Leonard

Imperio

Ending C

Brotherly Love

This is a continuation to the story Imperio about a man who hypnotizes a boy for sex. If you haven't read the beginning yet, then I strongly recommend you do so before reading this ending!

Scott

The boy sat there, naked, glassy-eyed, in a trance. I watched as his bare shoulders rose and fell with each breath. His mouth hung agape. His eyes tracked the Imperio as it swung between us.

I stopped to look at this little boy, this child with his round, innocent-looking face. I lusted after him so much it hurt. I could tell him to suck me right now, get those beautiful round lips wrapped around my cock, pumping myself into that innocent face 3;

No. I wanted to do this right. I wanted a slave, a helpless, obedient, defeated little slave. I wanted to watch the dawning fear on his face as he realizes what I'm doing to him. My perfect little toy.

I stood up and walked to Jonah's side. Jonah was so small. A tiny, slender boy cowering away from me. I towered over him, marveling at how much larger each part of my body was than his. My eyes got lost wandering his bare, exposed skin. It was like staring into the wide cornfields of Kansas, an endless sea of smooth, creamy bronzed skin, sometimes with a slight rise or fall when his skin curved around one of his ribs, or his belly button, or his chest. His skin was springy and tight on his body, youthful skin, slightly moist with sweat. It was radiating boyish heat; I don't know how else to describe the heat of a child, but it feels different, even electric. I ran my hand along his arm, and my fingers sank into the softness. My man's hand completely encircled his upper arm, and for a moment I just stood there, holding him, holding him, this boy who was mine. I wanted him so badly.

"I want you, my boy. I am going to use you in ways you could never even imagine, and you will serve me, my perfect little toy." Jonah trembled mutely as I held his arm. I breathed in for a moment. "Jonah, tell me everything you know about slaves."

"Slaves, master?" he said, woozily. Even through the Imperio, I could hear the fear in his voice. "Um, they were people who were made to work for people. It was bad, right? They were forced to work and they didn't get any money, and then the Civil War happened. Um, they were all, um, African American, and, um, people were really mean to them."

"Good," I said to Jonah. "Those were slaves in America. But there have been lots of slaves throughout history. Lots of white people, too. All kinds of people." I paused. "Jonah, the main thing about being a slave is that you are property. Do you understand what that means?"

"Kind-of, master."

"Property is a thing you own. Like video games, or your action figures, or your bookbag." I walked over and picked up his bookbag by a strap, letting it dangle from my hand. "When you use your bookbag for something, you don't care what it wants to do. You just use it to help you carry books. It's there to serve you, to do what you want it to do." I paused. "Slaves are like that too. They do everything their master tells them to do. They get used by their master. They are owned by their master. They're property. Do you understand, Jonah?"

"I think so, master," he said. Then, he asked, "M-master, um, why are you telling me this?"

"Because, little Jonah, you are going to be my slave."

"No!" he exclaimed. "No, no master, I won't, you can't make me!" He was becoming agitated, and his head popped up to stare at me.

"Shhhhhhh," I quieted the child. "Shhhhh. Relax, Jonah. Look at the Imperio as it swings back, and forth. Back, and forth. Gently swinging. Gently rocking. You're calm. Are you calm, Jonah?"

"Yes, master."

"Feel the Imperio as it enters your mind. Feel its tendrils as they touch each part of your mind, as they control you, as they make you serve it. There is a fog in your mind, the fog of the Imperio, and it covers every part of your mind. The fog makes you feel good. You want to let it in more, don't you?"

"Yes, master." His head started to droop down again, and his eyelids fluttered.

"Go deeper, Jonah. Go deeper. Let it all the way in." Still his head drooped further. "Deeper still. The fog surrounds you. There is nothing but the fog in your mind, and the Imperio, reaching in, touching all the parts of your mind, telling you what to do." His head was back all the way down. "You want to let it tell you what to do." Again his body swayed with the rhythm of the Imperio. "You no longer control your mind. It is not yours. It belongs to the Imperio. You do not control what you think. You do not control how you feel. You do not control what you do. All of those things are now controlled by the Imperio. Do you understand?"

He answered with slurred speech and a heavy tongue. "Yesh, master."

"Does the Imperio control you, Jonah?"

The boy nodded.

"Does it control you completely, Jonah? Does every part of your mind obey it above all else?" He nodded. "Answer me verbally, Jonah."

"Yesssss, masster," he said groggily. "It 3;" he gasped for a breath. "It controls me 3; completely, master."

"Good," I said, as the Imperio swung between us. "Good. Now listen to me, Jonah. Until now, most of the commands I've given you have been about things to do. Now I'm going to change your thoughts. Will you change them how I command you?"

"Yes, master."

"Good. Then from now on, Jonah, you will be my slave."

He grunted. "Ergh 3; don't 3;" he squeaked out. "Master."

"You cannot resist the control of the Imperio," I said. "You are my slave. It is how you think of yourself. It is what you are. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master."

"Now Jonah, are you my slave?"

"Yes, master," he whimpered.

"Yes, good, good. Jonah, because you are my slave, you will obey every command that I give even when I am not swinging the Imperio. You are my property, and so you must do everything I tell you, do you understand?"

"Yes, master."

"Let's see if you understand. Who owns you, Jonah?"

"You do, master."

"That's right. Watch the Imperio, Jonah, and change your mind now the way I tell you. Change how you think about yourself. You used to think of yourself as a person who could make your own choices. You used to try to get away with things from your mom or your teachers. Now you don't think of yourself that way anymore. You are property. You are owned by me. You are like a bookbag, to be used by me however I want. What are you, Jonah?"

"Property, master."

"Yes. You don't resist it. You don't fight it. You just are a slave." I paused, trying to think how to explain it to the child, how to make it part of the very fabric of his being. "Jonah," I said, "you're a boy, right?"

"Yes, master." His sweet little head bobbed gently under the sway of the Imperio.

"When you think about who you are, one of the first things you think of is being a boy, right?"

"I guess, master."

"Being a boy is just a part of who you are. You can't change it. It's like having five fingers. It's always true about you, it makes you who you are." I paused. "From now on, being a slave is just what you are. You can't change it, like having five fingers. It's always true about you. It makes you who you are. Do you understand, Jonah?"

"I-I think so, master."

"Being a slave 3; from now on, it's everything about you. It's as important to who you are as being a boy. If someone asks you who you are, one of the first things you think of is 'I'm a slave.' From now on, this is what you think of yourself all day. Whenever you think about yourself, you know you're a slave. When you wake up. When you look in the mirror. You are a slave, it is what you are destined to be, and all you can do is try to be a better slave. Do you understand, little Jonah?"

"Y-y-yes, master."

"You can be angry about it, or sad, or even happy, or whatever feelings you have, but you will never try to change it because this is just what you are. Just like you can't change that you're a human being or a boy, you can't change that you're a slave. You are owned by me. No instinct, no desire, no pain, nothing will ever stop you from obeying everything I tell you to do because that is what you do in life, it is your first instinct, the thing you do above all else. Obeying your master because you are property. Do you understand?"

"Yes 3;" he sniffled a little bit, a last bit of resistance, "master."

"Because you are a slave, the only thing you can be good at is being a slave. You need to be a good slave. You will try as hard as you can to be a good slave, to serve me and obey me. Even when you don't like it, you will try to do better because that's what you are, that is your nature. Do you understand?"

"I think so, master."

"Excellent, my new little slave. Now, when I tell you to wake up, you will no longer be in this trance. You will no longer be in the fog of the Imperio. But the way I have rewritten your mind will stay. All of my commands will still control your mind. You will still be my slave. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master."

"Good. And Jonah," I added, "when you are awake, and not directly under the trance of the Imperio, you do not need to use the word 'master' to refer to me. But a good slave always answers each command with 'yes, master', and when he uses 'master' when he needs his master's attention. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master."

"Wake up," I said.

The fog lifted from the boy's mind. The blue glint faded from his eyes. He raised his head to stare at me, then suddenly stood up, eyes wide, little body filled with adrenaline.

Jonah

Jonah's mind was suddenly clear. He looked around the room with new eyes, his brain processing that he was standing here, naked, in front of this man. He saw his clothes, his shoes, scattered on the floor, left where he'd taken them off. His clothes. His shoes. He owned those things, and they were his property. Just like this man owned him. Just like Jonah was this man's property.

Jonah's nine-year-old mind tried to grapple with this fact. He knew he'd been changed, that some kind of magic or something had been used on him. He'd thought magic was only in stories and movies. Maybe this was a story, and someone would save him. But it didn't feel like a story. It felt different. Real. He could tell 3; he could tell that something was going to happen to him, and it wasn't something out of any movie he'd ever seen. In movies, they didn't make people get naked!

He felt so vulnerable.

Part of Jonah's mind said that this was wrong, that he shouldn't be naked, that two hours ago he wasn't anyone's property, he was a boy, a free boy. But 3; maybe he'd been changed, but he knew that he was this man's property now. He thought of himself that way. It wasn't even a question; it was as true to him as his shoes. If someone stole his shoes, he'd go running after them, saying "they're mine!" Because they were. He was his master's. Because he was.

Just like his shoes were his to take off or put on, to wear when he wanted, in the rain or in the snow if he wanted, even though his shoes wouldn't like it, he was his master's. He was a slave, and it stung.

"I 3; turn me back, master!" shouted the naked nine-year-old boy. Jonah started to inch back from his master, trying to get to the far side of the room. "Please!" he said. He felt his nakedness, felt how weak it made him, and he tried to cover himself with his hands.

"Be quiet, slave!" ordered the man.

Jonah stared back. When the blue gem had been inside his mind, he'd simply been compelled to obey as it wound within his brain, but this was different. He was a slave. Property. He realized that he could still talk if he decided to. But a slave obeyed his master 3;

He wanted to beg. He wanted to run away. He wanted to do anything else. Instead, he bowed his head. "Yes, master," he said.

"A slave," continued the man, lecturing him, "is respectful to his master. A slave does not try to run away from his master, nor hide his body. Now come and stand here."

Jonah really, really didn't want to come closer to his master. He didn't know what would happen. But he knew that slaves didn't get to decide what they wanted, so he walked over, standing in front of the man. He stood still, not moving. He had his hands at his side, not covering his privates like he was before. After all, Jonah could dress and undress his toys if he wanted to, just like his master could dress and undress him.

"Yes," said his master, towering over the shivering boy. "Good. That is how a slave behaves."

Jonah's body filled with tension. He felt his knees shaking, his tummy, his nipples. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever been so scared. It was Jonah's first time as a slave, and he didn't know what would happen. He didn't know what his master would want with him.

"Now, my new little slave, kneel."

Jonah knelt, feeling even smaller in front of this tall man. The floor dug into his knees, and he felt himself still shivering against it.

"Tell me, Jonah, what are you?"

He knew the answer to this one. "I am a slave, master."

The man had started to remove his shoes and socks, although Jonah did not know why.

"Whose slave, Jonah?"

"Yours, master."

"And what is a slave?"

"I, um, property, master. I am your property. I have to do what you tell me."

"Yes, slave, good," replied the man who loomed over the naked, kneeling child. Jonah felt sick to his stomach. He didn't want to be owned by someone else. He didn't want to have to do what they said. He didn't think this new master was going to let him go out and play or be very nice. But he could no more stop being a slave than he could stop being a boy. This is what he was.

"Now slave," said the man to the boy, "it's time to show me what a good slave you are. Kiss my feet."

"Ewwwww!" said Jonah. "That's disgusting!"

The man laughed. Jonah knelt there, naked, blushing. It was disgusting. "You're a slave, aren't you, Jonah?" asked the man.

Jonah nodded. He was a slave.

"Slaves obey, don't they, Jonah? They're property. Property gets used."

Jonah nodded again. He was property, he knew that. And so he obeyed. He leaned forward, closed his eyes, and planted a first kiss on those big, hairy feet. He could smell them, smell their odor; he didn't know it, but this man had been so nervous before wondering if his plans would work out that he had been sweating profusely.

"Good, slave," said his master. "Good. But a slave does not say that anything his master requires of him is disgusting. Now, keep kissing my feet until I tell you to stop."

"Yes, master," said Jonah, delicate lips touching down again on the hairy feet.

"Move around," said the towering man. "Kiss different parts of my feet."

"Yes, master," said Jonah, beginning to kiss different parts of the feet. For a while, his master just had him keep kissing along the smelly man's feet. Jonah leaned down, again and again, kiss, kiss, kiss.

"Now, slave," said the man, "start licking my feet."

This time Jonah did not say out loud how disgusting it was. But he was a slave, and he had to obey. The boy who had been in Mrs. Applebaum's fourth-grade class this afternoon, who had been learning how to write a topic sentence and how to do long division, now stuck out his tongue and started to lap it along this man's feet. He felt the man's hair slide underneath him, felt his young, once-clean tongue literally comb the foot hair down.

"Yes," said the master, "good. This is what a slave does."

He didn't like being a slave at all. But little tongue out, he still licked his way up the feet, nimble little tongue sliding up again, and up again, and up again, just as he was supposed to, tasting the dried sweat, occasionally swallowing little bits of thread from the man's socks.

The man sat down on the chair behind him. "Now," he said, holding out his bare feet, "suck on my toes."

Ten minutes ago, when Jonah had first become property, he'd known that he was going to have to do things he didn't want to do. He figured that he'd have to do chores, clean up, do work. Maybe instead of going to school he'd work at the man's home. That was what he understood slavery to be. He hadn't expected this. Jonah didn't know the word 'degrading', but now he understood it. As he opened his mouth wide to take in a sweaty big toe, the other four toes pressing tightly against his cheek, the only words he had were 'disgusting' and 'icky', but in truth he was completely degraded. This sense of humiliation. This sense of ownership. Total lack of control. Property.

"Oh yes," said his master. "That feels really good, slave." The big toe wiggled inside his mouth. Soon, the man started shifting toes around. Jonah obediently sucked on each in turn as they slid through his lips. He felt his own drool starting to dribble through his lips, rolling down his cheek, and he simply let the drool fall along his face, he just didn't care as the next toe pressed into his mouth. Soon the man put his other foot into the boy's mouth.

"You're an obedient little slave boy, aren't you, Jonah?" said his master. "A totally subservient little toy."

"Yeph, mahshtuh," he managed through the toes in his mouth.

Eventually the humiliating ordeal was over, and the man finally pulled his feet out of Jonah's mouth. Jonah sat there, hunched over on hands and knees, and he spit out the foul taste from his mouth.

"No, slave," said the man, as the thick saliva fell to the floor. "From now on, you will never spit out anything from your master's body. Any time you taste it, or lick it, or any liquid that comes from your master, you will swallow it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," said the pathetic, hunched-over boy.

"Excellent," said his master. "Now lick it up."

Jonah had never been so disgusted in his young life. He hated being a slave. But he had no choice. Property didn't get to say no. So he bent his elbows, lowering himself down, and he licked up his own spit, mixed with the dirt of the man's toes and the dirt of the floor, and he swallowed it.

The man stood, and Jonah gazed up at his hulking frame. "Now, my young slave," he said, "it is time for you to learn how to give your master pleasure."

The man started to walk away. "Come to your master's bedroom, little slave."

Jonah scrambled to his feet to follow his master.

