313 My Little Brother: Sequel

313 Little Brother, My Owner: The Sequel
Part 1 of 5

From the original story: My name is Peyton Manning. Yeah, just like the famous football quarterback. But I’m no quarterback. I’m 20 and beginning my second year at a local college. Kind of small built, being 5’9” and weighing 122 pounds. Yep! Thin as a toothpick, so I am not athletic like the other Peyton. But I excel in math, chemistry, and physics. I have average looks, though some girls think I’m cute, with my dimples and all. I love that more than a few girls are hounding me for a date.

My family is small. Just me, my little brother, Bruce - who some gave the nickname “Big Bruiser” - and my mom. She works a lot of hours as a restaurant manager and trusts me to watch over Bruce while she’s at work. You see, Bruce and I are as different as day and night. I’m thin and more intellectual than athletic. Bruce is well-muscled for his age and is into all sports. I’m lovable and easygoing. Bruce can be mean and has a quick temper.

The problems for me all started a few months ago when our mom left for a 10-day trip for a business conference. I was expecting an easy day. Bruce and I had not seen eye-to-eye lately because I didn’t approve of his hanging with a punk kid named Kirk Dunlop. The Dunlop family was rich and very influential; the three sons just grew up as arrogant bastards, all of them. Kirk was 17, third year of high school, the same as my brother. Kirk and his brothers enjoyed beating up kids at school, especially effeminate ones. And, for whatever reason, Bruce began to hang out with him. And there went our family ties. My brother started using foul language, even referring to our mom as a bitch behind her back. The two started engaging in some vandalism in town, and Bruce just went along. He started copying Kirk’s words and behaviors.

Then, one day when Kirk was visiting, I called him out. I told him he was a foul-mouthed juvenile delinquent. The shit hit the fan. Kirk was yelling at my brother to punch me, and that’s just what he did. He plowed into me a couple of times, and I nearly passed out. That wasn’t good enough for Kirk. He continued to egg my brother on to beat me to a pulp, as he called me all kinds of names, like faggot, pussy, and queer. Yeah, that’s my little, muscle-bound brother on the right, and his evil mean buddy, Kirk, on the left. I am not gay! But, as Bruce continued beating up on me – his older brother – I had to get him to stop, or he’d send me to the hospital. Bruce and Kirk both demanded that I submit and acknowledge that Bruce was the Man of the house and MY BOSS. I had to do everything for him. I was even forced to suck his dick! I was so humiliated. Little did I know that humiliation and degradation were what they would teach me – and what were to become the main elements of my new life. They called me their slave and treated me just like one.

On this particular morning, when Bruce and Kirk were being physically violent with me, they forced me to get down and suck my brother’s dick. “Kiss it,” Bruce told me. Then he shoved his hard dick into my face. “Keep kissing it until I tell you to stop!” I did exactly as he ordered; I knew it wouldn’t have done any good to plead with him anymore. It was the beginning of my nightmare.

Continuing: “I’m waiting, slave boy. So … tell me, faggot, didn’t you love having your little bro fucking your ass? Answer me! How did you feel, big bro, when I shot my load into your other hole? I can tell you this, my little fuck slave: Between me and Kirk fucking both your pussy holes, you’ll be kept full of our cum until the time school starts in the fall. Yeah, people will be able to hear it swishing around inside your tummy when you walk.” Both Bruce and Kirk got a good chuckle out of that little remark.

Bruce climbed off my back and slapped hands with Kirk, who shouted, “Way to go, buddy. I’m so fucking proud of you, Bruce. Now, thanks to you, we have two holes to dump our cum into.” Bruce, feeling like he just won the fucking marathon or something, thanked his best friend, then said he was headed for the shower.

I started getting up but then felt a hand press my lower back. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, fag boy? I told you, I’m going to fuck your brains out sooner or later. May as well do it now. Then you’ll get to feel the difference between a little boy fucking you and a man fucking you.”

Kirk quickly climbed onto my back and, pressing his mouth close to my ear, spoke softly, “Better brace yourself, faggot. Trust me, this is gonna hurt you a LOT more than it’s gonna hurt me ’cause, as you’ve already seen from blowing me, I’m way bigger than you’re little bro in EVERY department. I have a man-sized dick for a kid my age, and now you’re gonna feel the full power of it.” Kirk was a lot bigger than my brother; it scared me. Plus, I already knew he was going to be even rougher.

I felt his hand placed between my ass and his hard-on. Then, he lifted himself briefly so that he could easily maneuver his cockhead into my no-longer-virgin hole. I screamed out to him, “Dude, I’m no pro at getting fucked, but I do know that you’re supposed to lube your dick or my ass, if not both.”

Knowing he was ignoring me completely - and feeling him thrust all the way into me mercilessly - forced me to yell out a loud, pitiful cry. I then began begging him to please stop.

“Oh! Oooowwww. You’re fucking killing me, dude. PLEASE! Oooowwww. Oh, my God. Please. PLEASE! Kirk, I’m begging you, dude. PLEASE STOP!”

Still ignoring me, Kirk started pumping my ass. The pain was excruciating, to say the least. I continued to scream, cry, and beg. However, hearing me crying and begging him only seemed to be turning him on. As he began to fuck my painful ass even harder, he pulled out quickly, paused for a split moment, then slammed back into me with all the force he could muster … repeatedly. “Don’t worry, fag. Your bro left loads of lube inside you.”

With each powerful thrust, he would call me names and ask me how I liked the feeling of his hard cock stretching the inside of me. “How’s it feel, bitch? How’s my cock feel deep inside of you, you faggot whore? Like, how am I stretching and tearing apart your insides? Right now, you scream and beg me to stop, but soon you’ll be begging me not to stop. Yeah. Soon you’ll be begging me and your little baby bro to please fuck either your mouth or your ass. And you won’t care which, just as long as one of us fills that hole with a hard cock and warm cream.”

Kirk started to ease up on the powerful pounding he had subjected my ass to, now fucking me steady, yet much slower. The pain I had felt only moments ago seemed to be easing, as well, and the love-hate feeling I felt when my baby brother was fucking me returned once again.

I can’t explain it, but the feeling of his young muscled body lying on top of me and riding me mercilessly made me hard once again. And I just came, like, 20 minutes ago.

Also, once again, just as my brother’s cock had done, Kirk’s dick connected with something inside my asshole. Whatever it was, it felt so friggin’ awesome each time his cock rubbed against it. My body shook. “That’s your prostate I’m massaging with my dick, you fuckwad.” I never knew anything like this. That, along with the steady nonstop thrusting of his cock combined with the feeling of his muscled weight on top of me, was awesome. Even the way he pinned me down so helplessly so I couldn’t escape and whispered dehumanizing names had me hard and ready to blast my dick off at any moment.

My soft yet sad moans of pleasure certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Kirk. Who began laughing at me and quickly commented on my sudden change of heart. “You want me to stop now? I will if you want me to. I’ll stop right this second. You don’t even have to beg me to; just tell me you want me to stop.”

I was in another world. Part of me wanted him to stop, but part of me said, “No way.” Kirk grabbed a fistful of my hair and lifted my head up off the pillow, “Answer me, faggot. Do you want me to stop fucking you?”

I wanted soooo badly to cry out, “YES!” But the word I heard myself say was a wimpy “no.” Kirk, still holding my head with a tight grip on my hair, “I can’t hear you, bitch. What is it you’re trying to say?”

WHAT THE FUCK DOES HE WANT?! I didn’t tell him to stop, so he should just continue.

“I am waiting, asshole boy.”

I can’t tell him, “No, please don’t stop. Please continue to fuck my sore ass any way you want. It feels so good.” I don’t want to interfere. So I remain silent.

Then … all of a sudden … on the upstroke, there was no downstroke. When the upstroke came, his dick just left my ass. I caved in. I was so fucking empty. I was deserted. I was more than alone. I was abandoned completely. Kirk was not even taunting me. In fact, he was also silent. Still, I noticed his muscled body had stopped moving on my back. He was there but no longer holding me down. I felt I could escape him and the fucking, if I wanted to.

I waited for him to continue. It seemed like a half-hour passed, but it was probably a minute or two; nothing was happening. I thought if I waited long enough, he would start fucking me again, or at least call me names, or ... or … But nothing happened. I felt myself moving my hips slowly up and down as if my ass was begging to be filled. I found myself just doing that, expecting some reaction from Kirk. But there was none.

I began to feebly cry. It was a low whimper. My hips were still undulating; I guess they had their own reasons. I thought to myself: First, my dad walked out on me when I was little, then my best older friend died of AIDS when I was 15, and I never found a replacement for that close relationship. My mother leaves town for weeks at a time, traveling for her business, which always makes me feel abandoned. So, I had the job of looking after my baby brother. Yes, that was my essential job every time Mom left town. And now, my “baby” brother no longer wanted me to look out for him. I felt so useless. AND NOW … MY ASSHOLE HAS BEEN ABANDONED. AS WELL. It’s as unworthy of attention and use as I am. NO ONE WANTS IT OR ME!

I cried a little louder, my body trembling as I let it all out. “Kirk, you may fuck me if you want to.” I finally dared to say. I was proud of myself. I finally fessed up to allow him to fuck my ass. Good. That’s what he wants. There, I said it. But … nothing happened.


Still nothing? What the fuck? “KIRK, YOU MAY FUCK MY ASS.” Nothing. “KIRK, FUCK MY ASS. I’M WAITING!” Then, I added in a whispering voice, “Please?”

“Oh, you finally said ‘please.’ did you?” Kirk said, so matter-of-factly.

“Yes, Kirk. Please.”

