Date: Sun, 26 Feb 2012 00:04:36 -0800 From: Randall Austin <randallaustin2011@hotmail.com> Subject: Helping My Brother - Part 10 Helping My Brother Part Ten By Randall Austin This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com Randall Austin's Archive Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories (Notes from the journal of Craig Soffel) A lot of people, who don't own or aren't around social servants on a regular basis, often think, 'how cool it would be to own a slave who has to do whatever you tell it to do.' And while it is indeed cool to have your own personal servant, it is important to realize that effective servitor husbandry requires quite a bit of maintenance, as well as a broad knowledge of various control procedures. In other words, you don't just snap your fingers and order a servant to do something; to get to that point most servants need to have been shown the consequences of what happens if they don't respond to an order immediately. And that takes time, effort, and a commitment to get the slave to performing at its full potential. When my friends catch me and my brother at the mall, or grocery shopping and they come over and talk to us, and Marty is standing tall, being quiet, and on his best behavior, that is not something that just happens. It took lots of work on dad's and my part to get Marty to that point where he wasn't sulking and giving off an aura of 'the world treats me like shit'. Slaves constantly slip into that defeatist mode, and you have to be prepared to respond appropriately. It happened yesterday afternoon when I ordered Marty into the bathroom to get himself ready for an enema. Needless to say, he created a scene. He not only whined, but he was defiant, "What in the hell is this about?" I was firm, "You don't have to know what this or anything else is about. All you have to do is get your ass in that bathroom, and bend over the tub, because you're getting cleaned out!" He hissed, "This is fucked." I remained calm, "Come on bro, don't make me have to use any `implements' on you. You know I hate to do that. You're my own brother. It really hurts me to have to treat you like some animal-brained quarry slave." Marty didn't budge. I really didn't want to have to use the flesh clutch or screws on him, so the first thing I did was to `contemn', which is using really harsh language and basically treating a slave like he's a lug head. "Listen you fucking piece of worthless shit, you get your gawwdamn naked slave ass into the bathroom, bend over, and spread your fucking braced legs! I have just about had it! It's enema time, big bro, whether you like it or not! Time to get your tush cleaned and rinsed. If you aren't in that bathroom in one minute, I'm writing this up and sending it to social services. Maybe you'd like to spend a couple more years in servitude, you fucking loser twat!" The threat of a `write up' usually gets Marty hopping. When he realized that I basically had him by the balls, he made his way into the bathroom with a "Fuck this shit!" When, after a few minutes, I followed him into the bathroom, Marty was indeed in position, bent over the bathtub with his ass sticking out. It was a nice sight. And giving my older slave brother an enema actually turned out to be quite a pleasurable experience for me in terms of control. Marty did as he was told, and when, after filling him up with soapy water and then having him hold it in until I gave him the command to relieve himself on the pot; it was a totally delightful thing to witness. Seeing my brother eagerly hop on the toilet to relieve himself like a little kid finally allowed to do what he wanted, gave me an unexpected thrill. It provided me with that most satisfying level of control over another human being that great writers on the culture of servitor husbandry have often written about. I had read that enemas are a wonderful control and teaching tool, and that single enema experience seemed to turn Marty into a more pliant and subservient creature. I now intend to give Marty enemas on a weekly basis. I ended up giving Marty two flushes, yet as I did so I did not tell him why he was being cleaned out. Several weeks ago Dad had planned a party for our male friends and relatives to celebrate my entrance into college. And dad thought it best that we not tell Marty ahead of time that we planned on `urinal caging' him and using him as a urinal for the party. Marty had to be cleaned out, because he was going to be locked in the urinal cage in a sitting position for the entire evening, possibly for as long as nine hours, and we didn't want to have to interrupt the festivities in case Marty had to take a dump. A urinal cage is basically a box that just leaves the slave's head sticking out. In the box the slave is seated on a low stool, secured in place, and is fitted with a catheter condom with a tube that leads to a urine collection bottle so he can pee while locked in the box. Outside of the box, there is a set of head immobilizer straps which keeps his head held in one position. Around the slaves neck goes a catcher tray, which is a splashguard which collects any urine which dribbles out of the slave's mouth. And the slave's mouth is fitted with an `O' ring flanged mouth guard, which keeps his mouth held wide open, and his teeth covered in a molded plastic guard, so the teeth can't abrade the urinal users' private parts. People not into the culture of modern, enlightened, servitude often have some very backward