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.