“Oh, my. Well ... if you really want me to fuck you, you need to truly ask me - as a shit-hole slave! - to honor you with my dick. If you want my rigid hard throbbing dick up your faggot cunthole, you have to beg better than that.” Kirk said, “I mean, I don’t want to rape you or force you to do anything that does not completely delight you, pussy boy. If you want my Master’s dick up your shithole, tell me exactly what you want … and why ... and for what. If it’s not loud and clear, I’m leaving. And so is your bro.”

“Please fuck me?” I said. I was torn at this moment; my mind was playing games with me. Should I tell him to fuck off, or should I beg him to please continue fucking me for just a little bit longer? Just until I shoot my load. I was soooo close to shooting, and I needed to feel his cock pumping my ass, touching that special place. Yet why? I honestly couldn’t stand it; I needed to get off, and I needed to feel him pumping me, if only for just another moment.

I was shocked to hear my bro’s voice, thinking he was still downstairs. “Oh, my God. Is he fucking begging you to keep plowing him? FUCK, BRO! You are a fucking slut! Fuck him, Kirk. Fuck him hard if that’s what the bitch wants. Fucking fag! We should start calling him Josephine and make the bitch wear my mom’s clothes until she gets back.”

I felt humiliated once again, hating myself for begging Kirk to continue fucking me. Hating that my baby brother overheard me. Hating that I was soooo close to getting off on this scene. Yet, I had to ask myself if I was now actually enjoying being a sex slave to my little bro and his asshole friend, Kirk.

Finally, yes, I fucking understood. I had to own up to wanting to be a fuck slave, his fuck slave. I cannot just be OK with it; I have to beg for it in no uncertain terms. “MASTER KIRK, PLEASE FUCK MY SHITTY SLAVE ASS AND PLOW YOUR MAGNIFICENT HUGE DICK INTO MY PUSSY CUNT. FUCK ME HARD AND DEEP. FUCK ME ANY WAY YOU WANT. I AM JUST YOUR FUCKING STREET WHORE. I’M A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT WHO WOULD BE SO FUCKING HONORED IF YOU WOULD USE ME AND MY CUNTHOLES!” I screamed and cried, letting all my pent-up emotions out. I knew now - I guess I’ve known for months – that I needed to be used. I need to be humiliated. I need him and my little baby brother to use me as they wish … anytime, anyplace, and anyhow. I was completely relieved, emptied of all my tension and phony high-and-mighty attitude. I finally found my honest self.

I was quickly brought back to reality as I felt Kirk begin to ride my back as though I was a wild bull. He started fucking me hard and fast, so hard that I began yelling and screaming once again. Yet, I wasn’t sure why I was yelling and screaming because it wasn’t really all that painful.

It was like when my bro was fucking me; it was once again a love-hate feeling. It kind of felt painful, yet it was a pleasurable pain if that makes any sense. All at once, I was stiff all over again and on the edge of shooting off again.

Not long after I shot my load, Kirk slammed into me wicked hard and remained buried deep inside me. Seconds later, I felt his hard cock begin to throb. Then, I felt his cream explode deep within me, actually feeling it shoot out from his hard, thick cock, sort of like a machine gun. He was the one now moaning. And quite loudly, I might add.

Kirk continued lying on top of me, his cock still inside my ass, occasionally pumping his remaining cum into me. He was still telling me what a fucking fag I was. “You fucking loved that, didn’t you? You fucking homo. Now you’ve had our cocks in your mouth and your ass. So tell me, which do you love better?”

Without waiting for an answer, Kirk dismounted me and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I heard the shower water running. Bruce went off to his own room; I was now totally alone in my room. Alone to think.

Feeling as humiliated now as I was that very first time my baby brother beat me up, I immediately began to wonder how I could have enjoyed the two of them fucking me. Yet, not only did I enjoy it, but I friggin’ shot my load both times. I mean, I have always enjoyed fucking girls, so what’s up with this shit?

Why am I getting off on being forced to suck my baby brother’s dick? Not to mention the large amount of his cum I have already eaten. I thought back to just a couple of minutes ago when Kirk finally pulled out of me, “I know you’d like me to keep my cock inside of you forever, bitch. But we have to be leaving in an hour. So, you’ll just have to jack off tonight thinking of your baby brother’s and my hot dicks and warm juice flooding the inside of your belly or tight ass.”

Now alone with my thoughts and the feeling of being totally at the mercy of my baby brother and his bud, Kirk, the whole idea of what was happening here began to overwhelm me. A million thoughts were racing through my mind. I started choking up, no longer feeling I needed to hold back my tears. I started to scream - more at myself than those two, “WHY ME? WHY ME?! I cried out.

My outbursts must have brought my baby brother into my room. He was laughing, “WHY YOU?! What a stupid fucking question. WHY YOU?! Because, my big bro, you just happen to be the biggest faggot in the world, that’s why. You’re such a fucking slut. So far, in the past twelve hours, you’ve sucked my cock twice, as well as Kirk’s. You’ve swallowed my fucking cum twice, you’ve let me fuck you, and you even got off on it. You let Kirk fuck you, and you even begged him not to stop. Now, I don’t know about you, but Kirk and I haven’t had a lot of luck getting our girlfriends to suck our dicks, never mind eat our warm cum. So, having a fucking faggot at our disposal and right under my roof is soooo fucking cool. So, of course, we’re gonna take advantage of it. I mean, we’re not fucking stupid. Besides, I love beating the fucking shit outta you. And, if you must know, I fucking get off on it, big-time. Now, tell me, does that answer your ‘why me?’ question, you fucking faggot?”

I felt my rage reach an all-time high as I jumped off my bed and faced Bruce. I was unable to hold back my anger any longer. “It was you and your fucking asshole friend, Kirk, who made me into a fag. That fucking asshole convinced you I am gay, so instead of just coming out and asking me if it’s true, you just take that fucking dumb shit’s word for it. How can you take the side of a fucking moron over your own brother’s? Man, you are s … !"

“POW!” My words were cut short by a super-hard right into the left side of my jaw. “POW!” There was another hard left to the right side of my jaw. Then, I felt a powerful punch slam into my abs, knocking me back onto my bed. It was like déjà vu because that’s the exact scene that took place at the start of all this.

I felt my little brother’s smooth bare legs straddle my chest, followed by a few more solid punches to my face and head. I tried hard to free my arms, but they were pinned tightly under my brother’s strong legs. All I could do was yell to him to stop hitting me. But each time I opened my mouth to beg him to stop, another fist flew into either my mouth, face, or head. Blood was splashing in my eyes.

While busy slamming his powerful fists into my face, he called me every name you could think of. “I thought I warned you to never ever talk like that about my best friend again, you fucking stupid prick. Kirk isn’t the liar here. YOU ARE! How can you even try denying you’re a fucking faggot when you love slurping on our cocks so much? YOU LOVE EATING OUR WARM CUM! And you know it! That’s fucking disgusting. Now you even let us fuck you up the ass. AND EVEN BEG FOR KIRK NOT TO STOP. MAN! You are a sad fucking fag when you beg someone to keep fucking you until you get off, then ten minutes later, claim that you are fucking straight. DUDE?! You have one fucking twisted mind, you know that?!”

I could feel blood on my lips and nose; my left eye was barely open. The punches stopped, but only briefly. My bro turned himself around, now sitting on my face and pounding on my abs. Each time his powerful young fists connected to my gut, I felt the air briefly leave my lungs.

Several times his tight ass came crashing down on my face as he lifted himself high, so he could slam into my gut with all his power, bouncing his full weight on my face. I noticed his tight, white cotton briefs now showing spots of bright red from sitting on my face for moments at a time. Finally, the hard punches came to a stop. My little bro, sitting on my face, turned his head to face me, “Kiss my ass, you fucking fag. Make love to it if you want me to stop beating on you.”

I was hurting all over. My nose might be broken, one of my eyes might be severally cut, I could taste blood in my mouth from my lips, and my gut was now killing me. I think he might have broken my ribs or certainly bruised them badly.

So, I gave in to my little brother’s demand. I kissed his ass through the tight white CK briefs, first one cheek, then the other. I then stuck out my tongue and licked the crack area of his underwear. My lips were very sore and bleeding. From his sitting on my face and kissing his ass, I was leaving a trail of blood stains on the back of his tight undies.

After several minutes of sitting on my face, making me worship his ass, he climbed off me. Looking down at me, he admired his work and smiled. “Hmmmmm. Not bad. Not bad at all. That should keep you in line until I get back here tomorrow night. Maybe you should start watching your mouth, huh? But, then again, I friggin’ love beating you up. So, I’d really prefer you to keep shooting off your mouth. That way, I can keep beating the crap out of you. By the way, I feel somewhat guilty that your face is all bloody. Come with me, and I’ll wash the blood off for you.”

Before I could object to his offer, before I could tell him, “No thanks, I can wash it off myself,” my little bro grabbed a handful of my hair and led me into our shared bathroom.

“K, FAG! Hop into the shower and kneel down. You might as well lick and clean my cockhead if I’m gonna clean your face.” If I have learned nothing else lately, I have learned not to disobey my baby brother. Bruce lowered his briefs, then kicked them aside. I knelt down in front of him, stuck out my tongue, and started licking his cockhead.

Little Brother, My Owner: The Sequel
Part 2 of 5

With his strong legs spread wide, my little bro looked down at me with a smirk. “K, bitch, open up and suck my cockhead clean.” I let his cockhead enter my mouth and wrapped my sore lips around it. I started swishing it all around inside, licking the entire circumference of his dick-head and the ridge around it with my wet tongue.

Suddenly I panicked, as my mouth began to fill with a warm liquid. I knew immediately that he was pissing in my mouth. I tried in vain to pull my head away, but Bruce quickly grabbed a tight grip on my head and, holding it in place, started filling my mouth with his hot piss. Catching me totally off-guard and unable to break away from his powerful, tight grip, Bruce knew I had no choice but to swallow.

