The Bonded Servant

THE BONDED SERVANT

Chapter 5: Filial Betrayal

Perhaps you don't see it coming or argue with friends that "it can't happen here." But darker things have occurred in history. Freedoms fall away and hatred and bigotries rise. This story, inspired by Thomas Lodge's excellent The Attendant series, brings us to the year 2030 when very religious extremists have taken over the government and courts of many states. In many ways, America is becoming like many other countries in the world where being gay is a sin and even a crime.

The morning after the party, as I lay aching in my cage, I heard my brother and father arguing. I could hear James telling my dad that I got hurt last night and I am in no condition to work today. My father argued back that I got whatever I deserved and he does not need a disgusting faggot who is a slacker as well. This time, James stood his ground and my father relented. I felt grateful that finally James was trying to take care of me.

My former father came into the kitchen and informed me that out of kindness he would keep me home to take care of the house and not rent me out. And in my pitiful, humiliating state I thanked him profusely. I was such a sad sight, nothing but a pathetic coward. I was less than that. I was a nothing, a bonded servant in a home where I was despised by my father and in a state where the laws dehumanized, beat up, pursued and incarcerated gays. Ironic that the kindest people I have met these past months were gay servants like me. What a fucked up world.

At least the day passed quietly. The family - of course, I was no longer included in that unit - went for a day hiking in the mountains, leaving me to clean the house, do the laundry and take care of the garden. In the afternoon, I showered, letting the warm water flow over me, cleansing myself of the night before.

I felt my puffy, abused asshole, what the men at the party who were urging on the assault called my virgin cherry popped pussy. I am a six foot, athletic jock with - unbelievable - a pussy. Well, fuck all of them. Inside, I know who I am.

I massaged my hole a bit with my finger under the hot water, even pressed in and remembered the pain. Wait, am I also getting hard? What the fuck! - was I becoming gay? Why not? I suck cock like an expert, I got hard sucking Tommy's cock while Mark treated me to a first-rate blow job and rimming. I was spit roasted by two hot guys. I had a powerful wet dream with these two gay guys as my lovers. Who was I? And why should anyone even care about whom you love?

I stroked my hard, thick eight-inch cock and let my mind drift to Paula, my old girlfriend, who loved my cock and I loved licking her pussy and fucking her as she moaned like a bitch in heat. In my head, I was fucking her as I long stroked my cock, humping against the spraying water, edging myself time and again.

"No, I am a man. I am a man," I yelled at the top of my lungs and shot like a water cannon, cum flying in the air. But again, as I deflated, scenes came back of me on my knees, swallowing cum, getting pissed on, getting fucked. And I cried. How could I sustain any hope, a belief that there are good people, when my life sucked so horribly? How could I find courage when I am beaten down every day?

By the time my former family came home, I was curled up in fetal position in my cage. I was an obedient, docile, trained animal. My former father did not even have to lock the cage anymore. He knew I would not try to escape; my head and soul were locked up. He had the taser and I had the locator transmitter in my arm that would track me down. I fell asleep each night to my nightmares and woke up to my nightmarish reality.

Morning dawned. It was Sunday and my God-fearing father considered this a day of rest. So now, I got a second reprieve from the horrors I had experienced when he unwittingly pimped me out as a bonded servant. Still, I prepared breakfast and set the table for three, the old dog bowl set for me on the floor. My parents came down, my mother not looking at me, blank staring, silent as always. My father radiant on Sunday, dressed for church. My brother did not come down.

"Go fetch my only son James" driving in the reality that I was no longer his son, "so that he can get ready for church." I went upstairs to what was once our shared bedroom, now his alone. James said he did not feel good and asked me to tell our father that he won't be going go to church today. I went back downstairs, dropped to me knees and said "Master, may I speak." My former father nodded and I told him James did not feel good enough to go to church. He looked displeased but did not voice any disapproval, telling me to tend to all of James' needs and left me to clean the kitchen.

Shortly after they left, James came down in his boxers, his morning woody obvious. Just what I need, another hard cock to see.

"Hey Benjie, finally we have some time alone." I suppose it was at least comforting that someone called me by my name and actually cared about me, even if he played the game of me being a bonded servant. "I have been thinking about all the guys you have sucked off, all the cum you must have swallowed these past months, even all that piss. I guess you must be an expert."

I looked at him as if he was crazy, what stupid things to say. Was he trying to humiliate me more, my own brother? My heart sank to think even he saw me as a cocksucking slut. I remained silent.

"Benjie, I guess it is no big thing anymore for you to suck a cock. I mean, a cock is a cock and you know how to make them cum." I stared at him in disbelief. How could he say these words to me, knowing I gave up everything to protect him?

