Date: Wed, 19 Aug 2009 00:48:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: JKBlackhouse <jkblackhouse@yahoo.com>
Subject: Brothers & Slaves/3: Deeper & Deeper

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:
Recap Chapt's. 1 & 2: Danny

I was in the power of my older brother Ken. He had caught me using our
young slave Tim as a visual when I was jerking off. He ordered me to put
myself in the slave's place, naked, pins on my tits, hands behind my head,
I'd refused. He is physically stronger than I am so he soon had me pinned
to the floor, wrenching one arm behind my back and gradually raising it
toward my shoulder. Eventually the pain was too much and I accepted doing
what he'd ordered me to do. He took pictures of me and after he'd shot his
load, he made me lick up his cum and he also had pics of that. Other times
he made some digital recordings of this. He soon required that I submit to
this ritual every night, and not just in front of him but then in front of
my younger brother Gary, as well. They recorded me standing there with my
track team jockstrap over my face, where it had been the first time he
caught me with Tim, the youngest of our slaves. Tim was about my age, 17,
Ken a year older and Gary only 15, which didn't stop him from full
participation.

Chapt. 3: Deeper & Deeper - Danny

This went on for several weeks, always the same, me standing there before
we all went to sleep with my jock over my face, naked with clothespins on
my nips and a boner which Ken and Gary required that I maintain while they
jerked off one after the other. I wasn't allowed to cum until they had, and
then I had to do it standing in the center of the room, catch my cum in my
hand and then eat it. The thing was, all this turned me on so being hard
wasn't all that difficult but I knew it made me peculiar, I didn't want to
say queer. Why would I find this hot? Ken's ripped body had always held
special appeal for me, ever since we were both teens and Gary was now a
stud, a young stud, as well. Was I queer? I had never thought so
but....well, the evidence was beginning to point that way.

About three or maybe four weeks after this all began, and I was a naked
model for both my brothers every single night, no matter how long I had to
wait for each of them to get home, Ken announced there would be some
important changes. They now had a huge number of recordings and pics which
Ken promised would be uploaded to the worldnet, along with my name, and
even sent to Mom and Dad. Ken definitely had me.

"Danny, boy, your life is about to change, and much for the better, I must
say. You'll get to be hot much more of the time and I know you'll like
that," said Ken in his most authoritative voice.

"What do you mean, Ken?" I asked nervously.

"Well, Danny, I know how you love that jock, sniffing it, so lets get it
really ripe. From now on, Danny, no underpants, ever, unless you get my
permission. Here's what you'll do: Every Monday you'll get your clean jock
for track practice. Then you'll wear that jock, the same one, continuously
for the week. You'll sleep in it and in nothing else. Just think, except
when you shower or shit, it'll always be on you. I know you'll like that,
won't you Danny?" Gary was there laughing out loud.

"Ken, what happens when I undress and get dressed in the locker room before
and after track? All the guys will see I'm wearing a jockstrap instead of
underpants. That'll be pretty embarrassing and they'll ask me about
it. What do I say?"

"That's easy, Dude. Just say you lost a bet with me and from now on you
have to wear a jockstrap, no undies. Easy right?"

"Yea, I guess I could say that. But with all the sweat from working out for
track, and then wearing it all day and night, it's going to really start to
stink and the guys will smell it and then I'll be in trouble."

"Well, Danny, I guess that's your problem. Now here's the other thing: when
you're here in our room, the jock is all you can wear, you are to be
otherwise naked, stark, bare naked, pretty much like the slaves except they
wear tight, shorty shorts, you wear a jockstrap." Ken was obviously
enjoying telling me about all these new humiliations. I could see the
tenting of his jeans and, for that matter, Gary's and yes, mine, as
well. How hot to always be wearing a jockstrap. Sitting in class with my
bare ass rubbing on my jeans, and my thighs too and my cock held in by the
jock, and no one the wiser. Like I told you, I have this thing for straps,
they just turn me on, I don't know why. Of course, the locker room was
going to be a real problem but I knew If I didn't do as Ken wanted, he'd
punish me. He'd probably beat my ass or something and then he'd post some
of the pics and recordings. I couldn't stand that. All my friends seeing me
 with my jock over my face, a boner and pins on my tits, then licking up
Ken and Gary's cum, and also mine. I was stuck.

Ken told me to strip right then and to put on my jockstrap. So I did
it. Gary and Ken laughed at me because I was hard but I couldn't help that,
it was nature. I was turned on by my brother humiliating me and
particularly by his using my jockstrap as part of it. What kind of wierdo
was I? My dick was standing straight up, held in by my jock, and completely
visible to Ken and Gary because you could see the thing under the jock
material. My balls too. No hiding those.

So now I still had the nightly performance for Ken and Gary, but I also
wore the symbol of Ken's dominance and control all the time. That's what
the jock was, my knowing all the time the power he had over me and my
submission to it. Every time I felt the jock, I'd think of Ken's power, how
could I not? And I felt the jock all the time. When the pouch rubbed
against my jeans, when I went to piss and had to move it aside, any time I
got a boner (which wasn't all that infrequent), when I undressed at home
for a shower and then when I had to put it back on, and of course all the
time I was in our room, that's all I wore which made me conscious of it
every single minute. I just hoped neither Mom or Dad would pop in. But Ken
had even thought of that. He had a pair of very skimpy, very short and
tight cutoff jeans I could pull on and also a tank top if one of them
knocked on the door. Unlike the parents of many of my friends, mine never
came in
 without knocking first.

