Cleaning My Frat Brother’s Room
Vacuuming? Done! Bed? Made! Workout equipment? Reset and ready for tomorrow’s routine! The windows in your second floor room are open to let in a refreshing breeze and your favorite Spotify station gently wafts from your Bluetooth speakers. I have just finished the daily cleaning of your room and am taking a moment to check for any missed details when you burst through the door, throwing your practice bag on the bed and scattering gear everywhere.
I drop to my knees as soon as you enter the room since I’m not allowed to have be standing in your presence, rule 2. The look on your face makes me think I wasn’t fast enough. The fact that you don’t say anything doesn’t inspire any confidence either. You prowl around the room, shedding athletic gear as you do until you stand in only your bright red jock.
“What’s playing?” You ask, approaching me softly.
“Your hang-out playlist, Big brother” I keep my eyes on your crotch, rule 4. There is a menace in your voice that I’ve learned to recognize like an early storm warning.
“Where’s it playing from?”
“Your Bluetooth speakers, Sir.”
“How?” You ask, stepping closer. The bulge of your jock betrays a hefty cup protecting you from injury. I flush when I find myself licking my lips.
“I have my phone with me, and my computer is password protected. How is there music playing?”
Oh. I understand in a flash, but I can’t lie to my big brother. “I’m streaming it from my phone.” You wait and I hastily add “Sir.”
“So let me get this straight, your faggot phone is playing music over my speakers? Without me giving you permission to touch my shit?”
“I’m sorry Sir! I just thought-“
“Thinking is not yours to do pledge, and you need a reminder.” Before I can react you push me back against the bed. Between the pressure of your grip on my forehead and the uncomfortable position of my kneeling legs I find myself unable to move. Not that I would fight back. A pledge must take any punishment levied against him without question, Rule 10.
Pinned, I can only watch in horror as you remove the cup from your jock. For a minute I fear a tea bagging from hell, which might be considered a light sentence for this offense but I know things are going to be much worse when instead of tossing the cup with the rest of your gear, you squat a little and press the hollow of it against your ass.
“Eyes on me fag.” You bark and i look up to see you grinning a dangerous, wolffish smile. Your dark eyes hold me as captive as your grip and for a moment I am divorced of context and simply lost in their natural power. But then you fart. A thick bassy note that suspends in the air. And then another, high in pitch but longer. Your grin widens as fear grows in my eyes. A long wet fart escapes your rancid ass and you wink after the effort of pushing it out clears from your face. “That should last a while,” You laugh.
“Please.” Is the only thing I can whisper before you, in a superior display of flexibility in speed, hold the raunch filled cup to my face and press it over my nose. You cackle as actual fear and disgust rocket through my body. From somewhere you produce a roll of duct tape. I am too lost on the fog of wet stink and sweat to hear you tape your cup to my face.
My breath is shallow but that makes things worse. You leer down at me as I take in the fetid mix of your protein shake farts and your wind sprint crotch sweat. Am I going to pass out? Am I going to cum?
“Look at me fag.” I try to, really, I do,but my head is swimming. You reach out and grasp my chin. You pull my gaze up to yours again and I take in your powerful form along the way. A beautiful body that demands awe from anyone who lays eyes on it. Muscle and sinew rounded out most deliciously. By the time our eyes lock, I am present and ready to prove my devotion to my big brother.
You grin, because you can tell by the soft focus of my eyes that your combined scents have had the desired effect and pulled me into your power. All of my attention is on you and you alone. “Ok you little slut, here’s the deal. I can tell you’re trying. My room looks pretty nice, and you dropped to your knees like you’re supposed to. So I know that you understand the rules too.” I smile into your cup. Maybe my punishment will end here.
“But it seems like you still have a lot to learn about respecting your betters.” Okay. Maybe not. My stomach drops.
“Stand.” The command is a surprise and my hesitation must be too much for you because before I can get to me feet you reel back and slap me across the face. The sound surprises me more then the pain, a sonorous belt across the cheek that leaves my eyes watering and my face stinging. I can’t help but to swear. This isn’t the first time I’ve been struck like that since pledging. I clamor to my feet trying not to show my big brother the shame and embarrassment painted across my face alongside your hand print.
