CHAPTER ONE

 

 

 

"Pull your fuckin' pants down!" Greg ordered.

James obliged. He didn't remember when he'd ever seen his brother so angry. Maybe the time over on Lester Street. Greg had almost killed that punk from the Steel Rains. He'd done it with his fists, too. Pounded the poor sonofabitch into a bloody pulp so that the kid's own mother couldn't ever recognize him. But Greg wouldn't hurt James like that. That's why he'd chosen this way. He was taking out his own frustrations by fucking James. This was punishment only in Greg's mind, not in James'. James had learned long ago to look with pleasure on the run of his brother's cock in and out of his asshole. Did Greg still think that the best way to punish was a fuck? What had supposed to be degrading had evolved from that into something else a long time ago.

"Bend over the Goddamn bed," Greg said.

He was undoing his belt, his fingers pausing to fondle the buckle. Slowly he pulled the leather strap free of the belt loops. He knew his brother wasn't expecting this. James was bent over the bed, his firm young ass ready for Greg's cock, not for Greg's belt. Greg had never hit him. Oh, he'd threatened many times, but he'd never done it. Even the next time he'd gotten furious, over that petty theft at Baleson's Department Store, Greg had fucked because he wanted to give a punishment that would leave no scars. James had such a boyishly perfect body. It would have been a shame to mar it. A butt-fuck would have been enough.

"See, you ain't a man just 'cause you swiped a coupla bicycle chains, you little bastard," Greg had said that first time. "What kinda man'd let himself get fucked like a woman?" There'd been no beating that time. Greg hit the startlingly white ass, seeing the strip of blush form on the creamy flesh as quickly as the leather slipped away.

"Jesus, Greg!" James said, his voice choked on the shock of the unexpected pain. He started to push off the bed, but Greg was on him, sitting on the boy's ass, clamping him between thighs, riding his brother's lower back like a rider on an animal. Greg's left hand clamped hard into James's neck, holding the boy's face back on the bed.

"Didn't expect that, did you, you little cocksucker?" Greg asked roughly. "That you could go out an' pull this one, an' your old brother wouldn't find out. And if he did, well, shit, what the fuck? Big brother never did nothin' any more than hop on for a quick fuck, get so carried away with screwin' he'd forget about any real punishment. You think I don't know you been startin' to enjoy gettin' cornholed? Well, by God, this's gonna be one ride your brother's gonna give you that neither one of us is gonna enjoy."

James started to say something, but he groaned instead as Greg's right hand wielded the belt like a riding crop, down and back over the buns of his brother's ass.

"Hurt does it, you little thief?" Greg asked. He was starting to sweat. He had to wipe the beads of perspiration off his forehead with the back of his right hand. "Well, it's gonna hurt a fuckin' lot more before I'm finished with you."

James could feel the resulting swells across his ass. There was a pulsing of his tender flesh, a throbbing warmth that was somehow beginning to give him a hard-on. His swelling cock was jabbing into the bedspread.

Greg hit his brother again, his whole body shuddering with the resounding slap of the leather against the flesh beneath him. Greg was disturbed that the sounds of the whipping weren't quelling his desires. He thought a beating would substitute for his need for sex, for the growing need he had long ago admitted to himself that he had for his brother's young body. Where sex had ceased being a disciplinary action, the whipping would now have to suffice. Or would it? Another whack of the belt against James's butt, another feel of the resulting trembling of James's body against his thighs, and Greg knew he was only getting himself hotter. His cock was hard in his pants, was getting harder. Jesus, he was horny! He felt guiltier than hell that this had become so much of a turn-on. He should have known it would be this way. Since even before James's sizable nuts had dropped, the boy's crotch sprouting its silver-blond hair, Greg had been excited by his brother. Greg wasn't the only one, but he'd made James his own personal property. All those hot-ass blacks and Puerto Rican studs knew tat if they tried anything funny with James Bravo, they were going to get repercussions from the kid's older brother. And no one in his right mind wanted to get on the wrong side of James Bravo's brother. Greg had been Lord of the Stud Knights when he was younger. After the syndicate had begun taking an interest in the neighborhood, Greg had graduated to big time in comparison to what he'd been before. Greg was the syndicate's local representative, and nothing happened in his neighborhood without being cleared through him - nothing!

Greg knew. God, yes, he knew. You usually only thought of the weak ones getting raped in jail. Well, that was a crock of shit! Greg hadn't been a feminine little faggot even back in those days. He'd fought. Christ, yes, he'd fought. Even a young, butch stud could only fight so much against those odds. The memory had stuck in Greg's mind. He could imagine James's tight young ass being used as Greg's had once been: those blond buns being put at the disposal of every greasy, cheese-smelling cock that wanted to fuck it. James had come so close, so fucking close!

"So close," Greg mumbled, as if James had been somehow eavesdropping on the silent conversation Greg had been having with himself. The additional fury spawned by that particular erotic vision made him lower the belt even harder the next time.

"Greg," James mumbled. His mouth was drooling into the blanket. His body was alive with conflicting emotions. There was the pain resulting from his beating, the hot sunbursting that had grown now to encompass his whole ass. There was the hurt of Greg's claw like fingers still anchored into his neck. There was, however, the surprising presence of pleasure - that pleasure having completely hardened James's cock. His dick had leaked a mess of pre-seminal fluid that had soaked into the bedspread beneath the boy's belly.

Greg hit James again and then again, his cock swelling hugely in the folds of his pants. The cock was paining in its inability to complete its erection. Greg would have liked to adjust his rod, let it grow to its full stance, but he was afraid of the additional stimulation that would occur when his fingers moved his cock.

James was crying. His tears streaked his face, ran over his cheeks. He could taste them on his tongue. His whole body jerked with each ensuing blow Greg delivered. His butt hurt. This was a totally new experience. It was strange, in that his torment was continually equalized by the pleasure.