Being the bitch for my brother and his friends always turned me on. I didn’t really think about boundaries, plans, or what I actually wanted or enjoyed; I simply accepted that I was a faggot—submissive and masochistic—and surrendered myself to their depravity and kinky games.
Our parents loved him because he was straight, married, and had children. I was the piece of shit—lazy, a faggot, stuck in a shitty job—the kind of person our parents would rather never hear from again.
So, I lived in a tiny room at the back of a gas station owned by a friend of my brother’s, where I worked seven days a week. Beyond being a gas station attendant, I was the station’s whore; my boss, my coworkers, some of the customers, and my brother and his friends—all of them, while filling up their tanks, would regularly unload their cum into my mouth and ass.
The only time I ever left the station was when my brother would take me along to act as the "bitch" at his camping trips or parties with friends and clients.
One day, my brother messaged me that he’d stop by the station to pick me up for one of his clients. I didn’t ask any questions; I just made sure I was clean and dressed up by the agreed-upon time and waited for him.
He took me to a business in the suburbs, where a few men were waiting for us in a fancy room.
They greeted my brother with great familiarity; they glanced at me, but didn’t even acknowledge my presence. We sat at a large conference table, where a handsome, mature man—with graying hair tied back in a ponytail—showed my brother a long contract.
They spoke as if I weren’t even at the table, but it soon became clear that the contract concerned me.
The mature man read my name, my personal details, and my physical characteristics from the document—talking as if I were being sold like a car, a dog, or just some object. At first, it seemed like just another of my brother’s pranks—I was even a bit turned on by the game—but it didn’t take long for me to realize this wasn't a joke.
My brother was discussing with the man how much he would receive for selling me to him.
I grabbed his arm, trying to cut in. He turned to me and said, point-blank: "Joseph, shut your mouth and obey. You know you want this. Be obedient—like you usually are—and accept that, as a slut fag, this is your role."
I was stunned. One of the men in the room, standing behind us, placed his hand on my shoulder and guided me to push back my chair and stand up. I complied, obediently.
They stripped me naked to examine me; one of them appeared to be a doctor.
As I was being examined, I could hear the man talking to my brother about payments and transfers, while my wrists were cuffed behind my back.
My cock, hard as a rock, told me that all of this was real—and that, deep down, I truly wanted it to be happening.
I felt a chill in my stomach and down my spine; my body was trembling—a mix of fear and sexual arousal.
This post is a continuation of these previous posts.
https://bdsmmaledrawings.blogspot.com/2026/04/when-my-older-brother-gathered-his.html
https://bdsmmaledrawings.blogspot.com/2026/04/my-brothers-friends-thought-they-were.html
https://bdsmmaledrawings.blogspot.com/2026/07/my-brother-knows-what-nasty-slut-i-am.html