Trying desperately to look up into my little brother’s face to plead with my eyes, I noticed the evil grin and cold eyes staring down into mine. “YEAH! DRINK IT, YOU FUCKING SLUT! Kirk told me you’d probably drink our piss if we insisted. Look at you, you friggin’ faggot. You aren’t even fighting it. So, tell me you love the taste of your little brother’s piss. I fucking bet you do, but then I did promise to wash the blood off your face, didn’t I? SO, HERE YOU GO!”

Bruce pulled his cockhead out of my mouth and aimed it at my face, allowing his hot piss to splash all over my face. Feeling it soak my hair and burn the cuts on my face, I desperately tried to pull my head away. But Bruce had a grip that couldn’t be broken. He yelled out to his best bud. “Hey, Kirk, get in here quick. You’re not gonna believe this!”

By the time Kirk arrived in the bathroom, Bruce was just finishing his piss. “You missed it, dude. I just fucking pissed in the faggot’s mouth and all over his face! He even swallowed it. Fucking cool, huh?”

Kirk, now standing there looking me over, started laughing his head off. “Buddy, you left out the part where you also rearranged his face. Fucking hot, man. WOW! Look at the freaking bitch kneeling there in front of you, with your piss dripping down from his hair. You fucking rule, dude! Wish I was there watching you beat the fuck outta him and you pissing in his mouth. That musta have been so freaking hot, dude. Next time, let me get it on vid, K?”

My little brother, still standing over me, looked down at me with a huge smile of satisfaction, “This is soooo friggin’ wild, man. Not only do I have full 100% control over big brother Peyton, but I can also do anything I fucking want to him - and I do mean ANYTHING I want. Thanks to you, Kirk … I mean … to us, we have a friggin’ slave here that we can beat the crap out of and get blowjobs from any time we want. How friggin’ cool is that, dude?”

The wide Cheshire cat grin on Kirk’s face showed his enthusiasm. “You're right, dude. We not only have a mouth to fuck whenever we want, but we also have our own personal punching bag. Friggin' awesome, huh? Now, every time my girlfriend pisses me off, I can come here and beat up on your big, strong, stud brother.” They both had a good laugh at that comment. “And get a blowjob at the same time. I don't know about you, but I love that concept. I no longer got to roam the neighborhoods looking for some friggin' wimp to beat up and suck me off. I just got to come directly here. Awesome."

All this talk about me, as if I wasn't even here, made me queasy. I know how much Kirk enjoys beating up other dudes, just for fun. So, I have no doubts he'll be pounding on me and using me as often as his free time allows.

Bruce insisted I bow down and lick the piss splashed onto his legs and feet. "Look what you've done, faggot. You made some of my piss splash back onto me. Now, be a good slave and lick all that piss off. And spend a little extra time on my feet. Especially the piss between my toes since you love them so much."

This, of course, brought louder roars of laughter from Kirk first, then the two of them together as they stood there high-fiving one another. You'd think by now the incredible amount of humiliation I've been suffering would be somewhat diminishing. Yet, when my little brother talks to me like this and makes me perform these perverted duties, I still choke up and fight like hell to hold back the tears.

True, parts of me were beginning to change. I was starting to be OK with some of the sex, as degrading and perverted as it was. That new feeling, in itself, was scaring me; I thought I could handle the sex. But this perverted stuff – like, when I had to lick his feet - and the violent beatings were NOT OK. That stuff was totally fucking disgusting and dangerous, and I wished he'd stop that.

I knelt down and licked the piss droplets off Bruce’s muscular legs. As my tongue made its way up and down the well-muscled thighs and calves, I couldn't help but become a little turned on. BUT WHY IN THE FUCK IS THAT HAPPENING?! Who knows? Maybe Kirk’s right? Maybe I am fucking gay? OR, WORSE, A PERVERTED GAY MAN!

They say your cock doesn't lie. If that is true, then I must be as gay as Kirk says I am. The dominating role my baby brother had taken on was only getting worse as he nonchalantly lifted his right foot and rested it on the bathtub rim, allowing me easier access to lick it clean as he grinned down at me.

I leaned over and started bathing his bare foot with my tongue, making sure to lick in between his toes so that I could remove any piss there. This was not only having a strange effect on me, but my brother's cock sprang back to life, as well.

When I finished licking both his feet clean, he grabbed a handful of my hair and raised my head to his now semi-hard cock, "Peyton, you're such a friggin' fag. I still can't believe it. Yet, look at you. I tell you to get down and lick my piss off my feet, and you jump to it, no fight, no argument, no nothing. NOT that you'd be able to stop me from using you however I want, but you don't even try to resist. I mean, you are soooo fucking pathetic. Now, lick my cockhead and suck it clean of any residue piss."

I admit, my little brother, indeed, was becoming quite the dominating little villain; that was the least of my worries at the moment. My primary concern right now was, will he begin to make this pissing thing a permanent duty for me?

I looked at Bruce’s semi-hard dick and wondered why it fascinated me. If I am gay, then there are a lot of unanswered questions. For instance, why haven't I had any notion of this until now? I have seen Bruce naked at least a billion times over the years. Why would it have an effect on me now and never before? If I am truly turning gay, does it mean I won't want to fuck Tracy Matterson anymore?

I stuck my tongue out once again and pressed it against the nicely-shaped head of my little brother’s cock. This released an instantly soft moan from my brother's throat.

I allowed my tongue to slide softly and slowly all over the head. I then proceeded to invade the inner cave of his cock itself by sticking the very tip of my tongue into his sexy little piss-slit. I've learned that this little technique sends my brother over the edge; this time was no exception. He quickly uttered soft, musical moans of pleasure before rapidly pulling my head away from his now rock-hard dick.

He looked down at me with a stern but lusty stare. His head was tilted back, and his mouth slightly gaped open as he told me, "I don't have time to feed you another load tonight, you fucking little cum pig. But, trust me, tomorrow is a new day. Now, get down on your hands and knees. I want you to wait right there until I take a shower. From now on, I've decided why should I walk around this house when I have a fucking horse slave to ride. Mom will be happy to see I have myself a new pony to carry me around inside the house and in the backyard."

I waited patiently on my hands and knees for my bro to finish his second shower in less than two hours. Hearing the sounds of splashing water ceasing, I realized my new duties of being turned into Bruce’s pony were soon to begin.

He exited the shower, immediately grabbing a couple of towels, flinging them over his shoulders, and straddling my lower back while lifting his feet off the floor. He tightened his strong thighs up against my sides, kind of like he was riding a racehorse, then placed all his weight on my body.

"Now listen up, horse boy. I will hump your back like this when I want you to move.” He grinded his bare cock into my back a little more, then moved forward and backward several times slowly. “When I want you to stop, I'll tap you on the face, K?"

I was already turned on slightly by the feeling of his semi-hard cock pressing tightly against my back. When he started humping me to go forward, I knew this new feeling of degradation and humiliation was suddenly becoming a turn-on for me. Once again, from being degraded by my little brother, I developed another woody.

Grinding his thick cock into my bare back with such friction made me feel I’d shoot my own load if he continued doing it. Immediately, I began crawling on my hands and knees, out of our shared bathroom and into his bedroom. Then, his hard kick to my head signaled I should stop. That kick was a mix of pain with pleasure. It seemed to be the main reason for the new, unwanted desires I was now feeling for him.

Kirk, who was in the middle of getting dressed, took one look at the scene in front of him and fell onto the bed, holding his gut and laughing his balls off. "Oh my God, dude! You went out and found us a pony. Way fucking awesome. I love it."

Bruce filled Kirk in on the details and the instructions for directing me to move and stop. He also offered the use of his new “pony” to his best bud whenever he wasn't using me. He mainly took pleasure in emphasizing the forward movement, which he continued until I felt his cock expanding while tightly pressed against my bare back. He then quickly dismounted and high-fived his best bud.

While Bruce was searching his closet for something to wear out, he suggested to Kirk he might want to try out their new pony before it was time for them to leave. Of course, Kirk was all eager for a trial ride as he straddled me and immediately started humping my back for a few moments. Then, he slapped my face before we were about to go tumbling down the staircase. I felt his muscular thighs tighten and squeeze into the sides of my waist, grabbing and holding my body. “Too bad we have to leave now. I could ride you all over the neighborhood and back again. Now, kiss my boots. Give 'em a little spit-shine before we leave." Of course, I licked them as told.

I knelt down at Kirk's cowboy boots, and before I even had the time to form a wad of spit inside my mouth, he grabbed a fistful of my hair, tilting my head back so that I was looking up at him. "No fucking way, fag. You're not using your queer spit on my beautiful boots. Stick out your tongue. Only my spit goes on my boots."

I felt compelled to obey this younger teen. For many reasons, but mainly because he had more muscle and strength than me and three of my closest buds put together. Therefore, who in a similar situation wouldn't obey him? Compared to me, the point is that he is a younger and violently aggressive muscular jock.

I stuck out my tongue as far as possible, then knelt there, patiently waiting for the neighborhood bully to form a wad of spit inside his mouth. I watched as his cheeks sank inward and his lips formed the shape of an “O.” Then, seconds later, a long string of drool seeped from his mouth, eventually landing on my tongue. Then, I waited for another, and so on, until Kirk decided he had given me enough spit to start the job. “K, fag, that should be enough for one boot. Start licking."

Placing my spit-covered tongue onto Kirk's left boot, I began licking. First, the toe section of his boot, then around the boot and upward until he felt I had done a good enough job. “K, bitch, stick out your tongue. Time to do the other boot. If you do a good enough job, I'll reward you with a mouthful of my spit that you can eat. No one can say I don't treat my slaves decent, eh?"