Scott

My slave walked behind me and entered my bedroom. This had been going better than I could possibly have imagined. I was already thinking about what I would do with the boy's family, how they would enable us to do everything I wanted 3;

"Wash out your mouth," I instructed him, leading him to the adjoining bathroom. He did, gratefully, but he saw out of the corner of his eyes that I was taking off my clothes while he did so.

"Now, lie down on the bed."

I climbed in after him. Soon, I had the enslaved boy in my arms, his warmth curled up against me. I brought our lips together and we kissed. "You must learn to kiss, slave," I said. "To serve your master properly. When we join our mouths together, be hungry for my saliva, desire it like sugar. Join tongues with me." Soon our faces were pressed together, slurping against each other, the heat of his boy's flesh burning hotly against my own.

His body was like the sun, a bright heat that engulfed me, that made my blood move and made me feel the power and reality of this child's life. His breath was like the solar wind, flaring against my skin. We rolled over and around each other on the bed, his shining light driving me to ever greater passion.

Still we kissed and hugged each other, his tongue blissfully inside my mouth as I sucked on the little red thing. Soon I had him crawling all over my body, running his tender hands along my skin, licking up my stomach. Eventually I had him settle on my cock, licking it, taking it slowly into his mouth, playing with it, and masturbating it. We just lay there, man and boy, boy serving man.

Finally, while I lay there, I lubed up his ass. The boy lay there quietly as the unfamiliar goop was slathered all over, this action now one among many strange things that had happened to him. "Now, my little slave," I told him, "you are going to demonstrate your obedience to me."

"Yes, master," he replied.

I lay on my back, and I ordered the naked boy to kneel straddling me, facing towards my head. He straightened out his body, knees on the bed, thighs and torso upright, his ass in front of my powerfully erect cock. He was ready to press himself onto my cock. "Yes, my lovely little boy, you are going to completely submit yourself to me. You're going to give me your virginity, the last part of you that you still own. You will ride my cock all the way down, and then you'll be all mine," I told him. The boy looked horrified as I described the anatomical precision of what I demanded.

When I was ready, I reached up to center the boy above me, ready to lower himself onto my cock. My dick was pointing up straight at the ceiling, hard as anything, and it was ready.

"Master, please," said the boy, "that's not 3; it's not 3;"

"You are a slave," I insisted. "Now show me how you obey me!"

The naked, used child stared down at me, tears welling up in his eyes, while I stared up at him, admiring his heaving, naked chest. His body shook as he sat there, trying to gather the mental strength to comply.

"Y-y-yes, master," he finally squeaked out.

He took a steadying breath, then another, and, eyes closed, he started to lower himself, bending his knees – tentatively, slowly, hoping to delay this incomprehensible command. I watched as his belly button moved out and in, out and in with each huge breath. The child didn't know what he was doing; he lowered himself and my cock slid to the side.

"No, no," I told him. "Grab it. Guide it into you."

"Y-yes, master," he muttered.

I felt those warm, tender hands wrap around me, sweaty and shaking with fear, and it was bliss. He held my cock up, fumbling, trying to guide it in. Delicate, sweaty, lube-smeared fingers slid all along my dick. He went down, and it didn't go in, so he had to do it again, and again. Finally, I felt it line up with his asshole.

"I 3; I think 3;"

"Yes," I said. "Yes."

For a moment, the little body hovered above my erect cock, and then he started to lower himself down, knees bending as he came down. I felt the boy's warmth and weight push on the tip of my cock.

"Yessss," I said, "oh yes, lower yourself down boy, lower yourself down, slave 3;"

"Nuuuh," whimpered the boy as he let more of his weight press down on me. I felt the give of his flesh, and finally, finally, I felt that first, ever-so-slight penetration into his ass.

"Yes! Down, slave, let your weight push you down!"

"Yes, master," he wailed, as he started to let himself go down. I felt the tight ass quiver, pushing against the tip of my cock like that, striving to get down deeper.

"Down, slave! Go down!"

"I'm trying, master!" he squealed.

"Loosen your ass! Loosen the muscles!"

"Auuuuugh!"

"Go through the pain!"

I felt the little boy's asshole shift just a little bit, the muscles loosened ever so slightly, and he let himself fall down like the obedient slave he was, and his body moved down on my cock, ever so slightly, a half-inch in.

"Yaaaah!"

He bent his knees a little bit more, weight pushing him down and his body slid down another half inch and I was now an inch deep in my virginal little child.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Jonah's whole body heaved with each exclamation of pain. I saw his hands jittering in the air. His smooth stomach rocked in and out as he took heavy breaths. His head rolled back to look up at the ceiling. "No more!"

I reached out, my hands crawling all over his bare stomach that was exposed to my touch. "Yes, more!" I yelled at the molested boy. "Down, slide yourself down more!"

"Master, it hurts, it hurts!"

"Down! Another inch, Jonah, now!"

"Please, master, please!"

"You are my property! You must obey and be a good slave!"

"I know, master, but please be nice to me 3;"

"A good slave says 'yes, master'! Now I order you to go down another inch!" Jonah hovered there, ass shaking in the air, knees trembling, only slightly impaled on my cock, panting, breathing heavily, frozen in time. My hands worked their way down to his cock, fiddling with the boy's immature sex organ. "Down! Get it over with, slave!"

"Y-yes, master."

He lowered himself down on my cock, forcing himself deeper. Another inch as the boy yowled in pain. His hands clenched around my thighs and his face was red with exertion. I saw sweat beading on his smooth forehead, and I felt the moisture as my free hands explored his panting body.

"Ohhhhhh 3; fuck, fuck yes," I moaned in ecstasy as he slid deeper on to me, my cock starting to feel the warm pressure of his ass. "Another inch, slave! Down, now!"

"Master, it hurts!"

"I don't care, this is hot! A good slave obeys his master! Now, another inch!"

"Engggh!" he grunted, as he struggled obeyed my command. I saw him start to go down and then he pushed back up. "Oh, oh God, oh God, it hurts! It's tearing me apart!"

"Down!"

And then those perfect, smooth, trembling thighs, those baby thighs lowered themselves. I felt my cock slither another inch deep up this tiny boy, his sweaty, sexy body slowly slipping down the length of my cock. "Enh, enh, enh," he grunted loudly, his breathing heavy, his whole small little body shaking with each breath, vibrations running all the way down to his asshole, stimulating my cock even more.

"Yes, yes you slave, you fucktoy, slut, bitch," I just called him name after name, my mind a haze of overwhelming pleasure as the helpless cockslut impaled himself on my shaft. "Go! Give me another inch, you little bitch!"

"Ah!" he gasped, but he didn't lower himself.

"Down, down, you're my bitch, you're my slave!"

"Ahhhh!" he squealed. A drop of his sweat fell from his chin and down to land on my stomach. Then another. "I'm so full, it's sliding 3; it's sliding inside me! Master, can't I just wait here a minute, please? Just a minute, then I'll go down, I promise 3;"

"Go down now, Jonah!"

He closed his eyes, his face twisted in a grimace, he was red-faced and gasping and shaking. His whole slender, naked body was reacting to the overwhelming experience, toes clenched, one little foot suspended in the air while he balanced on his knees and he tried to build up the courage to fuck himself on me, tried to obey my command, his 60ish pounds [25-30 kg] of boy weight ready to bear him down just as soon as he let it, soon to fuck him completely. "I'm trying, master, I'm trying, but I'm scared!"

"You are a slave, Jonah. You want to be a good slave, don't you?"

"Y-yes, master, but 3;"

"No, shhh. Ignore the pain. On the count of 3 you will be a good slave. You will go down. Ready?"

"R-ready, master."

"3 3; 2 3; 1 3; now!"

In an instant, he lowered himself, letting his weight go, and his body slid down another half-inch on my cock, the whole fourth-grade boy just sliding down it. "Guh," he grunted at the further invasion.

"Yes!" I said. "Good, good, see, you just fucked yourself more. Now again, another inch. 3 3; 2 3; 1 3; now! Go down. Fuck yourself! Down."

"Nnnnnn 3;" he let out a high-pitched whine, but he moved down. Still more of my cock disappeared into that virgin asshole. "Muuuuuuh," he cried.

"Oh fuck! Down!"

"It's so far in me, master," he moaned, but the boy lowered another inch.

"Yes, yes! Down!"

The slave boy with the loosened ass slid further and further onto it, my cock engulfed in the fusion of this young sun, the warmth and pressure pushing against it, lifting me to new heights of pleasure. Gravity pushed him deeper and deeper, he forced himself down, forced himself down against the pain, moaning all the time. Our two bodies were joined together, his smooth, thin legs shimmying against my big, muscular, hairy legs; his clammy hands, seeking purchase against my stomach anywhere they could; my cock, buried up his ass. Down, he forced himself, even as he cried out in pain; down, he forced himself, even as he felt himself torn apart inside, even as he felt his child's body falling apart at the pressure, even as he felt he couldn't take any more; down, down, down.

"Yes," I said, "yessss 3;" My cock was all the way in, all the way in his tiny ass, he'd fucked it all the way in. It was engulfed in the little child, surrounded in waves of the boy's flesh. I imagined how far up it must extend in that thin, tiny frame of a child. He was mine, every part of him was mine. My hands, hungry for more contact, fondled his little cock and balls and pinched and gripped and slid along his tummy and thighs, every part of him in my reach.

"Fuck yourself on it, slave," I commanded. "Lift yourself up and down along the cock."

"Oh God, master, please 3;"

"You say 'yes, master!' You are property, you must obey, isn't that right?"

"Yahhhh 3; yes 3; master 3;"

Helpless but to obey, compelled to obey by his own understanding of his servitude despite the agony taking place in his virgin asshole, the boy strained with his knees, lifting himself up and lowering himself down on my cock. He wailed a loud, high-pitched, extended "eauuuuugh!" with every trip up and down my shaft, his clenched hands digging into the bedsheets. But for me, the tight friction of that small place pulling and rubbing against my cock 3; I felt the suction of that small, tight hole as he coasted along the instrument that impaled him, pulling himself along it, sliding himself along my so-sensitive cock.

Heavenly does not begin to describe the feeling of a beautiful boy's virgin asshole fucking itself on my cock. My erect penis stuck up into his little body, with pressure on all sides, pushing, pushing, pushing against it, surrounding it, always pushing tighter. Every part of my cock was stimulated, all the way up and down, all of it in this suction chamber. As he raised and lowered himself it rubbed against my glans, against my shaft, against everything that gives me pleasure. The ass was warm and wet, and I could feel the heat of the kid's inner body passing into my erect organ. I felt every one of his muscles when they spasmed against the cock; I felt every time he shifted his weight or moved around because it pushed against me in some new way. Up, he went, and down, up, and down, like the helpless fucking machine that he was.

I was close, so close. "Faster, slave!" I called to the boy, and he complied, forcing himself up and down faster, thighs straining to lift himself up and lower him down along my firm, unyielding cock. It rubbed against his soft body as he rocked up and down, taking in the whole cock, up, pulling on it, rubbing on all sides, then down, surrounding it completely again, all the way to my balls, then up, that pull to my sensitive glans, then down, totally engulfing it, then up and down and up and down. I reached up and grabbed his hips with my hands, pushing him up and down faster, anything for more of that sensation, rocking his body along my cock, until finally, finally, finally I pulled him down, slammed him down all the way on the cock, and it jerked, and I shot my cum deep into my new slave, who had once been a simple schoolboy. It had been so long in coming, and so much cum spewed out into that tiny space. I could feel the pushback, feel the warmth of my sperm spreading within his body, deep within his body as I thrust and spasmed and left my seed within him.

Finally, I collapsed backward limply. He collapsed on the bed too, but I drew him up to me, his body against mine, and I kissed him. We snuggled like that on the bed, the tiny boy's breathing little body nestled within mine. "And now, my little boy-slave," I said into his ear, "you have given all of yourself to me."

The boy whimpered. I caressed him, running my hand along his hair, along his body. He pulled closer to me, an animal desperate for any kind of affection despite what I had just done to him. "It hurt?" I asked.

He nodded into my chest, and I could feel the wetness from his tears of pain. I held his head close and leaned down, kissing him on the top of his hair. "Sometimes," I said, "it will hurt. But you'll get better at it."

He paused. "I don' wanna."

"I know," I said, "I know. But you're my slave. It's how it has to be."

"But–"

"Shhhh!" I interrupted him. A moment passed, and then I spoke softly to him. "It's all right, slave. Don't talk." Still I caressed his naked body. "Boys like you were meant to serve men like me. Meant to give me pleasure and obedience. You're a slave now, and you'll be a really good slave."

I felt his body shift against mine. His nose rubbed against my chest as he shook his head, still resisting the idea of being my slave.

"No," I said to the boy curled up against me, "there's nothing you can do about it. But don't worry. I'm always going to be here for you. You might grow to appreciate it, eventually."

For another moment we lay together in bed, boy and man, slave and master, our naked bodies curled together.

"Slave," I said, "I could lay here with you forever, but it's time for your next task." The boy turned his head up from my chest, looking up at me with those wide, chocolate-brown eyes.

"There's more?" he asked, softly.

"My cock is dirty from fucking you. Go lick it clean."

His mouth dropped open.

I gave him a pat on the head. "I told you, Jonah, you were meant to give me pleasure and obedience. Now lick my cock clean."

Slowly, reluctantly, compelled by his own belief in his servitude, the boy crawled down to my cock and began licking it.

Soon he would have to go. I would shower him, and dress him again, and send him home to pretend that nothing had happened when his parents got back from work.

But for now he had this last task to do.

"Oh, yes," I moaned as his soft tongue lapped against my cock.

***

The next day, Jonah arrived home from school to find his mother, father, and his brother Ryan sitting together on the couch as the Imperio swung between us.

Oh, Ryan. He was fifteen, a few inches taller than five feet [1.55], and an underdeveloped young teenager. I wondered if it rankled him that his friends were shaving and had wider shoulders, while he had a smooth, round face and a thin boy's frame. Everything about him spoke of someone still young, still growing, still frustratingly caught in adolescence. His voice had deepened somewhat, but he didn't have the rumble of man's voice. He had a trace of fuzz on his upper lip but his cheeks were still smooth. His legs had only the first trace of hair, but his stomach was hairless. He had a broad face with its easy smile, but one that looked like it could belong to someone much younger. He had those slightly-clumsy, oversized hands and feet that told you he had yet to hit his full growth spurt. He was caught in the middle ground, more than a child but much less than a man, just coming into his sexuality and trying to deal with all that entailed.

There was a budding sexuality about Ryan; not just his developing leg hair and his deeper voice, but how he carried himself, how he sought to be looked at by others. Whereas Jonah's hair was somewhat messy and disheveled as kids' hair often is, Ryan had his neat and styled. The kid was trying to navigate the world, trying to be an adult, trying to find a girlfriend, and, well, trying to make up for being less developed in other ways.

In short, Ryan was the sort of kid that made me sad I wasn't more attracted to teenagers. Don't get me wrong, I would've fucked him gladly if I didn't have better options. The boy was the picture of youthful vitality and beauty, and I couldn't help wishing that he was a few years younger. Perhaps there would be other ways to use him, though 3;

Anyway, Jonah came in on us just as I had finished hypnotizing his family. He was clearly shocked to see his family there and under my control. I don't know what he'd felt about the previous day, when he'd been enslaved and fucked. Did he think it had been a dream? After all, he'd gone home after that, and things had seemed normal. He'd woken up the next morning, gone to school 3; I'm sure there had been massive pain in his ass, but maybe he thought it was over.