ideas about certain modes of service which slaves are today commonly engaged in. Their ignorance on the subject often leads them to make a big deal out of things that are in fact not only perfectly acceptable, but downright wholesome and beautiful; and in fact even have an overall salutary effect on the slave. The fact of the matter is that urinal slavery is an outright hoot, fun for both those who use the urinal, and the servant on duty. And in both Europe and America they are fast becoming super popular as party and event attractions. The dealer at Social Services told dad that urinal cages are their most popular rental item, and that at any given time there are at least 100 urinal cages in use throughout the Portland area and this says nothing about folks who own their own cages. When dad came home from work, we both approached Marty and told him that we were going to put him in the urinal box. He nearly had a fit. But because both dad and I are pretty strong and fit, we did manage to get Marty into the box and strapped in without having to use the taser on him. Once we had him secured in the box, it was an easy matter fitting his penis with a condom catheter. Once we closed the box with Marty strapped down inside of it in a seated position, we secured the straps that immobilized his head. Of course, when we asked him to open his mouth so we could fit him with the O-ring, he refused. But we managed to get him to open up by having dad pinch his nose while I squeezed and twisted his ears really hard. Once we got the O-ring in his mouth, the final step was to put the drip collar on around his neck. When we finally had Marty all secured and ready to go, he was quite a sight. I thought he looked great and told him so. Marty started crying, and dad tried to comfort him, "Son, don't be upset. This is nothing to be ashamed of, Marty. This is all perfectly okay. You need to be proud, and think how lucky you are to be in the same ranks as all those other wonderful servants providing such a delightful service. Social Services tells me that at any given time in the Portland area there are over a hundred urinal boxes in use. That means, son, that right now there are at least a hundred other boys rigged up just like you, throughout the city, providing this wonderful, fun, service for family and friends. That makes you one of a very special group; urinal boys. There aren't many servants out there who get to be put into a urinal cage and serve their family and friends. It is a special mode of service, and it should be considered an honor." Marty mumbled something we couldn't understand, and dad continued comforting him, "Son, this is simply a fun novelty for everyone. We certainly don't mean to demean you. We just want everyone to have a good time, and you can help us do that, sweetie. It should be a hooting good time for our guests. And I know you want Craig to have a wonderful time at his party." "We are only doing this, Marty dear, because we love you and want you to be all that you can be. You know as well as Craig and I do that you need to learn to respect free people, and having you in the urinal box will help you do that, son." It seemed like Marty understood, all though we couldn't really tell. Dad snapped a bunch of photos of Marty in the urinal box. They turned out really good, because in the photos Marty's eyes are bug- eyed wide open, and he's all teary faced, and the photos show clearly just how wide open the O-ring holds his mouth open. And on top of that Marty had a somewhat terrified expression on his fact that was really comical. Dad asked me if I wanted to be the first one to `test drive' our new urinal, and I said, "Sure!" It felt really good. I gave dad a wink as I took the first whiz in our new urinal. There is a sign affixed to the outside of the urinal cage for users. `For the comfort of the social servant serving as your host's urinal, please eliminate as slowly, and with as little urethral force, as possible'. I followed the directions, and Marty didn't spill a drop. I patted him on the head and told him what a good piss drinker he was. It makes no difference, however, if someone using the urinal should ignore the instructions. The urine collection collar around the neck of the servant has a hose that drains into the same bottle that collects the slave's urine. Thus, if the servant should sputter, spill, or dribble piss out of his mouth, the collection collar around the slave's neck keeps the floor around the urinal cage free of spillage. The party had a good mood going right from the outset. The guests were all in high party spirits as soon as they arrived and were happy to help send me off to college with a good time. We invited only male friends and relatives, but some of the guys brought female friends, and two guys even brought their young daughters. Dad and I had placed the urinal cage in a hallway just off the rear entrance. Guests were freely hanging out there at the start of the party, drinking their beers and watching the guests use the novelty urinal. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, drinking, chatting, laughing, joking, etc... At one point when Dad and I entered the hallway and saw about 5 guys standing around the urinal cage drinking their beers, chatting, and watching the real live urinal slave in action. Dad said to me, so that all could hear, "Well Craig, it looks like you and I made a big mistake. We knew the urinal cage would be a fun attraction, but we had no idea it would be the center of attention. I say that we move this thing out into the middle of the living room where there is more room, and everyone can get to watch the action." Everyone agreed that the urinal cage should be moved, and since the urinal cage is on wheels, I, with the help of two of our guests, had no problem rolling it out into the living room. You should have seen Marty, his head sticking out, locked in the piss catcher collar, his mouth held wide open by the O- ring flange, and his eyes wide open in humiliating disbelief. When we finally rolled the urinal cage into the living room, everyone broke out into applause. It was interesting to watch how people responded to having a urinal cage. It's sort of like when you go on vacation to a cabin by a lake, and some of the guys go skinny-dipping. Soon every one gathers around and suddenly it's perfectly okay if people you would never before have allowed to see you naked, now get to see glimpses of everything you got. Suddenly it's no big deal if friends and family members see you all bare and having a good time. It was the same thing with the urinal cage. Suddenly it was okay not only for guys to take a piss in front of each other, and even in front of some females both young and old; but to actually let it be known that pissing was a fun, crazy, kind of raunchy, kind of a good-feeling, thing to do. When my Uncle Joseph took his first piss using the urinal box and got his cock into Marty's mouth, he spoke to me so all could hear. "Boy, Craig, you and your dad sure have it made; living the life of luxury here with your own urinal slave. Just like some gawwdamn emir." Everyone laughed, but what Uncle Joseph said was true. It is a luxury having a servant, and dad and I could never have afforded a personal servant; but since Marty is an indentured family member, it is sort of like getting a slave for free. Marty is, in fact, legally our property, and if we wanted to lease him out, we could do that. But we wouldn't do that, of course, because the whole idea of having Marty put into a servitor program was to help him get over some of the problems he was having. It was interesting the way everyone spoke to Marty as they used him, as if he were just another guest at the party. Marty, of course, couldn't respond, what with his O-ring and their dicks in his mouth, but the guests spoke to him as if he were any other guest standing around with a beer in their hands. When Uncle Phil put his cock in the urinal mouth for the first time he looked around the room and gave a knowing wink and nod to everyone in the room. Everyone laughed. He then spoke to Marty as he pissed, "Marty, your dad tells me that this program is working out real good for you. I am happy to see you are doing so well." At one point, when our old family friend, Rich Valenti, put his dick in Marty's mouth, he exclaimed, "Boy, does this ever feel good!" He then made a few thrusting jabs with his hips, smiling as he looked about the room. Again, everyone laughed out loud. It was all in good fun, and it was, after all, a party. All evening long, the guys took lots of cell phone pictures of each other as they pissed. The entire event was well recorded. Uncle Peter was there with his son Norman, who brought two of his friends to the event. When Uncle Peter put his cock into Marty's mouth, and he spoke encouragingly to Marty, "It's good to see you looking so good, Marty. Your dad tells me you are making great improvement in your behavior. I'm so happy to hear that this program is helping you." Norman and his friends were absolutely delighted seeing Marty in the urinal box. Norman explained to his friends, as they pissed, the reasons for Marty's indenturement. "Marty's dad had him indentured because Marty is the kind of kid who benefits from, and needs, corporal punishment, and this program has been just the thing for him!" One of Norman's friends was amazed, "Wow, you mean Marty still gets spanked at his age?" I could tell that Marty was really pissed at having Norman there and talking about him, but Norman answered the question as if he were some kind of seasoned overseer, repeating what he had once heard my dad tell Uncle Peter, "Marty is the kind of boy who needs and responds well to corporal punishment, so naturally his Dad and Craig use a lot of it on him." While it's true that dad and I use a lot of physical discipline on Marty, I personally felt it was the kind of thing Norman shouldn't have been making so public, because it's often humiliating for slaves to have their discipline regimen made public. Norman's friends were amazed by the information and, being rather immature for their age (just like Norman), spent most of the rest of the evening laughing and giggling over the fact that a 21 year old kid was spanked and disciplined on a regular basis. The party was pretty much a super fun time for all. Towards the end of the evening, when everyone was pretty loaded, I was told that there was a flurry of activity around the urinal box as Norman and his two friends kept their cocks in Marty's mouth for a long time after they had finished pissing, and were trying to get off in Marty's mouth. It wasn't a really big deal as far as I was concerned, and those adults in the room who knew what was going on minded their own business; probably figuring 'it's no big deal; boys will be boys'. But other than that childish behavior by Norman and his friends, everyone pretty much behaved themselves; rather amazing