A gay story: The Bonded Servant Ch. 07 – My End is in Sight
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.
I woke up as usual these past months, climbed out of my cage and made breakfast for the family – well, the three of them. I am not included in the family. My breakfast was on the floor in the dog bowl, waiting for me to lap it up like the animal my former father forced me to become. He comes in, his ebullient self, clearly happy to see me kneeling on the floor, head bowed in submission. He does not even brandish the taser as he did months ago. No need. I am a docile beast of burden. My mother, as always, does not look at me, her face blank.
My brother James, of course, is not at the table. “Go wake up my son. Tell him breakfast is ready. I do not understand why he always is late.” Yes, his only son. He and my catatonic mother have made me an orphan. My obtuse former father has no idea why James does not come down without my waking him each morning. I do, of course. Each morning since he blackmailed me into sucking his cock, my brother who has made me his cumdump doesn’t show up for breakfast without being woken up. “Woken up” is a euphemism for his morning orgasm.
I climb the stairs, open and close his door, drop on my knees as my former brother swings his legs over the side of his bed and sits there. I need no instructions. I steal his morning woody out of his boxers and begin to lick. These days, he likes me to suck his balls as well. I comply, unasked. As I swallow his cock, he pats my head as if I were his favorite pet dog, owner to servant, Master to slave. He does not move his hips, no need for him to say or do a thing. He yawns, I suck.
Precum flows generously into my mouth, lubricating his oversized cock, as he lazily lets me do all the work. I am used to this, pleasuring the brother I once so loved and protected, feeling his hard dick slide down my throat. It is strange to say this, probably perverse, but given my loneliness, torn from my girlfriend Paula, from my college buddies, exiled from my family, so alone in the world, the daily ritual of fellating my brother’s dick offers some comfort. Yes, it is humiliating for me, his older brother, to be on my knees giving him a great blowjob, but there still remains at least a shred of relationship. Okay, I guess this really must sound fucked up, but if you get a sense of how pathetic I am and how fucked up my life is, grasping for any semblance of connection kind of makes sense. Kind of.
Suddenly, he pulls his big, hard dick out of my mouth, slaps my face a few times, and tells me to follow him to the bathroom. As I get up, he reminds me that I should crawl behind him just as our old dog would do. He laughs and pats my head as he walks. I have no idea what is going on.
In the bathroom, James tells me to strip and get in the shower on my knees. I am confused. I of course showered early so that I could be ready for the day. What could his plan be? Kick me? Spit on me? Why suddenly breaking the pattern, the ritual we shared, sick as I guess it must seem to you?
His penis is now only partially erect. I follow his command and am naked, on my knees, his dick a few inches from my face. I assume the posture for sucking.
“Bitch (does he have to call me, his older brother, bitch?), I have had this cool fantasy for a long time. Open your mouth.” And with that, he takes his penis in his hand and aims it right at me. My kid brother lets loose a stream of golden piss. I shut my mouth and eyes tight as his urine hits my lips.
“Servant, I ordered you to open your mouth,” he demands. What am I to do? I have no will of my own anymore and like an obedient pet, I follow commands. So I open my mouth, I swallow, I gag, I retch, I vomit some mix of piss and phlegm. My kid brother is smiling broadly as he continues to urinate on my hair, on my torso, on my pathetic, flaccid, once manly, shriveled dick. And then, still dripping urine but soft, he puts his dick into my mouth.
My former father bangs on the door, demanding to know what is taking us so long. James yells out that he has a sore muscle that needs a good massage, the servant is doing a great job helping him out and that he will “come” soon. He laughs at his hilarious joke. My former father tells James to hurry as breakfast is waiting.
I suck him skillfully, doing all the work. He is laughing, “Watching you is something else, your head bounces like one of those funny bobble head dolls.” Then, he grabs my head and smashes his body against me, smothers me in his pubes, choking me, his big cock stuck firmly in my throat. I can’t breathe. Even after these months of being abused by so many men and I know I won’t die, the panic of not getting air still grips me. I struggle to get him off, fondling his balls, tickling his taint, even circling his asshole (he loves that). He is in no rush, pleasuring himself in watching me struggle, calling me cumslut, cocksucker, and mainly his pathetic bitch. He gets off calling me every filthy name, but he has long stopped calling me by my name, Benjie. No one does.
“Come on faggot, where is your hardon? You must be loving this. Oh, too bad, all you have is a shriveled clit for a dick and a hot pink pussy,” my former brother taunts me as he fucks my face. Once I was known as a stud strutting on campus, nice pecs, hard body and a thick, eight incher that made my girlfriend moan and other girls- and probably some guys – jealous. But that seems so long ago, another world. My mind is back on the job at hand, getting James to rocket his cum down my throat. My finger enters his asshole and massages his prostate. “Right there, bitch, fuck me with your finger” my closeted gay former brother barks.
My finger up his arse, my throat massaging him, my little brother with his big cock – well, my former brother, now my tormentor – grunts as he shoots his copious, gelatinous cum down my throat. My cheeks fill, I slobber on his cum and my phlegm. I feel dizzy, I swallow, but I save a bit for show, my tongue hanging out of my mouth, covered with his slimy sperm, dripping down my chest, falling on my flaccid penis. He beams at me with a satisfied smirk and allows me to swallow. The show is over.
He pats my head again as I kneel, submissively. “Wow, bitch, this was so cool. You are the best and you look perfect. Made my day.” Am I supposed to be proud, the receptacle of my kid brother’s piss and sperm? “But really, asshole, you stink of urine and cum. You need to have better hygiene” and he sprays me down with cold water as he laughs. I try to get water in my mouth as he sprays me, desperate to get rid of the taste of urine mixed with semen.