"Ah, good, slave," I said, "strip."

"Yes, master," he said, despondently.

I don't know quite what his family expected, but it wasn't this. Jonah, my slave, immediately started to remove his clothes. He seemed angry, throwing them around the room as he removed them. His shirt landed on a lampshade, very nearly toppling the whole lamp. His pants ended up on a chair. His underwear hung off the corner of the TV. I stared back at him impassively, as if to communicate the futility of his protest. His family just gaped as they watched.

"Fuck," said Ryan, breaking the spell. "Fuck 3; you're a pedophile."

"Oooooh," I said, mockingly. "And the prize goes to 3;"

"Fuck," said Ryan.

"Are they your property, too?" asked my obediently-naked slave.

"Jonah!" said his father.

"Mmmm," I said, "not in the same way you are, but they'll do what I tell them. You, though, you're my special little slave. Now come sit on your master's lap."

"Please," said Mrs. Sutton, "let us go. We're just a family, we haven't done anything wrong!"

Jonah clambered up onto my lap, his small weight pressing down warmly on my thighs. The naked boy squirmed once he was up there. I started to fondle him, rolling the nine-year-old's tiny balls between my fingers and stroking his cock a little bit. The boy was warm in my touch. Mr. Sutton turned away, while Mrs. Sutton and Ryan watched in horror as I played with the little child's genitals.

"Jonah," I said, "is now my slave. Isn't that right, Jonah?"

"Yes, master."

"There's nothing you or anyone can do about it."

"Please," said Mrs. Sutton. "Use 3; use me instead."

I chuckled a bit. "Believe me when I tell you, Mrs. Sutton, that is the worst offer you could possibly have made to me." My finger started idly working its way into Jonah's belly button. "Anyway," I said, "let's quickly handle some details." I pulled out the Imperio from my pocket with my right hand, while my left hand continued to fondle the boy, and I started to command the family again.

It was simple things. Not to interfere. To welcome me into their home. Not to tell anyone. That sort of thing.

"Thisss will never work," slurred Mr. Sutton at some point, through the fog of the gem. "You c-can't control people like this."

"I think," I replied, as Jonah sat naked on my lap, now sucking my left forefinger as I pulled it in and out of his willing mouth, "that one look at your son will tell you otherwise." For a moment, I let the slurping noises from Jonah's mouth be the only sound in the room. Then I continued. "Now, feel the tendrils of the Imperio in your mind. You welcome it. You want it to tell you what to do. It controls you completely."

Finally, we were done. The family was programmed satisfactorily. "Now," I said, "let's give you one more demonstration. Ryan, you said I was a pedophile?"

The baby-faced teenager nodded.

"Well, that was very astute of you. Jonah," I commanded, "get on your knees."

The boy climbed off my lap and knelt.

"Now open my fly."

"Oh, god," said Mr. Sutton.

"Now take out my cock."

"Please," said Mrs. Sutton.

"Now suck on my cock, Jonah. Put it in your mouth and suck on it with all your strength."

Jonah looked up at me with eyes laced with sadness. He turned to stare at his family, and they saw that he was crying. But then he turned back around, and he opened his mouth, and he took the cock into his waiting, warm little boy's mouth.

"You see?" I said, pumping my hips forward. "You see what a wonderful slave he is?" I sat there, my legs spread apart, as the naked, kneeling child buried his face in my crotch.

"He doesn't want to do this!" said Mrs. Sutton. "Can't you see that!"

"Mrs. Sutton," I replied, "your son is a slave." I grabbed the back of Jonah's head with my hands and I pulled him back and forth along the cock, shoving his head along to pleasure me, deeper with each thrust. "He is my property now, to do with as I wish. Isn't that right, boy?"

I paused a moment and grabbed the boy's hair, pulling him off of my cock. A string of spit hung between his wet mouth and my erection. He looked up at me, a beautiful naked boy sitting on the legs folded underneath him, pathetic and fucked, and he answered my question. "Yes, master."

"Did I order you to say that?"

"No, master."

"Then why did you say it?"

"Because it's true."

"Jonah, stop saying that!" said Mrs. Sutton. "It's not true!"

Jonah turned around, spit and snot creating a halo of wetness around his lips. "It is, mommy," he replied back. "He owns me like 3; like a pair of shoes."

"You can't own a person!" she answered. "Jonah, stop, fight it, fight it!"

"It's all right, Jonah," I said. "Go back to sucking me."

"Yes, master," he replied, and his lips closed once again around my waiting cock.

"Let my son go!" said Mr. Sutton. "This is disgusting and illegal!"

"Oh for God's sake," I said, shoving Jonah's warm mouth deeper around my cock. "Everyone just don't talk until I'm done here."

So, with no choice, they watched silently as I tugged on Jonah's head, pulling him deeper and deeper onto a cock that was far too large for him. We listened together to Jonah's moans and the sounds of slurping and his gasps every time he could draw a breath. We saw his bare shoulders heave the first time the tip of my cock grazed the entrance to his throat. We saw as he started to gag when I shoved even deeper, when I forced the almost-virginal boy to deep-throat me. The way his face turned red with the pressure of my cock and snot dribbled out of his nose. My moans of ecstasy as the boy sucked and pulled on my sensitive cock, as he took it further and further in, as this tender, small, nine-year-old little child was compelled to bring me to the height of pleasure.

"Fuck yeah," I said, as I shoved him back and forth along my shaft. "This kid is a perfect slave!" The kid had never experienced anything like this. He'd never felt his body used for the pleasure of another. Never been violated, never had someone insert something into him, never felt something so real and visceral and overwhelming. He'd lived a normal kid's life, and now he was kneeling, helpless, gagging as a man stuffed a cock down his throat and he felt his whole life shift underneath him.

I grabbed the back of that tiny head and I pulled, pulling him deep, holding my cock down his throat as his eyes went wide and his body clenched and a muffled "ghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" echoed forth. I pushed him back, a moment of reprieve as he gasped a huge breath, and then I pulled him on the cock again, deep on the erect rod, deeper and deeper, so tight in this helpless boy, my cock deep down his tiny tiny throat. I shuffled my hips, moving them back and forth and feeling the pleasant rubbing of his abused insides against my engorged cock. "Take it all in, my little slave," I said. "Take it all in."

Finally the pressure and warmth and wetness of my slave's mouth overwhelmed me and I felt my cock lurch forward, drawing out another grunt from the child as it pushed against his throat even more. There was a beat, a tense moment where my fully extended cock hung there; and then I came, cum pouring out of my embedded dick, pulsing and pulsing and pulsing inside of him, dumping my cum deep into his throat, knowing he could feel it ooze down within him. As the boy knelt and took it, the whole family watched: they watched as his shoulders heaved up and down; they watched as my cock pulsed and pulsed and pulsed within the little boy; they watched as the boy seemed to swallow something again and again (and they all knew what it was); they watched as I cried out "yaaaaaah!" in absolute pleasure. Finally, gasping, I pulled out. Jonah collapsed to the floor.

Mrs. Sutton was crying.

"Ew, yuck," exclaimed Ryan, probably not even aware of what he was saying. "Disgusting!"

"Oh," I said, "really?" I stood, prone boy lying at my feet. A drop of cum fell from my cock onto his bare back. "Jonah," I said, "I'm going to go have a talk with your brother." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a bright green speedo. "From now on, my little slave, I choose your clothing, like a doll. In fact, the only clothing you may wear in this house is the underwear I select for you. Whenever you get home from school, you will immediately strip down to it. Now put this on," I said, dropping it at his feet. "Tonight we'll Amazon Prime you some more. And don't clean yourself up, I like you like this."

"Yes, master," said Jonah weakly, barely more than a whisper. I walked over to Ryan while Jonah lay there, naked, coughing, his whole shivering little body a testament to what he'd just experienced, covered in sweat and tears and snot. The boy slowly pulled the speedo towards him and started pulling his shaking legs into it without even getting up from the ground.

Meanwhile, I stepped right up to the older brother, towering over the sitting 15-year-old who still hadn't come close to his full height.

"Well," I said, getting ready to have some fun with the kid, "you think that was disgusting?"

Ryan stared at me, scared, terrified that he'd spoken. "Answer me," I insisted.

"Yeah," he said, looking down at his feet.

"Leave him alone!" insisted Mr. Sutton. "Just 3; not Ryan, too."

"Parents, stay quiet and stay seated." I paused, still standing over the sulking teenager. "Ryan, Ryan, Ryan," I mused, as he looked up at me. "Ryan Sutton. Tell me, have you ever had sex?"

Ryan didn't reply. He turned to look down at his feet in their white socks, toes fidgeting nervously.

"Come on now," I said, "answer me honestly. Have you ever had sex?"

"N-no," he answered, eventually.

"No!" I said. "What a good little boy," I said in an exaggerated baby voice. "I'm sure your parents here are very happy to hear that."

Ryan sat there, blushing furiously, fingers intertwining nervously, still looking down at his feet.

"But you're a horny little teenager," I continued, ignoring his discomfort. "You want to have sex, don't you?"

Ryan just kept looking away.

"Ryan, I order you to answer all of my questions honestly. Do you want to have sex?"

"Y-yeah," he muttered.

"Ryan, you will look at me and speak clearly when you answer. Have your friends had sex?"

"Some of them."

"And now even your little brother has had sex."

"That – that doesn't count."

"Mmmm," I said, looking over at the sobbing child curled up into a ball on the floor, nearly-naked body covered in all kinds of fluids. "I guess that one's up for debate."

I pulled up a chair across from Ryan and sat down. "So, little Ryan, why don't you tell us all – how much do you masturbate?"

I heard Ryan's mom gasp. Ryan's dad just sat, stony-faced. "Ugh!" exclaimed Ryan, looking at his parents. "This isn't fair!" But he had to answer me, so he did. "I-I masturbate like once a day, maybe twice if I can."

"Oh," I said, placing a hand on his crotch and fondling it slightly. "You are a horny little kid. Very, very horny. Do you like girls or boys?"

"G-girls," the teen admitted in front of everyone.

"Well, my little Ryan," I continued, "you think I'm disgusting. A dirty pedophile. What do you think about sharing all your dirty fantasies with your little brother and your parents?"

"Come on," he said. "Come on, no."

"Oh yes," I said, my hand still roughly running over his cock and balls through his pants, "I think we're going to find out everything. Who do you have your biggest crush on?"

"Her 3;" he replied helplessly, "Molly." He blushed, a strong red tint going to his cheeks. He looked down at the ground.

"Molly!" I said. "What a wholesome name. What do you want to do with her?"

Ryan stared back at me, blushing furiously, his face scrunched in distaste. But he had to answer. "I want to, um, I want to kiss her. Really kiss her. And to 3; look at her. To be in bed with her, and to feel her body. To touch her 3;"

I saw Ryan's mother reach out her hand and hold her husband's in it.

"Anything else, maybe something dirtier in your depraved teenage mind?"

"I 3; I don't 3; I wouldn't 3; this isn't fair!"

"Oh, Ryan, we're family now," I said in a patronizing voice. "We're going to share all our desires. So tell us, what are the dirtier things you've thought about."

Ryan glanced at his parents. "Um," he said, "I mean, I wouldn't do any of this, I don't really want it!"

"But you've thought about it. You'd like it."

"Y-yeah."

"What? What would you like, horny boy?"

"I thought about, um, her drinking my, um, pee, and maybe begging me for it."

"Oooh, watersports. You do have a dirty little mind."

"Watersports?"

"It means games with piss. Now go on."

"Like, she doesn't actually want it, but she loves me, so she does it anyway."

"And sometimes you force her."

"I guess."

"Any other fantasies?"

"Not 3; I mean 3;"

"C'mon," I said.

"Sometimes I get her to, like, walk around naked 3;"

"Wow," I said. "Wow. Molly's this nice, wholesome girl, and you just want to turn her into your own personal slut."

"N-no! No, it's not like that!"

"You have such a hard-on," I said, my hand still on his crotch. "It's totally like that. What must your mom and dad think of you right now!"

"It's not 3;"

"Look at the kid you've raised," I said to them. "A total pervert!"

"Stop it! Stop it!" he shouted.

"What do you think they'd say if I let them talk?"

"I dunno."

"Maybe I'll ask them later. Tell me, my horny little teenager, have you asked her out?"

"Please stop asking me all this, this is really embarrassing."

"No, Ryan, you know very well that you're going to tell me everything. We're going to be very open about our desires with each other, especially since you already know mine. Now, have you asked her out?"

"N-no."

"No!" I exclaimed. "Why not?"

"I, um, I don't know if she'd say yes 3; I don't know if she likes me 3;"

"You're scared, aren't you, kid?"

He looked down and away from me. "I guess 3; kinda."

"Well, my little Ryan," I said, "I am going to fix all your problems. Yes, you horny little teenager, no more worries about asking Molly out or what she might do." I took out the Imperio, swinging it gently in front of him, the blue light reflected in his face. He watched, body all ready in sync, rocking back and forth with the motion of the gem. "Now close your eyes," I said. He did, his young face blank and open.

"What're you going to do?" he said. "Don't 3; don't do anything to me 3;"

"Shhhh," I said. "We're going to imagine something, and you're going to visualize it and feel everything just like it was happening, do you understand?"

"Yes," he replied. Even with his eyes closed, even unable to see it his mind was still tied to the gem. The teen's body swayed exactly in time with it.

"Now Ryan," I continued, "this is going to be a very sexual vision you're going to have, but I command you not to cum. You know what that means, right?"

"Yeah, of course," he replied.

"Good, Ryan. Good. Now, imagine Molly. She's come here to do some studying, and you go to your bedroom. You sit down on the bed and start to pull out some books, and she sits down next to you, but she stops you and she puts a hand on your chest. Can you feel it? Do you feel the warmth of her hand?"

"Uh huh."

"She smiles, and then she reaches over and she holds the back of your head and she kisses you. She just kisses you, and you drop the book, and you hold her. You're together, everything is right, there's a fire and a passion inside you. Do you feel it?"

"Yes," he said, breathlessly. The Imperio swung gently between us.

"You both open your mouths and it's the best feeling in the world, her arms wrap around you and you wrap around her and you can feel the warmth of her body, and your tongues join together as you press your bodies against each other, feeling each other, touching each other, joining together." Ryan's face was now completely red, he was smiling a small embarrassed smile, and the young teen was gasping at the thought. I could see his erection, his hand that had gone to stroke his cock after mine had pulled away.

"She reaches up and she pushes on your chest, she pushes you down on the bed and she climbs on top of you, pushing her body into yours. You're burning up with the heat. She's kissing you, and her hair 3; does she have long hair?"

"Yeah," he said. "Red."

"Her red hair falls into your face, surrounding it as she kisses you. Are you imagining it, Ryan? Are you really imagining her there?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Isn't it the most amazing feeling?"

"Yeah."

"She reaches down and feels your cock with her warm hand while she's kissing you. She's stroking it, and she's cooing, admiring it. She loves you, Ryan. She loves you so much. She's stroking your cock and it feels soooooo good. It's the best thing you've ever felt." I reached down, pressing his own hand tighter against his cock. "Do you feel it, Ryan?"

