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Luke’s face burned nearly as hot as his ass. The new position made his back hurt since he couldn’t rest the bottom of the neck violin on the ground to give himself some kind of break. Straightening up would make the paddle off, and he knew that would lead to it being smacked across his rear another twenty times. The discomfort increased since the violin weighed enough to make the pose more of a pain.
He stayed like that until they were ready to move again. Jagger came to fetch the paddle and allowed him to stand.
“I have to piss, Sir,” he told Jagger in a low voice as he tried to keep his tone neutral.
“Then piss. No one’s holding your dick for you. You can't use your hands, and consequences come with that too.”
Luke held out until midafternoon before he finally pissed himself. When a guy had to piss, he dropped toward the back of the group of prisoners and whipped out his dick to do his business. The guards at the back would slow down or pause since even prisoners have to answer the call of nature. They watched to make sure he didn’t try to run off, and the criminal continued once he was finished.
Luke had no clothes, so he simply let it go. He couldn’t hold his dick and aim away, so piss ended up dribbling on his legs and feet to his shame. That didn’t help his anger.
Jagger periodically dropped back to give him water and make sure he had enough, but that didn’t make Luke feel much better toward him. He wanted out of this stupid violin and to sleep for a whole day with no interruption.
When they stopped for the evening, Luke thought he was about to drop dead. The day had been cloudy but rather humid, he hadn’t been able to move his arms in ages, and the violin felt heavier than it did this morning. His legs were beyond sore from all of the walking after an uncomfortable night, and piss had dried on the lower part.
His whipped and paddled ass complained when he sat, but he couldn’t stand for another second.
Jagger came to pull him up to his feet. “You’ll stand by the cart over there until bedtime.”
Luke didn’t know if he wanted to scream or cry. “Sir, I can’t!”
“Yes, you can, and you will.”
“That’s not fair, Sir!”
“I’ve had my share of unfair shit too.” Jagger hooked a finger through the neck hole since there was space. “Get over there now.”
“I haven’t slept, and-”
“I know you haven’t slept. Good luck with excuses at the mines.” Jagger pulled him over to the cart where the food was kept. “If you had done as you were supposed to, you would have had an easier day. If I catch you sitting, it’ll be a punishment whipping, but it won’t count toward your quota of lashes. Do you want those kinds of welts all over you tomorrow while you walk?”
Luke trembled as sobs tried to escape him. Even after the punishment whipping and the branding, he hadn’t been this worn out, and he’d never been so exhausted before in his entire life. Jagger’s hard eyes remained focused on him.
“N-no, Sir.”
Jagger gave him more water and removed the clamps. Luke had to stand while the others ate. Zaz was taken into a tent shortly after dinner by three guards who clearly decided he was good enough to be their temporary sex slave without the benefits. Mick was paddled for some infraction by his owner, but Luke didn’t know what, and he didn’t care. Jagger sat on the tailboard of the cart Luke was by, and he tried to keep his crying low when he finally broke down.
He couldn’t stop entirely as his body trembled from exhaustion. His gut hurt from hunger, and he thought about simply collapsing and refusing to get up. Let Jagger whip him or do whatever.
He managed to stay upright, and Jagger gave him more water near bedtime. Luke had pissed himself a good twenty minutes ago, so Jagger said he wouldn’t get a bedroll. The violin was finally removed, and Luke wept again as he straightened his arms and lowered them for the first time all day. Jagger led him over to where the other prisoners slept as usual.
His ankle was shackled, and the chain ran to the main one strung between two carts as usual. The hard ground was a relief, and Luke didn’t wait for Jagger to walk away before he was out.
Jagger awoke him at dawn and gave him bread and water. A prisoner couldn’t be starved forever, but he thought he’d be forbidden any food for much longer. Jagger didn’t speak to him, and Luke was left to sit on the ground with his ankle still shackled while everyone else got ready for the day.
His owner finally returned after eating.
“Did you think about what I told you?” Jagger asked as he stood over Luke.
“Too tired, Sir,” Luke said as he stared at the ground.
“I didn’t think you’d be quite this defiant.” Jagger bent down to undo the shackle. “I’d say you have about thirty minutes before we go to come over to me and show me that you’ve learned something. No lying down. You're going to sit up, and I don’t care how sore your ass is."
Luke didn't move as he stared at a limp blade of grass while shame coiled in his gut.
"Maybe I should have picked someone else to be my slave.”
Luke bit his lip as Jagger walked away. He probably wanted his slave to go over, grovel, and beg to be fucked in front of everyone, but that wasn’t happening. He glanced up to see Zaz on his hands and knees while he sucked off some guard with an adoring expression like he wanted nothing else in life.