"And you know Benjie, I get so horny and hate just jerking off all the time. How about helping your kid brother out and giving me one of your great blow jobs?"

Now I knew he was out of his mind. Me sucking my own brother's dick. That was so crazy that I started to laugh, like this was the stupidest joke, although my heart ached that he would even think this was funny.

"Uhm, no, I am serious, Benjie. You know, even though by law you have to obey me and call me Sir and all, I have not used that against you all these weeks. I even fought with dad to protect you. It's just another cock for you to suck and it would mean the world to me. You know I am gay, that's why you protected me, and I can't get a blow job anywhere else. Come on, big brother, do me the favor."

My head was exploding. My 18 year old brother wanted me to suck his cock. The kid I grew up with, took care of since he was little, we came from the same womb for God's sake. Was he out of his mind? I was ready to knock the shit out of him.

"Fuck you, James. You are crazy. That's incest and it is disgusting, the most disgusting thing I have heard in these months of horror. Fuck you!"

"Look, I don't want to go there, but you are my bonded servant and you must obey me."

"James!" I shouted. He sighed and his demeanor hardened.

"No servant, you must call me Sir - and go down on your knees just as you have been instructed. You know the rules. On your knees."

"No way. Leave me alone." I was on the verge of tears, this was so sick.

"Servant, as you know, my father is a harsh and unforgiving man. If I were to tell him that you tried to seduce me, he would have you arrested and sent to prison for life. And you know he has that itchy trigger finger on the taser. Just saying you did not obey would have you writhing on the floor, begging for him to stop tasing you"

"James, you are crazy. Please, don't do this to me." I started to sob.

"Unzip my pants, servant. On your knees." I looked at my brother with pleading, begging eyes.

"NO! NO! NO! Don't do this to me."

"I will not ask you again. I want you to get on your knees and on your own to unzip my pants, I want you on your own to take out my cock, and I want the best blow job you can give."

He knew he had beaten me, the fear and the humiliation, all my self-respect gone. Fighting to locate in me some infinitesimal shred of courage, I searched and found that any courage in me had long evaporated. I dropped to my knees and knew at this moment that I was no longer a man.

I reached for his zipper, tears streaming down my face. I opened the fly on his boxers. He was already hard. I pulled out his cock that was leaking precum. I held it in my hands. It felt like hot steel. I reacted as if it were a nuclear missile aimed at my mouth. Radioactive. My whole body trembled.

I looked up again, my eyes filled with tears, a pleading look. My kid brother. His face was stone. And then, slowly, agonizingly slowly, he smiled broadly and ruffled my hair. It was not a gesture of love, but of conquest.

I licked the precum from the tip of my brother's big penis. I swirled my tongue on the head. I was out of my body again, in another world, then hovering over the scene seeing two brothers playing together as children, laughing in the sprinklers, swimming in the pond. Two brothers who loved each other as best friends.

I know that I started sobbing, but my head was bobbing up and down, my little brother's big dick getting deeper and deeper, the first time another person had ever touched his penis. Another person? Maybe I do not count. I am not really considered a human being anymore. I willed myself to feel nothing.

James pushed hard and I massaged his throbbing cock with my throat. I am an expert, I have talent. I am experienceed. I did not retch; I did not feel like vomiting. My soul was dead anyway, so it was easy to be a cocksucking machine that just turned on and did its job. My sole purpose on earth now was to make my kid brother cum.

James was skull fucking me, moaning loud, his legs trembling, his hips thrusting. My little brother I loved so much moaned. "Fuck, of fuck. Suck my big cock, bitch" he screamed. My kid brother just called me a bitch. Bitch! Stabbed me in the heart. I sucked harder. His cock was forcing its way down my throat, deep enough to cut off my breathing, but I could handle it, I am a talented cocksucker. He was thrusting so hard, his hips driving him forward, that I thought he would break my nose. Bam! Bam! Bam!

While our parents were singing out their prayers heartily in church, my brother was having his own transcendent religious experience: "Oh God! Oh Fuck! Oh My God!" he bellowed. His hot brotherly sperm erupted down my throat like a violent flow of boiling lava. "Don't swallow yet. Don't swallow." Hard not to swallow when an eighteen-year-old horny guy is pumping your mouth with buckets of molten semen.

"Benjie, display for me. Show me my cum on your tongue. Fuck, I came in your mouth, down your fucking throat. Oh my God!" I swirled my brother's sperm around and then stuck out my tongue, bubbly cum dripping down onto my chin and then my chest. It did not matter. Nothing mattered. My little brother told me to swallow, and I did. I even thanked him for giving me the honor of sucking his fraternal dick. I was vapor, nothing else.

"Benjie, this was so cool. I have dreamed about a hot stud sucking my cock and you did it, you gave me my dream. We have to do this again. You were so great."

