Author: Alex, from Portugal E-mail: port_pass@hotmail.com
Any feedback will be highly appreciated.
This story may have non-consensual sex between males. Don't read it if you're not legally allowed to or if it might disturb you.
Part 38
I slept for about two hours until I was abruptly awaken. My brother Carlos had his hand over my mouth to prevent me from making any noise, while he proceeded to pull off the covers and take off my pyjama trousers.
"I'll beat you up if you make any noise, bitch" he warned me, before he removed his hand from my face. He started groping my plump arse, still burning and agonisingly sensitive after the spanking I had gotten from my father in the kitchen. I whimpered in pain and bit the pillow to muffle a yell. He must have noticed how hot and red my cheeks were, but he didn't make any comment about it.
He only stopped feeling my fat arse to open his trousers and pull out his limp dick. He waved it in my face, and whispered aggressively "Suck it, faggot. Make it nice and hard for your pussy". I was too physically and mentally hurt to endure being raped inside my own family again and I tried to plead with him. "Please Carlos, not tonight; don't make me do it". "Shut up and suck, you little slut" was his only reply, together with a mean slap on my aching arse-cheeks. Submissively, I opened my mouth and he pushed his cock in. As soon as he felt my wet mouth, he started to face-fuck me roughly, even with his member still limp.
In spite of my best efforts, it took me a while to get him hard. It was not surprising, after all the times he had cum that day, through the long hours of abuse and degradation he had enjoyed (I think that is the adequate word) at the hands of his paternal family. His own arse and upper legs were covered in burning red welts, with scratches in the places where the leather strap or any other spanking instrument had broken the skin. His balls were still hugely swollen and evidently sore, making him whimper in pain every time his own rough fucking of my mouth pressed them against my face.
His difficulty in getting an erection only made him angrier, causing him to slap my throbbing arse more and more, blaming me for it. "You don't even suck cock properly like every good faggot bitch should. I'm going to make you kneel on the sidewalk and beg every man that passes by to let you suck him, until I make you the best cocksucker whore in town", he whispered. The idea seemed to turn him on, as I felt a jolt in his cock just then. "Right there in front of everyone, your red painted lips wrapped around one smelly cock after another" he added with a chuckle. "You'd be a tourist attraction in no time". His 16 cm [6 1/4"] cock was now fully erect and he was forcing it into my throat. I wonder if he wasn't getting turned on from fantasising about himself, and not me, as the town's cocksucker tourist attraction.
In any case, the fact that he had at last managed to get an erection was no relief for me. He took his cock away and I felt him lay on top of me, digging his knees between my legs to force them apart. "I am going to remind you that, no matter what you saw today, you're still my bitch sister Alexandra" he whispered in my ear "and if you talk about it to anyone, I'll kill you!".
As if to make good his threat, he stabbed his cock into my swollen anal cunt and started at once to hump me as hard as he could. He didn't even bother to lube me. This had little to do with sexual gratification. In fact, I could tell from his whimpering that he was having as much pain as pleasure, with his agonisingly swollen testicles crushed against me. Of course, that might also have been an additional kick-off: after all, having to shoot with his balls in utter agony was just part of his training at the hands of his sadistic biological father and paternal siblings.
All along, he kept rambling about how I was always going to be his bitch; how I would have to keep my cunt nice and juicy, ready to be his girl every night; how I was nothing but a miserable pussy to be used by real men like him. Much, if not most of it, he was telling it more to himself than to me, trying to brush off from his own mind the painful reality of his own masochist perversions. It was evident Carlos couldn't accept in his mind the abject way his own lust made him revel in the degradation the Correia family piled on him, reducing the proud, masculine, jock to a lewd, submissive, transvestite whore. The fact that I had witnessed that was certainly my most serious offence in his eyes.
For several times, he started to loose his erection and had to pull off and jerk himself hard again. He alternated the growling about me being the faggot bitch and him the real male with more fantasies of me (or him...?) as the town slut, dressed and made-up like the cheapest whore and forced to please, orally and anally, every horny local male resident or tourist. He was on about me being hired to keep our local army regiment sexually satiated when he finally managed to shoot inside me. He announced it with a painful whimper instead of a contented groan, evidence that his orgasm was agony for his tortured balls.
With a last slap on my stinging arse-cheeks, he pulled himself off me and presented his cock for my mouth's dutiful cleaning. In a proud tone (as if he felt that raping me was still achievement in itself) Carlos reminded me that I'd be getting plenty more of his cock every night. A few minutes later, he was already snoring loudly in his bed and I eventually dozed off as well.
When I woke up, the pain in my arse, on the inside and the outside, was once again a cruel reminded of all that had happened to me those last days. Worse than the physical pain, however, was the prospect of having to face all my tormentors at school: Miguel, Gil, Nuno, Luis, Thunder... they'd all be there, waiting to use me and abuse me time and time again.
Then, as I gazed into the darkness in my bed, a thought crept into my mind. Maybe I could just find the strength in me to rebel against them. After all, I wasn't the real faggot: Carlos and Luis obviously were, and the others who lusted after my boyish body were also the real perverts, not me. So why should I take abuse from them?
I suddenly felt a force in me that I had never experienced in my life. I knew I could still be a man, that those horrible few days could end up as nothing more than a long nightmare, from which I was now waking up.
It was strange, almost mystical, how this unexpected revelation had dawned on me. In some way, it was like when you bend the branch of a tree: sooner or later, it either breaks, or it snaps back with full force, swinging into place.
I showered, purposely ignoring the visible traces of the rough spanking I had taken the day before. I hesitated when choosing my clothes, but decided to wear trousers, so as not to expose my smooth, meaty legs and avoid being accused of enticing my abusers.