The teen, with his eyes still closed, nodded mutely, blue light of the gem still rolling across his face.

"She asks you if she can take off your shirt, and Ryan, it feels so good, you want her to touch you more, of course she can take off your shirt, and she pulls it up over your head. Then you take off her shirt, and then her bra, and you feel her amazing breasts 3; you like her breasts, don't you?"

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah."

"She slips off your pants, and you're scared because you have this erection, but she just laughs and pulls off your underwear and kneels down next to the bed and takes your cock into her mouth!" Ryan moaned. "It's the most amazing feeling, isn't it? It's warm and wet inside her eager mouth, and you can feel her tongue rubbing against it, and she's sucking it so that it makes you feel so good. Can you imagine it?"

"Oh yes."

"Then you take off her pants, and her panties, and you see her perfect body, and soon you're both on the bed again, and you pull her close and you feel her slide against you, slide against your skin, she's so perfect, she's everything you ever wanted, life feels so good right at that moment." His cock was straining, it was ready to burst, but it couldn't, I had commanded it not to. "Ryan, you slide into her then, it's your first time having sex and it's magical, perfect, amazing. It's so warm, and so wet, and so tight, and it just surrounds your cock and stimulates it and you love her and you feel her kissing you even while you fuck her, isn't it amazing, Ryan?"

"Yes," he said, breathily.

"Ryan, do you feel how much you love her? How much you lust for her? How you must have her?"

He nodded. He was shaking slightly, quivering with pent-up pressure. Despite my excitement, I kept the Imperio going at a steady pace.

"Now Ryan, all of those feelings, every emotion, every desire you have right now, every pull you have right now, everything that is straining at you and making you want to be with Molly so much right now, that pull that you can barely resist, that need that is consuming your entire soul, you're going to transfer it, all of it, all of those feelings and lust and desire and emotions and hunger and love 3; to your brother."

"What?" he exclaimed. Swing, swing, swing went the Imperio.

"Yes," I said. "You burn with passion for him, it's a fire within you, the most powerful feeling you've ever experienced. Every feeling, every desire you've ever had, every thought of love or sex, it's all about him, all about Jonah, your cute little brother, so ready for you to fuck him, you want him so badly, you want him more than anything, with his perfect, lean little body, you can't believe they make people like him, he's so perfect and beautiful and young and innocent. You lust for his smooth legs, his little tummy, his flat chest and tiny little nipples, those wonderful thin arms, the warmth of his body, his cute little feet, his amazing mouth, his big brown eyes. You want to kiss him, really kiss him, and do more, to touch him, to caress him, to have him caress you, to have him suck you, to fuck him, you want those more than anything, do you understand?"

"Yes, but 3;"

"No 'but's, Ryan, all of those desires, you have it all and more for Jonah. Every desire you ever had about Molly or any girl, from kissing to sex to watersports, you have for him. For him. His body is perfect. Every sound he makes, whenever he moves, that beautiful tiny cock of his, that innocent face, you want him so much, more than anything, you must have him, you must fuck him, that slender little boy, there's this flame burning within you, every teenage hormone and desire you have is focused on that boy, on fucking that boy, on having that boy for yourself, do you understand?"

"Yes, but 3;"

"No, Ryan, no, you must have him. He's so beautiful. He's hot and sexy to you. Every night, you're going to think about his body and find new things that make you crazy they're so beautiful. Every night you're going to think about all that he has to offer, desperately needing it, every little part of him. The way he could kiss you with his little boy's tongue. The way he could take your cock into his tiny mouth, that tight little place, and give you so much pleasure. The way you could jam it up his ass and feel his body move and rub against you, feel his breathing as he holds you within him. You want him more than you ever wanted Molly, much more, you want him two times as much as you wanted Molly, three times as much, it's an overwhelming fire inside you that consumes you, that makes you need him more than anything else in the world, you can't even think of anything else. Every night you think of him you want him even more than before."

"But he's my brother," managed the teen.

"Yes," I said, as the Imperio swung back and forth. "Yes, he is. You're not supposed to want your brother like this, but you do, and the fact that he's your brother, the fact that it's forbidden, that makes you just want him more. It would be so hot to fuck your brother, especially because you're not supposed to. When you think of how much your parents would disapprove, you just want to do it even more."

"But I shouldn't 3;"

"I know, Ryan. I know. But you must. You desire it so much. You want to cuddle with him. You want to have sex with the little guy. You even want him to drink your pee, that would turn you on so much!"

"Nooo 3;" Ryan said, weakly.

"Now imagine your brother coming up to you. Naked, sweaty, that perfect little boy's cock dangling from his legs, my cum still in his throat. He walks up, and he runs his sweaty little hands along your stomach. Can you feel it?"

"Yes," said Ryan. I saw his cock rising up, straining again at his pants.

"He cuddles up against you, and he kisses your stomach with his warm red lips."

"Oooh," moaned Ryan.

"Then he unzips your jeans. Why don't you unzip them now?"

Ryan obeyed while I kept talking, revealing his baby blue boxer shorts. "He unzips them, and he takes out your cock, and he starts to lick it just like he's done for me. Doesn't that feel amazing?"

"Yeah," said Ryan, body swaying, eyes still closed, stroking his stiff cock.

"Then he wraps his hand around it, his warm hand with his warm little fingers, and he pulls it into his mouth, wrapping his mouth around it while it expands inside, all his saliva flowing around your cock, so soft, so wet, he starts to rock back and forth, holding it in his hand while he kneels in front of you, back and forth, in and out on your cock, that slippery, wet mouth, and then he looks up at you with his wide eyes, and he pushes forward and he swallows it all down his throat, all the way down, down to its base, your whole long rod in his throat, down your brother's throat, down your beautiful, hot brother's throat, isn't it the most amazing feeling you could ever have?"

Ryan's knees shook as he nodded.

"Yes," I said to the masturbating young teen, "yes. Ryan, I give you permission to cum if you want to. And when you do, that will seal your attraction to your brother forever, unbreakable, the most powerful force in your life."

"Ohhhhh," said Ryan, stroking his cock now, more and more, back and forth.

"Just imagine," I continued to the newly-perverted teenager as the gem swung between us, "your brother, bobbing his little head on your cock, squeezing it down his little throat, running that wet little tongue across it. Look at that hot boy lying there on the floor, and imagine him pleasuring you! He looks up at you, his wide eyes open, eyebrows raised as he focuses on moving his head along your stiff rod, moving his tongue along it, licking it and caressing it and playing with it. He has it all the way down, and you feel the orgasm coming, all that cum that's going to spill down his little nine-year-old throat, yeah, right down your brother's throat 3; your cock is straining, it starts to pulse, ready to go, and then the cum starts to flow right in that little mouth!"

It didn't take long. In seconds, Ryan spewed out his teenage cum all over his boxers, globs dripping down, landing on his jeans, or on the carpet to join my cum that had dripped off my well-pleasured cock.

For a moment, there was silence between us, between the man with the Imperio and the teen with the cum-covered boxers. Ryan leaned back into the couch, chest still heaving, holding his knees up, not bothering to pull up his jeans over his slightly-hairy legs. His erection went soft. I could see tears in his eyes that he tried to hide from me, looking away. Finally, after a few moments, he turned to me; he knew he couldn't hide the tears. "Fuck you," he said.

"No," I said, "I don't think you will." I started to pace a little bit back and forth. "In fact, my fresh new young pedophile, let's get a few more things straight. From now on, you are a pedophile. Everything you've ever felt for girls or women, now you feel it about boys. You're going to notice every little boy that crosses your path, and the more they're like your brother, the more you'll love them. Jonah is the most beautiful, but you would fuck any boy, oh, it would give you the greatest pleasure. Isn't that right, my freshly-minted little pervert?"

Ryan stared back at me. "Oh God," he said, "it is 3;"

"Good. And one other thing. You may not have sex with Jonah or anyone else without my permission. You can masturbate as much as you want. You can watch me having sex as much as you want. But if you want to have sex yourself, you have to ask for it, you understand? Tell me if you understand."

"Yes," he said, "I understand."

"Excellent. Then you can wake up." I put the Imperio away.

Ryan

Oh God, thought Ryan, This is not okay!

His brain, which had been flowing in molasses before, returned to its usual speed. Thoughts burst through his mind. The man, this pervert, had done something to him.

Ryan looked around. His eyes landed on Jonah, lying used on the floor. Sweet, beautiful Jonah who just lay there after getting face-fucked. "Noooooo 3;" moaned Ryan as he stared at his brother's little body. He wanted to turn away, but he didn't. He watched as the boy, the 3; sexy 3; boy breathed in and out. Little Jonah, his baby brother, nine years old, was wearing nothing but a tight speedo and he looked hot. Ryan could see the outline of his immature little cock and balls through that speedo. He saw the little V of the boy's pelvis outlining his erogenous zones. He stared at Jonah's cute little face, so innocent looking, even though he knew the boy had been used again and again for sex. He'd seen it, he'd seen that face made to suck his master's cock, deep-throating it, pushed down all the way as the kid got red-faced from the strain.

Ryan looked at the way the child curled up slightly, facing away from his master, turned directly towards Ryan's hungry stare. He saw the way those long, nimble boy's legs crossed over each other in a tangle, feet intertwined. He saw the creases in the boy's stomach from the way he curled up. He saw those tender little arms, drawn up to his chest. He was such a beautiful, attractive boy 3;

Ryan couldn't think like this, it wasn't all right!

Teenage hormones roiled his body, an almost irresistible urge to fuck his own brother. The boy shifted slightly on the ground and moaned. Ryan felt his cock rising to erection again. This had really happened to him. What was he, now?

The pervert stood up and patted Ryan on the head. "Aren't you a good little programmed pedophile," he said, almost jovially. "Well, I'm off to fuck your brother again. Why don't you come along."

Ryan had been programmed. There was no other way to describe it; his desire tore at him, overwhelming in its fire, in his need to hold his brother, to caress him, to fuck him. He tried to think of anything else but it was so hard, because Jonah was so beautiful, so sexy. Every movement of his little body was a revelation to Ryan, a beautiful thing, a burning flame that he wanted to satisfy so much.

The pervert (but wasn't Ryan a pervert now, too?) ordered his parents away, and then had Jonah show the way to his bedroom. Ryan had been commanded to follow, and so he did.

Ryan winced as he saw Jonah's bedroom. It was like an artifact from another time – from two days ago. A little boy's room. Painted blue, except for one wall that had Star Wars wallpaper covering it, filled with Ewoks. Toys scattered everywhere, resistant to infinite requests by parents to clean up. A desk they'd bought for Jonah to do his homework on. A bookcase with all kinds of books, from those he'd had as a toddler up to the books he now read in the daily 'reading time' his parents set aside for him. Harry Potter. Percy Jackson. Most of them had been inherited from Ryan.

And now Jonah entered the room, wearing nothing but a neon green speedo, a slave, a sex slave. He was in his room to have sex with this man. Ryan saw Jonah looking around the room, eyes wide. The boy understood what was going to happen, and he didn't like it. Ryan's erection got harder.

"Jonah," said Ryan, "run away. Get out of here!"

Jonah looked at him. Ryan thought about how sexy the kid was, and tried to quash the feeling. Jonah shook his head. "I can't," he said. "It's 3; I'm his slave."

"Run anyway!"

"But he owns me."

The pervert smiled back at Ryan. He held Jonah by the shoulders, greedy man's fingers pressing into the tender boy's skin, casually showing off his ownership of the child. Ryan found himself wishing he could hold Jonah that way, then hating himself for the thought, especially when he saw Jonah's uncomfortable expression. "You see, my little pedophile," said the pervert, "Jonah understands. He's my property. Toys don't run away from their owner."

"He's not your property, he's just a kid!" said Ryan.

"He's also my property, aren't you, Jonah?"

"Yes, master," said the boy, miserably.

"Now take a seat, Ryan. Jonah, get into bed."

Ryan didn't quite know how to interpret his command. On the floor? On Jonah's desk chair? He finally pulled out the chair and sat, facing the bed. Meanwhile, he watched as the barely-clad boy climbed into the bed, and he tried to quell his own dirty thoughts. He saw Jonah's legs stretch as he clambered up, he saw the tight outline of the fourth-grader's butt, he saw boyish muscles strain as he pulled himself up 3;

Even the bed was something to see. He remembered when his parents had gotten a twin-size bed for Jonah. The way Jonah looked so small in that bed. He still did. And now the man climbed in afterward, stretching out, taking up the full bed, tiny boy next to him.

The man ordered the boy to hug him, and kiss him, and soon Ryan was watching as a man French kissed his kid brother. Ryan had never been so aroused in his life. He'd watched porn, sure, but seeing the real thing in front of you was different. Seeing the tongues interlock and slide in and out of each other's mouth. Seeing those bodies curled together, that little boy curled against a big man, hearing the sound of skin against skin, imagining the feel of that smooth child's skin. Hearing the moan of the man in ecstasy, the slurp of the tongues. Watching the man prolong his pleasure, holding and caressing the little child, petting him and exploring that little body. Both bodies, pressing closer together, sliding against each other.

Oh fuck, this is not okay! thought Ryan. But he couldn't help himself. His brother was so hot, he couldn't help imagining himself feeling that soft skin, licking those smooth cheeks. He started to stroke his cock again. The man, still kissing Jonah, had grabbed both of the boy's butt cheeks and was massaging them, sinking his fingers into that supple flesh, at first through the speedo, then starting to slip the speedo just a little bit off. "Ohhhhhhhhh," moaned Ryan as he watched.

"Jonah," said the man, no, thought Ryan, the pervert, he's a pervert, "why don't we put on a little show for your brother?" He kissed the boy deeply again, pulling the speedo all the way up again. Then he sat up and positioned the boy on his lap.

Jonah's whole nine-year-old body was on display for his brother now. The boy sat on his master's lap, bare legs splayed wide, speedo barely covering his package. His small boy's feet hung in the air. His whole body was flushed with exertion. His stomach, smooth and ever-so-slightly curved, his bare chest with those amazing nipples, it was all there for Ryan to see. He could see the faint outlines of Jonah's ribs. His willowy arms, long and smooth limbs extending up to the boy's armpits where the skin so smoothly curved into an upside-down bowl in each armpit.

The man, the horny master of this boy, spread his big hands across the boy's chest and stomach. He pressed Jonah's bare back against his own hairy stomach. With Ryan watching, those hands started to crawl all over Jonah's skin, exploring it, making it theirs. Ryan watched as the man massaged Jonah's chest and nipples, pulling flexible skin back and forth along the small torso. Jonah's whole body reacted to the sensations. The boy rocked his body back and forth with the push and pull of the man's hands. His breathing sped up. His feet extended out, still suspended in the air but now with little toes splayed out. Ryan could see Jonah's face, his unhappiness at being used like this. "Mmmm," grunted the boy.

The man took one of Jonah's hands and pulled it over the boy's head, holding the boy in a rather uncomfortable position – and also stretching out the boy's sexy body. The man took two of Jonah's fingers into his mouth and started to suck on them.

"Stop," gasped Ryan, "please. I don't want to see this."

"Oh, I bet you do," said the man. His giant hands moved down. While one hand slowly and sensuously massaged Jonah's thigh, the other started to fondle the boy's little cock and balls through that thin little speedo.