considering all of the beer that was consumed. Because the urinal was getting used non-stop, at one point dad took a peek inside the urinal cage to see if the urinal bottle was getting filled up. It was, Marty obviously was doing a lot of pissing himself, but dad figured there was still enough space in the large urine collection bottle to last until the end of the party. As the party wound down, and the guests started leaving, most of the guests went up to Marty to thank him for being their urinal and told him how nice it was to see him again. Roger Canlis, one of dad's best friends, patted Marty on his mohawked head, "Marty, I am so happy to see you finally getting your act together." Watching our guests, mainly old time friends and relatives, stick their dicks into Marty's mouth and relieving themselves all evening long, and with Marty locked in the urinal cage and having no choice but to accept their cocks and swallow their piss, was, I admit, a major turn on for me. I guess the evening got me so worked up and sexually stoked because the whole urinal cage thing was helping Marty to accept his status in a positive, life-enhancing, way. It encouraged him, I felt, to always look at the positive side of things. And I guess that by knowing it was helping Marty, I saw it as a good and pleasurable thing. But whatever the reason, Marty in the urinal cage got me so excited, I do know that by the end of the evening, when our last guest had left, I had a hardon that felt like it was made of concrete. Once the guests were gone, dad and I opened up the urinal box. We removed the piss-catcher tray from around Marty's neck, undid the head immobilizer straps, took off the O-ring that kept his mouth open and guarded his teeth, released his cock from the condom catheter, and undid the straps that locked him on the stool. We both helped Marty to his feet and rubbed him all over to help invigorate him, and let him know that we loved him. His naked limbs felt good to me as I rubbed them. Dad thanked Marty and ordered him to empty the piss bottle; to take a shower; to make himself a snack; and then to get himself all prettied up for us. I wondered what dad meant by that `for us', and when Marty left to take a shower, Dad asked me if I planned on fucking Marty that evening. I told him I was, and dad then told me that he thought it would be nice if Marty sucked him off as I fucked him. I was unbelievably thrilled by the request. Dad, Marty, and I, all slept in the same big bed. Marty drank Dad's and my piss at night on a regular basis, and he was in bed with us most of the times when I either had Marty suck me off or I gave him a fucking. And now dad was finally going to join us. It was almost like a dream come true. I knew it was going to be a beautiful family-bonding evening, and I felt as if life couldn't get any better. When I joined dad in bed, he was naked under the sheets. I found that so exciting since he always slept in his underwear. Since Marty became my personal slave, I had long ago become used to being naked in front of dad as Marty serviced me. But being in the same bed with my dad also naked was unlike anything else. It made me feel more naked than ever, and it was a wonderful feeling. Not too much later, Marty entered the room, and just as dad had ordered, he was looking fresh as a daisy. He was all scrubbed and fresh smelling, and had combed his hair really neatly for us. Dad complimented him, and then patted the bed to invite him to join us. Marty was pretty surprised when we told him he would be blow-jobbing dad as I fucked him. We had him get on all fours and start licking dad's balls. When dad pulled off the sheet covering himself and revealed his waiting, pulsing, hardon to us, for me it was like seeing the Holy Grail. Dad was a sex animal. I told Marty, "That's the cock that made you and me, bro. Treat it real special." As I lubed up I watched Marty start his work on dad. You should have seen him going at dad's cock; his mohawked head bobbing up and down; his banded balls hanging low and swaying; his braced legs spread out waiting for me to assume my position in back of him; and his lips slobbering away on dad's power muscle. He was one great looking slave. I positioned my cock at his hole and entered him slowly. It was an awesome feeling; like our family had finally come `home'. After I started slowly thrusting, I could hear Marty make some really noisy slobbering sounds over dad's cock. I looked up and could see why; dad was watching me take Marty from the rear and his cock and grown larger than ever. Dad was in ecstasy, and as dad and I made eye contact, he took hold of Marty by his slave ears so he could better control his head bobbing. As I sped up my fucking pace, I reached down and grabbed Marty's dick. He was as hard as a rock. I started jerking his cock for him, "Come on Marty, show dad and me what a big boy you are. Let's see you squirt a nice big pile of slave juice! Show dad and me what a good slave boy you are!" We all started moaning together as we reached our climaxes. My spurting went on and on; I could tell Dad was shooting a big load, and Marty didn't let us down. He shot gobs and gobs of juice all over dad's legs and balls. Afterwards I made Marty lick dad's legs and balls clean and then we all cuddled together, with Marty in the middle. I think he knew that dad and I really loved him and the work he was doing for us. It was an unforgettable evening, and I was now officially a college boy.