You sneer down at me. At nearly a foot taller, and with at least 75 pounds on me, your are bigger in every dimension. I am envious and in fear of your bulk, and the strength it conveys. When you picked me for your little brother most of the other pledges couldn’t make eye contact with me. Some of the more recent brothers even went out of their way to console me. Until this moment I was unsure why, but now fear owned me, and it was easy to see that you could tell.
“I do not like having to repeat myself. Time spent reiterating to you the expectations and rules is time I am not dedication to my sports career or the, like, two classes I actually enjoy.” As you speak you move closer to me, “so we’re going to spend a little extra time today making sure you’ve got things memorized, understand?”
I nod, knowing that speaking will get me into even more trouble.
I do and my eyes drift to the floor. Despite the fact that I should probably be panicked right now, I find myself calm. Inhaling deeply of the musk and ass stink. Somehow it has become comforting to me in the months I’ve been pledging. the stink infiltrated my mind and turned off every connection that made me want to object to this treatment. It hung in the air around my big brother like a fog that I happily got lost in whenever he was near.
In one moment I was lost in adoration of my big brother, the next I was being nearly bent double, yelling in pain and surprise as some force pushed my forward and lifted me from my feet at the same time. Pain lances through my balls and up my ass crack, red hot. I barely notice it when you yank down my pants and expose my wedgied ass to the air, that’s how uncomfortable I am. Another quick series of pulls momentarily lifts me into the air and you carelessly toss my mass onto your bed.
The physical discomfort is nothing to the shame. I am an adult. I spent all day cleaning this man’s room instead of studying for my physics essay. I was just trying to make your life a little nicer because you go so far out of your way to help me when I need it but this? This might have crossed a line. I look over my shoulder to say something through the taped on cup that still scents my breathing with sweat. The smell of ass hasn’t faded yet either and I begin to think that wet fart left a little something behind. However every bit of fight leaves me when I look back and see you.
It is clear you expect my anger. I know right away that any resistance I offer to your plans will just be turned back doubly on me. I could fight what was coming all night long and that would just add exhaustion to the list of sensations I’d be enduring to please you. Chances are I’d be enduring that anyway. I gulp and face forward again, only to hear you laugh when I do.
“Assume the position” you say and I bring my ass up and my knees under me without thinking. I’ve been paddled more times than I can count since pledging and the reaction to the command is automatic. I brace myself against the sturdy pain I know is coming and even have begun to enjoy despite myself. Just thinking that causes my face to flush.
“Your ass turns red when you’re embarrassed too, pledge, that’s so cute. You know what’s coming, so here’s what I want you to do. After every impact I want you to iterate the rules for pledges. If you forget one or say one out of order, we start at the very beginning until you can get all twenty rules, in order, no mistakes. Got it?”
Before I can even agree the first impact strikes. I jump from the red hot pain of his hand across my ass. The sound echoes through his room and I realize with fear that you never closed the door when you bursted in. I’m facing away from it now which means anyone who walks by can look in and see me bent over and my big brother administering my punishment “A pledge belongs heart, mind, body, and soul to his big brother, Rule one.”
“Good.” You smack my ass again, and again. I mess up the wording on the firth rule and we start over again. I hear giggling at the door and know we have an audience. Someone is watching as you make my ass red and drag oaths of submission from me with each strike. By the time we finish, tears are rolling gown my cheeks silently and there are at least 6 other brothers cheering you on to victory from the threshold.
The audience filters away and soon it is just you and me again. Gently you put a hand on my back, “you did very well little bro. Only messed up once and I think that’s cause Todd threatened to put his thumb up your ass more than any fault of your own. I’m proud of you.” The words are like a salve, calming the sting and bringing me back to the present.
“Really, Sir? Even after I messed up.”
“Sure! You messed up but you took your punishment exquisitely. Even put on a show for those brothers. You can bet some other pledges are gonna go through hell tonight, inspired by that. You should be proud too.”
I find that I am proud of myself and by the time you’re done gently prying the duct tape and cup from my face, I’m still beaming up at you. You grin down at me and ruffle my hair. “That’s the spirit, sport. Now don’t make me do that shit again.” You consider for a moment, “it’ll still happen of course but for, like, fun.” We both laugh a little at that but I can feel a lingering tension
“So listen, that was hot as fuck. I just got back from practice and after that, I am not going to be able to study before I blow a load so....” the expectation hangs in the air. A pledge is always available to help out a brother, rule 13. So I make a motion to get off the bed so you can lay back while I blow you.