"Let him go," said Ryan, even as he stroked his own massive erection.

In response, the man started to lower Jonah's speedo, beginning to reveal the boy's immature cock. He reached underneath, the tight garment bulging obscenely as his hands went directly to work on the child's genitals. Ryan watched as the speedo swelled and twisted and grew with each turn of the man's hands.

Slowly, slowly the speedo came down, revealing more and more of his baby brother's private areas, then sliding down smooth, thin legs, hanging on tiny feet until it finally dropped to the floor and Jonah sat naked on the man's lap. The boy's master turned him around then, boy facing man, and the two kissed again, giving Ryan a stunning view of the boy's smooth back and, of course, his ass cheeks.

Still the teenager stared at the two interlocked bodies, and he moaned. He'd cum not long ago, during his hypnosis, and he felt that he was close again.

"Jonah," said the man, when they had finished kissing, "get back on the bed and get on all fours."

"Yes, master," said the boy, and he climbed up onto the bed, on his hands and knees. The man moved him up to the front of the bed and climbed behind him. Ryan realized what he was about to see.

He wanted to avert his eyes. He didn't.

The man spread some kind of lube over Jonah's ass. Ryan tried not to imagine what it would feel like to rub his finger there, along that sensitive private area, to feel those involuntary contractions as his finger went along it 3;

"Now Ryan," said the man, while he continued to lube up Jonah's little ass, "I want you to come up to the bed and stand here."

Ryan obeyed, coming up.

"Pull down your pants and underwear," said the man.

"What are you going to make me do?"

"Just do it."

Ryan obeyed, of course. The man, who had finished lubing up Jonah's ass, reached over and grabbed Ryan's teenage cock, still erect, and slathered it with lube.

"There," he said, "that should make it more pleasant. If you cum, make sure to spray your cum all over your little brother here."

"I 3;" He paused, licked his lips. "I won't cum."

"Whatever you say," replied the man. "But if you do, you know where to put it." And with that, he started to line up and push his cock into the waiting, lubed-up asshole.

"Ack!" cried Jonah, tiny body swaying forward under the push from behind.

"Oh my fucking God," mumbled Ryan. He held his hands at his side, forbidding himself to touch his cock, and still his erection was rock hard from watching his brother get fucked by this guy. He looked at that tiny, slender, smooth fourth-grade body as it swayed back and forth, as more and more of that cock entered into it, and he could barely take it. He tried to think of something else, anything else, something disgusting or wrong, but this was disgusting or wrong, and each time he managed to go somewhere else in his mind, Jonah would moan or cry out or yelp and he'd be right back on that hot little body as it got fucked.

Yes, Ryan had seen porn, but this was different. This was a man thrusting his hips, each thrust pushing his cock farther and farther into the boy's asshole. He could see how tight it was. He could see how each push took effort, forcing its way into the child. Jonah's little hands were balled into fists against the assault. "Augh!" cried the child, as the cock piled deeper into his waiting body.

More and more of the man's cock disappeared into the child's asshole. More than Ryan thought possible, more than he could imagine. It was as if he could feel the pressure on his own cock, feel it pushing down. The pervert was in a state of total bliss. "Oh yeah!" he shouted as he humped Jonah again and again, going deeper each time.

"Yaaaaaah!" shouted the sweaty boy. "It hurts, master, it hurts!"

Still the man shoved more of it in. The cock was almost all the way in now. Jonah's body heaved, his breathing deep and overwhelming, his back rising and falling with each desperate breath. His cute little feet, held out behind him in his doggy-style pose, were curled in agony. Each thrust of the man swayed the little boy forward, and each time the man pulled back Jonah's whole body swung back. Thrust and pull back. Thrust and pull back.

Finally, the man was all the way in to the incredibly tight hole. "Do you feel it?" he asked, rhetorically. "Do you feel me all the way inside of you, little slave?"

"Yes, master," squeaked the boy, answering through his tears.

And then the master started to pull out, slowly at first, then back in, then out again, sliding his huge dick into and out of the tiny child, never quite all the way out, just getting the sensations along his incredible sex organ, feeling the push of that little hole. Ryan had lost himself to what he was witnessing; despite what he'd told himself, he was masturbating his lubricated dick, completely ensorceled by what he was witnessing. He'd forgotten his promise not to cum.

The master pulled that long, engorged dick through the boy's asshole, in and out, sliding along it, gaining more speed now that the hole had been stretched anew. Ryan watched the shaft emerge out of Jonah, then slide back in, emerge out, slide back in, a long rod that he could just imagine inside his brother's anus. The sound and squelch echoed throughout the room. With each pull out, with each push in, the boy gasped, his body rocking back and forth. The master moaned. The slave sobbed. Jonah, on hands and knees on his own bed, felt his body being torn apart by the powerful cock as his master took pleasure upon pleasure from his tiny body.

"Ohhhhhhhh," moaned the master, the pervert, as he pushed his cock deep into the child. "Feel that, little boy," as the cock stuffed the young asshole. Ryan was still masturbating himself, and he reached down, ever so tentatively, and he felt the slick skin of his sweaty brother's back, felt it as it heaved back and forth with each push, as it reacted so completely to this intimate, overwhelming sex. That was when it was too much; that was when the cum squirted out of him, pouring out of the fifteen-year-old's cock, landing on his little brother's back, his neck, his hair, puddles of thick white goo sprinkling over the nine-year-old, mixing with the boy's own sweat, coating him in a layer of sex.

"Oh yeah, you little pedophile, I told you!" said the master, as he shoved his cock deep inside the little child, all the way in, and let loose his own cum within the boy's bowels, stuffing him with the warm gooey liquid. Jonah yelped in pain at this intruder that throbbed deep within him, releasing and releasing and releasing his sperm until finally, finally it was done.

Ryan stared aghast at what had happened. He had just watched his little brother get raped and he'd done nothing. He'd enjoyed it. His cum was pooling on his own brother's back! What was happening to him?

The man pulled out of the boy and Ryan stared at the opened asshole, stuffed full of cum, the first drops starting to leak out. Jonah collapsed in a heap on the bed, cum on the inside and cum on the outside, some of it starting to drip on the covers. He sobbed gently. The man reached up and caressed the crying boy, gently spreading Ryan's cum along the child's back in a layer of slick goop.

Ryan felt sick. He could never let this happen, ever. He backed out of the room. There was no command to stay, and he wanted to leave before the master got any more ideas. He quickly ran to his room and shut the door.

Jonah

Days passed. Jonah's world was absorbed by his evil master. In his mind, Jonah kept comparing the man (he'd learned that his name was Scott Bellarton, but it felt too normal) to the villains he knew from movies. Was his master more like Darth Vader? The Joker? Voldemort? Jonah could never decide.

And yet, what was so raw and painful every day soon became ordinary. Master had told him, "it'll be rough at first, but you'll get used to it," and that turned out to be at least somewhat true. Jonah remembered how he used to quake in fear at the end of his school day, knowing what he was going back to. He threw up more than once coming home those first few days. Each moment was raw, overwhelming, miserable as his body was used and treated like nothing. He felt his humanity just torn away from him as his self-worth diminished.

And then, even within a week, it became ordinary in some sense. His parents had been brought completely under master's control, programmed into a state of dulled acceptance. He walked home from school sullen, but not panicking, at least usually. (Sometimes, he would be inexplicably terrified; he never quite stopped throwing up.) There was a layer of gauze between him and the world, an unreality that separated him from what was happening to his body, that made it something he experienced from a distance, from outside his own self.

There were rules. At home, Jonah was only allowed to wear his tight, brightly-colored speedos (unless he had been commanded otherwise), which served as a permanent reminder of his servitude. Even at school he would feel the smooth fabric slide against his pants and against his body. When he'd go to pee, he'd unzip his fly and there would be a neon pink or bright yellow or whatever color speedo. At first he couldn't figure out how to still use a urinal, so he'd always have to go to a stall and pull down his pants, but eventually he realized he could pull the fabric down with his fly open so long as no one was looking too closely.

Each day, Jonah would come straight home from school. Sometimes master was home, sometimes not, but either way he'd strip down right away. Once he'd stripped, if master wasn't home, he would wait until he arrived. He'd hurry over and kneel, forehead down to the ground. "Master," he'd say in his young child's voice, "welcome home. Your obedient slave awaits your command."

His master's mood would determine what happened next.

Sometimes, master would just fuck him. "You are a sexy little thing," the man would say, and Jonah would see that massive erection straining against the man's pants, and the once-innocent boy knew what it meant. Until he was given permission to get up, Jonah had to stay kneeling in his speedo, and he'd just sit there, shivering and thinking about what it would feel like to have that cock forced in him again, slithering in his body, invading him, dislocating things within him. Even that fear was routine now. Jonah would get taken off to a bed or it would even happen right there on the floor, his waiting, helpless, sensuous little body ready to be used by master. There would be some mandatory time cuddling, or kissing, or licking, and then his master would decide which hole to use. Jonah would get into whatever position he was ordered to, and then the cock would sink into him, penetrating into his asshole or shoving deep into his throat. That layer of gauze would get thicker, and he'd feel the pain, he'd feel the humiliation, he'd feel the subjugation, but it was distant somehow. He'd try to just go limp, but it never worked; his body would tense up, get sweaty, spasm, writhe; he would cry out or moan; and each time he involuntarily reacted to what was happening to him, master would cry out in pleasure. The man's rough hands would feel all along Jonah's skin. All the while, that massive cock shoved in and out of the little child, incessantly, unceasingly, deeply. Eventually master would strain his hips and hold it in deep, and then the cum would pour out, master would plant his seed deep inside his slave, shoving that pulsing cock deeper into the helpless, subjugated kid, and then master would go limp, and it'd be done.

In some sense, those were the easiest days. Get it over with. Then master might let him relax a bit, his purpose fulfilled for the time being.

Other times, the boy and man would go to eat dinner, or spend some time around the house. Usually they did whatever master wanted. It might be sex stuff, or watching some TV show, or whatever. Master would insist that Jonah stay nearby, kneeling or prone in some other way, to serve him if he desired.

Sometimes, master would be more playful. He'd smile and ask Jonah what he wanted to do, with a variety of options. A few were boring: Jonah was permitted to ask for a nap, or to ask for some time to himself. But all of the more interesting options came with 3; rules.

Jonah might say that he wanted to watch a cartoon; Star Wars: Rebels was a particular favorite. (He always hoped that watching it, he'd feel more like a normal boy again, even though it never worked.) Jonah wasn't allowed such entertainment on his own; he was completely dependent on his master for any of it. And if he wanted to watch it, he knew that he'd spend the whole cartoon in master's lap while master played with his little dick – or, sometimes, he'd watch the whole cartoon with master's cock up his ass.

He had some other options too. Video games, where losing to master meant performing special sexual favors. (Even though master could just directly order those favors, he seemed to enjoy the struggle, and Jonah had to admit it added a lot of impetus to win.) Playing some sport, knowing that it might devolve into a 3; 'tackle' game. Time playing on his phone, while master might fuck him up the ass.

What master really loved was watching the child wrestle with his choice. The boy had to choose between boredom or something fun, but knowing that the something fun came with special conditions. Every cartoon or video game the boy chose was a reluctant choice to have sex with his master.

"Boys," said master once. "Go figure."

But the worst of it for little Jonah was when his master ignored him, at least at first. Not because he craved the attention (although the boy was disturbed to see that he had started to crave attention from his master, now his only source of it); no, it was because the rules were that the boy could not rise until master gave him permission. Master would leave him there, balled up on the floor, for minutes, maybe an hour. He'd walk around the tiny child, maybe go eat some food, or watch something on TV, and still Jonah had to kneel, not looking up, forehead to the ground. The boy's body cramped, got pain, maybe a fly would crawl on him, and still he'd have to kneel. Eventually, master would come over and run his hand on the child's back, boy's body shivering in response to the touch, but still without permission to get up. Sometimes master would sit down next to the ball-of-boy, reach out, and gently pull down his speedo to reveal his ass sticking out while he knelt there. Master would fondle Jonah's ass cheeks, or stick something up his butt, or even reach around and masturbate him, all while he knelt, forehead to the ground, squirming under the assault, the invasion of his body, but forced to stay still. "Boys like you need structure," master would say. "Stay kneeling." More than once, the masturbation gave little Jonah an orgasm while he knelt there on the floor, his tender body shaking at the stimulation, still in his forehead-to-the-ground kneel.

He hated it. He hated all of it. But it didn't matter, because he was property.

Jonah's life quite simply revolved around his master. Every day after school, there was master. On weekends, there was master. As it should be. As it must be for this little boy. This little slave.

Scott

And poor Ryan. Ryan who lusted after his brother with a fire like he had never known. Who had to be at home while his brother paraded around in nothing but his speedo. Who had to watch me fuck little Jonah again and again, who had to watch as Jonah sucked my cock, deep-throating it now with newfound expertise, and yet would not partake himself.

"Don't you want to fuck your brother?" I asked Ryan early in our game, perhaps a couple of days after I'd first made him into a pedophile.

He stared back at me. "Leave me alone," he said.

"Jonah!" I called out. "Come here!" The nine-year-old boy came and stood in front of us, back straight, his luminous body on display, feeding into our twin lusts. His face, so innocent, with his youthful rounded cheeks and his deep brown eyes, looked back at us, empty, emotionless, just waiting for his next command.

I turned to Ryan. "Don't you want to feel him up against you?" I reached out and ran my hand gently across Jonah's belly, emphasizing the way the soft skin gave way under my hand. The boy just stood there, taking the abuse. "Feel his life, his energy, as his body slides against your own, as he crawls along your horny teenage body? Feel his legs" – now my hands encircled the boy's slender thighs – "wrapped around you? Feel them squeeze you with each new sensation in his sensitive little body, as he moans and gasps while you touch him and caress him? Don't you want to feel his tongue – stick it out, Jonah – feel his tongue as it explores your body?" I ran my finger along the outstretched tongue, letting it sink into the soft, wet boy's organ. "As he kisses you, pressed against you, locked against you? As he licks you, maybe on your chest, or even your hungry, hungry cock? Don't you want to feel that, Ryan?"

I saw the teenager's eyes slide over his brother's body, taking in the beauty that stood there, ready, waiting. While Ryan looked, I reached out and fondled Jonah's tiny cock through his speedo. Ryan had a huge boner, and I could see how it pulled at him, begged his teenage brain to satisfy his body's urges.

"You can have him," I said. "Just tell me that you want it, and in less than sixty seconds I'll make all of your wet dreams come true. Say it, say that you want to fuck little Jonah here, and he'll kiss you, he'll climb into bed with you, he'll suck your cock, he'll let you fuck him. I'll make sure he does everything you want him to do. Everything you dream about, everything your horny body needs, he'll do."

Ryan's face was flushed, his breathing heavy. His eyes were wide, staring at the sexy boy in front of him, his brother, the boy who wore just a speedo, the young, waiting boy.

"Say it," I insisted. "Say that you want to fuck him. Say it and he's yours."

Ryan just stared, hairless chest rising and falling with each breath, face flushed with desire. He still didn't say yes 3; but he didn't say no, either. "Ryan," I commanded, "take off your shirt." The teenager complied, letting it drop to the side, revealing his underdeveloped frame. "Now Jonah," I said, "put your hand here, on his chest."

