunk as the collar came loose. He dropped his head to avoid the stinging rain.

“Is that better? Is that how you’d rather have it?”

Only when he heard the slightly surprised, mocking tone of his brother’s voice did Andy realised just how devilish was Dan’s mood today. The protective hood was not only still firmly lashed to the tree but the back of the neck of his suit was now gaping wide open, welcoming not only the pelting rain but every shower that each shake of the tree might produce. Andy’s short thick chestnut hair was already soaked and stinging trickles of icy water were already finding their way down the back of his neck and into the warm darkness of his suit. No way could he get his head back into the hood. As he tried, each movement brought down fresh showers from the leaves above. In spite of this Andy continued trying to regain the protection of the hood. This soon made him realise just how wide open the front collar and vent at his throat now was. Water began to trickle down his chest like freezing needles. In the middle of these efforts and discoveries Andy realised that his brother was standing grinning.

“I could stand here and toss myself off for a week just watching you thrash around like that, mate. I wish the old camera was rain proof.”

Andy squirmed as an icy rivulet of water found it’s cautious way down his neck and between his shoulder blades. He pressed against the tree to halt it’s course, but others from under his chin took this opportunity to find their way down onto his shoulders. There, icy fingers seemed to hesitate before deciding whether to take the route over heaving chest or into the warm depths of his armpits.

“So long, mate. Got to tell Mam we’ll both be tied up for a while. Got cows to milk ... then I might milk myself ... maybe come out and do it watching you squirm as the trickles find your waist ... the crack of your arse ... your belly ... your thighs. Hope I haven’t tied your ankles too tight. By supper time I want your boots to be filled with water. So long, chummy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As Andy watched the retreating back of his brother he felt, as usual, the same strange mixture of fury, helplessness and intense admiration.  The broad shoulders and thighs, usually a tight belted waist and always boots. Andy fantasised about having life-sized pictures of his brother (back and front) in every one of his different sets of gear. The black oilskins, his waxed cotton motorbike suit, and, (of course) the six buckle trial boots, leather jeans and bike jacket. Favourite though was perhaps more usual army greens; field jacket and pants and high laced boots ... and even a peaked soft cap set at a casual angle high on his wide strong forehead. Recently Dan had picked up full sets of cammo battle gear for them both. Andy wasn’t sure if he preferred being in plain olive or the cammo ... but preferences didn’t come into it. He wore what he was told to wear from day to day.

Andy collected his thoughts. At the start of any long ‘session’ as a prisoner victim, he had trained his mind into a routine which could ease the pain or duration of whatever challenge Dan had dreamed up for him. Now, as the rain coursed down the outside of his suit and icy rivers darted and stung their ways around the steaming interior of the suit, Andy once again disciplined his mind to review, systematically, some of the other ‘sessions’ he had been made to endure in the past. Anything to take his mind off the present.

Being three years younger and physically lighter than a brother has both advantages and disadvantages. When you’re the son of a farmer you’re expected to do your share of chores at whatever age ... and if there’s a danger of a younger boy getting tied to his mothers apron-strings it’s inevitable that both father and brother will make sure it doesn’t happen. Andy remembered being challenged and tested for strength, stamina, daring and endurance even as a toddler. Dan was always there to catch him if he looked like taking a fall but he would also be the one to push him if there was any sign of hesitation. Who the hell cares about then ... it’s today that counts ... but today is a result of all those shoves and knocks. It had been such a gradual development. There had never been a time when Dan hadn’t been in charge and in control. At the age of seven out working around the farm with a ten year old brother, whether it was mending fences or bailing hay Andy already knew that his older brother was fascinated by knots, rope or wire. Dan already delighted in his expertise ... which usually resulted in Andy getting tied up, or down or staked out until it was time to head back to the house and parental supervision. Nothing vicious ever ... but inevitable.

When Dan first discovered sexual arousal it was during one of their frequent play sessions. The mesmerised Andy at the age of seven had watched his brother’s dick not only expand but shoot. They’d both seen animals do exactly that ... so it was natural to experiment. Together the lads soon learned how to get the dogs horny ... and even sheep. For devilment young Andy would get his brother hard just before they were called to the meal table or outside church on a Sunday. Of course, taking such liberties with Dan inevitably resulted in a range of subtle punishments ... but somehow Andy already accepted that as a way of life. Dan’s first experiments with physical sex were naturally on his brother ... in preference to trying to fuck the dogs or sheep. As their bedroom was at the far end of the big old house from their parents, even at times when Andy wasn’t a particularly willing partner, Dan had a knack of overpowering his brother, and then after sessions of relatively heavy action, soothing him down.

The old brass bedstead had always been as much of a playground as the barn or the high meadow with the woods beyond. Up there, particularly in the summer, you could see anybody approaching for miles if you didn’t want to get caught ‘fooling around.’ Not that Dan always got things his own way ... but the price of pulling some stunts on his older brother was often costly and painful for Andy. Even so ... there were times ...

When Dan made his first moves towards sexual adventures with local females, the two brothers were to some extent allies. Dan’s school companions weren’t too pleased when a younger brother tagged along ... but young Andy was not only an amiable kid ... he could be useful, had guts in a tight corner ... and occasionally even had bright ideas ...

In those early sex adventures young Andy had been his brother’s accomplice, alibi, fellow conspirator ... and substitute on the nights when Dan had failed to get his end away with a ‘chick.’ Even now there were nights when both he and Dan bowled into one of the local towns, made a couple of randy girls happy and then stopped to fool around together on the way home or after they got back to the privacy of their own big double bed.

Andy’s mind found it impossible to hold onto the image of that warm and friendly place because the driving rain was beginning to numb his unprotected head. His powerful, athletic body was only anchored at wrists, ankles and by the hood ... but the suit was practically indestructible and the expertly tied ropes stayed as firmly tied as ever. Andy would have been amazed if they’d done otherwise. Dan was a genius, there was no doubt about that. As the rain beat down, even though he found a certain strange pleasure in the present discomfort, Andy felt the need to generate some more mental distraction. He began to picture his brother standing watching him ... and instinctively he started to struggle and strain at the ropes again ... because he knew it turned his brother on to watch him. The violence of his movements shook the young tree, bringing yet more water down on his head as his pelvis strained first forward and then banged back against the rough bark. His chest, waist and hips could move unhampered within the sweaty prison where hot perspiration and icy cold rain were battling with his senses. His breath was coming faster as his body writhed and flexed. His head rolled from side to side and suddenly the cold rain on his face seemed to burn. He groaned loudly as his convulsive movements turned inevitably into another almighty orgasm which may only have lasted for a few seconds but seemed like twenty minutes and felt like he was shaking the tree out of the ground.