Kirk kept his promise after I finished his other boot. He insisted I take a mouthful of his spit as a reward. I know this sounds so disgusting, but by the time I finished licking his boots, my mouth and tongue were so dry, I actually needed his reward to moisten the inside of my mouth since he wasn't about to let me run to the bathroom to wash it out.

My baby brother entered the room as Kirk stood over me, feeding me his drool. "Damn you, Peyton. Look at ya, man. You fucking disgust me, kneeling there with your fucking fag tongue hanging out, accepting anything my best friend chooses to feed you. Seriously, Kirk, you got to stop. That's fucking gross, man."

I nearly lost it when Kirk spun around and spat in Bruce’s face, a huge gob landing right on his left cheek. Then, as if that wasn't punishment enough, I watched Kirk use his fingers to scoop up the spit from Bruce’s face and feed it to him. "Open that fucking mouth, Bruce. NOW."

I watched in amazement as even my baby brother obeyed this tough teenage bully, his best friend.

Kirk used his fingers to feed my bro the spit from his face. "How's it taste, dude? You like it? How often do I have to tell ya, you never talk to me like that? You never tell me to stop what I’m doing to a fag. If you do that again, I promise ya, it'll be more than my spit going in your mouth. YOU GOT IT?!"

Wow! This is weird. I sensed a little bit of this dynamic a few days ago, but now it surfaced more clearly. The thing is, Bruce is my baby brother. He’s the one who beat the crap out of me a couple of months ago. He learned - and I especially learned - that he could overpower me anytime he wanted. He turned me into his sex slave. It was either that or being sent to the hospital.

Now, Kirk was an evil dude, mean and nasty. He loved to beat up gay guys anywhere, anytime. But Kirk had no connection to me. He was just my brother’s wicked friend. But now, any time Bruce criticized him, his good buddy, Kirk Dunlop, lashed back at Bruce. It’s like Kirk is trying to be more dominant than my own dominant brother. I’m supposed to be owned by Bruce, but oddly, Kirk seemed to try to take the upper hand over Bruce and me. That’s not only weird, it’s scary.

It was clear that Bruce would be sick from the taste of Kirk's spit. His face got all deformed, and he tried to run to the bathroom, but Kirk, his best bud, was having none of that. Kirk quickly grabbed Bruce and pushed him onto the floor. Then, he straddled my little brother and, with his powerful teenage body – he was actually stronger than Bruce - held him pinned. THEN … he shoved his palm over Bruce’s mouth. Fuck, I thought he was going to beat up my brother. God, was Kirk angry.

"WHAT DO YA THINK YOU’RE DOING?! You planning to spit it down the toilet? No fucking way, buddy! That’s the punishment that you have there in your mouth. I wanna see you swallow it down and keep it down. NOW, DO IT!"

I watched as Bruce gulped and Adam's apple moved, indicating he did as he was told. Kirk continued sitting on Bruce’s chest, ordering him to open his mouth, wanting to see for himself that Bruce obeyed his command. I felt ill just watching the humiliation of my baby brother by his best friend, wishing I wasn't such a wimp. Even when Kirk slapped Bruce several times in the face, I didn’t have the guts to jump up and go to his defense.

Kirk's well-muscled body looked even more muscular, perched on top of my brother’s well-defined bod. You'd never guess that the two were the same age. I often heard that Mr. Dunlop and all his boys were muscular dudes. Having seen all of them up close, I know that’s not just a rumor. "Remember, Bruce, I'm the BOSS, and you must never interfere again with anything I do or say, you understand? This is the second time this week you countermanded me. Next time may be a little painful."

Bruce nodded his head, and Kirk smiled down at him. "Good. Now let's get going. By the way, I'm sorry I had to punish you. You're my best friend, and I hate having to punish you all the time, but keep this in mind: If you weren't my best friend, the punishment would have been much more severe."

There you have it. Kirk clearly proclaimed that HE’S the boss of my little brother and me. And Bruce accepted it. I hated Kirk for bullying my bro, but at that moment, I was thankful my baby brother was his best friend. I couldn't imagine what punishment Kirk would have otherwise dished out to him. I also couldn't help but wonder what Kirk meant when he said, "I hate having to punish you all the time," leading me to believe the two acts of punishment this week were not the first acts of humiliation Bruce had suffered at the hands his “best friend.”

Kirk reached out his hand to help Bruce from the floor, then patted him on the back. The two left the house a few minutes later, laughing and joking as though nothing had happened. I just shook my head in disgust and started to my room. Just before they walked out the door, my brother turned to me. "I want mine and Kirk’s laundry done before we come back tomorrow. Also, clean up my room, change my sheets, and clean up the kitchen." Then, Kirk whispered something to Bruce, and my bro nodded his head. "Oh, yeah. Find a way to get us some beer and do that before you start cleaning. See ya, fag."

Lying on my bed and listening to some favorite CDs, I was happy to have the house to myself, knowing I'd be free of the two little ruffians until tomorrow afternoon. I then thought to myself: Shit! Even with them gone, I’m still forced to obey them.

My mind began drifting as I lay listening to my iPad. What the hell was happening here? Why the hell did that asshole Kirk have to go and choose MY brother as his friend? How the fuck did Kirk just happen to assume that I'm gay? AND … how the hell did I lose my little brother overnight? More importantly, would I ever get him back again?

As I lay there thinking about Bruce, I thought about the other night, how he practically punched my lights out because Mom scolded him for forgetting to take the trash out. He waited until Mom was asleep, then crept into my room wearing his usual white briefs. He woke me, then made me lie on my back, put my arms under my back, and lay on them. He straddled my chest, which locked my arms under me. I was defenseless. He demanded that I open wide and give him his nightly blowjob. Then, after dumping a major mouthful of his sweet seed in my mouth, he told me it was time for my punishment for forgetting the trash and getting him scolded. He stood up and shucked off his briefs. Then, Bruce turned around and came crashing down on my head, his bare ass sitting squarely on my face, nearly smothering me. My arms were still pinned under me. "I took off my underwear, fag, so I could feel the tears that would pour from your eyes as I beat your gut. And a word of warning: If you ever make Mom yell at me again because of your dereliction of duty, I'm going to rearrange your faggot face big-time, got it?"

Little Brother, My Owner: The Sequel
Part 3 of 5

Bruce and Kirk went to their friend, Conner Wallace’s, house the next weekend. Just like before, Conner pitched a tent behind his home, and a few guys went there to have a sleepover and horse around. The tent was never set directly in the backyard but placed further back at the entrance to the many acres of woods behind the Wallace family’s property. Placing it this far away from the back deck and the outdoor pool was actually his parents' decision and not Conner’s idea. But it worked out well for sixteen-year-old Conner and the many friends he’d have over from time to time. It was more private for the high school kids; noise could not be heard easily in the house. His parents were fully aware of how rowdy teenage boys can be when camping out together.

Once Kirk and Bruce arrive to find only Conner inside the tent, it becomes apparent that something is terribly wrong. Kirk, quick to show his temper, glared at his friend, Conner. "Where the fuck is everyone, dude? You said there’d be a group of us to party."

Knowing full well how Kirk's temper flairs up at the drop of a hat, Conner tried in vain to explain the situation to his bud. "Listen, Kirk, I'm as disappointed as you are, but it's not my fault. They all agreed tonight was perfect. Then, one by one, they each had stuff come up and couldn't make it for tonight. It’s not my fault, is it? First, Brandon called and said his family was going out to eat, then to a movie, and he couldn't get out of it. Then TJ called and said his aunt, uncle, and cousins popped in unexpectedly, so he had to hang out with his family. THEN Damian called, and on and on it went. It was pretty freaky how suddenly no one could make it."

Kirk, not accepting the fact that it wasn't Conner's fault, let it be known just how pissed he was. "This fucking sucks! Why didn't you call me and let me know? We wouldn't have come, either." Peyton, Bruce, and Conner knew why the other invited guests canceled. They discovered that Kirk would be there, and most guys who knew him had enough of him. But no one would point this out to Kirk, not if they valued their lives.

Conner looked at his friend, Kirk, as if he had three heads. "Girls? Dude? You know my parents won't let any girls sleep out here with us guys, so what are you talking about? Come on, you seriously didn't expect that the girls would be staying over, did ya? And … I did call Bruce’s house. His brother, Peyton, answered and said he was busy and that you and Bruce were out somewhere."

Kirk walked up to his bud, got right in Conner’s face, and started yelling. "Who the fuck said anything about the girls staying overnight?! Can't they spend a few hours with us partying? They always did in the past. What the fuck is up with that shit? I’m telling ya, dude, Bruce and I have better things to do than spend the night out in a fucking tent with some fucking moron who plans a party, and nobody shows. Now it's too late to make fucking plans to do anything else. I seriously should punch you in the fucking face."

Conner's face turned white as a ghost. He knew Kirk all too well, and he knew his bud wouldn't hesitate to punch any of his friends out if they pissed him off. He knew this firsthand, having already received enough beatings from Kirk to last a lifetime. Conner knew he had to come up with a plan - and fast. "Listen, dude, we still have the weed and beer hidden in the woods, so not all is lost, right?"

The anger on Kirk's face seemed to ease a little. "What the fuck good is the weed and beer if there are no fucking chicks, you dumb ass? And I don't know about you, but I, for one, wanted to get laid tonight." He then turned to Bruce. "Hey, buddy, go up to the house and call your slave shit, bro. Tell him to call an Uber and get his ass over here. At least I can get some head tonight unless one of you two wanna go down on me."

Hearing those last words, Bruce scurried out of the tent and ran the whole distance up to Conner’s house to make the call. No one in the tent seemed to have his phone. I hardly heard the phone through my earbuds, with my music going practically full blast. It was Bruce. "Hey, fag, call an Uber and get your ass over here to Conner’s house. We'll be out back in the tent. And make it snappy."