Ryan gasped as the moist little hand delicately touched down on his chest. "Oh," he breathed. The child's delicate fingers perched there, slightly curved, just holding there on his brother. Ryan's head rolled back in ecstasy, just from that touch.

"Mmmmm 3;" I said, "now play with his nipples."

Jonah knew what that meant; I'd made him play with my own just yesterday. His tiny hand moved to his older brother's left nipple and started to rub it back and forth. It was instantly erect. Jonah pressed his fingers against it; he squeezed it between his index and middle finger, pinching it tightly; he pressed it into the surrounding skin then let it jump out. All the while, his overwhelmed teenage subject just rocked back and forth, eyes staring alternately at his brother and at his brother's hand as it touched him.

"Do I have to suck on it, master?" Jonah had learned so quickly.

"I don't know, my little slave," I answered. "Let's ask your brother. Ryan, do you want Jonah to suck on your nipples?"

Ryan didn't reply, shivering slightly at unrelieved pleasure.

"Jonah," I said, "stick out your tongue a little bit. Let's show your brother what he's missing." Jonah stuck out his flexible red instrument. I held out my finger. "Lick it," I said. The sensuous tongue licked my finger, wrapping around it, pressing on it with its red moisture, right there in front of Ryan's open-mouthed face.

"All you have to do is tell me that you want it," I told the overwhelmed teenager. But he stayed silent, just staring back at us, mouth agape.

"Jonah," I said, "one lick. Just one."

Jonah leaned forward towards Ryan, bright red tongue sticking out of his mouth. His face made it to Ryan's chest, nose just touching his brother, warm breath impacting on the teen's skin, and then he slid his tongue warmly along his brother's right nipple, leaving a bright trace of saliva.

"Ahhhhhh," a gasp escaped Ryan's lips.

"Good," I said, "good, he really desires you now." I stood over the two kids, both engaged in this unwanted – but extremely hot – sexual experience. Jonah's hand was still playing with Ryan's left nipple, and the young teen was gasping and shaking in a pleasure he couldn't control. I knelt down next to Ryan. "You want him so much," I said.

Ryan, reluctant, finally responded, nodding his head with his eyes closed.

"Think of everything he could do to you," I continued as that little hand kept going back and forth along the teen's nipple, as his brother's saliva dried from his chest. "Imagine hugging him, cuddling with him. Imagine that beautiful head bobbing up and down on your cock. Imagine you, taking him, that erect cock of yours" – now I reached out and stroked his cock, watching him squirm beneath the touch – "inside him, in that warm, tight place that gives you so much pleasure."

"Nuhhhhh-uh-uh," he whimpered.

"Do you want me to do it? Make it happen?"

Ryan opened his eyes, looked back at me. "N-no," he said, "p-please stop!"

"Jonah, slide your hand down on your brother's chest." I watched as Ryan bucked his chest forward at the touch of a sweaty boy's palm. "Now," I continued, "slide it, slowly, down to his stomach."

"Ohhhhh," moaned Ryan, as the heat spread through his body, teenage lust pulling at him, tearing at him. The sweet, sweaty hand tenuously moved down to the gap between chest and stomach, then slowly onto the stomach, then onto the belly button.

"Good," I said, "good. Rub your thumb back and forth along him." The little thumb started to massage the enthralled older boy. "Now keep going down. Down, down, until your hand is right on that hard little cock of his."

"Mmmm!" squealed Ryan, shifting his body back and forth in uncomfortable delight as the boy's hand landed over his pants, right over his erection.

Still kneeling next to the teen, I was so close I could smell Ryan's lust from his body. The baby-faced teen stared back at me as he felt the boy's hand on the fabric over his cock. "Last chance," I said. "Don't you want to feel more of it? Don't you want to share his body? Take your small prick and make yourself a man, stop being a sniveling little virgin, take your cock and shove it in this amazing, beautiful, hot little boy!" I ran my hand possessively along Jonah's chest. "You just have to tell me that you want it. That's all. And if you say no 3; I have other plans for you. Make your decision."

A moment. Sweat flowed down Ryan's brow. Jonah's hand curved along his pants. Then, "n-no," gasped the teen.

Ryan

"No?" said the pervert. "Are you sure?"

Ryan wanted it so much. His brother's touch had been like fire on his skin. His soft fingers, his delicate hand, so warm. It felt like each of them had burned into him with pleasure. He wanted his brother more than anything. His fucking brother!

Oh God. That sentence was literally true.

Ryan took a deep breath. He got ahold of himself. He looked back at the pervert, and he nodded. He would not fuck his own brother. He wouldn't do that to Jonah.

"Jonah," said the pervert, "stop giving your brother pleasure. Go sit over there." The relieved child walked over to the chair and sat down. Ryan tried not to, but he couldn't resist watching Jonah's nimble body as he strode to the side, looking at the boy's rounded ass through the speedo. He saw that the pervert was looking at his brother the same way, and he didn't like that one bit.

"You think this is the noble thing?" the man said to Ryan. "He's getting fucked anyway. Put your teenage dick inside that little ass!"

Ryan finally turned away from his brother to look at his tormentor. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "You're sick, it's disgusting. I mean, I get it, I get that you're 3; that you're a pedophile. I guess that's why you want to do all that stuff to Jonah, and you deserve to die, like really, you deserve to be fucked and killed, but I get why you want to do it. Why me? Why are you doing this to me?"

"You want to be turned back?"

"Yeah," said Ryan. "Please."

"See," replied the man, "that's what I don't get. You've been living all this time with this stunningly beautiful boy and you never appreciated that. You were attracted to Molly but she wasn't attracted to you back. Now you have a chance to get the ultimate pleasure, the thing you most desire, the ultimate teenage dream right here at home. No questions, no awkward dating, no rejections. It's a gift, and you're upset about it."

"Please make me straight again."

The man laughed. He laughed at Ryan, and then, "no." When he stood up, the man towered over the hypnotically-bound teen. "Ryan, I gave you a chance to have nice sex with your brother. To enjoy each other, to feel the pleasures of his body. But you turned me down." The man paused. "Now, I think I'm still going to give you that option, but the terms are 3; a little bit different. Jonah, come and stand here."

Jonah stood at attention in front of his brother, beautiful body on display. Just his bright orange speedo covered him, tight on his frame, outline of his cock and balls visible through the fabric. Ryan felt his cock twitch through his pants. Again. Jonah was so beautiful but he couldn't let himself think that, he couldn't or then he'd give in and he'd hurt him and be no better than this man.

"You can go through a life of celibacy and frustration," the man was saying, "living with this beautiful boy, never knowing his touch, never feeling the wonders of his body. You could live that life." The man stood behind Jonah and rested his hands on the boy's shoulders, rising and falling with each soft intake of breath. "But now, my little teenage pervert, if you ever want to feel his warm touch, if you ever want to feel him kiss you and caress you, if you ever want to feel your raging dick in his mouth while he pleasures you, while he sucks and licks it up, if you ever want to slide your dick into his waiting asshole and fuck this waiting body all the way, watch as he takes your full manhood inside him and he moans and he cries and he whimpers, if you ever want to enjoy the amazing wonders that are in this young Sutton body 3; then you have to admit the truth to me." Ryan stared back, trying to tell himself that this did not sound appealing.

"From now on, Ryan, it won't be enough just for you to tell me that you want it. You had that chance." The man placed his hands on Jonah's shoulders. "No. No, now you have to go a bit further." The man circled around the waiting child. He leaned down, gesturing to indicate Jonah's whole beautiful body, showing him off. "You may fuck him, you may fuck your brother Jonah, fully and however you want, when you accept him for what he already is to me. When you tell me that your brother is nothing but a little fucktoy meant to be used by men like us. That he is our little bitch." The man grabbed Jonah's balls and playfully tugged on them. Ryan winced as the boy reacted in pain, curling his feet and digging his toes nervously into the carpet. Jonah stared back at his brother, face a mask of sadness. "No more 'let's have a bit of sex.' No more half way. You have to agree to go all the way. When you agree that this boy is a slave, property, that you will use this boy for your own pleasure without any regard for what he wants, then you may have him. Not before."

Ryan looked into Jonah's eyes. "I'll never say that," he responded.

"Then you'll never, ever in your whole life experience real sex. Eighty years as a virgin, never getting that most basic human experience, always wrestling with your desires, always hungry but never able to satisfy your needs."

Ryan didn't reply. The man sat down. "Jonah," he called, "come here and sit on my lap." The obedient boy came over, and soon they were kissing, and cuddling, and then fucking in front of Ryan, who watched, shaking with pent up desire, as that massive cock disappeared up that tiny boy's asshole. He wondered at how the huge thing fit as it slid into the boy. He thought about how it must feel for it to be inside Jonah. Wouldn't his cock would hurt less, because it was smaller, less developed? But he couldn't think that. He couldn't justify it. Oh, what would it feel like even to stroke Jonah's trembling, hairless little body that way?

Ryan sat there, and watched, and struggled.

***

A couple of days later, Ryan was in his room as usual, door locked, trying to get some solace and stay away from temptation. He'd canceled hanging out with friends. He just didn't understand his life anymore, and he didn't want to accidentally draw them in to this mess he was in. The lanky fifteen-year-old had skipped track practice. Once, he'd run track to try to attract girls. Now he didn't understand it any more, didn't understand himself, and didn't even want the girls.

He still tried to distract himself sometimes, playing some games online with friends, but it didn't feel the same. There was too much going on. He couldn't lose himself in the games, especially when the house reverberated with the sounds of his brother being fucked in the next room over.

The truth was that Ryan was growing more and more isolated. He was becoming a frustrated, repressed teen boy, lying in his room every day, powerful erection tearing at him as he dreamed of his brother's smooth, slender, tiny body and longed to slide his fifteen-year-old dick into it.

But this day was not like the other days. On this day, Jonah was not being fucked, at least not right now. ("I'm not in the mood to use you right now, slave.") The boy, free to wander, went to his brother's room and knocked. Ryan considered not answering, not risking more exposure to his brother in his bright speedo.

"Ryan?" called Jonah's soprano voice.

Ryan felt his cock jump a bit. His brother. He thought, briefly, that maybe the master had ordered Jonah to come here and suck his dick, whether Ryan wanted it or not. He hoped so. Then it wouldn't be his fault, it would be something that just happened. The little boy, ordered to come in and take Ryan's pulsing cock into his mouth, wrap his warm little lips around it 3;

Argh! No, Ryan wasn't allowed to wish for this, he should just keep the door locked, not let Jonah in 3;

"Ryan?" called Jonah again. "You in there?"

"Yeah, what's up?" he finally answered.

"Can we 3; can we talk?"

Ryan seriously debated leaving the door closed. Don't let him in. Don't feel the temptation. Don't 3; but it was his brother, his brother who was suffering in ways Ryan couldn't imagine. Ryan pulled himself up and opened the door. There was Jonah, sure enough, standing listlessly, beautiful naked body on display except for a bright yellow speedo.

"Hey, J," said Ryan, awkwardly. He tried not to look at his brother's body.

"Hey," said Jonah. He shifted uncomfortably. Ryan felt his cock stiffen as he looked down at Jonah's taut little stomach, and he shivered. He tried to think about something else. Change the topic.

"You all right?" asked Ryan. It was a stupid question, of course.

"I'm 3;" started Jonah, and then started to cry.

"C'mon," said Ryan. He put a hand on Jonah's shoulder, guiding the boy into his room. He tried to ignore the warm tingle of his brother's skin even as he almost unconsciously rubbed his fingers against Jonah's bare shoulder. They settled on the teenager's bed, Ryan still struggling to control his boner.

"I 3; is this 3; is this how it's going to be forever?" asked Jonah. Tears flowed down his face.

"I dunno, J," said Ryan. "I dunno." Oh God, thought Ryan, don't lean against me please don't lean against me but maybe you could lean against me no please don't lean against me 3;

"Mom and dad, they don't care, they 3;"

"He made them not care," said Ryan, sitting there awkwardly. "It's his fault." Ryan reached out, wrapping his arm around Jonah's shoulder. He wanted that touch so badly. But this was all right, right? This was the way to comfort his kid brother, he was supposed to do this.

"What difference does that make?" asked Jonah, bitterly. "They still don't."

Ryan shook his head – he had to remind himself that they were talking about their parents, and the pervert's control. "They still love you, Jonah. They can't show it, but they do." I should tell him to leave, thought Ryan. Instead, he held the boy tighter, pulling him close. Jonah's nearly-naked body went limp, curling up against his older brother. Ryan could feel the child lightly sobbing.

"It hurts so much," he said.

"I know," replied Ryan. Ryan was stroking along the side of Jonah's ribcage. Does it feel comforting or sexual? Ryan wondered. Does Jonah feel something off?

"And I have to keep doing what he says, even though I don't want to."

"I know," said Ryan. "Me too."

"I hate being his slave. I hate being owned by someone. It's not like mom and dad used to be 3;"

"You're not 3; he doesn't own you 3; you're not a slave, J," said Ryan. "You're a boy who's getting abused by a bad man."

Jonah looked at him. "I am a slave," he insisted.

"You're not," said Ryan. "You shouldn't lose who you are."

"But I am a slave. That is who I am," said the child, getting angry.

"Whoa, calm down!"

"I can't change it! I can't, I can't! I'm property, it's what I am. It's what I am!"

"You don't have to think that just because he tells you to think that."

"Just like you don't have to be like him because he tells you to be?" Jonah spat out.

That stung, and Ryan hesitated. He looked at Jonah's sexy body lying against him, red-faced, upset, crying a bit. Ryan took a deep breath. "We'll find a way out of it," he finally said.

"Really?" asked Jonah. He curled up tighter, dropping his head into Ryan's lap. Ryan shivered, and the hormonal teenager started to pat the fourth grade boy's head with his other hand.

"I hope so," said Ryan. "I'm trying."

"I'm so tired," said Jonah.

"I know, J," said Ryan. "I know. We have to stay strong," he said in a whisper. "You and me, we have to be strong."

Jonah lay quietly, peacefully in Ryan's lap. Ryan slowly ran his hand through the boy's thick, light brown hair, feeling those thin, full strands as they sifted through his fingers. He was so small 3;

"J," said Ryan, suddenly, "has he actually ordered you not to run away?"

"To 3; no, I guess not," replied the boy, sleepily.

"So why don't you do it?" said Ryan, getting excited. "Run away. Tomorrow. Instead of going to school, just leave, get out of here. Don't come back."

Jonah lay there, not really replying.

"Do it, before he tells you to stay!"

"I 3;" said Jonah, "I can't." He turned his head down, into Ryan's pants, letting Ryan's hand stroke the back of his head.

"I thought you said he didn't order you to stay."

"He didn't," said Jonah, voice muffled against the pants.

"So go!"

Jonah seemed to lay there a moment, then he turned himself over. His body twisted on the bed, head still on Ryan's lap, until he was facing up at his brother. "I can't leave," he said. He seemed to hesitate, boyish mind struggling with how to explain this. "I'm my master's slave. His property. I can't leave."

"He didn't tell you to stay!"

"It 3; it wouldn't be what a good slave does."

"But why not?"