“I’ve got a better idea,” you say, getting to your feet and gently tugging me by my hair, “come on faggot, don’t make me wait.” Your gruff big brother attitude is back, swelling to the surface. Swelling like your cock in the pouch of your jock. You pull me behind you so I can stay on two feet instead of crawling around like he other pledges must in presence of brothers. We reach the second floor bathroom in no time.
This door, you close. The air is rank win the smell of stale piss. The stink of a dozen men is caked onto these walls. You don’t turn the ventilation on and I feel the warm slick of panic overtaking me again. “Sir?”
“I just need to piss don’t worry. Get your face in my ass while I do though pledge.” I drop to my knees and position myself behind you, only to let the softly furred globes of your unwashed ass enfold my face. Your stream starts and another long fart escapes your ass, blowing across my face. I do my best not to wretch into your ass.
“Open your mouth.” You’ve stopped pissing by now, even though it felt like your stream lasted five minutes, “I wanna hear you eat one.” This is not an uncommon request and Reluctantly I open my mouth and press it to your unwashed ass. The bitter taste of your hole makes me whimper which I know amuses you. We stand like this for a long moment, lips touching and you straining to push a hot cloud of filthy stink onto my tongue and into my brain.
“Oh fuck that’s not a fart.” Eventually You whisper under your breath and push me away. “Change of plans fag. You ready to ride this dick?” You turn around quickly and slap me in the face with the velvet rod of your cock. Long enough to cum directly in my throat and thick enough to make me limp to class the next day, the impact packs a punch and I’m left a little stunned by it.
“Yes big brother, please fuck me.” I manage to say in a voice that I hope is sexy since after all, a pledge must always appear desirous of a brothers advances, rule 12. You grin and bring the head to my lips.
“Get it wet first boy.” You order before parting my lips with the thick head of your cock and pushing the whole appendage as far into my mouth as you an, barely stopping at the back of my throat before battering that barrier down in order to dredge up lubricating slime from my throat.
It takes you only a few pumps to reach sufficient coverage because I am soon negotiated out of my place on my knees and after a little shuffle am bent over the toilet bowl, propping myself up on the seat with my forearms and staring into the still warm contents of my big brother’s bladder. His piss is dark and acrid. No wonder he’s in such a foul mood. I make a note to fetch him a jug of water from the kitchen when we’re done here. I can see streaks of shit clinging to the porcelain too, evidence of other visitors before us. I shudder.
I can feel your engorged clock head against my hole, slippery and demanding entrance. It takes little effort to let you in. My ass hasn’t gone a day unfucked since the very first at the frat and with the ample lubrications I provided, you are fully inside me in just a moment. The length and girth still make me gasp. I swear under my breath.
You strong arms wrap around me. I relax into the strength of your support and try to adjust to the monolith of cock inside me. Very slowly you start to withdraw and I am filled with longing as inch by inch the feeling of your cock is replaced by an emptiness bordering on emotional. You withdraw completely, leaving just the tip of your cock against me and when your ingress is not immediate I pant. I moan. I whimper. I beg “big brother please! I can’t take it! I need your cock inside of me!”
“Good boy.” You wait just a breath more before thrusting ever so slowly back into me. I can feel every detail, every vein and hair, on the shaft of your cock as it invades not just my body, but my mind. Your control over my sensations driving me so mad that I could yell abuses at you in frustration. But I don’t, I can only whimper and shake under the sublime pressure of your advancing cock.
You tease me for a few more minutes before bottoming out once again. Your slow rhythm has left me gasping and clinging to your arms for support as my need for you escalates. I hang on every word, breath, utterance you make as you plow into me. Sweat coats our bodies and the small room is starting to smell less like piss and more like sex. You pull me up to whisper in my ear and I wince at how deep that drives your cock inside of me. A cruel smile paints your lips.
“Deep breath, slut. You’re going under for a hot minute.”
