Date: Sun, 28 Dec 2008 03:19:44 -0000
From: pass port <port_pass@hotmail.com>
Subject: Thinking back - part 35

Author: Alex, from Portugal
E-mail: port_pass@hotmail.com

Any feedback will be much appreciated.

This story may have non-consensual sex between males. Don't read it if
you're not legally allowed to or if it might disturb you.


Part 35


Mr Correia hadn't even worried that anyone in the house could hear his
bastard son's screams. All the family and staff knew better than to meddle
in his affairs, whatever happened. However, the noise in the study had
naturally attracted the curiosity of the two older Correia boys, Eduardo
and Tito (then 21 and 20). Vitor was there too, waiting for his buddy,
still intent on getting the sexual release his father had prevented. He had
had no choice but to tell his brothers all that had happened. They scolded
him for being selfish and not sharing his bitch with his big brothers. Tito
even joked that if he didn't get a chance to fuck poor Carlos. Vitor looked
with unease at his rugged, heavily muscled brother, naked except for the
military-issued white boxers tenting over his raging hard-on. With Tito,
you never knew how far a joke could go...

The fact that Eduardo was there reassured him a little. He was ready to go
out for a game of tennis when all the noise started, and now, in his
impeccable white polo shirt and (bulging...) shorts, he was the
impersonation of the perfect gentleman, the absolute sophisticated opposite
of Tito. However, Vitor knew very well that, even if Eduardo was his
father's favourite, a handsome, brilliant law-student, cut-out for high
flights in politics (hopefully making sure everyone forgot how recent the
family's money still was), at the end of the day Tito always managed to
persuade, or force, his elder brother to do what he wanted.

The three got out of sight, as soon as they heard the door open. Carlos
came out alone. He was a pathetic sight, only in his sneakers and shirt,
sobbing, with tears running down his face. He was treading slowly, his arse
covered in purple welt, his naked legs clasped together, unsuccessfully
trying to hold in the slimy farts that blurted constantly through his
puffed out arse-lips.

Carlos was totally unaware of the new danger that awaited him, as he went
into Vitor's bedroom. He was suddenly pushed on the bed by the two older
brothers, while Vitor, behind them, locked the door. Vitor wasn't happy to
have to share his fuckboy with his brothers, but he knew he had no choice.

When Carlos looked around and saw the three leering down on him, he was
terrified. He begged, he threatened, but it was all useless. In his
affliction, he even resorted to the freshly learned secret of his origin:
"You can't do this to me, I'm your brother!" he screamed. For a moment, it
seemed to startle them, but then the three burst out laughing. "So you're
another of dad's little bastards, are you? A faggot bastard, too" Eduardo
chuckled. Tito ostensibly rubbed the crotch of his white boxers and
caressed the boy's cute face. "Welcome, little brother" he sneered
sarcastically "you're going to be really nice to your brothers, aren't
you?"

All things considered, Carlos was even lucky that afternoon. When Eduardo
and Vitor saw the poor condition their father had left the boy's arse,
bloated and bleeding, farting a constant stream of shit and blood stricken
cum, they decided to give their bastard brother's pussy a rest and settled
for a couple of blowjobs each, with a solemn promise that he'd make it up
for them good as soon as his hole was in better condition.

They even tried to convince Tito to pass on his arse that day as well, but
unfortunately for Carlos the rough paratrooper wouldn't hear of it. In the
many gang-rapes he'd carried out with his comrades during their turns of
duty fighting the guerrillas in the Portuguese colonies in Africa, the
condition or suffering of their female or male victims had never been a
consideration. Very often, they would rape a prisoner not just for fun, but
as a deliberate means to break his will and destroy his pride, making him
ready to easily crack under interrogation.

This time, it wasn't only about his pleasure either. Carlos was just the
newest addition to the list of their father's illegitimate offspring, but
the fact that he'd always been treated almost like family made him a
special case, so Tito was determined to put him in his place right from the
start, before the boy might start having ideas above his station.

"Listen, boy. Don't start thinking that being one of dad's bastards
actually gives you any rights in this house whatsoever" Tito snapped "I
don't care if you're the Pope's son. I'm going to fuck your faggot bastard
cunt, just to remind you of what your place here is."

With Carlos, squirming and whimpering, lying face down on Vitor's bed, Tito
climbed over him and forced his victim's legs apart with his knees. Eduardo
held the boy's face in the pillow to muffle his scream when Tito's 19 cm [7
1/2"] uncut cock went past the poor boy's ruined sphincter and penetrated
his sore, aching colon. As soon as his large cock hit bottom, Tito started
pounding hard, not even giving Carlos a chance to get used to this new
vicious intrusion. For 10 excruciating minutes, the squirming boy was
brutally pinned against the mattress, until the rapist's thrusts became
even more violent and he finally shot his burning hot load inside his
bastard brother's ravaged guts.

