Date: Sun, 19 Apr 2009 13:41:24 +0100
From: port pass <port_pass@hotmail.com>
Subject: Thinking back - Part 38

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

Any feedback will be highly 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 38

I slept for about two hours until I was abruptly awaken. My brother Carlos
had his hand over my mouth to prevent me from making any noise, while he
proceeded to pull off the covers and take off my pyjama trousers.

"I'll beat you up if you make any noise, bitch" he warned me, before he
removed his hand from my face. He started groping my plump arse, still
burning and agonisingly sensitive after the spanking I had gotten from my
father in the kitchen. I whimpered in pain and bit the pillow to muffle a
yell. He must have noticed how hot and red my cheeks were, but he didn't
make any comment about it.

He only stopped feeling my fat arse to open his trousers and pull out his
limp dick. He waved it in my face, and whispered aggressively "Suck it,
faggot. Make it nice and hard for your pussy". I was too physically and
mentally hurt to endure being raped inside my own family again and I tried
to plead with him. "Please Carlos, not tonight; don't make me do it". "Shut
up and suck, you little slut" was his only reply, together with a mean slap
on my aching arse-cheeks. Submissively, I opened my mouth and he pushed his
cock in. As soon as he felt my wet mouth, he started to face-fuck me
roughly, even with his member still limp.

In spite of my best efforts, it took me a while to get him hard. It was not
surprising, after all the times he had cum that day, through the long hours
of abuse and degradation he had enjoyed (I think that is the adequate word)
at the hands of his paternal family. His own arse and upper legs were
covered in burning red welts, with scratches in the places where the
leather strap or any other spanking instrument had broken the skin. His
balls were still hugely swollen and evidently sore, making him whimper in
pain every time his own rough fucking of my mouth pressed them against my
face.

His difficulty in getting an erection only made him angrier, causing him to
slap my throbbing arse more and more, blaming me for it. "You don't even
suck cock properly like every good faggot bitch should. I'm going to make
you kneel on the sidewalk and beg every man that passes by to let you suck
him, until I make you the best cocksucker whore in town", he whispered. The
idea seemed to turn him on, as I felt a jolt in his cock just then. "Right
there in front of everyone, your red painted lips wrapped around one smelly
cock after another" he added with a chuckle. "You'd be a tourist attraction
in no time". His 16 cm [6 1/4"] cock was now fully erect and he was forcing
it into my throat. I wonder if he wasn't getting turned on from fantasising
about himself, and not me, as the town's cocksucker tourist attraction.

In any case, the fact that he had at last managed to get an erection was no
relief for me. He took his cock away and I felt him lay on top of me,
digging his knees between my legs to force them apart. "I am going to
remind you that, no matter what you saw today, you're still my bitch sister
Alexandra" he whispered in my ear "and if you talk about it to anyone, I'll
kill you!".

As if to make good his threat, he stabbed his cock into my swollen anal
cunt and started at once to hump me as hard as he could. He didn't even
bother to lube me. This had little to do with sexual gratification. In
fact, I could tell from his whimpering that he was having as much pain as
pleasure, with his agonisingly swollen testicles crushed against me. Of
course, that might also have been an additional kick-off: after all, having
to shoot with his balls in utter agony was just part of his training at the
hands of his sadistic biological father and paternal siblings.

All along, he kept rambling about how I was always going to be his bitch;
how I would have to keep my cunt nice and juicy, ready to be his girl every
night; how I was nothing but a miserable pussy to be used by real men like
him. Much, if not most of it, he was telling it more to himself than to me,
trying to brush off from his own mind the painful reality of his own
masochist perversions. It was evident Carlos couldn't accept in his mind
the abject way his own lust made him revel in the degradation the Correia
family piled on him, reducing the proud, masculine, jock to a lewd,
submissive, transvestite whore. The fact that I had witnessed that was
certainly my most serious offence in his eyes.