‘Oh fuck,’ thought Andy as his body began to calm down. ‘When Dan sees all that cum ... and he’ll look for it ... he’ll want to punish me for coming without permission.’ For the rest of the four hours the helpless victim could only speculate on variations on the recurring theme of life with a brother like ‘Big Dan.’

Chapter Three

After three days of gales and rain Top Ridge Farm looked fresh and green, and because the sun was out the lads decided they should take a look at the damage in the woods behind the top meadow. Although the ground was a bit soft Dan was wearing his high lace-up Combat boots, cammo pants with all the pockets and a plain green vest under his open Combat jacket. The jaunty cammo field cap topped off the complete picture Andy saw as he trudged behind his brother up the steep muddy sheep track. The going was heavier for the younger man who was sweltering inside two layers of thermal underwear and hobnailed rubber thigh boots, which were in turn underneath a two-piece industrial protective over-suit buttoned right up to the neck. This gear was only part of the price of having lost his load the previous day. On top of the heavily padded clothing a canvas back-pack weighed heavily on his brawny shoulders and underneath everything a solid eight inch butt plug shifted uneasily at every false step the heavy soled boots made on the slippery climb. Dan looked back and grinned as his brother sweated and panted to keep up the pace he was setting.

“Still feeling horny, randy little sod? Soon be there. Then you can have a nice rest while I look around the wood to see what needs to be done.” As he said this Dan teasingly showed Andy that there was rope coiled neatly in all four pockets of his cammos. Then like a conjurer he produced a thick black rubber gag from his chest pocket.

“Got something for you to chew on while I’m eating all the food your Mummy packed for her baby’s dinner.”

Andy refused to be provoked. Today promised to be enough of a challenge without inviting extra penalties. He knew their mother was planning to make a three day visit to her sister at the weekend. This would allow Dan unusual freedom for one of his more elaborate and lengthy ‘experiments.’ This was no time to invite trouble.

At the top of the top meadow the solid old dry stone wall shielded them from the wind and from direct view from any angle. It had been a favourite play spot for the lads since early days.

“OK, back-pack off.” Andy struggled to free his aching shoulders from the heavy load. The carefully prepared lunches took up only one pocket of the big canvas haversack. In addition to the two wood saws and a ten pound axe, at least half the sack was filled with big rocks. All part of the punishment for ‘getting his rocks off’ without permission .

“Face down” commanded Dan in a friendly tone. The hesitation was only fractional but enough to make the older mans thick eyebrows arch questioningly. Worried about getting your nice new suit dirty? The Farmers Weekly says it’ll keep out rain, wind, piss and cow shit. We may have to put that to the test.”

Andy eased himself to his knees. The tightness of two pairs of long johns inside thigh high rubber boots inside the dark green PVC bib-and-brace over trouser with a heavy buttoned up matching coat over the top resulted in pulling and stretching of the different tough fabrics in many directions. “What about gloves?” the victim asked as he knelt on the soft soggy earth in front of his brother’s bulging army pants. “No gloves. I want you to feel the ankles and hobnail soles of your waders. Y‘know they’re really for people who work in sewers. Maybe there’s still shit tucked away in the deep cleats. On your face, sucker!”

This was, by now, a familiar routine. The hog-tie was one of Dan’s favourites, perhaps because Andy didn’t much like it ... but more because it was good to watch his brother’s strong arms and legs pulled back together, straining but helpless with wrists and heavy boots firmly lashed and finished with unreachable knots. Perhaps he’d piss on his head and leave him face down looking into a puddle as it dripped off his tousled hair. That butt plug was an inspiration ... specially for a hog-tie session, thought Dan as he watched Andy ease himself painfully onto his stomach and dutifully placed his hands along his sides ... which was as close as the thick clothing would allow him to get them behind his back. Although this had become a well drilled routine, Dan liked to prolong the suspense. He moved his heavy boots slowly closer to Andy’s head. They must seem huge from that worm’s‑eye‑view, thought Dan.

Towering over the bundled up, brawny but submissive piece of manhood, the tormentor subtly shifted first one boot and then the other closer to his brother’s face. The result was two small mounds of wet earth which rose before the cleated boot soles and travelled slowly towards the unprotected face. The mounds stopped moving abruptly and the oppressive boots disappeared from Andy’s view as his brother stepped over his back and roped first one wrist and then the other into a simple but totally efficient square lash. Then came the moment Andy dreaded, as a second rope, having lashed the ankles in a similar fashion began to slowly haul the tight-legged boot skyward: The pressure of the plug forcing it’s way further and further up into his arse.

Even in his agony Andy pictured his brother’s smiling, weather-beaten face as he gently drew the feet not only up towards the lashed wrists but firmly in between them so it spread the hands on either side of the thick rubber ankles. A couple of deft turns of rope rendered the tie totally escape-proof. Andy knew from long experience that his brother not only knew how to make ties effective ... but also not tight enough to actually cut off the circulation. As Andy lay adjusting his tortured body to the situation he knew he’d be there for several hours. Dan’s games seldom held up their farm work.

If Andy was incapacitated Dan would willingly double his effort to make sure the work didn’t suffer. He was a good farm manager ... and undoubtedly the Master of Top Ridge. The massive army boots reappeared in Andy’s limited field of ground-level vision. If he tried to turn his head to either left or right he was confronted by the two fresh mounds of soggy leaves, mud and sheep droppings.

“Comfortable?” enquired a voice from on high, but Andy knew that a reply was not required. His brother knew that the strain on the shoulders would continue to increase for the first hour, before other more deadening physical developments would begin to occupy the mind. Because of the heavy protective covering and tight‑legged rubber boots the knees were particularly pressurised ... but the tightly packed anal passage would probably keep his mind off the other pains. Andy’s fingers explore the surface of his boots. Dan was right about him being able to feel the smooth surface, explore the wrinkles caused by the skilful rope lashings ... even reach up onto the metal studded thick leather soles.

“Feeling for the shit and mud?” Without warning a fist full of sticky cold slime was dumped on Andy’s captive fingers, and smeared around the rubber ankles and leather soles.

“Might as well make you feel at home. Momma’s leaving tomorrow night and I’ve made plans for a long l-o-ong weekend. But I need time to work out a few of the details. Won’t you join me for lunch while I figure them out?”

Andy watched Dan’s boot retreat towards the wall. The powerful military figure was opening the knapsack. He grinned as he produced the bigger than fist-size rocks. “We needed more rocks up here” he said as he playfully began to toss them in the direction of his helpless brother. As the heavy stones landed one by one with sickening thuds close around his head, Andy lay motionless. He knew his brother wouldn’t do anything vicious or damaging ... but the heavy thuds and unpredictable roll of each stone close by his head made him wince as each missile fell.

“Good lad” said his brother approvingly, before he pulled an old army waterproof groundsheet out of the haversack and spread it near the wall to sit on while he ate the food. Two neatly wrapped packages of sandwiches and two thermos flasks (‘So’s there’ll be no squabbling’ their mother always said) were produced and shown to the helpless man who lay tense and motionless face down in the mud surrounded by stones.

