Date: Sun, 13 Sep 2009 01:45:17 -0700 (PDT)
From: JKBlackhouse <jkblackhouse@yahoo.com>
Subject: Brothers & Slaves - Chapt. 7: How Could You?

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.

Chapt's 1-6: Danny has been made a slave by his older and younger brothers,
with the help of Danny's teammates. His pubes, genitals and crack have been
shaved and he is forced to give his brothers blowjobs on command. 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. Danny, with help of his friends Tuck and Don intends
to exact revenge from his brothers. The boys' parents are completely
unaware of what has been happening among the boys.

Chapt. 7: How Could You? - Danny

It was the weekend. With our parents away, my older brother Ken and my
younger brother Gary had a whole weekend laid out for me though at the
start, of course, I had no way of knowing this. I was ordered to shower, to
reshave myself, my pubes, chest and pits, while Tim shaved my arms and
legs. These last were new. Complete humiliation. A large butt plug was
greased and then shoved up my ass. I screamed as I felt it enter me, it was
wider than anything I'd ever previously had in my ass. I have to admit that
once lodged in my chute, it gave me a pleasing feeling of fullness. A tight
leather collar, perhaps 21/2 inches wide was locked around my neck. Naked,
I was wrapped in a poncho and hustled out of the house by my brothers. Our
slave Tim was also there. I had no idea where they were taking me, or why,
but ball-gagged, there was no way I could ask. Even had I not been gagged,
I was told I could only speak hereafter with permission or when asked a
question, which I must answer truthfully, or to say things like "yes Sir,"
thank you Sir" and so on.

Leather bands had been locked around my wrists and my wrists were locked
together behind my back. There were leather restraints on my ankles as
well. These had a short chain, perhaps 6 inches, locked between them. A
blindfold covered my eyes once I'd been dumped on the floor in front of the
back seat. Whatever they planned, I would obviously never have any chance
to give my opinion or to object.

I had no idea where we were headed but I knew this wasn't going to end well
for me wherever we went. About 30 minutes later, the car stopped and I was
hauled out and hustled through a doorway. I knew I was in some kind of shop
or home because I could feel the hard wood underneath my bare feet. The
poncho was removed but blindfolded, I still had no notion of where they had
taken me.

An older male voice said, "So this is the boy?" Ken said I was the new
boy. The man said, "OK, lets get on with it." I was placed before a thick
metal pole. My hand were recuffed so they were behind the post and then
padlocked to a ring on the post. I knew for the brief moment they were free
that there was no point fighting them, blindfolded, my ankles chained
together, how could I do anything meaningful? I didn't even try. A leather
band was tied around my belly, pulling it back toward the post. Another
strap was threaded across the top of my chest, then through my smooth
armpits and buckled behind the post, forcing my back rigidly against the
post and immobilizing my chest. The chain locked between my ankles was
repositioned so it now ran behind the post, taking up all the slack and
leaving my ankles also immobilized. A leather band went around my forehead
and was buckled behind the pole. Whatever horror my brothers planned, it
obviously required that I be kept tightly restrained.

I was sweating and I could smell the sweat as it ran down my sides from my
armpits. It wasn't the warmth, it was fear, pure unadulterated
terror. Something really bad was going to happen, I just knew it. I felt a
clamp being attached to each of my nipples, firm and tight but not teethed
or hugely painful. I could feel my right nipple being pulled away from my
chest as someone pulled the clamp. Then something cold hit my tit, it felt
really cold, maybe ice? There was a pause and then I screamed as I felt a
needle invading my right nipple. It hurt something fierce but gagged, my
scream was barely audible. The needle was pressed through my nipple until
it came out the other side. By now, I was crying from the pain. I would
have begged for mercy but that's hard to do gagged. Finally, I could feel
something sliding through behind the needle and then a feeling of metal
being pushed through the nipple. Finally, something metal bumped my chest a
little ways below my tit. There was metal and something round. Surely,
surely my brothers were not having slave rings inserted in my nipples. Even
they could not be so cruel. But if not that, what was it?

The entire procedure was repeated on my left nipple. I just knew I wasn't
going to like whatever they'd done once I could see it. I could feel a
cloth wiping some fluid, (blood?) from my chest. I could hear Ken saying
"Really nice job, Mr. Harrington. We'll be back for more another time. Here
is what I think we agreed on." Presumably my brother was paying
Mr. Harrington. Ready to look, boy?" Ken asked me.

I nodded. Of course I wanted to see how they'd marked me. Off came the
blindfold. I stared down at my chest. There were two rings, one through
each nipple, with a weighted ball at the bottom of each. I screamed
"NOooooooo," gagged, little noise could be heard but my brothers got the
idea.

"Don't fret little brother," said Ken. It just marks you as the slaveboy
you now are." I began to cry. Of course there were free men who wore
decorative tit rings but these were about an inch or more in diameter and
quite thick. No one would mistake them as ornaments. They were similar to
the rings our slave Tim wore, nothing less.

They were not finished. Apparently they felt the rings were insufficient. I
now had to watch as Mr. Harringtom fit a very tight band around my cock and
balls, a genital band like the one all slaves must wear by law. It was
maybe a half inch wide, made of polished smooth metal. I shook my head from
side to side, trying to convey, `no, don't do this'. Of course no one paid
the slighted attention. I watched as Mr. Harrinton brought the two ends of
the band together. I heard a click. I knew what that meant. The band was
locked with an interior lock. There was no key. It was titanium and so
tight, there was no way it could ever come off without first castrating
me. I now wore the same band around my cock and balls that Tim and all
slaves wore. Some wider, some narrower but all set permanently in place. It
meant my dick and nuts would always be pushed forward, away from my body
and that I would always, as did Tim, have a somewhat turgid dick, partially
engorged, partially hard. Always. I am not ashamed to say I balled and
balled.

