Date: Sat, 10 Oct 2009 03:08:15 -0700 (PDT)
From: JKBlackhouse <jkblackhouse@yahoo.com>
Subject: Brothers & Slaves: Chapt. 11: Nothing To Do But Think

This is a work of fiction. The characters are invented. It is intended
solely for the fantasy entertainment of persons, age 18 or older, who want
to read about gay sex and male slavery. If you are not at least 18 years
old and/or this is not what you want, read no further.

Copyright reserved by the author.
JKBlackhouse

Brothers & Slaves:
Characters so far:

Danny 17, currently the narrator, high school junior, on soccer & track teams;
Ken 18,  Danny's older brother, athletic body, high school senior, plays
football, baseball & wrestles; 
Gary 15, Danny's younger brother, young stud, high school freshman;
Tuck 17, boyhood best friend of Danny and Don, soccer & track;
Don 17, boyhood best friend of Danny and Tuck, backup quarterback.
Joey, 16, teammate of Danny and leader of team's turning him into their
shaved cocksucker; 
Tim, 17, personal house slave of Ken, Danny and Gary;
Mr. Howard, owner, a slave training facility.

Previously: Danny has been made a "slave" in practice though not in law by
his older and younger brothers, with the help of Danny's teammates. His
pubes, genitals, crack, arms and legs have been shaved and he is forced to
give his brothers blowjobs on command and to accept their fucking him. He
is required by them to be naked in the large bedroom/study room the three
share along with their personal slave Tim. Danny cannot escape his new
found slavery because his brothers have pictures and videos of him
performing all sorts of humiliating and sexual acts as if he were doing so
from his own desire. If he does not obey his brothers, they have threatened
to put the pics and recordings on the worldnet along with his real
name. For Danny, that would mean complete disgrace and humiliation before
his friends and parents. Danny's brothers have had his nipples ringed, a
genital band, just like real slaves must wear, installed permanently along
with a permanent titanium ball band, stretcher and separator. The boys'
parents are completely unaware of what has been happening among the boys.

Chapt. 10: Learning - Danny

Master did not seem put off. "Alright, 415, what do you want to ask?"

"Master, this slaves begs Master's permission to be allowed to piss, please
Master."

"Very well, slave, you may piss."

I knew the proper answer from having listened to Tim. "Master, thank you,
Master." I realized I was going to have to piss right there like a dog,
right in front of Master and, for that matter, Tim and the house slave.

I tried to think of water, water falls, showers, running water, anything to
get my piss going. At long last there was a trickle of piss from my dick
and then a sudden flood down around my knees, soaking my legs and making a
mess in the dirt where I was planted. Oh god, I thought, what will be the
punishment for this?

Brothers & Slaves
Chapter 11: Nothing To Do But Think - Danny

I looked down at the ground where I'd just released my piss while on my
hands and knees, just like an animal, and right in front of Master. I'd
made a mess plus I'd spoken out of turn and had just been told I'd receive
10 strokes as punishment. I had no idea what was going to happen. It was
only Saturday afternoon and I had over 24 hours more of slave training for
which my brothers, Ken and Gary, had apparently signed me up.

But here was the thing. Within the last 24 hours my brothers had caused my
nipples to be pierced with rings almost exactly the same size as adorned
our personal slave, Tim. Worse even, they'd had a slave's permanent,
genital band installed around my cock and balls. It must be at least an
inch wide and I'd live with it `till the day I died. These slave bands once
in place, had no way to be removed, no way at all. More, a two inch metal
ball stretcher pushed my balls to the very bottom of my sac and it too was
slave grade, meant to never be removed. My balls were ringed and then
spread apart so each seemed to have it's own little cubby. The balls were
so squeezed that the skin covering them was all red and shiny, All these
items were titanium with internal locking mechanisms and thus no key.

Now what got me, in addition to how cruel my brothers had become toward me,
what got me, was that it all turned me on. My dick had been hard almost the
entire ride home from the piercing parlor. I was eager to get home so I
could suck their masculine cocks. While they had shaved my entire body from
neck to toes, and permanently removed the hair from my balls, cock and
lower pubes where the genital band was, since those places could now never
be shaved, they still had hunky, hairy boy pubes and I wanted to sink my
nose into that hair, sniff it, engulf their dicks in my mouth and swallow
their seed. What was wrong with me?

