Of Course Not

“Just remember, babe,” Lucas says as he strokes my scalp, putting one foot down on my cock, pinning it to his bedroom floor, “You're still here for my pleasure. Just because I'm being nice doesn't mean I'll tolerate you getting ... distracted.”

“Understood, boy? Moan on your master's cock if you understand,” he commands, and my cheeks tinge, but I moan so he won't get irritated or slap me to make me answer. I continue bobbing my head, setting my hands on his hips while I work.

“That's it, that's my sweet babe,” he purrs the words experimentally, and I moan softly, sucking hard as I roll my tongue against his underside. I don't know whether this awkward sweetness is better or worse than being called names, though.

“Mm. You like the sweet talk, boy? Or you want me to just shut up unless I have an order for you?” he asks, and I look up. When I roll my shoulders, he pulls my head up off his cock and slaps me — not harshly, but enough to put me on notice.

“The sweet talk's okay. I don't know if I like it better than being called names, though,” I answer, and he pushes my head back down on his cock. I resume sucking him as soon as he slides back into my mouth, liking the focus of not jerking off.

“Should I cum on your face or in your mouth this time, slut?” my little brother asks, “Or should I shove your head down and unload directly in your throat?” I blink at him, then slide my mouth up his prick before he thinks I won't answer.

“Face,” I reply, bringing my mouth back down his cock and resuming sucking his dick.

“Just like a fucking faggot. Predictable,” he smirks, but continues stroking my head, “That's it. Good little faggot slut. If you were my property, I'd use you as I see fit every fucking day. I'd slut you out to Dad for rewards and whore you out.”

My cheeks colour as I continue bobbing my head, sucking his cock, as he lays out for me what I could expect him to do, how I could expect him to be, if I made myself his. I look up at him questioningly, and he pulls my head up off his dick.

“What, fag?” he asks.

“What about college? What about my friends?” I ask. Lucas shoves my head back down on his prick.

“I'd pull you out of college and use the savings to go to college myself. I don't need a college-educated faggot,” he replies, “as for your friends ...” He pulls my head up and shoves it back down, starting to control the movements of my head like he's using my mouth to jerk off.

“I'd let them do whatever they want to you,” he says, sighing in pleasure, “I'd tell them you're nothing but a faggot and you're free-use for them use as they please as compensation for you not telling them what a fucking faggot you are and not letting them use you thus far.”

“You'd never talk around the house again, your mouth would be for sucking dick, not talking,” he adds, jerking himself off with my mouth, both hands in my hair making my head rise and fall on his time, “and you'd never get to cum. Fucking no, fag, hell, no, you'd exist to get me off, me and whoever I choose to let use you.”

“You'd love it, wouldn't you?” my little brother demands, and I moan indistinctly in answer, simply focusing on sucking to get him off, “Yea. I know you'd love it. Fucking submissive little faggot, letting your little brother make you his bitch.”

He pulls my head back with one hand, moving his free hand to his dick. I take a deep breath before his pulsing cock starts to unload, thick rivulets of cum pumping across my face. He smirks down at me, sneering confidently, “So how do you like being your little brother's cum-dump whore, faggot?”