The little brat hung up before I could tell him. No fucking way was I stupid enough to join him AND his buds. However, after sitting there thinking about it for a few moments, I figured it was better if I just went along with them. It would at least save me a beating in the long run.

After I showered, I still had to wait for my ride. It was taking longer than I expected. When I finally arrived at Conner’s, I was surprised to see only Conner, my bro, and Kirk. There was no group. I'm not sure who was the angriest out of the three, but Kirk was more than ready to punch my lights out. "What the fuck, faggot. What did you do, crawl over here? Next time your brother tells you to make it snappy, and you don't … He and I will hang you from a rafter and use you as a fucking punching bag, got it?"

I tried to explain that I had to wait a long time before my ride arrived. I caught the foul odor of weed, "Hey, Conner,” I told him, “I hope this stench doesn't work its way into your folk’s house. I'm sure your folks aren't THAT liberal."

Conner was a nice kid. He and my brother had been friends for a few years. Always polite and easygoing, he was not a troublemaker like someone else I knew offhand. We all sat down Indian-style and passed the “peace pipe.” I so badly wanted to ask my brother where the party was, if not here, but then thought better of it. The mood was kind of sucky all the way around, with Kirk being the one with the foulest disposition. After a few hits and a couple of beers, Kirk’s demeanor was mellowing.

I couldn't help but wonder why it was that they wanted me here. I didn't have to wonder about that for very long. Kirk was the one to bring up the subject, surprising as it may seem. "So, dick breath, you ready to give us three a blowjob? 'Cause I know I'm sure as hell ready to receive one. What about you guys?"

I looked at each. Then, noticing the shocked look on Conner’s face, I realized he wasn't aware of what had been going on at my house. "You shitting me?” Conner spoke up, “Peyton's a fag? Holy shit, I never knew. Honest."

He then looked at Bruce and squinted his eyes. "Wow, man. You must be the luckiest dude in Springfield. I mean, you've got a live-in cocksucker to blow you? Like … whenever? How fucking lucky can you get?"

Bruce and Kirk both choked on their beer at the same time as Kirk broke the news. "Yeah, I own his ass and his mouth, too. My buddy here and me are training him. He needs a good whopping ever so often because he’s such a dumb cunt of a whore.” He looked at Conner and grabbed his shirt in his fist, “And don’t worry, puppy shit. I’ll make you suck my dick, too, if you keep fucking up.”

Conner didn't waste a second backing off. "OK, OK, I got the message, dude. I'm sorry about no people here tonight. Come on, Kirk, let go of me, please. Come on, dude. I said I was sorry." Kirk was mean enough under normal circumstances, but he had no limits after drinking beer and smoking weed. No way would anybody in their right mind piss him off. It was always best to try to change the subject. Using more strength than necessary, Kirk pushed Conner away from him, sending poor Conner crashing over some sleeping bags and landing with a loud thump on the floor of the tent.

He then looked over in my direction. "Get over here, faggot, and start making love to my balls. I can't believe I have to settle for your friggin' mouth again tonight. And all because pee-brain Conner couldn't line up any real pussies."

I hated Kirk under normal circumstances, BUT I hated him twice as much now. I mean, being a bully to dudes he believes to be gay is way bad enough. But treating his friends this way? Man, if I were Conner, I'd call for a meeting with all my friends and gang up on this fuckhead and beat the shit out of him.

As Kirk started doing a slow strip, leaving just his thin cotton briefs and white socks on, it became clear why his friends hadn't ganged up on him. In the glow of the candlelight, this dude's muscles, from his calves all the way up to his jaw, made his entire body look as though it was carved from granite stone. It's true. This bad boy’s body had to literally be the envy of the entire school, perfect in every detail. Fuck, even the basket of his tight white briefs was massive. I gazed over at Conner and my bro and wasn't the tiniest bit surprised that both sets of eyes were glued to Kirk's incredibly buffed body. Not that this was the first time I took it all in, but for some reason - maybe because of the flickering candlelight, maybe 'cause of the beer and weed - but his body NOW looked fuckin' hotter than burning lava.

Kirk made it clear that I wasn't moving as quickly as he wanted. "I said get over here, mouth hole faggot. That means NOW! Trust me, this is not a good time to be pissing me off."

As I knelt in front of Kirk, the first thought that entered my mind (strangely) was that his body seemed to be even hotter than from across the room. Kneeling there facing his massive basket, I glanced down slightly as he spread his legs wider, showing off his thighs of steel. "Get down here, fruitcake, and kiss my feet. Thank me for letting a maggot like you blow me. And it better sound convincing.

I lowered myself to the floor of the tent, lying in front of Kirk, and began kissing his sock-covered feet to the steady laughter of my little brother and Conner. Between the quick pecks I gave each foot, I thanked Kirk for allowing me to blow him. "Thank you, Kirk, for giving me this opportunity to blow you I know I don't deserve such an honor. I know you'd prefer to be fucking some hot girl tonight, but I'll do my best to give you the best blowjob ever. Thank you, Kirk, Sir." I thought I would be sick from the sound of my words. To make matters worse, my brother, Bruce, and Conner were doubled over in hysterics.

It was obvious that Kirk was wearing his leather cowboy boots just moments ago, as the faint odor from the insides of them drifted up my nostrils. To make matters even worse, Kirk apparently wasn't happy with how I was kissing his feet. "What the fuck you doing down there, faggot? Those aren't kisses. I want you to kiss my feet like you love them. Now, do it right. Here,” He said, as he removed his socks, “Let's get my toes right inside your pussy mouth, BITCH."

Kirk used his toes to pry my lips apart, forcing me to now not only smell the faint odor from within his cowboy boots but also taste it. Within seconds, I was engrossed as I sucked his toes, surrounded by laughter from all sides of me, "You fucking fags love sucking my feet as much as you love sucking my dick, don’t cha? Yeah. That's it, Peyton. Make love to my feet."

After Kirk was completely satisfied with having me worship his feet, I felt him pulling my hair, raising and pulling my head toward him, to his crotch, his massive thin, white cotton-covered basket. He was pressing my face into the huge mound, forcing me to inhale the jock teen odor emitting from his white undies while at the same time mashing my lips into a wet spot next to the head of his dick. "Sniff it, fag. What is it you smell? Is it some of my dried-up piss, some of my fresh precum? Or is it the sweat from my nuts?" The loud nonstop laughter from Conner and my little brother forced Kirk to raise his voice. "COME ON, BITCH! TAKE A GOOD WHIFF AND TELL US WHAT IT IS YOU SMELL!"

As he let go of my clenched hair, I tilted my head and gazed at the most hated school bully. "It smells kind of like a combination of all three, to be honest."

More loud laughter as now all three of these guys were in a fit of hysterics. "You're not as stupid as you look, cunt slut. You're absolutely right. You win the grand prize. And what is the grand prize, you might ask? Why, it's none other than my huge monster of a dick! That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Our contestant, `Ms. Queer Cunt Peyton', has won the honor of sucking my dick. Yes, it's true, ladies and gentlemen. Our queer contestant gets to SUCK on my thick, juicy meat. But wait. If 'Ms. Queer Peyton' here does an excellent job blowing me. I'm going to throw in another wonderful prize. Yes, yes, yes, I know. I know I'm way too generous, but here it is. If he gives me a superb blowjob, he will also receive a huge quantity of my own homemade man juice."

This was the first time I'd gotten to see the comedian side of Kirk. But, unlike Conner and my little bro – who were now rolling on the floor of the tent, laughing their nuts off - I didn't find it all that amusing.

Kirk now stood over me with his thick muscled legs spread wide. He lowered his thin white briefs and tucked the front waistband under his balls. Then, he pushed my head back to the point that I had to place my hands down behind me to keep from falling over. As he moved forward, he positioned his bulge directly over my face and was now sort of straddling my head. His hands, in the form of fists, were resting on his hips. This new position brought his nuts hanging just above my mouth. "Lick 'em clean, Queenie. After you give 'em a nice, long, wet kiss."

Conner loved this scene as much, if not more, than Kirk himself. "Whoa! Oh, my God! Bruce, you are so fucking lucky, dude. I mean, you could do this to him 24/7 this summer if you wanted to, man. I know I would if I had a faggot brother like Peyton here. And we were afraid we were all gonna be bored tonight. This is so much better than a party anytime."

Conner's remarks not only brought a wide evil grin spreading across my brother’s face but also planted the perfect money-making scheme into his warped little mind. "Hmmmm, wait a minute,” Bruce said, “Maybe you and I can work out a deal. You let me use your tent, and I'll split my take with ya. Say, 80/20. You'll get 20% of all the money I take in this summer just for letting me use your tent to pimp out my faggot brother. Sound like a deal?"

Conner's face lit up big time. Then, as if he needed to give this a little more thought, he squinted his eyes and looked at Bruce suspiciously. As he cupped his chin with his fingers, he asked, "Do I get to use the fag for free when he is here?" My baby brother smiled, "Sure. But for only … say, three times a week. So we don't wear him out, ya know?"

This conversation certainly didn't go unnoticed by Kirk. "WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE! What the fuck are you two pansies doing leaving me out? You seem to be forgetting something here, Bruce. Whose idea was it to bring your queer brother out of the closet, huh? You'd still be in bed stroking yourself If I didn't drag him out kicking and screaming. I'm the TOP man here. I say we split the take, say, 50/30/20. That is 50% for the Master (me), 30% for the little bro, and 20% to fuckface for the use of the tent, which, by the way, I think is way too high."

Little Brother, My Owner: The Sequel
Part 4 of 5

Bruce's smile disappeared instantly after hearing what Kirk felt was a fair split of the money made from selling my services. He told Kirk, "I don't get it, dude. Why should you make more money than me? The shithead fuck-slave is my brother.” Then he told Kirk, in no uncertain terms, “If you wanna make money, bring your own two bros here and pimp THEM out. Bet you'd make way more money with them than I will with my faggot, bro."

