My Master Down the Hall Ch. 04

He started to tug on the plug, and I felt the pressure. It slid out a lot easier than it went in, and Gabe got around behind me, but not before he turned me around a little, until I was facing a full-length mirror.

That's not normally here, I thought. He planned this.

"Now I'm going to fuck your ass, and that's for me. It's to make me feel good. I don't care about that plug—my cock is big, and your ass is little and tight."

He didn't wait. I felt him line his cock up to my hole and press it in. Thank god my ass didn't even try to resist, though the feeling of pressure and, yes, a little pain forced me forward, so that my head was almost against the ground and my nipples were brushing against the carpet, tickling them. I let out an involuntary cry—of pain, pleasure, and shock.

"I own your pussy, and now I own your ass. That's mine."

Gabe held his cock in place for a while, and I felt heat and pressure that was totally unlike the toys. Evidently while I was hypnotizes by his words, he'd taken the opportunity to lube himself up really good. My head was still down. Then, he started to stroke, in and out, slowly building up a rhythm. It hurt—not terribly, but still some, and I was holding myself up, so I couldn't play with my pussy, either.

"Look at yourself," he demanded, and I raised my head to stare in the mirror.

"Did you ever think you'd be a hot fucking slut with your own brother's cock in your ass?"

I could barely speak.

"No," I said, my voice contorted with pain and emotion.

It was getting harder for him to talk now, too, though he couldn't stop breathing hard and moaning. He must have been enjoying the feeling, a lot more than I was at that point.

"I. Love. This. Ass." he panted, really starting to thrust hard into me.

You would think it would start to hurt more, but something weird happened: it started getting, well, better. His cock was sliding almost effortlessly in and out, and the stimulation was starting to feel better. There was still pressure, but much less pain. He wasn't thrusting so hard as to really pound me, but he was picking up speed, and from what I saw adding more and more lube on his out-strokes. It was working, helping him to move in and out faster and more smoothly.

He didn't stop talking, either, even though it got harder for him to get a full sentence out.

"I like that you can't say 'no,' to me, that you don't want to," he growled. "I like that you want this just as much as me. I like that you're my...anal...fucking...whore."

He punctuated the last few words of that sentence with hard thrusts, looking straight into my eyes through the mirror. I locked into his eyes, and suddenly I realized what I'd done.

I've got a phrase for it now (thanks, college!): making the subtext text. It means taking the unspoken meaning of something and broadcasting it out, which changes things or something (sorry for not always totally listening, college!).

He was right, of course, and I didn't feel bad about it. Getting fucked in the ass by your brother is way beyond normal high school sex stuff. I was—am—kind of a slut. OK, a raging slut. The thing is, I don't care anymore. I liked being Gabe's slut. I liked giving him control of me. I liked that he liked it, since I had always suspected I'd kind of forced him into this whole arrangement in a weird way.

Having someone basically call you fuckmeat might sound degrading—shit, it is 'degrading'—but when you grow up as a nerdy, loser nobody and the hottest, most perfect guy you know completely loses his mind and picks you to be his fuckmeat, it's a huge step up. And looking back, I totally respect the honesty. You can love somebody and also love the fact that they're your cum bucket, just like you can see yourself as a good, maybe even special person and still want someone else to make you their cum bucket.

I remember seeing myself in the mirror like it was another person, Gabe fucking her, not me. He could've reached down to try to get me off, but we both knew this wasn't about that. I didn't need to cum; this was for him.

I saw his face change. He was way past words at this point. It was like magic, like I could see right through him. I couldn't even feel the pain anymore, and then I felt this surge of warmth in my ass. I was so happy that it was over, not because it was bad, but because it meant that I had done it, I hadn't chickened out or gave up.

Gabe pulled his cock out and basically collapsed on the floor. I nestled up beside him and looked at his big, stupid grin on his face. God, I loved him.

***

Remember the part at the beginning? Where I told you I had the high point of my relationship with Gabe? It was that look he gave me, right after filling my ass with his cum. It was just this look of total disbelief that what had just happened was real. It was a look of gratitude, devotion, and a kind of possessiveness, like he had just claimed my ass for himself and was never going to let it go.

I felt elated. I felt sore. I felt like I was living in a dream.

In six weeks, we would break up.