That would be giving the lad a distraction which would leave the lucrative estate still in the old lads hands so he could continue bleeding the estate...dry. This was an idea young Dicky liked, he was in fact too dim to run any estate properly anyway and the hours he thought most acceptable and of course the pay in `the house’ being, well… not on a par with the BBC its true, but good to wonderful anyway… not of course that he had staunch views on anything political, …or even affiliation to one. Itney main Mujey laga k jaisey mera pani nikalney wala hey. Mainey fooran taiz taiz apna lan gand main oopar neechey karnaa shuro kar diya or jab mera pani niklaa to mainey apna lan nida baji ki gand k moori main dal diya mera lan ki sirf toopi hee gand ki moori main gaee thi k nida baji ney cheekh mari aaaahh. Itney main merey lan kaa pani us ki gand ki moori main giraa to wo dard koo bhol gaeee. Or aram sey lait gaee mainey apna lan tab tak nahi nikala jab tak meraa akhri katra na nikal gaya. " Quinlan slid his hand under the smaller boy's damp shirt and pinched his nipple. Bryce sucked in air with the sudden sensation of having his friend's thin, long fingers tweak at his nipple. Quinlan pulled slightly at the smaller boy's bud, causing a high pitched moan escaped from Bryce's lips. "You moan just like a girl." S-shut the fu-" Bryce was interrupted by Quinlan tearing off his t-shirt and sucking the aroused bud into his mouth. Quinlan's strong tongue ran over the mound causing it to. When ordered to the barn he had refused, they came for him. He had screamed for three days in a room in the back of the barn then they let him out. His legs and feet had been burned and broken. Walking was a nightmare and yet they ordered him to work in the fields. He was always in line for a beating at lunch when the slowest workers of the morning were chastised. He was so broken by his disfigurement and the steady torture in the field at lunch that the guards treated him as a dog now and he.