It's true that ever since I was about 13 or 14, Ken was a year older, we
played some sex games. He liked tying me up spread-eagled to my bed and
then just leaving me after making sure I had a boner and that my cock and
balls were all bound up with rope. Then he'd come back an hour or more
later and sometimes he'd make me give him a blowjob while tied up. I
couldn't be released he'd say until he'd cum. Afterward, he usually jerked
me off, smearing my cum on my chest and stomach, even my armpits, all of
which I mostly loved when I was in the mood and wanting to blast off. He
liked ordering me to do things and I liked taking orders. That was about as
far as it went.

I knew I tended to be submissive and I sure as hell knew I liked boys by
the time I was 14 or 15. I wasn't sure about girls. My friends and I used
to jerk eachother off occasionally, but that was about it. So mostly it was
just Ken who liked bossing me around and if I wasn't in the mood, I really
resented it and let him know in no uncertain way. I'd curse him, even spit
at him to keep him off me. But mostly, we just had boy fun and I thought
nothing more of it.

My younger brother Gary turned out to be more like Ken than like me. He
enjoyed being the boss, telling both of us, but especially me, what to
do. He liked setting up sex games where I was always the servant, Ken was
part servant and part boss and Gary was head boss. Yeah, it was sex, but it
seemed like pretty innocuous fun.

While I never told my brothers, as I got older, toward late adolescence, I
yearned more and more for these kind of games. I'd get my friends to tie me
up and "force" me to blow them. Not often. Not so they thought I was too
weird, just a few times. How did Ken and Gary glom onto the idea that I
really, really did like submitting, that it made me hard when I was ordered
to serve one or both of them? Still just games, I thought. But then Gary
started recording times when I'd blow Ken. He'd have me act out begging Ken
to let me blow him and then doing it and even eating Ken's cum
sometimes. He had me do these things with him too, but he was the
techno-geek so the only recordings were of me and Ken. He even got Ken very
occasionally to get on his knees and blow me. He recorded those as well.

There came a point where things began to shift and I was slowly sucked into
being blackmailed with public exposure of the recordings on the worldnet if
I didn't do what they wanted me to. I guess unfortunately for me, I went
along with it early and that kind of made it impossible to back out
later. But here was my secret: I wasn't sure I wanted to back out. It got
me so hard when they made me do things. When they shaved my pubes, I
thought I'd spew cum all over them both.

I'd look at our personal slave, Tim. Almost exactly my age, 17, a
completely hairless body except for trimmed eyebrows and stubble hair on
his head. No armpit hair, no bush, no hair on his legs. It fascinated me
and really got me hot looking at him. I wondered what it would be like to
be locked in a slave's genital band with my cock and balls pushed forward
or wearing rings or rods through my nipples. Guys were wearing rings and
rods who weren't slaves. The fad was body jewelry and tattoos, both. It
seemed so masculine on other guys so I fantasied what it would be like for
me. I didn't have the nerve to ask Mom and Dad if I could get my nipples
ringed or anything like that. It wasn't, I thought, that I wanted to live
like Tim, a 24 hours a day always slave. It was more that I wanted to feel
what it would be like to look like him, be shaved, be ringed, and what it
would be like to live the life of a slave as play. But not as a full-time
life
 style, I thought. Just to experience it.

Well, I guess I'd shared too much of this with Ken and Gary, or maybe they
just knew it intuitively by living with me, sharing a bedroom all our
lives, finding gay porno and leather sex stories in my stuff, though I made
it clear they should stay the hell out of my stuff. Ken had gay mags too,
but he also had some girlie ones and Gary seemed pretty hetero.

Then they started giving me, forcing me to have, the very experiences I'd
fantasied about. The problem was, for one thing, they did some things that
were irreversible, like I said, installing a real slave genital band that
would never come off and the ball stuff and tit rings. And now here I was
left at a slave training facility for a weekend, a place where I'd find out
for real what being a slave was like because clearly that was all I was
being allowed to be. So, how come I kept getting hard as Mr. Howard started
my slave training? This could not be right and I was simply going to have
to tell Mom and Dad what my brothers had done to me.

The jewelry they'd had installed on my body meant I could never go into the
boys locker room at school which in turn meant no more team sports, which I
loved. And if the school found out the whole thing, maybe they wouldn't
even let me attend school there. There were no students at school who were
slaves, at least none I knew of and I think I would have known. Yes, Mom
and Dad must be told, even if I had to admit to them I was gay and maybe
even perverted, if I was, and into things like submission, leather and
orders. I couldn't let my brothers ruin my entire life.