For several times, he started to loose his erection and had to pull off and
jerk himself hard again. He alternated the growling about me being the
faggot bitch and him the real male with more fantasies of me (or him...?)
as the town slut, dressed and made-up like the cheapest whore and forced to
please, orally and anally, every horny local male resident or tourist. He
was on about me being hired to keep our local army regiment sexually
satiated when he finally managed to shoot inside me. He announced it with a
painful whimper instead of a contented groan, evidence that his orgasm was
agony for his tortured balls.

With a last slap on my stinging arse-cheeks, he pulled himself off me and
presented his cock for my mouth's dutiful cleaning. In a proud tone (as if
he felt that raping me was still achievement in itself) Carlos reminded me
that I'd be getting plenty more of his cock every night. A few minutes
later, he was already snoring loudly in his bed and I eventually dozed off
as well.

When I woke up, the pain in my arse, on the inside and the outside, was
once again a cruel reminded of all that had happened to me those last
days. Worse than the physical pain, however, was the prospect of having to
face all my tormentors at school: Miguel, Gil, Nuno, Luis,
Thunder... they'd all be there, waiting to use me and abuse me time and
time again.


Then, as I gazed into the darkness in my bed, a thought crept into my
mind. Maybe I could just find the strength in me to rebel against
them. After all, I wasn't the real faggot: Carlos and Luis obviously were,
and the others who lusted after my boyish body were also the real perverts,
not me. So why should I take abuse from them?

I suddenly felt a force in me that I had never experienced in my life. I
knew I could still be a man, that those horrible few days could end up as
nothing more than a long nightmare, from which I was now waking up.

It was strange, almost mystical, how this unexpected revelation had dawned
on me. In some way, it was like when you bend the branch of a tree: sooner
or later, it either breaks, or it snaps back with full force, swinging into
place.

I showered, purposely ignoring the visible traces of the rough spanking I
had taken the day before. I hesitated when choosing my clothes, but decided
to wear trousers, so as not to expose my smooth, meaty legs and avoid being
accused of enticing my abusers.

For some unusual coincidence, the whole family was still together having
breakfast when I came down. It seemed something out of the twilight zone to
see them so normal and ordinary again: dad with his plain suit and tie,
reading the morning newspaper over his mug of coffee; Carlos in his track
suit going over the sports news; mom wearing a discreet pleated dress, busy
warming up my glass of milk, greeting me with a tender smile when I came
in.

In a way, this unusually ordinary scene, contrasting so sharply with what
the three of them had done just the day before, only strengthened my
determination to get my life back on its normal track.

On the bus, I couldn't help feeling a shiver down my spine when I saw the
driver and conductor that had raped me just a couple of days before. I took
a deep breath and walked past them, and even had the nerve to
"accidentally" step on the conductor's foot. He muttered a curse and I
mumbled a dismissive excuse, together with a defiant look. The bus was
almost full, but I managed to find a seat by the window next to a hugely
fat lady. It was uncomfortable to travel crushed between her and the side
of the bus, but I felt much safer than standing in the crowded back
platform, where my nightmare had started. In fact, before I sat down I saw
Miguel, Luis and Marco standing at the back, and I was only happy to be
able to delay the moment when I would have to face them again.

As I stepped down from the bus the three of them were waiting for me by the
school gate. I tried to ignore them and walk by, but Miguel stopped me and
pulled me aside. I saw myself cornered against the fence by the three older
boys, with Miguel growling in my face. "What do you think you're doing,
bitch? Passing by without even saying hello?" Trying to keep my nerve, I
just said "OK. Hello. I've said it, now let me go."

They were taken aback by my cocky attitude, but Miguel chose to ignore
it. "We'll meet at the back of the gym on the first break. You'll have 10
minutes to suck us three off. Do you think you can manage that?" They all
laughed and rubbed their crotches, to stress the point. To their surprise,
I pushed them away and yelled "I'm not going to suck you off! Not today,
nor ever! If you faggots want a blowjob, you better start sucking each
other off!"