Oh, my God. Where was my dear sweet baby brother getting the balls to talk up to Kirk like that? That, of course, was my first reaction as I thought: BRAVO, Bruce!

But when I saw every muscle in Kirk's body tense up, I became afraid for my little brother, especially when Kirk started to speak. "HEY, BRUCE! You know what? I'm gonna let that one slide for now. But unless you wanna take your brother’s place as my fuckwad slave, you’d better clam up and keep it shut for the rest of the night. Hear me?"

All was quiet, not even any laughter, as I finished lapping around Kirk's balls. But Kirk remained pissed. "Come on, homo, you know how to clean my balls by now. Take each one in your queer mouth and suck on it for a while. Work up a nice huge load of my ball sweat in your tummy."

Obviously, Kirk wanted to set an example of his power and control over other dudes of lesser strength because, about ten minutes later, he stepped back away from me slightly, then slapped me hard enough to knock me over. While I was down on my back, he quickly straddled me. He was sitting heavily on my neck, with his now semi-hard dick resting on my lips. "Finish the job. And this time, I better feel some of that faggot tongue of yours at work. Otherwise, it will be my fist, not my palm, striking you upside the head next time."

With Kirk's thighs on each side, I couldn't move my head if I wanted to. I obeyed Kirk, sucking each of his nuts the way he liked, with lots of action from my tongue. After maybe fifteen minutes, Kirk was more than ready for his blowjob. Then, bringing me up to my knees by my hair, he told me, "Look what you did, faggot. You made my dick head drool out a mess. Now, stick it in your mouth and suck all that precum outta the head before blowing me."

The taste of his precum wasn't nearly as pure-tasting as it usually was. I blamed this on the beer and weed. But, of course, I did as I was told, sucking all the precum from his piss-slit without pausing until his piss-slit was dry. This teenage boy-God may be just another bully to some, but to those of us, he chose to service his needs. He had way more than enough muscle to back up his demands.

I wasn't ready for Kirk when he placed both his hands behind my head and began thrusting in and out of my mouth without warning. He continued pounding the inside of my mouth for a few minutes and then did something that shocked all of us. “K, Conner, you fuckhead, get over here. You're taking his place."

As Kirk was pushing me away from him, I looked over at Conner, then at my little brother, seeing the exact shocked expression on both their faces. Kirk stood there, legs wide spread, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Come on, Conner, let’s show our bud Bruce how good you are at blowing me." Glancing back at Conner, I noticed he looked as though he was frozen alive, not even moving an eye. Kirk, obviously loving the fear he had just instilled in Conner, verbally abused him. "Come on, Conner. You mean to say you never filled your bud, Bruce, in on the way awesome blowjobs you give me? Now I'm hurt, dude. I can't believe you didn't share your best life experience so far with your good friends. Now, get over here because I know you don't want me to come over there.”

My brother and I gulped as we heard Kirk’s accusation, then watched in shock as Conner took his first step toward Kirk. But Kirk wasn't satisfied seeing Conner take a step forward. "NO WAY, BITCH! Come to me the way you did the last time, the way I trained you. I want you to do EVERYTHING exactly as the last time. And I do mean EVERYTHING."

Conner was so embarrassed and freaked out. He was terrified, not just to be obeying Kirk, but to do it in front of me. And especially in front of Bruce. Conner got down on his belly and slowly crawled over to Kirk like a lizard. He cautiously made his way to Kirk and then kneeled down in front of him. To our continued amazement, Conner began to beg. "May I please feel your awesome muscles, Sir? If you'd let me, I'd really like to feel how hard they get when you flex, Sir. I've wanted to feel them for a long time. Your body is so damn hot. Everybody wants to feel it." Kirk looked at Bruce and grinned. "Didn't know your bud here was also a faggot, did ya? The first time he blew me was right here in this tent. I woke up in the middle of the night, horny as hell, looked over at Conner, and remembered how much he liked looking at my cock. Since then, he's given me more than just a couple of blowjobs."

Conner could not hold back his tears of humiliation. He burst out sobbing from being exposed as a “fag”. Keeping that secret for all the years he had known and been friends with Bruce and others worked well. Now, his life and his friendships would be different. He was devastated. He cried out, "Kirk, you bastard! You promised me. You promised you'd never tell anyone. I fucking hate you now. Why did you have to tell them?!"

Kirk just grinned. "Shut the fuck up, faggot. My dick’s getting soft. Get to work on it now, you pathetic cock swallower."

As usual, the power of Conner to be free of Kirk and his abusive behavior was no match for Kirk’s strong-willed persona to maintain his power over him and, apparently, all others. Bruce and I watched Conner’s face and caved in body language as he surrendered to Kirk - as we all did. He took Kirk's dick inside his mouth without any more resistance. We both watched Kirk standing there swigging on another beer while slowly long-fucking his “bud’s” mouth, letting Conner get a good taste of the full shaft with every long, slow pump.

After several moments, Kirk looked at me but was talking to my brother, kneeling beside me. "Hey, queer boy.” Bruce looked over to me, “No, not you, Peyton.” Kirk said, “I’m talking to your baby brother, my new slave, 'queer Bruce.'”

Bruce? Was he referring to Bruce as his “new slave, 'queer boy'”? I was stunned. Of course, I should have learned that nothing Kirk said or did should be a surprise. But Kirk and my little brother are supposed to be tight, good friends. They were sharing with me.

“Get over here, Bruce, you faggot cunt. Get over here and worship my toes. Suck on them like a pig suckling his mama's tits.” Bruce didn’t move. He had this confused look on his contorted face. I couldn't help but wonder what was going through Bruce’s mind, watching his good bud, Conner, give his best friend, Kirk, a blowjob, realizing for the first time that Conner was gay. PLUS, he was called out as a faggot himself! Little did I know that, within a few minutes, all hell would break loose!

Kirk was totally enjoying the service he was getting, keeping an eye on Conner's reaction as he fucked his mouth. But he must have thought that he had enough friends - or didn’t need any more? Instead, he needed more fags to service him. “Hey, little Brucey, get your cock-sucking mouth over here. I know you want to lick parts of my muscled bod, too!"

Bruce shook his head to clear it, “NO WAY, MAN! You know I’m not your fucking cocksucking whore. I’m taking Peyton home. I’ve seen enough drama for one night."

Kirk was pissed once again. "Get over here. Bruce, and kneel down. Pay homage to your Master. I saved a special gift for you. You get to kiss my ass." But Bruce stood his ground, which scared the shit out of me. I mean, I was proud of him and all that, but no way did I want him to get his face rearranged into a bloody mess.

Kirk's temper flared higher. Maybe it was the booze, pot, or some frustration at home, but he was not backing down, either. "You heard me, asshole, get over here and kiss my ass. I'm totally serious, dude. If you don't … I'm gonna come over there and beat the crap outta you, just like I always do to anyone who doesn't obey me. The only difference now is that you're going totally out this time." What the fuck did he mean by that!

That said, I looked at Bruce, "Just do it, bro. Please. He can seriously break you apart. And he is so unstable …"

But then, Bruce made his way to the now-smiling Kirk. He knelt down behind Kirk, who was standing, leaned forward, and began kissing his “best friend’s” ass cheeks. What? Was he just pretending? A seemingly content Kirk credited himself for another conquest before it was time. "Told you, faggot Bruce. Everyone kisses my ass, sooner or later. In a couple of days, you'll be in total sex-slave mode, where you know you really want to be.”

I guess when Bruce heard that, he snapped. He jumped up immediately after hearing what his new life was to be. "FUCK YOU, KIRK! No fucking way I'll ever get down and kiss your ass or be, in any way, your fucking property! You betrayed the one thing I respected about you: Your ability to carry one solid friendship as you controlled others. I thought you had something there. But you're out of your fucking mind! Way out of control! Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway?! I've heard shit around town. Some peeps swear your whole fucking family is queer. Now I'm beginning to think they're right, you fucking dickhead."

I quickly jumped up to shield my baby brother, as did Conner, to block the charging Kirk. Kirk yelled, "You fucking son of a bitch, I'm gonna fucking beat you so bad nobody is gonna fucking recognize you when I'm through with … "

It took me, Conner, and my baby brother, to tackle him and bring him down, a feat we would never have accomplished without the seven beers he drank. As we pinned him down with him calling each of us every name you can imagine, we each looked at one another as if to say, “Now what do we do?”

It was my baby brother who saved us. "Hey, Kirk, relax a sec, K? You're drunk and way out of control. Things have gotten so far out of hand that we can no longer reconcile our differences.” Bruce was speaking for all three of us. We were all three reading these developments exactly the same. Kirk was history. “We're gonna let you up, but first, I want you to think about something. You know those family secrets you shared with me? I swear, I'll spread them all over town if you don't leave the three of us alone from now on. Better think about it."

Conner was next to give Kirk something to think about. "Ya, dude. And I'll tell my dad what's been going on with us. You know he runs the newspaper that supports your dad in office, but it won't the next time he runs for office. If that isn't enough for you to leave us alone, think about this: I know why your brothers, Casey and Cameron, had to move outta state. That should be enough of a scandal to keep your dad from being re-elected, eh?"

It seemed all the fight just slowly drained from Kirk's powerful body with each threat being thrown at him. “K, you fucking assholes. Let me up.” Kirk said, in defeat, “I'm outta here. I've got better things to do than spend my summer around you faggots, anyway."

As he was getting himself dressed, he glared over at my little bro, "I thought we were best friends, dude. Why would you tell people about the secrets I shared ONLY with you? Best friends don't do shit like that." My baby brother gave Kirk a smirk. "We're not best friends, dude.” That said, it was all for all of us. Bruce continued, “If you were my best friend, you wouldn't have wanted me to kiss your ass or have other plans to humiliate me. All you did tonight was prove to me that my big brother was right all along. You're a piece of shit and no one’s friend. I can't even say it was nice knowing ya."