The well-worn boots again approached and kicked away the stones. Huge brawny hands reached down and caught the helpless bundle under the armpits. By lifting only slightly, Dan dragged Andy across the muddy uneven ground, closer to where the picnic was spread on the groundsheet. The grass was longer here, and still heavy with rain. Andy snorted as springy blades of grass entered his nostrils and wetted his face. When Dan sat back against the wall his high‑legged boots loomed on either side of Andy’s face. Menacingly they edged forward until they nosed their way under the helpless victims armpits. Two powerful hands gripped the shoulders of Andy’s jacket and dragged the inert body up the boots until his face was walled in by the tough mud-stained leather. The towering walls gradually clamped in on the sides of his head, making his ears sting.

He was held firmly in a vice of leather. The pressure was soon released and a forceful upward movement dragged his shoulders higher until his head was walled between tough camouflage thighs. Andy’s view straight ahead was his brother’s bulging crotch. A ham-like hand reached down and lifted Andy’s chin so he was forced to raise his head and eyes past the heavy buckled belt inside the open combat jacket to his brother’s muscular chest.

“Look, cheese and onion.” A man-sized sandwich hovered tantalisingly over Andy’s nose as his brother gripped Andy's chin. Angrily, the younger man tried to shake his chin free of the grip - and then when the supportive hand was removed without warning, his face almost buried itself into the thick leaf-mould which dragging his body had gathered directly beneath him. Without warning the supportive hand now became an instrument of torture as it gently but relentlessly drove the helpless head downwards. Instinctively Andy turned his face aside and strained to keep his nose out of the mud.

“Ho ho, a struggle. Wait till I put my sandwich down.” Powerful fingers grabbed Andy’s ears and began systematically to rock his face from side to side in the wet earth. Scoops of wet leaves were lifted and rubbed into the thick chestnut curls and round onto the strong weather-beaten face. Brawny hands then lifted the dazed head up to survey the effect.#

“That’s the way I like to see you look. In fact little brother I’ll tell you, looking down on all that PVC, those boot soles, that ‘interesting’ piece of rope work and those helpless mucky fingers ... I could get horny as a jack-rabbit. I shall just sit here and finish my sandwiches (our sandwiches) and toss off my big dick all over your waterproof back and maybe your head. Makes good hair conditioner, you know. The girls go wild for the smell of it.”

Andy‘s muddy head dropped back towards the wet earth as he heard his brother unzip his pants. The boots which supported and immobilised his shoulders shifted slightly as the familiar cock and low-slung balls were pulled from inside the army pants.

“If you’re nice to me little brother I might allow you to chew a while on old Pete. Might even find you some valuable protein to eat and drink. That’s something the army survival manuals don’t recommend exactly ... but I know you like it.”

The big fists gripped the tough PVC of Andy’s jacket and hauled him even further towards the now rigid cock. The powerful legs opened wider to admit and pinion his shoulders until it was impossible for him to withdraw. He could actually feel the heat being generated around that massive crotch as he heard his brother say “Chow time, old buddy.”

As Andy licked the mud from his lips in preparation to do what he knew had to be done, he thought ahead to a four day session when the steadying influence of their mother in the house would be absent.

Chapter Four

Meg’s departure to visit her sister was complicated by a sudden crisis. One of the heifers dropped a calf a few days early. As usual the boys worked well together in a crisis. Meg was pleased to see the way they co-operated and supported one another. None of the daily routine was neglected as they coped with the extra work involved in getting the cow back on her feet and bottle‑feeding the tiny calf every couple of hours, even through the nights. After a day or two she reluctantly agreed to the two lads pressure to take her delayed trip. As Dan loaded her suitcase into the land rover she was confident that the boys (men!) could be trusted to keep things running smoothly without her around to ‘mother’ them.

“I’ve put stuff in the small freezer ... don’t touch the big freezer ... but make sure you eat proper meals ... and if you drive into Thirsk eat plenty of fish and chips after the pubs close so you’re not too stupid drunk when you drive home. Andy, you keep an eye on him.”

“Me ...!” grinned Andy.

“Him ! “ scoffed Dan, “he’s always more soused than what I am ... but I’ll look after him.”

Dan moved towards his brother and gripped him in a playful hug which turned into a headlock. Andy made a neat wrestlers move and off balanced Dan’s right leg. The lock slipped and could have become a brief hammer‑lock on Dan, but their mother’s authoritative voice ended the bout.

“And no fighting you two” she admonished automatically, knowing she was wasting her breath.

“What us? We’ll be far too busy.” Dan vaulted in beside her. As he ground the old motor into gear he winked at his younger brother.

“Four days of extra hard work to be done around the barn and top meadow, eh Andy? Get the milking out of the way before I get back from the station, mate, then we can pitch straight in.”

He whooped his familiar wild whoop as he screeched the land rover out of the farmyard.

“He’s been watching the Dukes of Hazard again” thought his mother “but they’re good lads at heart.”

As the sound of the engine retreated into the distance Andy immediately set about the milking. It felt good to be unrestricted. For the last couple of restful days he’d been allowed to dress in his army greens and boots. When there was real work needed doing, he and Dan were equal partners, and they worked well together. When Dan got back God knows what fiendish schemes he might have dreamed up. Andy thought ahead with a mixture of apprehension and tingling excitement. He was man enough to survive anything his brother could dish out. God knows he’d had enough practice. The few hours of peace sprinted past as Andy worked his way methodically through the afternoon chores, but the immediate future preyed on his mind.

Everything was finished and ready by the time the returning land rover entered the yard. Soon as the engine died Dan’s voice was heard calling enticingly “Where are you?”

“I’m hiding ... in the barr-harn” came Andy’s traditional response. #

Dan appeared framed in the doorway. He was pleased to see that the barn had been tidied up. Horse leathers and straps on their appointed hooks, the rope bin open, floor swept he noted. It promised well. Andy looked good in his field greens and boots. He was just separating the lengths of chain which hung on the central post.

“Got a couple of porno videos from the hire shop." he told Andy. "Maybe you’ll get to see them ... eventually. Lust in the Dust and Leather Vixens.”

Andy suddenly interrupted his brother with a violent reaction. “Dan!, look over there. I think we got a problem.” Dan turned to look where his brother had pointed. It was an old trick but it had worked in the past when the younger brother had needed to take evasive action. This time it was an attack. Before Dan knew what was happening the centre of a length of chain was around his neck from behind and pulling him backwards off balance. His back slammed against the post because Andy neatly handled the chain to bring both ends around opposite sides of the pillar. Even though Dad had grabbed at the chain around his throat, Andy, safe behind the pillar, was able to pull it tight before throwing the ends forward again and crossing them again around his brother’s throat and bringing the ends back around the solid pillar.