Before they could even think how to react, I felt an arm over my shoulders
and saw Gil standing next to me, with Nuno beside him. Gil picked up on my
words, taking them as a consequence of the power he had established over
me. "That's right" he said, in an assertive tone "our little Alex is MY
whore now, so if you boys want to have some fun, you better be ready to pay
for it unless I decide to give you a free ride. My associate Nuno will take
care of business for me."

The other three boys were astonished at this turn of events. Suddenly, my
defiant attitude was not the main issue. Gil, of all people, the half-breed
"retornado" (refugee from the Portuguese African colonies after their
independence) was challenging the leadership over their little gang of
bullies. Visibly enraged, Miguel stepped up to him. "Who do you think you
are? I give the orders here, you cheeky nigger!" He hardly finished his
words when Gil punched him right in the face and threw him on the
floor. Helped by Luis and Marco, Miguel got up. He looked at his two
confused henchmen and quickly realised they wouldn't be of much help
against the muscular mulato boy. Miguel knew very well he would hardly
stand a chance if he decided to take on the challenger on his own. Gil was
much stronger, and far more experienced when it came to cat fights. "You'll
regret this, nigger" the rich boy barked contemptuously, as he ran his
fingers over his swelling cracked lip.

Coming out clearly victorious of this quick battle for power, Gil again
threw his arm over my shoulders. "It's my cock you'll be sucking first,
bitch" he said, as much for my benefit as for the others. However, it was
his turn to be surprised when I pushed him away and shouted furiously "I'M
NOT YOUR BITCH! I'M NOT A FAGGOT! I'M NO ONE'S WHORE! GO FUCK YOURSELF!" I
walked away, with my heart thumping heavily, not waiting for his
reaction. I realised that several boys had been attracted by the scuffle
and had heard me, but that was the last of my concerns, after having
successfully defied both Miguel and Gil.

As I crossed the playground, I looked back, still fearful of Gil or
Miguel's reaction, but I was relieved to see none of the boys was following
me. It felt like I had taken a huge weight off my shoulders. I had
challenged my abusers and gotten away with it, and now I had the proof that
I could actually get my life back.

For the rest of the morning, things went smoothly, which reassured me
more. Of course, I saw Nuno in my class, but we simply ignored each other
all along. Just in case, I tried to remain as much as possible in the more
crowded and surveyed areas of the school, spending the longer mid-morning
break in the cafeteria, close to the ladies at the counter.

During lunch-break, I went down to the playground, feeling more confident,
but as soon as I stepped into the sunlight I saw Thunder walking up to me,
with a vicious grin on his rough, unshaven face. I shivered as he muttered
to me "In my tool-shed in two minutes, faggot". It took me a few seconds to
muster the nerve to talk back, but just as he walked away, having given me
his command, I managed to tell him, in as calm a voice as I could "I won't
be there! Not today, nor ever. I'm not a faggot, and if you try to touch me
again, I'll go to the Principal, you sick pervert!" Thunder turned to me,
with a furious look, but remained calm. He just smiled, shrugged his
shoulders, and answered spitefully "Whatever you say, bitch."

Then I saw him look around the playground. Luis was sitting with Miguel and
Marco on a bench. The three of them seemed silent, probably still brewing
over the events of the morning. Luis saw Thunder looking in his direction.
The hairy middle-aged janitor made him a discreet sign, and the blond boy
jumped up and walked quickly in the direction of the tool-shed, hidden
behind the Chemistry lab. I couldn't hold back a smile, knowing that Luis
would soon be happily feasting on Thunder's huge 22cm [8 3/4"] cock.

I was relieved after wining my battle with Thunder, but still felt a little
bitter that I had been abused and humiliated even by Carlos and Luis, who
were the real sick, cock-hungry faggots.

After having faced Thunder, the man that had raped my virgin arse, I felt
reassured that I would now be able to bury those horrible days in my memory
and take back control of my life. Looking back, I couldn't even understand
how all that could ever have happened.