It was pretty strange at first, sitting at my desk in our bedroom, feeling
the chair on my bare ass, studying, doing homework, wearing only my
jockstrap, which smelled riper and riper as the week went along. Ken had
one other rule. I was not allowed to cum, ever, unless I had his
permission. He said he'd know if I cheated because when I shot at home, in
front of him, I wouldn't shoot as far or as hard as always, and there
wouldn't be the usual amount of cum. The punishment, he said, was having
boytoy, or cocksucker or something similar written on my back in magic
marker, so I couldn't reach it and it would be seen by all the guys at
track practice when I was undressed or showering. I just couldn't face that
so I gave up my jerkoff sessions in the john at school. I hated to do it,
but I hated even more the idea of being completely humiliated by having
something written across my back that would be seen by all the guys.

As you would expect, I guess, Gary and Ken kidded and embarrassed me
relentlessly about being naked except for my jock. And because I couldn't
cum during the day, I was always horny at home and often my dick was hard
and there was no hiding that wearing the jock. Gary particularly loved it
when I'd get hard and had to move around the room for something and he
would taunt me, call me `boy" or "jockboy" or his `bitch" which seemed
pretty cruel to me but that's what he did.

Of course I found it hugely embarrassing to be almost naked always and
limited to wearing my strap, but I was also very turned on by it. It wasn't
just the fewer number of times I could cum that excited me, it was being
used by my brothers, being humiliated by wearing the jock, having to dress
and undress in the locker room every school day wearing the dirty jockstrap
and being asked by every guy on the team it seemed like, about it. Yes it
embarrassed me when they'd ask or make fun of me for "losing a bet" to Ken,
but it also excited me, made me hot, even made me in a perverse way proud
that I could do this, could endure this submission and humiliation. I guess
my feelings were all mixed up.

Ken usually allowed me to cum most mornings and most evenings but he kept
reminding me of his power by not allowing me to cum sometimes without prior
warning. I'd stand at his bed as usual while he jerked off in the morning
or evening, and then at Gary's bedside while he stroked but then I'd be
told no cumming this morning or this evening out of nowhere. I don't know
how he decided my no cum times but however he did it, it left me begging
him on my knees to please be allowed to cum. I was always so horny. The
jock kept me horny and to be denied one of only two daily orgasms was truly
torture. That's why Ken did it. To torture me and to remind me I was now
his boy, I was subject always to his power.

The next step followed not long thereafter. One night Ken told me that the
pubic hair sticking out from the sides of my jock and over on my thighs was
"disgusting." He made me bring my shaving cream, some scissors, hot water
and my razor into the bedroom. Then he had me trim all the pubic hair
outside of my jock with the scissors and then shave the hair so the skin
was smooth where it had been hairy. He said I was to keep myself this way,
smooth, and he expected to never see any hair in my crotch that wasn't
covered by my jockstrap.

Well, you might think so what, not much hair lost but you're forgetting one
thing: being made to shave myself like that made my dick very hard and with
a hard dick, the pouch of my jock was drawn forward and being drawn forward
meant more pubic hair was exposed so more was lost. Ken took pictures of my
crotch before and after the shave, with the jock on and naked. It was
amazing how much smaller my bush seemed after all the sides had been
trimmed away. I just hoped it wouldn't be noticed at the gym. While I was
at it, he had me shave my balls and cock, and between my legs back to my
asshole, and then he shaved my crack and hole, not that there was much of
anything to shave there. And all of it had to be kept completely smooth
from now on. No more hairy balls for me.

With shaved cock and balls, wearing my jock felt quite different. I could
feel my balls particularly rubbing against the pouch in a way I'd never
felt before. Yes it felt good, and yes it got me hard even more often than
it happened before, but it felt strange too. Suddenly I was getting all
these new sensations from my balls that the hair had probably smoothed out
before. My balls were so much more sensitive now, which, as you can
imagine, was both good and bad. Sometimes Ken or Gary would stroke my
smooth balls, just to tease me, remind me of my inferior position, turn me
on without any chance I could cum. Gary was particularly cruel about
this. He loved watching me shave each week; in fact, he insisted I only do
the shave when he could watch, which was like an order, so I always now had
an audience, a sneering audience, for my shaves. Guys don't usually look at
eachothers ball hair though they do check out eachothers pubes but no one
seemed to
 notice my smooth balls and trimmed bush. OMG if they had.

One day after school I went off by myself and took a walk through a nearby
park. I needed a chance to think about all this stuff, particularly Ken,
and even Gary, treating me like I was halfway to a slave. Someone they
could order around and humiliate, whose orgasms they could control, whose
body they could use and alter, as with the shaving. And I asked myself, why
are you allowing this to happen? Yes they've got the pics and the
recordings, but would they really put them on the worldnet with my name? I
doubted it but of course, there was no way of knowing except to test them
but then, if they were really to do it, I'd be screwed. I thought to
myself, be real, you're doing it because you like being used and
humiliated, it turns you on. That's why you submit to all Ken's orders and
rules. You like it. But what did that say about me? What kind of person
could like being treated as shit? I guessed, a person like me. But I knew
they would never
 stop raising the bar. Sitting on the park bench, feeling my dick and balls
rubbing against my jock pouch and my bare ass on my jeans, i wondered, what
would be the next humiliation?


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email: jkblackhouse@yahoo.com