And we did. Once a day. Twice a day. Sometimes more.

James told my dad it was hard to wake up in the morning, could the servant wake him. Of course, my former father said yes. So I successfully woke up my little brother each day with a morning blow job. He would lazily swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit there, yawning, his woody nice and hard. Patient. He did not need to say a word. I would open his boxers, lick and suck and fondle and give him the great orgasm he desired. He would pat my head and go take a piss. I would return to the kitchen and continue making breakfast.

If I was back from "work" when he came home from school before mom and dad returned, I would be kneeling as he walked in.

He would stand in front of me and sweetly ruffle my hair. I would unzip him. I would pull out his cock. I would suck on his balls , swirl them in my mouth, and get him hard. I would lick the shaft, swallowing the copious precum that creamed down. I would tongue his peehole and that special spot on the underside while rolling and tugging on his well-trimmed balls with my fingers. No words needed to pass between us, but his excited moans let me know how turned on he was. Day after day, his dick met my mouth and throat, choking me on his slimy cum, reveling in my humiliation. My kid brother.

Weeks on, James became even more creative. "You can touch yourself, Benjie, and cum with me. Go ahead and stroke your big cock." So implored my gay brother. He had to be kidding. My poor dick was shriveled, like a turtle hiding its head in its shell. Sucking your brother's big penis, fondling his balls, waiting for him to explode his sperm in your mouth, the kid who always admired you as his big brother, was not exactly a source of sexual inspiration. My dick stayed flaccid. James laughed with sick glee "Big brother can't get it up. Who ever heard of a faggot who can't get hard?" And with a roar of triumph, he would shoot down my throat.

Then we descended further. As his hips started rocking, he would grab my head and fuck my face, moaning with pleasure. He would jam his finger in my ass, hoping to see me get hard. I would feel the electricity and chub up. "Damn, Benjie, your pussy is so tight, it must be hungering for your kid brother's cock. Ready for me to fuck your hot pussy?" He would chuckle and I would shudder in fear as I sucked harder, looking up with eyes filled with fear. He would just laugh cruelly at my panic as he fingered by prostate, making me squirm. My little brother had lost any sense of decency. But at least he never did fuck me.

Pulling my hair, announcing his pending orgasm with "Fuck yes, suck my cock you disgusting bitch cumslut," he would blast down my throat, me always saving some for his proof of conquest that I would display for him. My little brother, the kid I protected and for whom I gave up my life, would tell me what a great a cocksucker I am, the best. He would tell me that calling me those names turned him on even more know (sorry, he would say, as if that made me feel better). Churning his cum in my mouth, feeling some bubbling out and down my chin, he nodded and I would swallow and thank my kid brother for once again giving me the honor of sucking his dick.

Sometimes he would wake me at night because he was still horny and I would crawl out of my cage on my hands and knees. I would take out his dick and get him hard. HHe would fuck my face for a quickie, cum deep in my throat and then look down to see his cum dripping from my lips. My tongue would display his white, sticky cream. He would nod proudly as always, letting me know that I could swallow. I would thank him for providing me with a nighttime snack - he would laugh at my good humor - and then I would tell him I hope that he sleeps well. I would gently tuck his cock back into his boxers and he would turn around, wordless, and go back upstairs. A king does not speak to his groveling, debased slave.

James was a very satisfied brother. Well, former brother for whom I was now his personal sex slave. Yes, he was one satisfied and happy guy. He had become evil.

My father continued to rent me out. It was now the end of three months. You cannot imagine the perversions out there, unspeakable things done to me. Even more insane, I was now my former brother's cum dump. That was the worst. The world was upside down. The gay kid brother I saved from hell was making my life hell.

Nothing really mattered anymore. Each day was the same, only the perversions and the resulting pain were different. All hope was gone. The big college jock I once was, now a debased pussy - how I hate that word - had died weeks ago, alone, abandoned, homeless. An orphan spiraling untethered in the cosmos, I had no strength to imagine the courage or will necessary to defend myself, to try to escape this living hell. I knew in my heart that I could never survive another month.

I curled up at night in fetal position locked in my cage, my heart torn and discarded like trash. James did not tip toe down anymore at night to check on me unless he wanted to fuck my throat. I spoke to no one. My inner voice was brutally silenced by day after day of abuse. No one heard my stories. No one cared to hear about my pain.

I no longer could distinguish the nightmares of my sleep and the nightmares of the day. That was my life, an unrelenting nightmare.

Of course, I would love your comments and thoughts. More important, as you watch and listen to those who threaten us, demeaning us for being gay (whether out or closeted as I am), I hope that you take the story seriously. I wrote to remind us that we take for granted, we can lose if we do not fight.