To my amazement, Kirk left without commenting on what my brave baby brother said to him. In fact, he didn’t say a word to anyone as he left the tent. He only looked back at each of us, one at a time, giving us a smirk. I was so proud of my brother and Conner for standing up to Kirk and his whole fucked family. There was a pervasive silence as we all felt a huge weight lifted off our shoulders. It was a nice calm, a feeling of a new beginning. It was so wonderful.

I turned to my baby brother, “I am so fucking proud of you.” He stayed calm, “Can we go home now, Bruce?"

But instead of Bruce thanking me and agreeing with me or even replying to me, he turned to Conner, “Would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?” Conner, who remained completely dressed, nodded and, as he was leaving, patted Bruce on the back. He stood not far away. Now, it was just my baby brother and me in the tent.

“Peyton, a lot has happened here tonight. Big changes for all three of us. We will never see Kirk again. So, that leaves me, you, and Conner. Leaving Conner out of this, you and I need to adjust our relationship for now. I forced you into being my faggot slave bitch. I have no regrets. In fact, I want our slave-Master relationship to remain, except without Kirk. But - and this is important - I will not force you to remain my slave. You have to willingly agree to it.” I started to speak, to interrupt, but Bruce stopped me.

“I’m not finished yet. Stay quiet and listen. I will continue to beat you. God, I love to do that. I will continue using you any way I wish, at any time, anywhere. There will continue to be NO EXCEPTIONS! My use and abuse of you will be unconditional. Do you hear me?” I nodded hesitantly. “But … I will give you a safe word. A word that means I will stop immediately when you say it.” That was new. I could stop him from beating me or even humiliating me in public or when he is doing anything I don’t like.

“But since my authority over you must be so complete, and your ability to resist me must be so tiny, I will punish you if you use the safe word. When I hear it, I will stop but leave you alone for thirty days. In those thirty days, I will not fuck you or let you suck my dick. I will not even touch you. That is your punishment. You will be shunned for thirty days after you use that word. Do you understand?” Bruce spoke so clearly like he had given this a lot of thought earlier.

I know what he is doing. He’s going to use my neediness for him, my newly-developed erotic dependency on him, to punish me if I use that word. I never knew how good it felt to be used and even abused. No, I did not like the physical violence. But who would have thought that I would get an extreme erotic charge from being fucked, even being fucked violently? I mean, to feel that power, that complete dominating force over me, was an erotic and emotional high I could never have imagined. I now knew I could never receive it under any other circumstances.

I felt Bruce searching my eyes and studying my face. He knew I was in silent deep thought over his words and the conditions he laid out for me. He was patiently waiting for my response. Then, there was the physical violence. The awful beatings, especially that last one. How could I accept that? Who would? Yet … if there was no real violence, I could deny him anything, anytime. There would be no consequences for me. I’d just engage with my little brother, accept what I liked erotically, and refuse what I didn’t like. But … I wonder. Is that want they call “controlling from the bottom”? If there was no possibility of great physical pain, wasn’t it me who was really in control of him? If I have the safe word that will cause him to stop - and I use it - he will stop. If I was being beaten, even a little, I could use that word, and he would stop. But I see the punishment for me in using it. If I do, he will totally unplug from me for an entire thirty days.

God. I don’t want him to just ignore me for a month. I love when he lets me suck his dick, even when he forcibly deep-throats me, even when I can’t breathe. I love when he is in total command. And I love rimming his wonderful muscular ass. It’s so new to me. His entire body is like a candy shop, and I am a six-year-old. Then the humiliation. And that is a big deal. I hate that. He puts me out there, even publicly, as everyone's fag to use. I hate that! Or … I used to. What is it about being humiliated that gets my dick so hard? Fuck! This is all new to me, and … and … I am so ashamed and embarrassed to say that I like it and need it. I crave it now.

Having Bruce withhold any interaction with me would be agony in itself. But he knew that. He realized this long before I did. I needed him to use and abuse me. Fuck! I hate myself for saying this … or do I? If that is who I am or who I have become, I need to accept who I am now. He knew that giving a safe word would be little help to me because it would hurt me so much to be shunned and denied any contact with his magnificent body for thirty days. I’d be depressed, and so fucking alone. He knew that I would only use it in a rare extreme case … if even then.

I responded the only way I could, the way of my inner soul. “Master, I love and respect you so much. Please use me unconditionally in any way that gives you pleasure.”

I thought his face would change to a radiant glow of satisfaction, but he was not surprised at all. “Very well,” he said calmly. He got dressed, and I waited, knowing MOST CLEARLY, that if he wanted me to get dressed as well, he would have told me to. Then, he told me the safe word. I wasn’t even concerned about remembering it. “Out.” I followed him out of the tent and walked behind my baby Master brother as he walked toward Conner’s house. We were in the pool area. It was about 10 PM on a cold evening in February, so no Conner family members were outside. We could look up and see the lighted windows on both the first and second floors of the house, so people were still up inside.

“Conner, I know you are a fag, unlike Kirk. I’ll keep that our secret. Like all faggot pussy boys, I know you want to suck dick. As a little gift from me for the horror you went through tonight, you’re gonna suck my dick.” Bruce said as he reclined on a patio chair just ten feet from the back of the house. He unzipped his pants. His semi-hard dick just flopped out. He needed no coaxing. Conner just got on his knees and sucked that beautiful dick, as he was invited to do. He immediately started moaning; he was in sex-pig heaven. I felt a little jealous, but I could see how Conner deserved some pleasure, especially this pleasure.

It was so cold out there. Springfield, Ohio, has cold winters and springs. I had goosebumps all along my bare arms and legs. “Scumbag,” My baby brother looked up at me, “Without disturbing Conner, undress him.” Overhearing that, Conner knew he was not to take his mouth off Bruce’s big stiff dick.

In this situation, one normally would ask why. But I already knew not to question my brother. I wanted to ask, in a respectful way, how much clothes to remove from Conner. But that’s not for me to clarify. So, I unlaced and removed first one tennis shoe and then the other, followed by his socks, which I tucked into his shoes. Conner, trying to be helpful, held up his arm to allow me to see to unbutton his shirt, which I did from top to bottom. I did have to pull his shirt out of his jeans. I looked up as I was in the process of stripping my friend, Conner, and I saw a pleasant smile on Bruce’s face. He obviously was pleased with Conner’s sucking and pleased with the way I was undressing his new slave. If, in fact, Conner was going to be a new slave of his. That’s not for me to ask or question.

Little Brother, My Owner: The Sequel
Part 5 of 5

Then I slowly pulled Conner’s shirt off one arm and then the other. I was surprised at what I saw. Conner was a year younger than me, 16. And yet, he had a fine chest developing. He was a twink, and a sexy one, at that. Odd, I have never thought about him being sexy, even though we have known each other for almost five years. But, of course, I never thought of him as gay. Or me, for that matter. Wow, this is a whole new world. I loved how Conner was noisily slurping on my brother’s dick; he was enjoying himself so much. I wanted to hurry and finish stripping Conner because it was my turn to suck on my brother’s fabulous hard dick after him. And, hopefully, take his wonderful huge sweet load down my throat.

Conner was on his knees facing Bruce's chair, so his back was to me. As I reached for his belt, he assisted in swiveling his hips toward me, so I could better unbuckle it. I removed the belt, unsnapped the top button, and unzipped his pants. OH, SHIT! JUST THEN, THERE WAS A NOISE FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE! I stopped and looked at the lit windows. There were people milling about inside. I COULD HEAR HIS PARENTS TALKING AND LAUGHING AT SOMETHING, MAYBE THE TV. I looked at Bruce; he showed no concern. So I continued, though now more aware that others might catch us. Right or wrong, that was Bruce’s responsibility.

I slowly pulled down Conner’s jeans, and as I did, he lifted one knee and then the other, so I could pull them completely off his bare feet. Amazing. Conner was sucking Bruce’s dick, and I was stripping Conner … right under his parent’s window. And they were up and moving around. Bruce did care, but Conner didn’t. He was lost in his dick-sucking job. I doubt he heard anything or was even aware that his folks might catch us. Then, I noticed Conner’s underwear-clad body, so perfect. He wore skimpy black bikini briefs. They were no more than one inch wide on the hips. He was sexy, with minimal muscle tone, but he was a real stud in the making. I just never noticed, especially not in any sexual way. But I needed to hurry up. I badly wanted to get sucking on my brother’s dick.

So, lastly, I slowly pulled down Conner’s cute black undies. With his assistance, I pulled them off his feet. I couldn’t help but sniff them before I set them down. Now Bruce was fully clothed, and Conner and I were totally naked near the house windows. It was cold, but Bruce didn’t care. Conner wasn’t aware of anything other than making love to my brother’s dick. I remained kneeling and waited for Bruce to give me my turn on his dick.

“Conner,” Bruce said, “get on all fours, but don’t stop sucking.” He did precisely that. He went from being on his knees in front of Bruce to getting on his hands and knees, all while maintaining his sucking. “Cunt faggot,” I looked up in a jerk, “Get your face behind Conner and kiss his ass cheeks all over.” I kneeled down at Conner’s ass and planted little baby kisses on his cheeks and lower back, underneath his balls, and along his ass crack. I just kept kissing him all around his ass area. This sent Conner into a wild frenzy. His body was jerking and twitching. He was moaning more and louder now. That made me hot. For the first time tonight, I had a big bone on.