Now the immediately danger was over he had time to organise, taking each end separately around and between the post and the back of Dan’s struggling head. The two ends of chain fell neatly between the post and his brother’s broad back. Dan was yelling blue murder but Andy wasn’t listening. The excitement was high and the adrenaline flowing. He gave a good approximation of his brother’s customary ‘whoop’ of triumph.

Dan’s hands were exploring the wrapping of chain around his coat collar to find some slack because he knew no knots had been tied. Unfortunately for him, this placed his elbows in an ideal position for Andy to loop the length of rope from his pocket first around one, then around the other from behind the post. The thickness of Dan’s combat jacket prevented him from feeling the manoeuvre until his elbows began to be pulled irresistible together behind the pillar. Desperately separating his wrists did not help Dan. Andy completed a thoroughly professional square lash around his brother’s elbows.

“Twice around not too tight, then cross the rope and twice between pulling tight ... then a reef knot, not a Granny.” recited Andy, imitating instructions his brother had mockingly given as he’d tied him up so many times in the past. With a second piece of rope first one flailing wrist was neatly looped, leaving no problem in catching the other and anchoring them firmly together behind the pillar. Dan was still yelling invective, but he knew that with elbows pinioned and wrists efficiently lashed around the sturdy beam there was no escape. As the final knot above the wrists was cinched an ominous silence fell.

Andy circled the pillar at a safe distance out of reach of Dan’s feet. The brothers eyed one another ... both slightly out of breath.

“You’ve gone crazy, right? You’ve decided to have a brainstorm.”

“I’ve decided to have a change” said Andy with a smile as he produced another snake of rope from the deep pocket of his field pants leg “and show you just how well I’ve learned all the things you’ve taught me over the years.”

Dan glowered as his brother returned out of sight behind the pillar. “You’re going to fucking learn what it feels like to be crippled for life!” A vicious boot lashed out behind the pillar in the direction of where Andy might have been kneeling. It was a mistake. A waiting loop of rope lassoed the sturdy boot and tethered it before circling the other and dragging Dan‘s helpless feet well back on either side of the firmly planted post. A neat job of counter-lashing made it impossible for the feet to be moved either forward or backwards. Dan blasphemed threateningly as yet another piece of rope circled each leg just above the knee from behind the post, pulling them backwards and further open. The rope was long enough to continue around the front and insure that the well tied knees also could not move forwards or backwards. Andy grinned up at his brother as even more rope appeared. He enjoyed threading this rope between his brother’s muscular thighs high around his crotch. Experience had taught him that when the thighs are looped and pulled back not only do the legs soon begin to ache but the crotch is thrust forward and very accessible. He stood back to survey the effect.

“So what now ... fuckface?”

“Give me time. I’m playing this by ear. I didn’t plan this. It was a spur of the moment decision.”

“Which you’re going to regret for the rest of your life ... if you live that long” growled Dan.

“Well, we’ll just have to see how things turn out ... and not cross our bridges till we get to them, as Gran used to say.”

“Gran won’t be around to get you out of this mess, mate ... or will Mam. I am going to ... “

“You’re going to stand there and wait until I decide what to do next!” interrupted Andy.

“Ho ho! That could take till Christmas. You’ve landed yourself in a right mess, little brother.” Dan’s voice was heavy with menace. Andy nodded.

“But I learned a long while ago to deal with every new development as it happened. It’s how I’ve survived all these years. Dealing with each problem and challenge as it arose.” 

Dan snorted. “You’re main problem right now laddie is that I’m going to fucking beat the shit out of you.”

“Not for the next four days your not” came the ominous voice from behind the pillar.

Dan began to reconsider his position as his brother deftly began to reduce his mobility even further. A length of chain circled his chest and arms and the post. He heard a padlock click and Andy appeared to inspect the effect. Silently he began to unbutton his brother’s army jacket under the tight chain and pull it aside to reveal the muscular chest and damp thermal sweatshirt. “Need to see the titties” he joked as he pressed against his brother to bring the loose end of the chain around from behind the post.

By the time the second padlock closed on the end of the chain Dan’s pectoral muscles bulged between two intensely tight chains and his stomach was pulled painfully in below his rib cage and again right above his hip bones. As Andy again stood back to admire his handiwork Dan licked his lips and found a smile. “Are you turned on? I am. You wanna toss off looking at me? (Silence) Want to toss me off?” Andy moved closer and felt his brother’s throbbing dick inside his tightly roped camouflage pants.

“You are turned on, big brother ... shitface.”

Without warning Dan literally spat in Andy’s eye. A massive gob of spit began to trickle down his face as Andy reached in his pocket for a dark work handkerchief.

“Now, if you ask me that was plain stupid in your position ... unless it was an invitation for me to really make you apologise.”

Dan opened his mouth to add insult to injury ... but it was another mistake. The spit covered handkerchief suddenly wadded into the open mouth and, as one hand held it there, the other produced yet another length of cord. Handkerchief and head were soon laced tight back against the post, and because the cord was then cinched between pillar and back of head Dan couldn’t turn his face either to left or right.

“Well now, I think I’ll just have to leave you to consider the situation a little. Perhaps go in and watch those two porno videos ... might give me a few ideas what to do next. I honestly didn’t plan this you know. Oh, I’ve often dreamed of what I’d do to you if ever I got a chance ... but I knew I’d eventually have to let you go ... and then you’d probably kill me ...“

Dan said “Darned right!!”  but it only came across as a restricted nod of the head. Andy jumped back in mock fear.

“Oh my God you can almost nod your head!” He went to the rack of horse harnesses, bridles and selected a suitable leather strap which would buckle around the sweating forehead and the post.

“Is that better? Is there any other part of you in danger of moving, big brother? Shall we see? Can you squirm about at all?”

The younger man suddenly, and for the first time ever put his brother to the test. He found tits beneath the sweatshirt and twisted them ruthlessly, he grabbed for the knotted cock and balls inside the bulging pants and squeezed them until Dan was hollering unreservedly behind the gag. Andy found another heavier old leather strap and applied a few stinging swats around the exposed and totally immobilised thighs. Within the severe limits of his restraints Dan writhed and seethed and fumed.

Convinced that his handiwork was well done and all ropes and chains unslipable, Andy now patted his brothers jutting jaw teasingly. “Just wanted you to see how well I’d learned my lessons from you. Now you need time on your own. But don’t shoot your load, big brother. Oh don’t loose it ... because I want to see you when you cum ... and if I miss it, I’ll be very, very, very disappointed.

Chapter Five

Dan had lost all track of time. The initial shock and struggle and fury had burned up a lot of energy. Then the systematic working over by his brother may have been only token, but by Christ it had made him squirm. Even if his outer casing was totally immobilised by the skilfully tied ropes and chains, his muscles and bones had literally jumped about inside his skin. He felt bone weary, as the locals would say. He was too exhausted to plan his revenge or even attempt to escape.