For some unusual coincidence, the whole family was still together having breakfast when I came down. It seemed something out of the twilight zone to see them so normal and ordinary again: dad with his plain suit and tie, reading the morning newspaper over his mug of coffee; Carlos in his track suit going over the sports news; mom wearing a discreet pleated dress, busy warming up my glass of milk, greeting me with a tender smile when I came in.
In a way, this unusually ordinary scene, contrasting so sharply with what the three of them had done just the day before, only strengthened my determination to get my life back on its normal track.
On the bus, I couldn't help feeling a shiver down my spine when I saw the driver and conductor that had raped me just a couple of days before. I took a deep breath and walked past them, and even had the nerve to "accidentally" step on the conductor's foot. He muttered a curse and I mumbled a dismissive excuse, together with a defiant look. The bus was almost full, but I managed to find a seat by the window next to a hugely fat lady. It was uncomfortable to travel crushed between her and the side of the bus, but I felt much safer than standing in the crowded back platform, where my nightmare had started. In fact, before I sat down I saw Miguel, Luis and Marco standing at the back, and I was only happy to be able to delay the moment when I would have to face them again.
As I stepped down from the bus the three of them were waiting for me by the school gate. I tried to ignore them and walk by, but Miguel stopped me and pulled me aside. I saw myself cornered against the fence by the three older boys, with Miguel growling in my face. "What do you think you're doing, bitch? Passing by without even saying hello?" Trying to keep my nerve, I just said "OK. Hello. I've said it, now let me go."
They were taken aback by my cocky attitude, but Miguel chose to ignore it. "We'll meet at the back of the gym on the first break. You'll have 10 minutes to suck us three off. Do you think you can manage that?" They all laughed and rubbed their crotches, to stress the point. To their surprise, I pushed them away and yelled "I'm not going to suck you off! Not today, nor ever! If you faggots want a blowjob, you better start sucking each other off!"
Before they could even think how to react, I felt an arm over my shoulders and saw Gil standing next to me, with Nuno beside him. Gil picked up on my words, taking them as a consequence of the power he had established over me. "That's right" he said, in an assertive tone "our little Alex is MY whore now, so if you boys want to have some fun, you better be ready to pay for it unless I decide to give you a free ride. My associate Nuno will take care of business for me."
The other three boys were astonished at this turn of events. Suddenly, my defiant attitude was not the main issue. Gil, of all people, the half-breed "retornado" (refugee from the Portuguese African colonies after their independence) was challenging the leadership over their little gang of bullies. Visibly enraged, Miguel stepped up to him. "Who do you think you are? I give the orders here, you cheeky nigger!" He hardly finished his words when Gil punched him right in the face and threw him on the floor. Helped by Luis and Marco, Miguel got up. He looked at his two confused henchmen and quickly realised they wouldn't be of much help against the muscular mulato boy. Miguel knew very well he would hardly stand a chance if he decided to take on the challenger on his own. Gil was much stronger, and far more experienced when it came to cat fights. "You'll regret this, nigger" the rich boy barked contemptuously, as he ran his fingers over his swelling cracked lip.
Coming out clearly victorious of this quick battle for power, Gil again threw his arm over my shoulders. "It's my cock you'll be sucking first, bitch" he said, as much for my benefit as for the others. However, it was his turn to be surprised when I pushed him away and shouted furiously "I'M NOT YOUR BITCH! I'M NOT A FAGGOT! I'M NO ONE'S WHORE! GO FUCK YOURSELF!" I walked away, with my heart thumping heavily, not waiting for his reaction. I realised that several boys had been attracted by the scuffle and had heard me, but that was the last of my concerns, after having successfully defied both Miguel and Gil.
As I crossed the playground, I looked back, still fearful of Gil or Miguel's reaction, but I was relieved to see none of the boys was following me. It felt like I had taken a huge weight off my shoulders. I had challenged my abusers and gotten away with it, and now I had the proof that I could actually get my life back.
For the rest of the morning, things went smoothly, which reassured me more. Of course, I saw Nuno in my class, but we simply ignored each other all along. Just in case, I tried to remain as much as possible in the more crowded and surveyed areas of the school, spending the longer mid-morning break in the cafeteria, close to the ladies at the counter.
During lunch-break, I went down to the playground, feeling more confident, but as soon as I stepped into the sunlight I saw Thunder walking up to me, with a vicious grin on his rough, unshaven face. I shivered as he muttered to me "In my tool-shed in two minutes, faggot". It took me a few seconds to muster the nerve to talk back, but just as he walked away, having given me his command, I managed to tell him, in as calm a voice as I could "I won't be there! Not today, nor ever. I'm not a faggot, and if you try to touch me again, I'll go to the Principal, you sick pervert!" Thunder turned to me, with a furious look, but remained calm. He just smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and answered spitefully "Whatever you say, bitch."
Then I saw him look around the playground. Luis was sitting with Miguel and Marco on a bench. The three of them seemed silent, probably still brewing over the events of the morning. Luis saw Thunder looking in his direction. The hairy middle-aged janitor made him a discreet sign, and the blond boy jumped up and walked quickly in the direction of the tool-shed, hidden behind the Chemistry lab. I couldn't hold back a smile, knowing that Luis would soon be happily feasting on Thunder's huge 22cm [8 3/4"] cock.
I was relieved after wining my battle with Thunder, but still felt a little bitter that I had been abused and humiliated even by Carlos and Luis, who were the real sick, cock-hungry faggots.
After having faced Thunder, the man that had raped my virgin arse, I felt reassured that I would now be able to bury those horrible days in my memory and take back control of my life. Looking back, I couldn't even understand how all that could ever have happened.