I had lots of time to think about all these things. Mr. Howard had had Tim
lead me by my leash, while I crawled, to an area that was set aside from
the rest of the trimmed lawns. This area was surrounded by razor wire up to
maybe ten feet and the ground was concrete or cement. Very hard on my
knees. Right in the center of the area, which was maybe 10 feet in
diameter, there was what I immediately recognized as a set of standing
stocks. My neck and wrists were placed in the vertical slots made for them
and the matching top part was lowered on them and locked so I could not
remove my hands or head. My ankles were also set in stocks. These were
widely spread horizontal notches and I was locked into them just like with
my head and hands. The stocks forced me to bend my body a little so I
leaned into the top part. I could tell this was going to really start
hurting my back if I was going to be left for any long period of time.

The stocks were set right in the sun, so that burnt down on me and I was
soon sweating. Mr. Howard thankfully had had Tim coat my body with what I
took to be sun tan oil but soon I found the "oil" was itself generating
heat and soon my entire body, but especially the sensitive areas like my
balls, armpits and dick, seemed to be on fire. This was going to be hell.

Mr. Howard reminded me that I had 10 strokes due for my misbehavior. That
was true so I couldn't very well argue the point, could I? Especially since
I wasn't given permission to speak. I felt the first stroke on my left
buttock and I howled it hurt so much. Thank god I remembered what Tim had
done, so I shouted out "one Master, thank you, Master." That seemed to
satisfy him since he laughed as he heard me say it. The second stroke set
my right buttock flaming, but I remembered to scream out "two Master, thank
you, Master." Then it was my thighs, he managed to reach the inner thigh so
the pain was excruciating. Then 4 strokes criss-crossing my back and
finally two on my chest, where he seemed to make sure he hit my new nipple
rings. Once I shouted out my thanks for the 10th stroke I repeated Tim's
phrase, "Thank you Master for correcting this slave's misbehavior."

"Well said, slave," was his only response.

With my punishment complete, my mouth was again plugged with a cock gag
shoved down my throat and locked in place by a strap behind my head. Next
came a blindfold. The mouth cock apparently had a tube running through it
because I soon noticed a slow but steady stream of piss flowing into my
throat from the cock gag. This slow stream of liquid never stopped and was
always piss. As a final indignity, Master hung little bells from each of my
nipple rings and from my ball ring. This meant anytime I moved at all, the
bells tinkled so anyone listening would know I'd moved without even having
to see me. Before he left, Master had Tim place a black mesh bag completely
over my head. The strings were tied tightly around my neck. Since the hood
was mesh, I could breathe pretty easily but it was just one more reminder,
as if at this point I needed one, that no part of my body was my own. All
of me belonged for the weekend to Master Howard.

It was while I was locked in the stocks that I thought about all the things
I've mentioned. What else was there for me to do, other than think, swallow
the piss and sweat? My dick kept trying to harden and each time it did, it
set the damn ball bell tinkling. I kept shifting around my body to the very
limited degree I could and of course doing this set the nipple bells
ringing. For the first time ever, I felt I was just someone's property and
it excited me and my dick which was teen-hard. How perverted was I?
Obviously very weird indeed.

It seemed like I was left there to contemplate that part of my nature that
was slave inclined for several hours. It could have been less but it sure
seemed to go on and on. My neck started to hurt because I couldn't raise or
straighten it and my fingers started tingling from being kept so high for
so long. I was having two simultaneous experiences. On the one hand, I was
a naked slave, drinking somebody's piss and locked in a hood and stocks
with a plug up my ass and cock gag in my mouth; but on the other hand, I
observed myself as this slave, 415, once known as Danny, went through this
very restrictive and almost impersonal experience. I observed his feelings,
both physical and emotional and how well or poorly he was handling his
helplessness.

Truth to tell, I loved the feeling of being truly, not in play like with my
brothers, but truly helpless and subject to the will of another person over
whom I had not the slightest influence. I felt I was Master Howard's
slaveboy and that he would do with me exactly what he wanted to without
considering my feelings about it in the least. I honestly felt he was
training me. Was this what slavery was? Was this who I was? I hoped not.


Copyright 2009 JKBlackhouse. This work may not be reproduced, except for
personal use, without permission of the author. Reproduction for any other
use is prohibited.

Comments, story ideas, criticisms and suggestions are most welcome. Please
let me know what you think of the story. Feedback really helps keep me
writing. Thanks to those who have written - and thanks for the many good
ideas, some of which are now in the story or will be.  email:
jkblackhouse@yahoo.com