Escape! He knew that would have been a total waste of what was left of his energy. Not a single knot had budged or rope slackened. The kid had learned well, Dan again grudgingly admitted it to himself as his aching jaw chewed again on the now saturated wad of linen that filled his mouth. The cord holding it in place was beginning to cut into the corners of his lips. He thought of the many times he’d left his brother in similar circumstances ... but it was no consolation ... he must work on a plan of retribution, if only to take his mind off ...

A movement behind him brought Dan onto the alert, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight which presented itself. Young Andy was wearing his older brother’s motorcycle gear. Dan was forced to realise that, although when he bought it five years ago he’d felt great in it, it now fitted his little brother better than it had ever fitted him. The leather pants with padded knees were skin tight, the jacket was more lived‑in but together with the gauntlets and seven buckle trial boots (with white sea-boot socks turned down) he looked the image of masculine toughness. Not like the leather freak magazine posers. Andy’s rugged outdoor complexion made him look as if he’d ridden a bike all his life. Dan had a conscience about never letting Andy use the bike even though he didn’t ride it himself much any more.

“I may go into town for the night” announced Andy. “You won‘t object if I take your bike, will you.” It was a statement not a question. “You see, old mate, I’ve decided that you won’t object to anything for the whole four days Mam’s away. After that ... we’ll just have to wait and see how things turn out. Now, I’ve just been giving it some thought, and I want you to understand that I won‘t get any kick out of hurting you, or dishing out ‘punishments’ ... but I do have to get you to agree to: ...  A) Go along with the fact that I’m in charge for this four days, and,  B) You’ll be man enough to admit that I got the better of you for once in our lives. The fact that you will want to kill me ... and may already have started work on plans for a series of reprisals ... well, I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’ll cross that bridge ... gradually during the next few days. In the meantime I’m going to start by taking out a bit of life insurance.

Andy moved to behind Dan and immediately came back into view carrying the camera and a portable tape recorder. “Say cheese.” He snapped three or four shots from different angles to record the extent of Dan’s imprisonment. “Nothing pornographic, you understand. Just embarrassing if a set of photos should fall into the wrong hands ... if you make life too difficult for me in the future. Now ... ,”  Andy set the camera aside and drew up a box in front of his captive audience. “ ... the next question is ... how am I going to bring you to the point where you’ll willingly admit that you’re at my mercy ... that you’ve often behaved like a turd that you prefer to fuck arse rather than pussy. Oh yes, you’re going to admit all that ... of your own free will as the KGB and Viet Cong would say. It’s going to be an interesting few days. I’ve just re‑read that old field interrogation manual ... I even know where there’s a hand-cranked electrical generator ... yes!!! You know the type. You often threatened to send away to Exchange & Mart for one. Well I did. Months ago ... just to see what it actually felt like. I hoped to condition myself to withstand it if you ever bought one to use on me. You’d be surprised how, over the years, I’ve worked to condition myself to stand up to all the ‘numbers’ you’ve pulled on me.”

Dan listened, mesmerised as his brother revealed things that, until now, had escaped his notice. He’s deep, thought Dan, and more of a grown man than I’ve ever given him credit for. He’s filled out ... and a handsome son-of-a ... !

“So ... I’ve drafted a statement you will first learn by heart and then say into the tape recorder. That’s going to be hard enough for you psychologically ... without you making it harder for yourself physically. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Virtually unable to move a muscle, Dan could only stare at the stranger who stood before him. Fucking college education, he thought grimly.

“Now I‘m going to take the gag out” said Andy. “Don’t speak until you’ve thought about what to say and what not to say. Choose your words very carefully ... because I’m deadly serious ... and you are going to do as I tell you ... eventually, believe me.”

The conviction in Andy’s voice was lost on Dan because the wad of sodden handkerchief was out of his mouth and the chaffing cord off his lips after two hours. Andy was close to him. “I don’t expect you’re ready to begin learning what I want you to admit to yet.”

“I’m ready to tell you that you’re ... ! !”

A resounding, stinging whack across the side of his face prevented Dan from finishing his sentence. He stared into the unfamiliar hard eyes of his brother. “Are you ready to treat this situation more seriously or do I shove this wad back into your stupid mouth and leave you standing here until after milking tomorrow morning?” Dan hesitated and Andy continued “But don’t think if I change your position and loosen a few ropes, that you’re going to work your way free. I had too good an instructor. Now, you’re going to stay tied to this post overnight ... but you can be relatively comfortable ... or uncomfortable. That depends entirely on you. Another night I might just leave you tethered by an ankle chain ... if you’re shaping up and beginning to see some sense. But tonight, you either sit with legs out and arms behind the pillar or stay as you are but with some ropes loosened. You’ll be surprised how you can rest standing upright if you relax onto the ropes. Believe me, I know ... I’ve done it often. Which is it to be, standing or sitting?”

Dan considered  “How about kneeling?”

Andy shook his head “Too painful. Less than three hours and you’d be screaming to be let loose ... and I won‘t be around to hear you. I have milking at 5: 30 so I’ll soon be away to my bed. Which is it to be?”

Andy had begun to unlock the chain which bound Dan’s chest and waist so tightly. “Pity” said the younger man “they looked so good, but you can’t spend the night unable to fill your lungs fully.” Dan groaned appreciatively as his rib‑cage was released from the cutting metal bands. He groaned even more when Andy began to massage his tits and abdomen to aid the circulation.

“Oh ... hey, that’s great! Thanks kid. Ow-ooh. Lower. The cock, it’s busting. I didn’t come. Like you said, I didn’t come. Take care of it for me kid ... like you do. You do it right. You always do it well! ! Ooh ...ow!! Steady on, cunt!” A rough hand had seized Dan’s nuts in a firm grip.

“You’ve been forcing me to suck your dick ever since you knew how to get hard. Well, not this time old buddy, buddy. You may end up sucking mine. Ah ... don’t be too quick to argue. Maybe before the Cavalry rescues you you’ll be begging me to allow you to suck my dick rather than ... “

“No way, shitface! Cunt! You turd faced birdbrain. You enjoy sucking my dick. You love it! Love having it rammed down your ... “

As Andy’s powerful gloved hand reached for Dan’s face, he closed his mouth quickly. Instead of the expected blow or gag, Andy merely patted his brother’s rough cheek gently.

“You want somebody to suck on your dick, big brother ... you shall have somebody to suck on your dick. There’s a little fellow next door just waiting to suck on your dick. There’s a little fellow next door just waiting to suck on that old feeding bottle. In fact it’s past the time for his next feed. You should have seen the way he tugged and sucked and chewed on that bottle this afternoon. Now I bet if I wipe a few drops of milk on your dick he’d suck on you for an hour. Would you like that?”