I was released from the pole and almost collapsed on the floor, not just
from the pain I'd endured but from the humiliation that would be mine for
my lifetime. My own brothers had done this to me and Gary had recorded it
all, including where, at their command, I'd begged Mr. Harrington to
proceed, not once but twice. First when he inserted the rings, then when he
banded my genitals. To anyone seeing the recording, it would seem as though
I knew what was going to be done and that I asked that it be done. Tim
lifted me from the floor and murmured something like "it's not so bad
boy. It will be fine. Don't worry so, please." My hands were recuffed
behind my back, the poncho placed over me, I was led by Tim on one arm and
Ken on the other back to the car. I was allowed to sit on the back seat
with Tim. I suppose that at least was something since I'd arrived lying on
the floor.

Once home and back in the bedroom, I stood before a full length mirror. I
saw a young man with a hairless body, a band around his genitals and wide,
weighted rings through his nipples. I saw a slave. When they finally
removed the gag, I screamed at Ken and Gary, "How could you? How could you
mark me like this for life? I'll never be allowed in the locker room or if
I am, it will be to suck guys' dicks or worse. I'll be kicked off the teams
I'm on. I don't know if they'll even let me continue in school."

"Wait `till Mom ad Dad find out. Your asses are fried."

Gary asked, "How will they find out? Are you going to tell them? We'll show
them the recording that demonstrates all we did was what you asked us to
do. I don't think so, Danny boy. You're screwed. Accept it. And from now
on, you'll be literally screwed, as in fucked, as well. You're our slave
now boy, get used to it. Look at Tim. He knows his place and you don't hear
him complaining, do you?"

"Tim is a real slave, dickhead, I'm free and have been made to look like a
slave. There's just no comparison. What are you talking about? Fuck you,
fuck you, fuck you", I shouted.

Very calmly, Gary said, "no boy, it's fuck you, right up the ass. Now get
in the shower and clean out so we can start your ass lessons right now."

"Absolutely not. I am not going to clean out and I am not going to let you
fuck me. You've already fucked me over enough for two lifetimes. Forget it,
dickhead."

With that, Ken began slapping my face really hard, one side after the
other, over and over, while Gary paddled my ass with all his strength. I
tried to escape them running around the room, then trying to get out of the
room, but they'd locked the door. There was no escape. In the end, I
realized, no matter how hard I battled, they would subdue me, clean me out,
or have Tim do that, and then fuck my ass just like they said they
would. My world of ordinary adolescence, which had been slowly
disappearing, was now totally gone. I would never again be a "normal"
teenager. I was now my brothers' slave and I would have to accept and cope
with that. But revenge, now even more vicious, would still be mine, I
thought.

So I went with Tim into the shower, and while protecting my tender nipples,
he administered the enemas that would clean me out and make me ready to be
screwed. I balled the whole time.

Once I was clean, I crawled back into the bedroom. I stayed on my hands and
knees but then I realized I was supposed to be in the slave present
position, so I rose on my knees, straightened my back, placed my hands
behind my head, lowered my head so it was bowed and waited. Tim was right
beside me, assuming exactly the same position. But he was a true
slave. What then was I?

Gary motioned for me to crawl forward. When I knelt right before him, he
asked "What are you, boy?"

There was only one proper answer. "I am your slave, Sir."

"No," said Gary, "not Sir, Master. Understand, boy?"

What could I do? "Yes, Master, I understand, this slave understands,
Master." He nodded, then pulled my balls out, he pulled them way down to
the bottom of my sac, and placed a second ring, maybe two inches of metal
stretching, around just my balls and sac. A metal strip went from the back
to the front of the ring, separating my balls, one from the other and
pressing them out toward my thighs. What difference, I thought, does one
more slave ring make? I said nothing. I heard the new ring click and I knew
that, like the genital band, it too had no release and was permanent. My
balls would be forever forward, be pressed forward, held down and wide
apart. Even Tim had not been fitted with one of these torture devices. How
do you walk right with your balls rubbing into your thighs? I'd have to
learn how.

"What do you say, boy?" asked Gary.

"Master, thank you, Master." I understood my new place in our little
world. I just hoped, as bad as things now were, that Ken and Gary would not
make them still worse by exposing me, even offering me, to their friends. I
put my head on the floor and did what I knew must be done. "Master, please
fuck me, Master." There, they had it recorded along with all the other
stuff. I could never tell Mom and Dad, they were right. It would all look
like I was begging for each new degradation. kneeling on the floor in
doggie position, Ken and Gary each planted their seed in my ass. It hurt
plenty, but in all honesty, there were moments when it felt awfully good.
Maybe when they rubbed my prostate. When that happened, a warm sexy feeling
just shot right through me and naturally my dick, inside the genital band,
did its best to stand tall. I wanted to cum really bad.

As I'd been informed before, prior to finally being allowed to sleep, I had
to plug my ass and learn to sleep with that intruder from now on. Although
Tim, like most slaves, had his ass plugged all day, he was allowed to
remove the plug at night. Instead, I had to sleep wearing it.
Notwithstanding the pain in my nipples from the piercings and the rings,
the discomfort of the genital band, and the added ball band/stretcher and
separator, I fell into a deep, almost comatose sleep of exhaustion. It was
only Friday night, what did my Masters, my brothers, have planned for the
rest of the weekend?


This work may not be reproduced, except for personal use, without
permission of the author. © jkblackhouse.

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.  email: jkblackhouse@yahoo.com