"This time I made it quick. Don't you I think you should thank me for
that?" Tito whispered in the Carlos's ear before he pulled out. "Thank you,
Tito" the unhappy boy stammered between sobs.

Eduardo and Vitor had been considerate enough not to fuck him, but they
were still intent on getting their agreed blowjobs. Carlos had no choice
but to keep his end of the bargain and suck them off the best he could.

Having to suck their cocks was not so terrible, after he'd been sucking off
Vitor for nearly two years, but after he'd swallowed Eduardo's entire load
and had Vitor's cum splashed over his face, he found out that Tito was not
through with him yet. The bulky paratrooper turned the boy on his back,
pulled up a big gob of spit and landed it right between Carlos' eyes. Then
he straddled over him and slowly lowered his hairy, muscular arse-hole onto
his face.

Having to lick another man's shit-hole was something that until then had
been far beyond the boy's worst nightmares. He tried helplessly to free
himself from between Tito's muscular thighs, clenching his lips and turning
his face away in utter disgust at the smelly rosebud that twitched in front
of his eyes.

Indifferent to the feeble resistance of his victim, Tito grabbed the boy's
ballsack in his powerful fist and gave it a vicious squeeze. A split second
before the stunned Carlos let out a scream of utter agony, Tito clamped his
arse down on his face and held still, effectively muffling his
victim. "This is all that your faggot balls are good for" he growled,
before applying them a second, even stronger squeeze.

As Carlos desperately tried to scream, his tongue unwillingly caressed
Tito's arse-lips, and the torturer released the suffering youth's
testicles. Now the boy knew what he had to do to avoid that excruciating
pain. Following obediently the brutal paratrooper's instructions, he
licked, kissed and probed with frantic enthusiasm, trying desperately to
ignore the foul taste of shit and sweat that filled his mouth. Every time
his exhausted tongue slowed down, a mean tug on his aching balls would
instantly prod him to renew his efforts.

Their legitimate brothers stared in disbelief at the muscular paratrooper
forcing the boy to lick his manhole. At first, the very idea of it shocked
and disgusted them, but soon they were laughing and cheering, promising
Carlos he'd have plenty of chance to lick their own shit-holes as well.

Carlos was relieved when Tito finally raised his arse from the boy's face
and climbed off the bed, but there was another problem now: his
"enthusiastic" rimming had given Tito another raging hard-on, which now
hovered menacingly above his upturned face. Tito forced his erection down,
until the knob touched his brother's lips. "You're going to beg me to let
you suck my cock, and convince me that you'll give me the best head of my
life, or this cock goes back up your arse. Is that understood?"

The boy nodded eagerly, in absolute terror at the thought of his battered
arse being raped a third time that day. "Please let me suck your cock,
Tito, please. I promise I'll give you the best head you ever had, better
than any girl ever sucked you. Please let me suck you, please!"

Eduardo and Vitor laughed at the unfortunate little faggot's lewd
propositions, so desperate to avoid another dreaded anal violation. Tito's
cock was still covered in half-dried slime of shit, blood and cum from
Carlos' own arse, which the boy had to dutifully clean up before he applied
himself to orally pleasure the paratrooper, under the terrifying threat of
getting arse-raped again.

Tito pulled the boy's head over the edge of the mattress and bent it back,
placing his throat in a straight angle for his cock to penetrate
deeply. His 19 cm [7 1/2"] cock slowly entered the gaping mouth, and
started to press against the entrance to the throat. He ignored the boy's
gagging reflex, though Carlos was squirming and heaving in agony. The
resistance of the gorge persisted, so he bent over and crushed the boy's
testicles in his fist again. As the throat opened for a deep, heartbreaking
scream, the big phallus pushed its way in, forcing itself all the way
inside, until the large hairy balls were resting on the boy's nose.

Then, the fucking started, barely allowing Carlos to breath. In addition to
the pain in his throat, Tito slapped him hard every time his teeth
scratched harder on his thick cock, something the boy could hardly avoid
while being brutally face-fucked. If Carlos had thought that a blow-job was
much easier than enduring another anal rape, in fact when Tito at last
filled his mouth with cum he was almost as relieved as when the paratrooper
had finished raping his arse.

Worse still, Tito had one last humiliation in stock for his bastard
brother: as soon as he eased out of the drooling mouth, he pulled the boy
to the floor, placed him on his knees, and forced him to hold his mouth
wide open. The poor Carlos' eyes almost popped out when the first spurt of
bitter, stinking piss filled his mouth. "Swallow up, you dirty faggot, and
I'll whip your bitch arse raw if you dare spill a single drop. Even being
used as a stinking urinal is too good for you." The heavy paratrooper
carefully controlled his piss stream to allow the inexperienced boy to
barely keep up with the stream of fetid urine, making sure the whole
contents of his bladder ended up sloshing inside his young brother's
stomach.