Dan stared at his brother. For the first time the real seriousness of the situation had hit him. He gave himself time to choose his words carefully. “No, I wouldn’t like that” he said without any overtones of sarcasm or anger.

“Well now, that’s more like it. You’re thinking a bit clearer. Perhaps we just made some progress. Might even change the time scale. If you’re prepared to make a start by saying to me ... loud and clear ... Andy I apologise for all the pain and suffering I’ve caused you in the past ... and I promise faithfully that I will ... er willingly in the future allow you to do anything to me that I have ever done to you.”

The powerful but totally powerless man stared incredulously at his captor.

“You must be ... !”

The leather-clad figure turned and began to stride purposefully towards the cow sheds. “Hey, wait a damned minute! You come back here. Andy, for Christ’s sake wait ...”

His brother turned in the doorway. Dan saw a look on his brother’s  weather‑beaten face he’d never seen before. By God he looks as rugged as the Yorkshire land they farmed, thought his brother. His muscular arms and powerful thighs seemed to fill out the leather suit like branches of a good solid oak tree. Even his voice, able to communicate above the roar of the tractor or milking machines, had a firm power.

“I want a decision this minute," said Andy, "Yes or no. You either start saying words I want to hear now ... without hesitation or reservation ... or we start fresh in the morning after you’ve had a determined little calf trying to get some food and drink out of your dick. Say ... I admit total defeat. I accept unconditional surrender. I am completely in your power and will willingly accept any punishment you want to exact. “ Dan licked his lips, but Andy stern voice continued. “Yes or no. Count of two. One ... two ... ?” 

Dan’s firm jaw remained rock solid.

The sound of heavy boots stomping towards the sheds threw Dan’s mind into turmoil. By Christ he’s really serious, he thought wildly. With an almighty effort he threw himself against the ropes that still held him. Andy had removed the chains which immobilised his upper body. His chest heaved and strained against the sturdy post. But not only the ropes which lashed his elbows and wrists but the three wraps of chain around his jacket collar held him immovable to the pillar, to say nothing of the leather strap around his forehead. Even so, in his desperation he thrashed from side to side ... soon aware that below his waist nothing was moving in any direction. #

His powerful thighs and solid boots were as rooted to the spot as was the great wooden pillar which was sunk deep into the floor of the old building. Against all reason he threw himself forward and slammed back against the pillar. It wouldn’t budge ... and if it did it would bring the building crashing down on top of him. In his blind mixture of fury and panic he didn’t care. He was still frantically writhing and thrashing around when Andy returned carrying a rather surprised-looking baby calf.

Chapter Six

Now Dan really began to yell. “Get that fucking thing out of here. You keep away from me, you perverted little shit. I’m going to ... “

Dan continued to holler ineffectual abuse as Andy set the little beast on its unsteady legs. A big old feeding bottle was in his gloved hand. Even in his fury and panic Dan noted that his brother had exchanged his leather gauntlets for a pair of thick black rubber industrial gloves. Suddenly one of these grabbed Dan‘s jaw in a powerful grip.

“Listen fuckface. You’re in shit up to your arse and by tomorrow it will be up to your neck unless you begin to do exactly as I say. Remember when you put me in the shit sluice from the cow sheds? I can get you there. I remember exactly how you dragged me there and exactly how you tied me there. Or I could throw you on the trailer all bundled up in that old canvas mail sack (it’s still in that corner there) and dump you in the pond up to your neck for a few hours ... after I’ve pissed all over your head and hair just like you did to me, of course. Weather forecast was for sun tomorrow. The heat and the stink on top and the freezing cold and cramp under water is something to remember, believe me.”

The powerful rubbery gloved hand pushed Dan’s rough cheeks right up into his frantic eyes. He tried with all his strength to shake his head but Andy was fully in control. “Don’t shake your head, big brother. Don’t scream and holler, you’ll scare the baby ... might put him off his feed.”

Andy’s smiling face came closer to Dan’s un-gagged but almost immobilised mouth. Pressure from the black rubbery fingers skilfully caused Dan’s mouth to open even against his most determined efforts. Andy almost breathed into his brother’s defenceless mouth ...

”But I don’t mind if you don’t knuckle under today ... because I can go to bed tonight and plan all the things I can do next and in which order. Now, are you ready to admit that you are totally defeated and you’ll put up no more fight?” He released Dan’s face and his brother worked his aching jaw as his eyes looked down at the leather‑clad legs and boots. Dan did not raise his eyes as he said desperately ...

“OK ! OK! anything you say.”

“Good” said Andy, his gloved hand unzipping a pocket of his leather jacket, “Open you mouth.”

Dan raised his eyes quickly to see Andy produce a solid rubber wedge gag, which was well covered with teeth marks.

“What’s that?” asked Dan.

“You know damned well considering how many times you’ve used it to keep me quiet. Now it’s your turn. Can’t have you scaring the baby.”

“But ... but I said OK ... you win. It’s your ball game.”

“Exactly” said the younger man reasonably, “That’s a step forward. But you must understand that for the next four days when I say something, I mean it. When I gave you a count of two to choose a while back ... you chose whether or not to get calf-sucked ... that is, you refused to choose ... so you get calf-sucked.”

Dan rolled his head wildly. “You bastard! I’m saying you win.”

“I know I win” reasoned Andy “and you know I’m not illegitimate ... but you still don’t know when to keep your mouth shut ... so I’ll just have to shut it for you.”

Dan put up a struggle as the menacing rubber gag prepared to push irresistibly into his face. He began to thrash his head from side to side, teeth firmly clenched, but the powerful black hand not only held his head still, pressure on his jaw and cheeks soon caused him to cry out in pain. This release of tension was all Andy needed to force the plug home, allowing the padded mouth cover to bed into the cheeks. Andy knew from experience that once buckled, the combination of plug and cover could not be dislodged, and even the loudest protest was reduced to a muffled howl. As soon as the gag was secured Dan’s forehead was again strapped to the wooden post. Andy didn’t look into his brother’s face. There was a danger that he might weaken and take pity on the man he so deeply admired and respected. Any sign of weakness at this point would destroy the situation he’d created so far ... and he knew if his advantage was lost at this stage of the game he would live to regret it. No time to think about that now.

Andy summoned up all his resolve and picked up the feeding bottle. Experimentally he squeezed a dribble of milk onto his thick gloved fingers and held them out to the calf.

The little animal sniffed the various fingers and then took the thumb into its mouth. Andy felt the warmth and then a tentative pull of young teeth and tongue. Instinctively the little fellow began to suck and pull. The pressure surprised Andy and he hastily withdrew his hand.