Jonah looked up at his brother, despairing of explaining this complicated concept. "It just doesn't work," he said. "It'd be like stealing."

"Stealing? Stealing what?"

"Me."

Ryan gaped. "Are you crazy? Get out of here! Go!"

Jonah's face got mad. "I CAN'T," he said, yelling. "I can't! Please stop talking about this!" Jonah turned to his side, facing away from his brother.

"Just 3; just think about it," said Ryan, helplessly.

Jonah shrugged. "I dunno," he said. It was a dismissal. Ryan knew the boy wasn't taking it seriously, and now the boy was ignoring him.

Jonah curled up tighter against his brother, drawing his slender, hairless legs up to his tummy. Slowly, unconsciously, he brought his right hand up to his mouth and started to suck his thumb. He hadn't done that in years, he thought he'd outgrown it, but he needed any comfort he could get and he just plopped it in, taking solace in the repetitive motion.

Ryan signed. You could suck something else, thought Ryan, then promptly hated himself for it. Still, he couldn't stop looking at Jonah's mouth, watching that sucking motion as his cheeks curled in to the vacuum made by his lips around that little thumb 3;

"I'm sorry," said Ryan. "It'll be all right." He stroked the boy's hair gently, soothingly.

"Mmmmmm," moaned Jonah. His head was on his brother's lap, and the child was starting to fall asleep.

One hand still gently combing through Jonah's hair, Ryan used the other hand to stroke along Jonah's body, landing on his soft, soft boy's stomach. Ryan still meant it to be comforting, but he could feel the electricity of the touch, the tension within him as his brother's warm body lay against his, as he ran his hand along the side of Jonah's torso. He felt the smooth skin, each of the boy's ribs, the way the soft flesh gave way underneath his teenage hand. He felt his strength against the little child. His hunger grew, and he tried to control it, tried to just be comforting, just help his brother.

But Jonah's body was so nice like that, almost naked, just that tight yellow speedo, outlining his boy's cock and balls, outlining his butt cheeks. The child's body felt like a furnace, Ryan could feel the heat emanating from it. He was such a beautiful, beautiful little boy. Ryan felt each breath, each rise and fall of the child's shoulders, the way his stomach gently moved in and out, in and out, so soft, so peaceful. Jonah was asleep, quiet, asleep, little thumb still in his little mouth. A tiny bit of saliva rolled down his smooth, delicate cheek.

Ryan ran his hand, gently, so gently, along the sleeping Jonah's stomach. He was barely touching, just his fingertips grazing along the surface of that beautiful stomach, that soft, serene curve.

"Oh, Jonah," he moaned.

Ryan's hand moved lower, imperceptibly lower. Jonah slept so peacefully. Breathing in and out, the soft rise and fall of his body, tranquil and quiet. "Oh, Jonah," he said again. Just for a moment, thought Ryan, while he's asleep, he'll never know.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand reached towards Jonah's speedo. He moved indirectly, sliding his hand left, then right, as if the speedo wasn't actually his goal, as if his hand just happened to stumble to that part of his brother's body, but his hand still always went down, always lower, closer to that erogenous zone. Ryan felt the V of his brother's pelvis as his hand got there, and he knew he was almost there, just a little bit farther. Ryan bit his lip. How could he claim to be good if he let himself do this? How did he know he could control himself with these desires if he couldn't resist touching his brother? But he wanted it so badly 3;

Ryan breathed in and held his breath as his fingertips touched down on that speedo, feeling Jonah's tiny little cock and balls through the thin, stretched fabric. "Ohhhhh," said Ryan, as he started to fondle his brother, ever so gently. It was so soft, all cartilage or something, Ryan didn't really know what it was made of, but his fingers just sank into those private regions. "Oh, I shouldn't," he said, but he did, fingers tracing gently around the little boy's balls, running along the length of that little cock. "This is so bad."

But his hand stayed there, he couldn't move it away, he just slowly, lightly kept his touch there, kept caressing and stroking and playing with his brother's privates. He felt that tiny cock slide around at his touch, felt the balls slide back and forth, felt the warmth of this little boy 3;

And then Jonah woke up.

"Augh!" cried the boy, rolling over and falling to the floor in a pile of flailing limbs. Still on his back, he pulled himself away in a crab-walk. "What are you doing?" he said.

"N-nothing," said Ryan.

"You were! You were!"

"N-no 3; uh, I'm sorry, Jonah, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

"See, I told you, you're a 3; you're a 3;"

"A pedophile?" replied Ryan.

"Yeah, you're a pedophile! Just like he made you! I thought you were still on my side!"

"I am, Jonah, really, I'm so sorry, please."

But Jonah pulled himself to his feet and ran out, yellow speedo flashing out into the door, and Ryan staring after him, left alone in the room, feeling miserable. Should he run after his brother? Ryan still had a giant erection, straining between his feelings of love for his brother and his feelings of lust for his brother. Even in running out Jonah was sexy, the way he tore out, cute feet up in the air as he ran, long, slender legs bending up, whole body heaving, on display with just that speedo on 3;

Ryan stroked his cock. He stroked it again. And then he gave in, and went to get some tissues, and he masturbated himself.

Better like this than with my brother.

The next day, Ryan watched when school ended, hoping that Jonah would not come home. But he did, of course. Jonah came through that front door and stripped right down to his speedo, just like usual.

Scott

I was not, I think, an especially cruel master.

Well, grading on the right curve, anyway.

To be sure, Jonah was my slave, and he had to obey me. To be sure, his interests counted for little. He was a toy, a plaything, to be used by me. That was the structure. Those were the rules.

I never went out of way to hurt him. I never tied him up or hit him or anything like that. I simply used him. But, of course, things were not always pleasant, and sometimes I got a rise out of a particularly uncomfortable situation.

It was the Thursday of our second week together, and we were in his living room. His parents were making dinner, and I'd ordered Ryan to come and enjoy my show with Jonah. Maybe he'd finally agree to join in!

I had Jonah flat on his back, my thighs straddling his face, my cock buried down his throat. The nine-year-old struggled underneath me, gagging and coughing as I stuffed my cock into his mouth, forcing him to swallow it; then I pulled it out for him to breathe, and then dug in again. Still Ryan just watched.

"So," I said to the child with my cock down his throat, "isn't tomorrow a special day?" I asked.

I pulled my slick cock out, saliva and precum dropping down onto the child's face. He coughed and looked up at me with those helpless wide eyes. Again I dipped my cock down his throat, forcing it through the small opening.

"When I pull up next time," I ordered the gagging child with the stuffed mouth, "answer my question."

Again I pulled the thick, dripping wet cock out of his throat, and again he coughed. Between coughs, he managed to spout, "yes, mas–"

He didn't finish his words as my cock dipped again into his waiting mouth. "Oh," I said, "and why is it special? Answer me when I pull out."

Again I pulled the elongated sex organ out. "It's 3;" he gasped, "it's my birthday, master."

"Ooooh," I said, cock again dipping into his mouth, his waiting lips closing around it like I'd ordered. "We'll have to do something special for that." This time I didn't pull out, but I started humping his face, going up and down, cock pulling a bit out of his throat, then back in, then a bit out, then back in, sliding down his throat and back, down his throat and back. Jonah's eyes widened at the continued assault, at the lack of opportunity to take a breath, at the feeling of my member sliding back and forth within him and my pelvis rocking up and down on his face.

"You know," I said, my cock still fucking his face, "we should get you a gift." At last I pulled out, and the boy, still pinned underneath me, gasped for air. "Do you have a best friend, slave? Answer me."

"Yes, master," he nodded.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Danny, master," he answered.

"Oh," I said, "intriguing. Now open up." The obedient boy opened his mouth, and in went my cock.

"Here's what you're going to do," I said, as I fucked back and forth in his throat. "Tonight, you're going to invite Danny over for a sleepover tomorrow. It's a Friday night. You'll walk back with him from school, just like you always would, then once he's here, you're going to help me keep him here. You'll help me tie him up and hypnotize him. Do you understand?"

I pulled out. "Yes, master," Jonah coughed, miserably. "But don't 3; don't make Danny into a slave 3;"

"Nonsense," I said. "I will if I want to, isn't that right?"

"Y-yes, master."

"And you'll help me like a good slave."

"Yes, master."

"Excellent," I said. "Now open up."

Again my slick cock dipped inside his mouth. In, out, in, out, I pumped in his throat, coming so close to climax. "Oh," I said, "here's another present for you, boy!" I pulled out abruptly and spewed my cum all over his face as he coughed and gasped, the thick, gooey, sticky white liquid squirting out over his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, some even landing in his mouth. His face was covered in cum.

"Eughhhh," groaned Ryan, whom we'd both forgotten about.

"Oh," I said, "really?" I stepped off of my prone boy. "Stay there," I said to the child, "and don't clean up." I walked over to Ryan while Jonah lay there, cum spewed all over his face. I stepped right up to the older brother, towering a good nine inches [23 cm] over the 15-year-old who still hadn't come close to his full height.

"Are you horrified by what I did to your little brother?"

" 3;yeah," said Ryan, nervously.

"But it was still hot as hell, right?"

Ryan nodded. His cock was still fully extended. His cum-covered brother, lying used on that floor, still seemed not fully recovered. He rolled his head to the side to look at us, mouth slightly ajar, and it was the sexiest look I had seen in a long time. More cum soaked into the carpet.

"Go over to your brother, and let's put some of your horny little teenage spunk to use," I said.

Ryan walked over.

"Now get on your knees next to his face."

Ryan knelt.

"Now, my horny little soon-to-be-kiddie-fucking faggot, jack yourself off until you cum all over your little brother's face."

Ryan started to tug on his teenage cock.

"Yeah," I said, sitting down next to the teen, "imagine that little red tongue, so soft and warm, licking your hungry cock. Imagine him sucking on it, inside that mouth of his. Using him the way I used him, a boy there to service your every wish." I looked down at my slave. "Jonah," I said, "lick just a couple drops of cum off your face and swallow it."

That little boy's red tongue popped out of mouth, licking up at his lips, picking up some cum and then retreating down. Ryan and I watched the boy swallow.

Even as Ryan stroked his cock, I made sure he was facing the boy. "Look down at his body, look at it, lying there on the floor, so warm, so ready. The way his stomach rises and falls with every breath. Those small little hands, lying there on his tummy. Think about what he could do with those, petting you, stroking you, rubbing you all over. Holding your cock and pleasuring it with those warm little boy's hands."

"Ohhhhh," moaned the panting teen.

"It's only normal," I said to him. "You're a teenager. You need this release."

"Stop it," he said breathlessly, still stroking his cock. "It's not 3; natural."

"I could make you a man," I continued. "A man who takes what he wants."

He shook his head.

"Come now, my little teenager. Imagine snuggling up to your little brother, feeling him curl against you, feeling him wiggle as he comes into place against your body, feeling that soft, smooth flesh under your fingers." I put my hand on his shoulder, and the teen trembled underneath me. "He hugs you, he kisses you, your tongues lock. You hold that little body close against you. Soon you'll be able to fuck him, to put your cock right inside him."

"Nuuuuuh," gasped Ryan.

"You pull down those bright red speedos. They're so tight, aren't they? You can see his cock and balls through them now, can't you?"

"Yes," said Ryan. Jonah, still under my command to stay put, shifted his legs a little bit at the mention of his privates. The boy stared at his ensnared brother, cum-covered face looking back at us.

"You pull down those speedos and you turn him over, and there's his ass, waiting for you. You find the hole and you lube it up. You're strong, right Ryan?"

"I 3; I guess."

"You could push your way into that hole, couldn't you?"

Ryan sucked a breath in through his teeth. "I could," he finally said, quietly.

"You could," I said. "You're a strong teenager, I bet you could do it. Yes, you turn him over and you put your cock in, shoving it into that tight little hole, feeling the boy's anal walls push against you, squeezing your cock, yes, squeezing it so beautifully, pushing on all sides as you shove into the boy, shove all the way, until you have him totally impaled on your cock, isn't that right?"

"Ohhhhhh," said Ryan.

"It would feel so good, wouldn't it?"

"Yeahhhh 3;"

"You pull in and out, in and out of the boy underneath you while his warm skin squirms against you, you shove your cock deeper then pull it out then deeper then pull it out, massaged by his skin, by his hot hot body, by his insides, in and out, in and out, in and out of your brother, humping in and out, pulling in and out of your helpless toy!"

"Oh, God," said Ryan, as he started to cum. I helped him aim it at the boy's face.

"Yes," I said to the shaking, orgasming, wildly cumming fifteen-year-old, "take it, take the pleasure, shove your cock in and out of that little asshole, feel it slide, in and out, in and out, the boy must give it to you."

"Ohhhh 3;" said Ryan. Cum poured out of his cock, a first shot that hit Jonah squarely in the eyes, then more and more oozing out, gooey between his fingers, dripping out onto his brother's face, layering up even thicker on top of my cum.

"You shove your way deeper, even deeper into your conquest."

The cum dripped down in globs and spurts, each time landing with a small plop on the young boy's cheeks or forehead or nose.

"He arches his back as you start to cum into him."

More cum pattered down onto the child from the teenager's throbbing member, long dangling threads touching down on his face, bigger drops oozing down out of the penis, onto the tip, then falling down onto the boy.

"You put your seed into him, shoving it in, planting your cum into the little slave while he takes it all up the ass."

Finally, finally the spectacle was done; Ryan had cum, and the last drops were falling now onto Jonah's face which was covered in both of our goop. Ryan gasped again.

"Oh Jonah," he said to the cum-covered boy, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Hold out your hand, Ryan. Hold it out to Jonah's face."

Ryan held out his hand. Webs of cum formed between his fingers.

"Now Jonah," I said, "lick his hand clean."

"Do you see how it could be?" I asked. The boy with the face slathered in cum opened his mouth, parting his red, red lips, and started to lick his brother's hand, slowly gulping down the cum. "You could have that for real," I said to Ryan, but the teen shook his head. Still Jonah licked and licked along his fingers, determined to get every last drop of cum, to clean every crevice. "All you have to do," I continued as the boy licked, "is to agree to use this boy like the slave he is. No more struggle, no more unsatisfied desire. Just take what you want."

Ryan sat there, silently. Jonah was sucking on each of the teen's fingers, taking each one into his mouth down to the knuckle, wrapping his lips around the fingers, making sure they were completely clean. After all, he'd been ordered.

"No?" I said to the frustrated teen. "No, you don't want it?"

Ryan sucked on his lips, and didn't reply.

"Jonah," I said, "stop licking your ungrateful brother's hand. Go to your room, and don't clean yourself up!"

The slave boy brought himself to his feet and padded out of the room, a trail of our cum falling from his face onto his mother's clean carpet as he walked. He made no effort to wipe his face.

"Listen to me, Ryan," I said. "Those who don't use others get used. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Ryan looked back at me, fearful. And then he nodded.

"And you still won't use your brother like I'm offering?"

Ryan shook his head. He gulped. "If you're going to fuck me," he said, voice quavering, "do it." I could see him trying to act strong. Trying to be strong for his little brother.

"Oh no," I said. "Not me. Don't move until I come back."

Ryan

It wasn't fair, thought Ryan, as he waited in the living room as he'd been ordered. They'd had a normal life 3; he'd been happy, Jonah had been happy, they'd been a good family! Sure, they'd had their arguments, but it was all normal, all a perfectly normal family. Now they were some parody of a family, puppets to this crazy madman.