After his "welcome" into the family, Carlos spent even more of his time at
the Correia house, sometimes overnight as well. He was happy that Tito went
back to Africa a few days later. With Tito it always hurt more, and made
him feel even dirtier and more abused than any of the others, worst still
that having to endure his real father's 22 cm [8.5"] of thick cock every
day.

Eduardo and Vitor were always around too, of course, and always demandingly
horny. Both had their girlfriends, but getting a girl to open her legs in
those days was a tiresome task, unless you hired a prostitute. They were
fortunate to have their sister Marina, 17 at the time. Their father had
initiated her sexually even before puberty. He taught her that it was
perfectly fine to explore her sexuality, but she should keep it in the
family to protect her reputation and be able to find an adequate husband
when the time came. Of course, the boys would prefer her, a real girl with
a real cunt, but she was never as available as their faggot brother, and
they couldn't abuse her the same way they could him. After all, that was
what faggots were for, they told him, and Carlos never even thought of
trying to contradict them.

With Carlos around, the family now had their own private hooker, ready to
be used any time, any way they wanted, and for free. The third Mrs Correia
had already been kicked out, so they didn't need to worry about that. Most
days, after school, or in the evening, Carlos would have to go from room to
room, satisfying his father's or brothers' constant sexual demands. The
family parties down in the basement entertainment room became a regular
event as well. Even his sister Marina would use him as a cunt-licker,
though there was never the question of him being allowed to try to be a
real male with her. Anita (8 then) and Leo (7) joined in on the family fun
once they turned 10, and it was an additional humiliation for Carlos having
to endure the childish whims of a younger girl or boy.

Tito finished his army duty and returned home by the time Carlos was
turning 15. He hadn't been to Portugal for over a year, and as soon as he
arrived he realised the family boy-whore had gotten evidently more muscular
and hairy, far too masculine-looking for a proper bitch.

He insisted that Carlos should be shaved smooth and start dressing up as a
girl for them. Fortunately for the boy, the rest of the family was more
lenient, and Mr Correia eventually took the decision of letting him choose
between the two obligations. A total body shave would mean a lot of
embarrassing explanations in the locker rooms, both at school and at the
handball team's club, so he started dressing up, first with Marina's
hand-outs, later with "presents" from dad or his brothers, always the most
sluttish things they could get their hands on, topped with a lot of cheap
make-up.

The first few times he got in front of a mirror and saw himself transformed
into a cross-dressing whore, he cried of shame and self-pity, but he got
used to it, like he had gotten used to all the rest of the abuse they piled
on him. The truth, one that he wouldn't admit even to himself, is that he
had in fact started to enjoy it, even need it. It only made it more fun for
them that Carlos tenaciously resisted admitting that he was in reality a
true, natural faggot, even though they all could plainly see what an eager
and proficient cocksucker he had become, how he bucked up his muscular arse
to take the regular ruthless poundings from his father and half-brothers,
or his evident repulsion when he was forced to lick his sisters' cunts,
after all the only straight act he was allowed (he did seem a lot less
displeased when their vaginas were full of cum to mask the pungent fishy
tang).

Even more telling was the teen's relentless hard-on while they abused
him. He was strictly forbidden to masturbate, at any time, so he was
induced to a permanent state of arousal that became a source of constant
embarrassment, especially in the locker rooms or showers.

Tito, always the most vicious of all, had devised a trick to ensure that
Carlos would never dare jerk off, even when he was out of their
control. Once in a while, they would take him to the basement, tie his
wrists above his head, with his ankles attached to the ends of a broom
handle to keep the legs wide apart. A tight loop of leather cord was placed
on his ballsack and a bucket-handle tied to the cord.

As they started to put weight on the bucket – water, stones, anything
heavy – the fun began. The rule was that the torture would only stop
when he shot his load. However, he still wasn't allowed to masturbate, and
of course no one would do it for him. The only other way he other way he
could possibly cum was from being fucked, and fucked rough. He needed to
have his teenage prostate banged so hard that his orgasm would explode from
deep inside his abused male cunt. Popping his load when he was getting
arse-fucked had become quite a regular achievement for the poor boy, but
now he had to manage that in spite of the agonizing pain on his cruelly
tensed scrotum.