Dan had watched the procedure with growing desperation. In the past both Andy and his brother had speculated on different punishments and tortures in Westerns and military adventure books and films. They’d been tempted in the past to encourage a sucking calf to suck dick, but never actually risked it. Now it was going to happen. Both Andy and Dan realised that the situation had to go ahead or the younger man would certainly loose the advantage he’d won.

Without looking up into his captive’s face Andy unzipped the fly of his brother’s well‑roped cammo‑pants. The thick black industrial gloves had some difficulty pulling the swollen cock into the open. It was solid as a rock. He gripped it firmly as he eased the relatively hairless balls free from the tough pants.

Conscious that everything his brother could possibly move was already writhing in anger, fear and desperate anticipation, Andy suddenly struck the swollen cock sharply with his rubber covered fingers. This had the desired effect ... a particularly violent convulsion of the upper body was followed by a perceptible deflation of his brother’s sizeable member.

“If you want to piss, now’s the time. Don’t want to drown the poor little bugger.”

Whether it was fear, a sign of obedience or just the fact that Dan had been tied up for so long Andy couldn’t know ... but Dan did manage to let loose and piss a steady and perhaps painful stream from the semi-soft cock. Andy’s black and waterproof hand was irresistibly drawn to direct the flow, first in a weaving pattern on the barn floor just ahead of the well‑scuffed and well immobilised boots ... and then onto the boots and pants legs. The stifled roar from higher up the pillar didn’t provoke Andy to look up at his brother’ s face. Instead he watched the wet patches spread and darken among the camouflage greens ... and remember the times when his brother had used exactly this device as a softening up process. Andy was now totally in command again ... and quite surprised to be enjoying the unexpected reversal of the familiar role.

Suddenly he raised the wet and shiny glove to Dan’s nose and looked his brother square in the eyes. There was no need to say anything. He allowed the older, tougher man to inhale the smell before wiping the heavy black rubber around the cheeks and then onto the heaving chest of the not immobilised but totally captive torso. Andy tingled with excitement as he tested the bigger man’s capacity to withstand this gentle torment. When the glove was dry and losing its shine, Andy purposefully squeezed more milk from the bottle onto it ... and then onto Dan‘s cock. This produced another storm of thrashing of the upper body with accompanying muffled cries.

Andy was gratified to notice that although the chest and muscular abdomen could achieve considerable movement (only being restrained by the roped elbows and wrists), but the powerful thighs and pelvis were held almost totally immobile. His anticipation and excitement began to rise as he squeezed the rubber nipple against his brother’s no totally limp dick. He knew from experience that fear can remove all erotic sensations ... if only temporarily. As he coaxed the bemused little animal closer to his brother’s thighs, the calf sniffed tentatively, and the limp cock twitched erratically as milk dripped from the foreskin. The rough tongue cautiously tasted the droplet of milk Andy had placed there, and began to explore further.

This produced a renewed storm of thrashing and almost silent yelling further up the pillar ... but didn’t transmit down to the calf who proceeded in his own time in his own tentative way. How would it feel? Andy had speculated for years. The brothers had encouraged the dogs to lick them ... and even sheep ... but a calf, even a very young one had a tongue like warm sandpaper. Andy felt himself begin to get highly aroused. Not sure whether to watch the calf’s first tentative pulls on Dan’s dick or his brother’s tortured face and body ... Andy stepped back to get a better view of the whole dramatic scene. He only wished there was a mirror so he could see himself as well, in his brother’s leathers which had always turned him on. He tugged at the cumbersome gloves and let them fall onto the floor as he unzipped his throbbing crotch and released his rigid dick from its leather prison. Immediately he fingered its sturdy length ... more to delay than accelerate orgasm.

He planted his booted feet further apart as he watched his brother struggle violently. But there was no possible way to escape from the determined little mouth of the hungry calf. The stifled screams were now turning into low moans as the tortured cock began to enlarge and stiffen. Because his head was immobilised it was only neck to waist that writhed ... but inside the army pants powerful legs caused the tightly laced ropes to bite deep into the tough fabric and the skin beneath. The rhythm of the calf’s determined pulling and sucking increased as it’s frustration grew. This relentless assault on Dan’s cock was driving him almost literally out of his mind, but he could not escape the almost violent suction. Andy had speculated in the past what it might feel like to be systematically and mercilessly milked by the new milking unit they’d installed recently. He’d never actually mentioned it to his brother ... but Dan had once or twice tentatively indicated that it was a possible punishment.

There are two sides to every story, and from Dan’s point of view at this time it was just a case of surviving from moment to moment. The blind panic had now subsided and painful, inescapable reality was literally draining every part of his tortured body, mind and spirit. Never in his life had he experienced such total assault. The toughest rugger match, the heaviest day’s work ... even the sudden death of his father hadn’t produced such a shattering sense of physical and mental helplessness.

Gradually his mind was beginning to master the unfamiliar feeling of powerlessness. The relentless sucking continued; painful but unavoidable.

His tortured mind was seeking other distractions ... and through the tears (because, he suddenly realised tears had welled from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks) his eyes gradually focused on the black‑clad figure ahead of him. Somehow, although the thick chestnut brown hair was familiar and the leathers were his own ... here was a man from another world. Standing feet spread, thighs arched, powerful arms flexing as he massaged a rigid pole, Dan’s confused mind accepted this figure as his torturer but also his only hope of release. Damn! he looked good, thought Dan, as his own cock began to get harder again ... and not because of the sucking and chewing. The pain forced him to close his eyes but the powerful leather encased man was still before him, over him ... inside him. Was he watching himself? The sudden thought that he was Andy and he was outside himself standing watching a scene that was sending him slowly insane with sexual excitement drilled into his brain. His breathing and pulse rate increased, he thrashed and moaned uncontrollably as a red haze clouded the vision of masculine power that stood before him writhing in a rhythm which seemed to mirror his own. A kind of mutual ecstasy connected the two figures like a magnetic field.

Suddenly the strap around his forehead slid loose. Sweat which was pouring from his face and hair had either loosened or stretched the leather he speculated abstractedly as waves of unfamiliar passion drove him to throw his head from side to side and banging back against the post, as the frenzied animal made more determined efforts.

The climax was shattering for Dan and a surprise to the calf, particularly as Andy suddenly rained another flood of white, hot liquid over the beasts back. It took the younger man time to come down from what reminded him of a roller coaster ride. It was only a matter of seconds before he realised Dan’s head had slumped forward, held only by the chain at his neck (plus, of course his waist and legs still roped as rigidly as ever). He’s passed out, thought Andy. Shit, were the ropes too tight - the chain - the gag - did he vomit? Quickly he lifted his brother’s head and met the full impact of eyes which he could not read. Dazed and uncomprehending, they failed to focus on Andy. His brother was not unconscious but it seemed as if his mind had just switched off. Even the calf sensed that the sequence had ended. Andy continued to look at Dan. Saliva dribbled from behind the padded mouth cover which held the jaw wide and filled. Should he remove it? Andy needed time to decide. Almost unthinkingly he picked up the feeding bottle and offered it to the calf which took it ravenously.