He could feel his lust for his brother, tearing at him, pulling at him. He wondered if he'd be able to keep resisting. Jonah was so hot, so sexy, the perfect little boy just waiting to be used 3;

No, thought Ryan, that's how I've been programmed. That's not really me. Except it was him, now, wasn't it?

Ugh, it made no sense! And now he was sitting here waiting for fuck-knows-what to happen to him and he was trying to convince himself that he wouldn't eventually give in and fuck his own brother!

And so Ryan waited. And waited. What was taking so long?

Finally, the boys' dad stormed in, eyes filled with mindless lust, grabbed Ryan's wrist, and tugged. "Come!" said Ryan's father.

"What's up, Dad?" asked Ryan, getting up and following.

"Just come."

As he walked, pulled strangely by his father, Ryan started to put things together. He didn't want to believe it 3; didn't want to think this might really happen to him.

"What's going on, dad?" he asked, now fearful, as they got to his parents' bedroom. He wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

"Shut up," said his father. "Shut up. You think our master is the only one who can give you orders? Is that what you think?"

"Dad 3;" said Ryan. The pervert was here too, Ryan realized as he looked around, wrist still held by his father. Jonah was there, on the pervert's lap, big white glops of cum still spread along the boy's face from earlier. They're here to watch, he realized in horror.

"He told me 3; the master told me, you've been bad! You've been bad, you need to learn a lesson. Now take off your clothes!" dad instructed.

"What?" said Ryan. "What? No!"

His father reared back and slapped him. "Do it!" he insisted. "You will listen to your father!"

Ryan turned around, speaking to their master, this man who sat there with his cum-covered brother on his lap. "What have you done to him?" he asked.

The man just shrugged as he sat there. He was in this big, heavily-cushioned chair, the kind where the cushions just surrounded you when you sat in it. And the man leaned back, engulfed in the cushions, and he pulled Jonah's beautiful naked body on top of him to fondle as he watched.

No, thought Ryan, I can't think of my brother as beautiful 3;

"Don't look at him!" screamed dad, in a rage like Ryan had never seen. "You will look at me! You will obey me! I'm your father! Now take off your clothes!"

"No!" screamed Ryan. "Dad, think about what you're doing!"

But dad ignored him, and half-shoved, half-punched the young teen so that Ryan landed on the bed. Then he jumped on top of him, starting to pull off his shirt. "You want me to do this for you, or are you going to listen to your father?" Ryan resisted, holding the shirt on, and his dad 3; his father took two heavy swings, punching Ryan hard.

"Augh! Dad!" screamed Ryan.

His dad punched him again. "Are you going to listen to me?"

Ryan panted there, held underneath his father. He couldn't believe it. "I 3;" He knew he wasn't going to fight back. He wasn't even sure he'd win, he was small for his age, and his dad was strong. "All right," he said. "All right. I'll do it. Let me up and I'll do it."

He was going to get fucked by his father. He knew now that it was going to happen. He was going to lose his virginity like this, being raped by his own dad because he wouldn't fuck his brother.

He could 3; he could still agree, right? But 3; he looked at Jonah, and turned quickly back to his dad. Yes, Jonah was hot, really hot, but he couldn't, he saw how that man was holding him and it was wrong, so wrong!

Ryan thought about running, but couldn't the man just order him to stay put? Then Ryan's dad stepped back, keeping himself between his boy and the door, so it didn't matter anyway. Resigned to what his life had become, resigned to this being his first time having sex, Ryan slowly stripped off his clothes, revealing his long and slender teenage body, trying to make it take as long as possible, trying to find a way out.

"Your brother's pretty hot," the man commented casually to Jonah, as he fondled the naked boy's little cock, "for a teenager. Not too big a cock, I bet it wouldn't even hurt that much if he fucked you." Ryan found himself oddly embarrassed, and tried to turn his body away.

"Now get on the bed," ordered his father.

"Dad 3;"

"Do it!"

Ryan sat on the bed. His father sat next to him, and reached down, running the palm of his hand greedily along Ryan's thighs. It was a rough, lustful touch. Just a few weeks ago, Ryan remembered how his dad would just lightly put a hand on his shoulder, give an encouraging pat on the back, and it felt good. He remembered looking at his dad's hands once and thinking about how they were a man's hands, not like his kid's hands, and how he longed to grow into those hands. As those man's hands slid to his cock, Ryan felt exposed and used. Like Jonah must feel.

"Dad, please," he begged. Intellectually, he knew his dad wasn't himself, knew his dad couldn't control what he was doing. But emotionally, he couldn't help but feel that his dad should love him enough not to do this to him.

"Shut up," said his dad. The man's hands continued to play with Ryan's teenage cock, caught between boyhood and manhood, a partially developed organ that still had all the responses of a man; his dad's hand closed around it, fondling it, masturbating it, trying to bring it up to attention.

"Hey Ryan!" called the man, the master. "Look over here if you want some stimulation!" Ryan turned, and saw Jonah, naked and sitting on his molester's lap, looking back at him, watching his older brother get molested by his father. How must this be screwing the kid up? thought Ryan. Even as he worried about Jonah's own mental state, Ryan felt exposed like that in front of his brother, with his dad's hand crawling over his cock.

The man grabbed Jonah's head and turned it around, kissing the child on the lips. Ryan imagined what Jonah's soft, smooth face must feel like, still covered in the man's cum. The bodies curved together on the chair, slave pleasuring his master. Ryan's cock rose to attention.

"Oh," said his dad, "is that what turns you on now?"

"No 3;" said Ryan weakly, "no, it was him 3;"

"I don't care anymore," replied his father, "I just don't." Like a man possessed, he leaned in, leaned into his son's still-smooth chest, and smelled it, feeling its warmth, running his cheek along it. Then he came up to Ryan's face and leaned in and went for a kiss. Ryan turned away.

"Kiss me!" ordered his dad. "Do it or else! Kiss me like Jonah kisses our master!"

The two started to kiss, and Ryan's dad forced it deeper, forced their tongues to meet and forced his son to suck his mouth right back. Ryan could feel the stubble on his dad's chin, stubble that he still hadn't developed. Meanwhile, their master watched the beautiful scene, that tall man and that slender, almost hairless teenage boy locked together, writhing on the bed as they kissed. Although Ryan did not see it, his master had turned Jonah so that they could watch the rape together, and meanwhile he was absently lubing up the child's ass.

The boys' dad pushed his teenage son back to lie flat on the bed, and the man climbed on top to feel his son's warmth. Still they kissed, the man hungrily, the son reluctantly.

Ryan heard a high-pitched gasp. He was able to turn just enough to see that his master, that pervert, had pushed his cock into Jonah's ass while the boy sat on his lap. Despite everything, Ryan's boner surged as he saw the cum-faced boy getting fucked up the ass. As Jonah shook on top of the man, a giant drop of that drying cum started to ooze off his face. As if in slow motion, the cum dropped down to the boy's thighs trailing a thin strand behind it.

"You are a fucking pervert," said his dad.

"No, dad–" He was still embarrassed, it was true, and he still cared what his dad thought even while getting fucked. But his father interrupted him.

"Shut up!" he said. "I told you I don't care any more." The boys' dad pulled off of Ryan and lay down on the bed. "Now," he said, eyes narrowing, "suck me."

"No!" replied Ryan.

"You will obey your father," he replied, "or I will beat you like I've never beaten you before. Now crawl down there and suck!"

Ryan used to daydream about the first time he'd have sex. It was going to be with Molly, and it was going to be magical, gentle. He'd dreamed about how they'd explore each other's bodies, how they'd discover how to give each other pleasure. They'd go slowly, and they'd make lots of mistakes, but Molly would be okay with it because she was learning too, and she liked him.

Instead, Ryan pulled himself up on all fours and he crawled down the bed, like a little bitch, until he got to his father's crotch. The fifteen-year-old took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and took in his dad's cock. He'd seen Jonah do it enough times, after all.

As his lips closed around the disgusting thing, Ryan heard two voices both exclaim in pleasure. "Oh, yeah," came his dad's voice just as the pervert said the same. With the cock still in his mouth, Ryan managed to turn and see Jonah sliding back and forth along the master's cock, like the obedient slave-boy he was. They were both little bitches, thought the defeated teen.

And so Ryan sucked, crawling there on the bed, taking the cock in his mouth. At first just the tip, until his dad grabbed the back of his head and pushed down, forcing the large cock further in. He grabbed his son by the hair and forced him back and forth along the rod, forcing the untrained teen to give some semblance of a good blowjob. Ryan was mumbling, moaning. "Mmph, mmph, mmph," the teen kept saying as he was forced deeper and out on the cock, over and over, aware all the while that his brother was watching his humiliation. In fact, although Ryan couldn't see it any longer because of the cock barreling in and out of his mouth, Jonah's little ten-year-old body, this miniature, immature version of Ryan, the boy who everyone said has the same eyes, was suffering his own abuse. The master had grabbed the child around the ribcage and was lifting him up and down along his cock, sliding his ass up and down along it, raising and lowering the boy in time with Ryan's head as it was forced up and down along his dad's cock. "Ooooooh," moaned the two men in the room who were abusing the two boys.

After a minute, Ryan's dad pulled him off. The teenager lay on the bed, legs spread, gasping for breath. He turned and saw the naked Jonah being bounced up and down on his master's cock.

"Good boy," said his dad. "Now get on all fours."

"Dad 3;"

"Do it, you slut!"

Ryan stared back, and then he climbed up and went on all fours, his ass facing Jonah and myself. His father went behind him, ready to insert. Ryan's cheeks burned in embarrassment, but he might as well get it over with.

He still couldn't believe this was how it happened. He wasn't sure he could even believe that it was happening. He'd never felt so young, so helpless. And yet, here it was.

Scott

"Hold on," I said. I lifted Jonah off of my slick cock and stood up, placing the boy on his chair. I wondered at the lube and precum that was probably now dripping from his ass into the plush chair.

I stepped up to Ryan and Jonah's father, and I handed him some lube. "Use this," I said, "and turn him around so he's facing us while you fuck him."

As I went back, lifting Jonah up and starting to once again slide my dick inside his young ass, Ryan got turned around on the bed and his dad started lubing up his ass. The teen stared balefully at me, eyes furious while he stayed on his hands and knees, humiliated, while his father lubricated his ass. But I noticed that he couldn't help his cock getting hard as a teenage rock while he watched me fuck his little brother.

I smiled back, emphasizing the rise and fall of Jonah on my wonderfully stimulated organ. It was such a smooth sliding, the extended ass easily taking my length as I slid the boy up and down along me. Jonah gave the most satisfying little moans as I came in and out of him, as he bounced up and down on my cock, drops of my and his brother's cum still drying on his face in generous white translucent drops.

"You know, Ryan," I said to the teen, as his father finished lubing him up, "I gave you a choice. Use or get used. You could've been in a very different position in this room!"

And then his father went into his ass.

Ryan might have been bigger and older than his brother, but until this very moment he had been a virgin, and he squealed like the world was ending when his father's inexperienced cock started to push inside of him. "Oh god," he panted, "oh god, no!" Still the man's cock went into him, thrusting deeper each time. Ryan was pushed forward with each thrust, his face red with exertion, his dangling, engorged teenage cock swinging back and forth underneath him, each gasp an exclamation of pain.

Jonah

The giant cock throbbed in his asshole, jammed into his rectum, making him feel weird and used and stuffed. It was a sensation he was familiar with. He knew the touch of his master's hands, raising and lowering him on the extended cock. He knew the coolness of drying cum on his cheeks. The boy-who-was-property understood all of these things, was even used to them. These were the sort of thing that happened to a slave.

Jonah also understood the pain that his older brother was going through. He knew what it felt like to have a cock slithering inside you, tearing into a place where things should not be, breaking you into little pieces (or at least feeling like that). He wondered if it hurt less, since his brother was bigger. That first time had been the worst experience of his life, and now he was watching it happen to Ryan.

What he didn't understand was what his dad was doing, or why Ryan, who wasn't a slave, was being used like this. He thought it was a slave thing.

Scott

"You know," I said to Ryan, "if you'd just said yes, your cock would be inside someone else, instead of the other way around. You'd be having the best experience of your life right now."

Still his father thudded into him. All that was on his father's mind was the lust, the desire, the rape; he had no concern for Ryan's feelings because I had programmed him not to, and he thrust with a force that was all fire, all power, and no empathy. Ryan gasped in pain, biting his lower lip to try to keep from screaming, to try to hold in the torment like he felt he was supposed to. "Dad, please 3;" he moaned, weakly.

Meanwhile, Jonah, five years younger and smaller than his brother but much more experienced in sex, just took my cock up his ass and watched, watched with wide eyes and sympathy as Ryan suffered the rape and the pain and the humiliation. Jonah had been there. He knew what was going through his brother's head.

I bounced the nearly-ten-year-old on my cock, showing off his body for Ryan, who had no choice but to look right at us as he got fucked. I wondered what was going on in the teenager's mind, the fight between the desire I'd programmed into him and the pain of the undesired sex.

"Look at you," I said to Ryan. "Like a little bitch. Used like a boy, instead of being a man." Ryan's slender frame shook with each push of his father.

"Uh, uh, uh," grunted Ryan's dad as he continued to fuck his son. "Mmmmm," I moaned, as I slid Jonah along my cock, the satisfying squelch of lube and moisture inside his hole. We bounced our boys back and forth, sliding them along our cocks, feeling their tight asses engulf us with overwhelming pleasure. Their bodies were smooth, warm, sweaty; helpless before the onslaught of our manhood; entirely overcome and overwhelmed with the power of our thrusts. Jonah moaned, and his head lolled to the side; Ryan drooled, his head bouncing up and down with each thrust, and his fingers were white as they clenched the sheets of the bed. We shoved, shoved, shoved into our boys, so deep, so warm, so beautiful; and they took it, they took it as we made total use of their helpless bodies.

And then Ryan's head shot up as his father started to cum, his powerful cock expanding inside the teen's body, and that triggered me to come into little Jonah, my cock straight up into his ass, shooting my cum so deep inside the little boy. We filled the two little Sutton boys with cum, our little bitches.

"Oooooh," I moaned, as I finished inside my boy.

Their father gasped, and released Ryan, pulling out. Ryan tumbled over to lay on the bed, and he curled into a ball, holding back his tears.

Jonah stood up, ignoring the cum dripping from his ass, and walked over to his brother. I don't think Jonah realized how Ryan now desired him; the boy laid a hand on his older brother's shoulder and asked, "are you all right?" Ryan didn't reply, but even though the naked teen was curled into a ball, I think I saw his cock twitch at the touch of his brother.

Now that his orgasm was done, I saw some semblance of shame coming into their father's eyes. "Get out of here," he said to Ryan. "Go to your room. Go!"

Ryan struggled to his feet. He was in pain from his virgin fucking, and he was limping, but he desperately wanted to be out of this room. He realized that cum was dripping from his ass. Whereas Jonah no longer took much notice of that, he seemed really worried about it, and he tried to stuff his discarded shirt up there to hold it in and catch the cum. Holding the shirt in his ass and carrying his other clothes, he stumbled out to go to his room.

"Let's go, Jonah," I said. And so we left.