For that, he had to beg to be fucked, to plead with them to rape his arse
as hard and rough as they could. They would teasingly ask him why he should
want them to fuck his arse if he wasn't really a faggot. He would scream
that he was truly and utterly a total faggot whore, and needed to be fucked
all the time. Then they might pretend to be insulted by his lewd requests,
claiming they would never fuck a faggot arse; as proper straight males,
they'd only do it if he had a nice female pussy for them. Any humiliation
was nothing compared with the torment his testicles was going through, so
the poor teenager would have no choice but to loudly proclaim that he did
in fact have a vagina between his legs, a hot, wet, hungry cunt for their
pleasure, for them to fuck and abuse as much as they could.

At last, they would start fucking his arse. With more and more weight
falling into the bucket and increasing the sadistic pull on his nuts,
Carlos would be increasingly desperate to achieve the liberating orgasm. He
would buck his arse, wantonly slamming himself against the current rapist's
crotch, with his arse clenching hungrily around the cock fucking his
hole. His natural father and his brothers would take turns pounding the
ravaged hole. Mr Correia and especially Tito were his favourites, as they
excelled at hammering his sloppy arse-cunt the way he so badly needed.

Even Marina, and later on the younger ones, Anita and Leo, would sometimes
join in on the fun, using a strap-on to rape their faggot half-brother. One
of those "training" sessions, as they sometimes called them, was the first
time they introduced him to the King-Kong dildo. The slobbering boy's eyes
almost popped out when he saw his older sister walking up to him with the
monstrous 30 cm [12"] wrist-thick black dildo bobbing from her crotch. As
she started to force it inside him, he felt like his unfortunate arse-hole
would be wrecked for good, but the pain on his testicles, increased by a
couple of heavy stones thrown in the bucket just then, was so horrible that
he would still pushed back, impaling himself on the gigantic dildo, anxious
for the needed stimulation on his prostate that would at last take him over
the edge.

The amount and speed of the increase in the weight inside the bucket
depended much on the whim of his cruel father and siblings, the same as the
unpredictable frequency with which he was put through the frightful
experience. Even for him, there was no ideal lapse of time between his
ordeals: if they were too frequent, he would hardly be able to recover, so
his balls would still be agonisingly sore and he might not have the stamina
too reach the desired orgasm, or take a long time to get there; if he had
to wait a long time, then he would be so obsessively horny that he'd risk
going crazy with lust.

One thing was sure: Tito's sadistic method was extremely effective to
prevent him from jerking off. Every time his throbbing cock called
desperately for release, he would think that he could be so unlucky as to
be strung up right the next day, and if he masturbated he might not be
horny enough to shoot when they put him through the paces. In fact, he knew
that he would surely suffer the bucket torture if they had the slightest
suspicion he had cum, for instance if they noticed that his cock was not
responding to their abuse as instantly as usual. Of course, with his
teenage hormones raging, he had to fight constantly with the temptation to
jerk off, especially if they had let a long time pass since his last
orgasm, sometimes several weeks. The possibility of a wet dream was a
constant concern as well, enough to sometimes keep him awake at night,
scared that he might wake up to find his sheets soaked in the sperm he so
painfully tried to save.

Each time he was strung up by his wrists for the torment to start, Carlos
was terrified of what could happen if he was not able to cum this
time. Fortunately, he always did. Every single time, he ended up spurting
volley after volley of blazing hot cum from his throbbing cock, under the
triumphant cheers of his father and siblings. He was blissfully relieved
after each orgasm, even though those moments until they finally untied the
bucket from his balls were always the most horrible ones, having still to
endure the pain without the distraction provided by his raging lust and the
eagerness to cum.

One of the side effects of his sexual deprivation was that his constant
erections made him the laughing stock of his schoolmates and team-mates. In
any case, the embarrassment of having to parade his raging boner in the
locker-room or the showers was far better than the dreaded prospect of
spending hours and hours with the bucket getting heavier and heavier,
tearing at his ballsack.

After all, as embarrassingly inopportune as his relentless erection might
be, it was actually taken as sign of virility, nothing that might lead the
others to suspect of the sexual perversions he engaged in.

For in spite of all he had to endure at the whim of the Correia family, he
had been able to keep it a secret from the outside world. Even Vitor would
treat him, when they were out of the house, like they were still nothing
but ordinary, butch best-friends. Carlos actually got a flattering amount
of attention from the girls, though he never seemed to actually relate with
any of them beyond casual dates.

Anyway, that was the kind of brotherly love my half-brother had been
getting from his real father and his legitimate siblings, and the same kind
he had given me since he first found out of my involuntary sexual
initiation with Vitor, Miguel and Luis, and caught me masturbating and
fingering myself in front of the mirror.

That first day of his new life as his new family's private bitch, Carlos
could barely walk the short distance from the Correia house to ours.
Luckily for him, our parents had taken me out and he had the chance to take
a long, warm shower. He found out, the same as I did 5 years later, that
nothing can wash away the pain and humiliation he had been through.