Andy backed towards the box and sat feeding the little animal. From a distance Dan watched his leather‑clad, booted brother ... and had no feelings except that what happened next would not be something he could control. The kid had done what he said he’d do. The biter has been bit, Dan thought in a detached and philosophical way. It was a bit like just coming out of anaesthetic at the dentist ... or was it just going under?

Irrationally, Dan remembered Mrs. Do-as-you-would-be-done-by from a book he’d had at school. He stared, fascinated by the buckled Trail Boots firmly planted on the stained and wet barn floor, and the tough leather biker’s pants still open at the crotch, and the gentle but strong leather‑clad arms holding the calf. Andy was picking it up as if it was a lamb and carrying it back to the sheds. God he‘s got some strength, thought Dan before his thoughts drifted on without real direction. He waited ... knowing it was all he could do. It was a feeling of peace. Strange, he thought ... I ought to want to kill him.

Andy came back into the barn as soon as the calf was bedded down. An air of challenge had returned to Dan’s eyes. There was no obvious threat in them, but Andy sensed that what he did next might affect their whole future relationship.

“Dan’l” he said tentatively, using the more friendly version of his brother’s name, “I’m not going to take the gag off. I don’t think we should talk tonight. I don’t know if you’d think I’ve proved my point or whether you think I was chickening out if I decided not to carry out my threat to put you through four days of the sort of challenges you’ve always thrown at me.” Dan’s face gave no sign of his opinion or current frame of mind. Andy checked the buckle of the gag.

“I know this can be worn for eight or nine hours without any real problem. You managed to slip the head strap. I shall have to watch my step. Tomorrow, after I’ve done the milking, I need to get some definite proof that you’re going to play the game by my rules for the next four days. I want you to know that I’ll play as rough as is necessary. I think you’ve taught me enough to get my own way ... and I don’t intend to give you any opportunity to turn the tables until you’ve submitted to do a whole lot of things you never thought you’d submit to. Think I can do it?”

Dan’s impassive face behind the gag told Andy that he could expect no help ... but he did have the feeling he was being tested. “Do you think I can wrap you in the old green tarpaulin and load you onto the trailer and dump you in the manure pit for a spell? Do you?”

The lack of response provoked Andy to grab Dan’s sore and ill‑used dick with a rough hand. What would have been a scream almost penetrated the gag. “Do you think I could do that?” he insisted. Dan nodded reluctantly and then moaned as the vicelike grip was released. “Do you think if I put just a little canvas sack over your head, I could untie and re-tie you in practically any position I wanted to ... if I’m careful to always keep you disoriented and partially er ... handicapped? Think I could manage that?” Even the slightest movement of Andy’s hand was enough to persuade Dan to give a grudging nod.

“Do you think ... say ... I could manage to get one of those special veterinary tranquilliser pills down your reluctant throat and while you’re out, get you up to our bedroom and staked out on our bed ready for some familiar games ... but with a special twist ... like me making the rules?” Andy nodded confidently and Dan obediently nodded his agreement. Andy knew he was making progress.

“What about with your head wrapped in duct tape, your cock and balls wrapped in a tight knot and butt plug up your arse ... do you think I could persuade you to put on your oilskins and ride the old iron chain‑rake behind the tractor around a bumpy field?”

Dan considered the possibilities seriously and then risked a shake of his head.

“Not if I use the electric cattle prod?” Dan closed his eyes as if in defence against the possibility ... and having opened them again and met his brother’s determined eyes, he nodded grudgingly.

“Right! “ said his young brother “I think I could persuade you ... and I’d enjoy trying. How about belly down over a horses’ back like in the Westerns ... and a smart gallop over the hills. With a tarp over you I doubt anybody would notice. I bet that really churns up the stomach. Or, er ... spend the night face down in the sheep pen ... hog-tied, naturally ... you like that one. Yes, hog-tied knowing that the only possible way to persuade me to release you is for you to ask me to permit you to lick my boots or suck my dick. How long do you think it would take you to reach the point when you’d ask me to allow you to do that?” Dan shook his head wearily. “You don’t know? Then I think we’ll have to find out. But you do agree that eventually, hog-tied with a fucking big dildo up you jacks ... face down in sheep shit ... with me visiting you from time to time to piss on your head, you might eventually after six hours ... twelve hours ... thirty-six hours decide to play it my way? I could bring you to it, couldn’t I? Couldn’t I!” insisted Andy, appealing to Dan’s natural honesty.

The older man considered the situation seriously and then nodded his head wearily again and again and again. Andy didn’t gloat or even smile. He looked his brother directly in the eyes and spoke in a quiet reassuring voice. “Listen Dan’l. Face it. You will do what I say. Say what I want to hear. But I don’t want to ‘break’ you or even humiliate you, just prove that I can give as good as I can take. For as long as I can remember you’ve always called the shots, made the rules. Forced me to suck your dick. Well ... ” the powerful, leather suited figure knelt down in front of his helpless roped and chained older and stronger brother. Dan cringed visibly at the thought of further abuse of his aching cock. He felt Andy’s warm breath on it and struggled to defend himself.

“Stop struggling” snapped a stern voice ... and Dan stopped ... what else could he do. “You’ve had twelve years of forcing me to suck your dick.” Dan braced himself as he felt his tormentor touch it with his warm tongue. It was a kiss. Straining against the chain which still held his neck to the post he looked down at the broad leather-covered shoulders and chestnut hair. The battered cock surged and began to swell.

Andy stood up and smiled into Dan’s face and then fingered the dripping gag. “Stay cool big brother buddy, don’t think I’m turning soft. You’re going to suffer ... but I’m not aiming for a permanent reversal. Just to prove that I can make you knuckle under ... and allow you to prove that you’re man enough to take anything you can dish out. Think on that. Then afterwards, we can hammer out a new balance of tit-for-tat or turn-and-turn-about. But first of all I think you need me to prove that I can do what I say I’m going to do. It’s always been that way. You testing me. So, I want to make you proud of me ... so, that’s all for tonight. You can start working out exactly how our new relationship will work ... or how you might top some of the hoops I’m going to make you jump through in the next few days. Just imagine the possibilities.” The younger brother grinned a rugged grin. “Sleep tight tonight. I want your body exhausted and your nerve ends raw tomorrow morning when I’ve finished milking and I’m ready to start on you in earnest.” Lightly he touched his lips to the perspiring forehead of his helpless captive before stomping away out of view.

The lights in the barn snapped out and in the welcome darkness Dan rested his head against the post and closed his eyes ... but he didn’t sleep.








Feedback is always welcomed by Jim Stewart via jimstewuk2@hotmail.com