“Wha-?” Before my question is even out of my mouth I feel myself being bent nearly doubly. Your strength and speed plunging my head into the piss filled toilet bowl and bumping my face against the porcelain surface below. I try to push myself up, grasping for anything I can use as leverage but you’ve pinioned one arm against my back in your pushing me down and soon you’ve grabbed my other hand to join it.
You let my back up and I am a storm of gasping swears. I can’t see, can’t breath, I’m choking on piss and the only thing I can hear is you laughing. “Again!” You bellow and I am submerged.
This time I don’t let my air escape, which is good because you pound away at my asshole relentlessly. I can hear your laughter and your shouted abuses over the sloshing of the water in the toilet bowl. Worst of all my cock is Painfully hard the entire time.
It stops as abruptly as it started. You pull me from the toilet and I lean against you catching my breath.
“Change of plans. This shit ain’t waiting til we’re done.”
“On your knees faggot!” You step over me and out of your jock before sitting firmly on the toilet. I drop to my knees into the puddle of piss we’ve created in our fucking.
“What?!” I cry, desperate to find out my assumptions are wrong.
“I came home cause I had to take a monster shit, you got in the way of that.”
“WHAT?!” instead of answering my question, you grab the back of my head and position your cock in my mouth. Somehow, in this transition, it’s maintained it’s rigidity. Instinct takes over and I start to suck like my life depends on it.
“That’s right, just concentrate on the dick.” I can hear the sneer in your voice. “Don’t think about the chili omelette I had for breakfast. Or the burrito bowl I had for lunch.” Your stomach turns audibly and your hole sputters out a long wet fart. Instantly the room smells of burned rubber and eggs. My eyes water and drive your cock into my throat, hoping i can avoid the smell by choking. I can’t, and soon I pull off your cock to sputter and cough at the intrusive smell.
“Don’t take my cock out of your mouth faggot,” you hiss and plunge back into my mouth as another fart fill the air with an awful fetid smell and the sound of something worse. The crackling sound of wet shit being pushed into the toilet bowl. I start gagging at the mere thought, the proximity to such a foul secretion but your vice grip beeps me attached, forces me to inhale your raunch even as you push your cock further and further into my throat.
I want to black out. I want to unenroll. This is the most dehumanizing thing that has ever happened to me and yet... i reach down and wrap a hand around my cock. It is the hardest it has ever been. My mere touch threatens to make it explode. But I can’t do that. I mean, rule 18, a pledge can only cum when in congress with a brother, says I could but I wasn’t ready to find out what would happen if I lost my urge to preform at this moment in time. I released my shaft and concentrated on the one in my mouth.
I can hear you pushing, straining. Another series of long farts erupts from you. At some point I cross the line from terrified to absolutely drunk and as a long and heavy turds slides out of you and into the toilet I am less afraid of the curling stink that wafts from the bowl with each breath and more devoted to the task at hand..re...mouth. If I thought my cock was hard, yours is even harder. I feel like I’m at ricks of losing teeth if I don’t perfectly allow you to pummel you throat.
Soon the straining is done and my nose must have become sufficiently scarred since I was no longer repulsed by the toilet full of grade A jock shit just inches from my nose. Indeed I kind of enjoyed the depravity of being made to sink this low. Plus the heavy breathing coming from my big brother told me we might be done soon. I redoubled my enthusiasm until he pulled out of my throat.
“Work the head.” You order, and i do. Rapidly caressing your clock with my tongue and lips until your breathing becomes hitched and you grip the back of my head. In an instant you flood my mouth with come demanding “taste it! Don’t swallow! Taste it! Taste my cum you faggot.” With each pulse of hot sticky fluid that fills my mouth. The first taste of the heady and intense ejaculate causing my own sensation to fill over and making my flood the floor with my own cum. I didn’t even touch my dick.
I swallow, rule 19, and look up to you “holy shit.” I say, winded and out of my mind with admiration.
“Yeah, holy shit is right.” A new voice makes us both jump. Derrick, my big brothers best friend and rival is standing in the doorway. He had been trying to get me this see out if the frat since my big brother picked me as his pledge. Jealous of all the time we spent together no doubt. And now here he had found us surrounded in our own stink, cum, and piss. Quickly he steps into the bathroom and shuts the door he so rudely opened in the first place. “I want next” the muscle bound behemoth demands with a cruel smirk
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