“Now, my asshole slave,” I assumed my little brother meant me, “Get your long faggot tongue in Conner’s asshole and work it. Keep working inside his ass cave.” How fucking odd! If you had told me two hours ago that I’d be rimming Conner’s ass - AND LOVING IT! - I would have called you an idiot and a fool. But I was so turned on. I was so hard, and my dick begged to get one firm jerk … and it would blast off. It’s not just that I loved rimming Conner’s asshole. I’m not sure I do. But being told to do it because it pleases Master Bruce… gave me such an erotic high that I got dizzy. Amazing. My Master, my little baby brother … was so amazing. Yeah, let him beat the shit out of me. If I get to please him like this ... this … it’s amazing. I plunged my tongue in as far as I could and worked it around, then sucked out his asshole juices, mainly my salvia, all to please Bruce. I was so happy, so emotionally nourished. I couldn’t look down, but I’m sure my dick was leaking all over the place.

Bruce was moaning, and Conner was trembling out of his cute little fucking mind. And I was on Cloud Nine or Nine Hundred. We were all having a fest of erotic sensations, all in Conner’s backyard, not ten feet from his windows. His folks were just inside, still talking.

All of a sudden, Bruce grunted loudly, and his body stiffened. I saw he had grabbed Conner’s head with both hands and thrust his hips up, forcing his dick down the boy’s throat. He was shooting his load. I kept rimming Conner as told, in my own sex-pig heaven. But I could tell Conner was struggling to breathe. I wish I could have told him. “Stay calm, be patient. You’ll be allowed air soon.” Then, Bruce let go of his head and just pushed Conner’s face off his dick. Conner was shaking, on the verge of climax, all sexed up, and nowhere to go.

“Hey, ass-licker,” I knew he was talking to me. “Work on Conner’s dick, and don't stop. But, BY GOD, IF YOU LET HIM COME, I’LL BEAT YOU SO HARD YOU WILL FUCKING REGRET IT!” I knew he meant it. Conner freaked out, as well, on hearing that he better not climax.

I immediately sucked Conner’s already huge, already dripping dick. For a sixteen-year-old, he had nothing to be ashamed of. And I loved it. It was a double love. I love sucking dick, and I love doing it to please my macho, muscular baby brother. It tasted different and also wonderful. I sucked on it hard as I could. I was lost in my own private fantasy world. I was so fucking happy.

Then, I sensed a fist pounding on my shoulders. Not meanly, but frantically. I realized it was Conner, in a panic to get my attention, to get me to stop sucking his dick, that he was about to shoot his load down my throat. OH, SHIT! I felt stupid. I stopped sucking but left his dick fully in my mouth. I was hoping Conner would pull back from the brink of climax. I waited … and waited … was still ... finally, I sensed he was OK. So, I would be more careful.

“Hey, shit-for-brains,” (Yep, that’s me), “I told you not to stop.” Now I was slowly licking and teasing Conner’s rigid dick with my tongue, just rubbing it all around his shaft. Conner started fucking my mouth. I held his hips so he would not do that … and climax.

“Cocksucker, use the tongue to tease the tip of his dick. Work it all around that mushroom head, just like I taught you to do with me.” My baby brother commanded. So I did. I ran my tongue over the end and around the ridge, making tiny sucking maneuvers over the tip. I then tried to jab the tip of my tongue into this piss-slit and got even more inventive. Conner was wailing and frantic, trying to push me off his dick. But I had my orders not to stop. I just tried to go easier when he panicked.

“No, stop,” Conner whispered, “Don’t. Please stop,” he pleaded in a soft voice. Most of him wanted me not to stop, but part of him wanted me not to get beat up. His body shook, and he could not help fucking my mouth. His body NEEDED to climax, but his mind tried to avoid it. I looked up at my “brother-in-charge” to allow his desperate climax, but Bruce was just smiling.

“Now, I want you to very, very slowly move your head off his dick, then on again. Keep your lips only lightly on his dick. And move your mouth almost all the way off, just touching the tip, then very lightly and slowly moving your lips down all the way to the base, to where it touches your throat. And repeat.” Fuck! I didn’t know if Conner could avoid climax, but I sure as hell was having a very difficult time keeping from just sucking out all his boy juice. I wanted it so badly. I needed it.

As I engaged in this slow-motion dick-sucking erotic torture, Conner’s body went limp. I knew the feeling. When you can't fight it, just totally relax and let it happen. He was spasming uncontrollably. This dear, sweet young teen was so naked and so beautiful, and I loved being used to torture him in this way. His body shook all on its own. His arms, hanging down loosely, began to flail. I continued, unabated, moving my mouth excruciatingly slowly. I tried to avoid touching his dick with my tongue. His head lolled forward, and saliva spewed from the corner of his gaping mouth. He admitted a continual guttural hum from his throat.

I was sure he had nothing to do with it consciously, but his hips were fucking my mouth continuously and rather hard in a steady rhythm. I could feel his dick pulsing. I looked at Bruce and pleaded on his behalf. Bruce nodded. “THANK GOD! OH, THANK YOU, MASTER!” I wanted to say. I wanted to scream out loud. “FUCKING THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU ARE SO KIND AND SO POWERFUL!” But I said nothing.

I now used my tongue to gently rub all over Conner’s dick. His subconscious thrusting continued. I used more pressure to close my lips so he was fucking a tighter mouth, giving him all the friction he needed. AND THERE HE WENT, VOLLEY AFTER VOLLEY; I greedily sucked it all down. His body aimlessly bounced around in my hands as I held his hips firmly. Still, I gently sucked his dick until the last drops surrendered to my hungry mouth. He wasn’t unconscious but seemed lifelessly very satisfied if that makes sense. He was smiling but weak and limp. I set his naked body on the ground and looked up at my Master brother since he knew everything.

“Put his clothes on for him.” And I did. Conner was OK with me dressing him since he helped so little. “Help him into the chair. Let him rest. It’s time for us to go.”

I had a huge boner; a string of precum dripped from it, a long, slimy, glistening string slowly making its way to the concrete I was standing on. I saw it as a signal for my brother Master to notice it. To know, in no uncertain terms, that I had not climaxed yet. Master did. Conner did, but not me.

“Oh, I see you are dripping all over Conner’s patio.” Of course, he was being facetious; he knew. “I don’t want you to make a mess at our friend’s home. So, wipe it off and eat it. I don’t want another drop hitting the ground.” My baby brother told me with a smile. Even though he was smiling, he was still deadly serious. So I obeyed.

I didn’t know what time it was. Probably close to midnight. I must have zoned out. I was thinking about my dick dripping and how I so wanted to climax, how wonderful it was servicing Conner, and if we were going to see him again. And, if we did, would he be a sub-slave also? And, if so, was he superior to me? And, of course, I had to reflect on the delightful feeling of being rid of that fucking asshole bully, Kirk Dunlop! What a fucking freak he is.

“Time to go home,” Bruse ordered me. I looked around for my clothes since I was totally naked, and “going home” meant a two-mile walk down city streets. “Bruce, where’s my clothed?” Are you shitting me? You’re appropriately dressed now for our walk home.” Then he thought, ‘OK, to make you feel better, I’ll strip off my T-shirt.” He laughed. “But… but… Bruce?” “Cut the crap, grab your skateboard, and let's go home.” Being naked at home or in a buddy’s backyard was one thing, but walking two miles on city streets? Naked?” FUCK how I loved the way my little brother pushed me further into humiliation – now public humiliation! I had such a boner, and he would not even let me cover it up. So there we were, tall, skinny me, totally naked carrying my skateboard, and him, my little fucking bro, walking behind me, laughing his head off. “Big bro, if you only knew how wonderful, how powerful I feel right now. You are in for a lifetime of a wild ride.” And … OH FUCK! Bruce and I were walking home. It was dark, a moonless night. But still, a car went by us every once in a while, its headlights lighting up my body each time since we were walking against the traffic like you’re supposed to do. I had no clue what happened to my clothes. Bruce was carrying his skateboard. I was trying to think what was in my pockets? Did I have my wallet? Or keys? I probably did. Or … maybe not. But, then again, I needed to learn to fully trust Bruce. Even though he was only 17 and I was 20, I needed to trust him. Bruce was totally unconcerned. And it was a two-mile walk home. I just surrendered to the situation that my brother Master created for me. I walk naked, pretending that it is natural. But I was so freaked out of my mind. As much as I hate admitting this … I love being on edge, unsure, uncomfortable, and nervous when I am with my little bro. I love it and need it. Good thing he knows that.

Bruce continued our relationship as he developed it. He left me alone once in a while. He allowed me some activities with my friends and set up some rules and boundaries by which we lived. I got used to a lot. Once in a while, he had me interact with Conner and some others. Usually, it’s just my little brother and me. Every scene is so different. Every week I get pulled and manipulated into more extreme and more daring challenges. I have even been severely beaten a few times. And no, I did not use the safe word to stop him. Whatever he does to me, even what I hate, is better than having the punishment I would receive if I did: Thirty days of total non-contact, that’s 30 days of isolation without him! That’s too fucking painful to bear.

Mom travels a lot as a manager for an international company. Bruce adjusts his activities when she is home, so she is none the wiser. When Mom is gone, Bruce is free to do anything he wants to me. That brings me unbridled happiness and unlimited erotic pleasure most of the time. That outweighs the once-in-a-while days of utter, hellish misery he puts me through. Bruce gets extremely excited when she leaves. But what is really weird is that I, too, get extremely happy when she’s not home. I guess I enjoy my baby brother Master more when he acts without limitations.

I love my baby brother Master.

The End

Copyright 2018 GayTies.com. Each story part is displayed for only 24 hours and is reposted only once every couple of years. So, log-in every day (or upgrade) so you don’t miss a one of them!
Copyright 2018 GayTies.com. Each story part is displayed for only 24 hours, and is reposted only once every couple of years. So, log-in every day (or upgrade) so you don’t miss a one of them!