Helping My Brother

Part Two

By Randall Austin

This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com

Randall Austin’s Archive Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories

(Notes from the journal of Craig Soffel)

Once the officers left, dad and I were left with my

brother Marty standing slave-naked in our living

room.

It was quite incredible, actually.  There was my big

hotshot brother, standing bald-pussy naked,

mohawked, thick tethering rings going through his

nose and dick, banded balls hanging low like some

mule's, and tears rolling down his eyes. 

He looked like some naked, lifer, hard-labor, quarry

slave in full getup.  His appearance actually frightened

me.  In one way I hated him that he ended up like this,

embarrassing our family.  But in another way, the

whole thing kind of excited me in ways I couldn't

understand.

Marty had gotten himself into this situation because he

had one too many run-ins with the law.  It was the

judge who gave my father the option of deciding

whether it would be prison or home indenturement

for Marty.  Our advisor from Social Services

explained to dad that home indenturement was the

more beneficial option for Marty and guys like him,

because it allowed family members to use methods

of control that would never be allowed on free

persons.

Social Services outlined all of the modes of service

available to my father with an indentured family

member, and dad made the decision, with the

Judge's guidance, to have Marty indentured for a

period of four years as a full personal family

servant, with the option of extending the term of

service if Marty's behavior didn't improve.

One of the biggest factors in my dad's decision to

have Marty home-indentured was the fact that my

mother doesn't live with us.  My parents separated

two years ago.  Dad felt that without mom around he

could take a firm hand in controlling Marty in ways

he would never have been comfortable doing if my

mom were around.

Under the home indenturement program Marty is

kept at home, but is legally bound by strict

standards of behavior, and kept under constant

supervision by dad, me, or a ‘babysitter’ (as we like

to call our friends who come and watch Marty for us

when we are away).  Under this program Marty is no

longer free to do as he pleases.

I know it was especially hard on Marty not only

because I'm two years younger than he is, but

because he and I were good friends.  We spent a lot

of time together, and frankly, I was a party to a lot

of the trouble he got into that landed him in

indentured servitude.

I felt really sorry for Marty standing there, without

a shred of dignity, but dad had prepared me in the

days before Marty's arrival.  He told me it would be

hard not only on Marty, but also on me.  He

reminded me that all the controls we would be putting

on Marty were meant to help him.  The whole

purpose of indenturement was to help Marty become

a better person. 

The first thing dad did was order Marty to bring into

the living room the supplies from the garage that

Social Services had delivered.  When Marty asked if

he could get dressed, dad surprised me by telling

Marty he would have to earn the right to wear

clothes through good behavior.  For now the only

clothes he would be allowed to wear in the house

were his work shoes.

Marty stood defiant for a moment, and then muttered

something that sounded like "fuck this shit", but

eventually went into the garage and brought in the

boxes of supplies from Social Services.  The last

thing he brought in; and it was kind of comical

seeing my naked, ball-banded, brother struggling

with it; was a large steel ‘slave chair’.  A ‘slave

chair’ is very much like the high chairs babies sit in

for feeding, with a removable table tray just like a

baby's chair.  Only the slave chair is large, made of

steel, and has D-rings all about it for securing

straps. 

At the front middle of the seat, where a slave's cock

and balls would normally fall when in a seated

position, is a large D-ring with an attached six-inch

chain and clip lock. 

When Marty had positioned the chair in the kitchen

where dad had told him, dad ordered Marty to sit in

the chair.  Marty had a pissed, 'fuck this shit', look

on his face, but sat in the chair anyway.  Dad then

took the six-inch chain at the front of the seat and

snapped the clip lock onto Mary's penis ring.

It was a surprise gesture that really impressed me,

for it showed that Dad was ready to take full control

of the situation when needed.  He held the key up

for Marty to see, "Okay, Martin, take a look!  Craig

and I each have a copy of this key.  It can unlock

your penis ring from the slave chair.  You are going

to sit there, young man, for a good long while.  You

are going to sit there until you get rid of that

defiant attitude, are ready to apologize for mumbling under

your breath, promise to stop using foul language,

and make a firm commitment to change your

attitude and get with the program."

Marty used language he had never really used before

against dad, "Fuck you, Dad!"

Dad simply said, "Too bad for you, Marty.  You can

stew in your own juices."  Dad then invited me to

have lunch with him, turned off the lights, and closed

all doors to the kitchen.

Social Services had delivered Marty to us at 10 AM. 

Dad ended up locking him in the chair about one-half

of an hour later.  Later that day, at 8 PM, almost ten

hours later, dad and I reentered the kitchen and

turned on the lights.  When Marty saw us he started

pleading in a voice that sounded like it would soon

turn into crying. "Please Dad.  Let me up.  I'll do

whatever you say.  I'm not going to swear anymore. 

I'm sorry for all the bad I've done."

Dad rubbed him on the head, "That's what we want

to hear, Marty.  Good boy!" Marty had pissed on the

kitchen floor.  As dad unlocked his penis ring from

the tether chain he told Marty to clean his mess up,

and then after that he was to go with me so I could

give him a bath.

One of the things Social Services had prepared dad

and me for was the importance of our taking full

control of Marty's life, much as if he were a child.

He was now our personal servant and it was important

that we have no secrets from one another.

So Marty followed me into the bathroom and got into

a tub full of warm water.  I sat on the edge of the

tub with a washcloth, soaped it, and started washing

him.  At first he was quiet, but after a while he

started complaining and told me the "whole thing

was really fucked", and that I was "acting like an

asshole, lording it over him". 

I told him I wasn't lording it over him, I was only

doing what dad and Social Services had instructed

me to do.  I told him not to complain, because I

really cared about him, and wanted to sincerely help

him.  Fortunately dad had overheard some of Marty's

bitching to me, and instructed me to bring Marty into

his bedroom when I had finished bathing Marty.

In dad's bedroom, dad instructed Marty to sit on the

bed.  Dad had brought up a pair of leg braces, which

were included with the boxes of supplies from Social

Services.  When he started putting them on Marty's

legs, Marty looked scared, "What are you doing

Dad?"

"I'm trying to help you, son.  These leg braces are

hobbling devices that are meant to help remind you

that you are now a servant in this household, and

that you need to respect all free people. 

You need to realize that you are different now, from Craig and

me.  You have to do whatever you are told.  And you

need to learn that there is nothing wrong with

respecting free people."

The leg braces forced Marty to walk with his legs

spread slightly apart and limited the size of his step

to almost half a normal stride.

You should have seen my big brother as he tried to

take his first steps in the hobbling braces fitted to

each of his legs.  There he was naked as the day he

was born, with his balls banded and his big boy balls

hanging low and swinging freely with each step, and

oblivious to the spectacle he was creating as he tried

to walk with the braces. 

While it was funny to me, and caused me to let out a

laugh, it wasn't funny to Marty.  He simply stopped

dead in his tracks and broke down bawling like a

baby. "Dad, please take these off.  Don't do this to

me Dad.  Please."

Dad was firm, "I'm sorry son, they are staying on for

at least a week.  You obviously need to be made to

feel like a servant.  They are to help you son, to

remind you of what you are.  They are not meant to

punish you.  We are trying to help you son."

I chimed in, "That's right, bro.  We're trying to help

you be a good servant, and stay out of trouble.  I

love you bro, and I'm gonna do whatever it takes to

help you."

I went up to him and patted him on his naked slave

shoulder, "I love you bro.  I really wanna help you. 

More than anything.  I just wanna help you."