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This story is fiction.  It concerns two stepbrothers with the younger one dominant and contains scenes of spanking, humiliation and sex.  If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.

Second Born in Charge


It was tobacco that wrecked my life.  No, it was not lung or throat cancer that caused the problem but one stupid cigarette – my one and only cigarette.  I was thirteen at the time and my kid brother, Donald, only ten years old.  Actually he's my stepbrother for five years earlier my dad had married his mom and since then we shared a room like we were full brothers.  That marriage was a good thing and it was really nice to have a mother again and a new brother already out of diapers.  But back to that fateful coffin nail; like many boys who think that they are men, I managed to get hold of a couple of fags to try out.  Of course, my parents had forbidden me to smoke insisting that it was a terrible vice etc., etc., etc.  We, my buddy Ted and I, were trying this forbidden fruit but Donny saw us and managed to take a few Polaroid pictures of me in flagrante delicto.

That very evening our parents were out and Donny confronted me with the damning evidence – well some of it for he had hidden parts of it.  We both knew (all to well) what sort of fate awaited me once dad found out.  Then I made the biggest mistake of my life by immediately begging Donny not to tell.  He played it real cool and insisted that it was his duty to tell for I had done wrong, needed to be punished and put back on the right track.  I knew that one of the pleasures of life for him was seeing me get spanked.  I suggested that he could punish me instead and, after some feigned hesitation, he reluctantly agreed to severely spank my bare bottom as a favor to keep me out of trouble with our parents.  In return I promised to submit completely to his authority for the spanking that evening.  I practically groveled to be allowed the humiliation of submitting to him although I did not see it that way at the time.

I was certain that this would be better than a trashing from dad which surely would be followed with my being grounded for a long time.  Beside how hard could Donny hit for he was only ten?  I soon found out – very hard.  Donny really was into the whole setup.  He lead me down to father's study (where dad often punished us) and he insisted that I be respectful and call him 'Sir' or 'Don'.  He proceeded to strip me naked while lecturing me about the evils of smoking and eventually sat on the same chair that dad used when spanking us.

It really was a very strange feeling when he pulled me over his lap.  Then I felt his little hand rubbing my bare ass for the first time.  It was so much smaller than dad's hand.  He gave me a few spanks and I was certain that I had made the right choice for they were so weak.  Then there was a great SPANK and I yelled more in surprise than pain that one time.  He had, I saw later, started to use a flip-flop.  The flexible thick rubber sole packed a wallop.  All the force of his spanking arm was transferred by the flexible sole to my butt cheeks without Don feeling any pain at all.  This was not our father's spanking.  His were hard spanks; Don's were softer but repeated many times over and over.  It was not like falling into the fire but more like being boiled in the pot.

It took a while but I really started to hurt and I begged him to stop.  "If I stop before I'm done, I'll tell dad." he replied and continued to deliver spank after painful spank.  It was a long, long spanking that turned my butt to toast.  He also got me crying and then bawling like a little kid.  Very soon I was a very well chastised little boy.  Eventually, he stopped and sent me to bed where I cried myself to sleep like I did after one of dad's spankings.© YLeeCoyote

In the morning I awoke with new respect for my little brother.  I never called him Donny again.  The pain in my ass lasted several days.  He was the man although I did not yet realize it; after all he had the balls to spank his older brother who had never even though of spanking him.  Don did not speak of this again until the next time he spanked me.

* * * * * * * * * *

Just two weeks later, on a Saturday morning the folks went out leaving Don and me to do our homework and chores.  I decided to go out to play rather than work.  When I returned for lunch Don pounced.  He lectured me, reminding for the first time me about spanking me for smoking, and said that I should be spanked for being an irresponsible, naughty little boy.  I insisted that I had plenty of time before dad was due to return.  "Well", he responded "what if dad comes home early?"  He went on to add that he would not lie for me – unless I accepted a spanking again and then immediately did the chores I was required to do.

Reluctantly, I agreed.  He decided on something different and quickly had me bent over the bed, naked with my butt sticking out.  Then he went on to strap me with his wide leather belt.  It really hurt; more than my first spanking from him and I was soon bawling.  Then, with my ass burning, he made me do my chores.  I did not find it difficult to stay in that evening to do my homework since my ass hurt too much to think about playing.  Again, thankfully he did not tell dad anything.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was a few weeks later that the shit hit the fan.  It was report card time and my grades were terrible with mostly D's and couple of C-minuses.  This was even worse than it sounds for Don had A's with just a B as his lowest grade to use as an example.  At dinner, dad spoke of this and I promised to work harder.  What else could I do?  He also asked Don what he thought of my report card.  Don summed it up in just two words: "It stinks." while holding his nose.  I really could not blame him for that was the truth.  Then dad asked what was the appropriate response for a parent.  Don though about it for a bit before answering for he was only in the fifth grade while I'm in the seventh grade.  He mostly parroted the sort of stuff dad had been saying to both of us for a long time.  "A good, long hard SPANKING to start, dad.  Then close monitoring to be sure that he is doing his studying and homework.  Perhaps fewer privileges and an earlier curfew."  Don was always jealous that I was allowed more freedom than he was.

"Very interesting, Don." said dad, "We'll see." with that we continued dinner.  I could not eat much for the butterflies in my stomach were rioting and throwing rocks.  After dinner dad invited Don into his study and told me to go to my room and think about things.  All I could think about was that Don and dad were talking and surely about me.  I was a bit more than three years older so what advice could Donny – just ten – give.  After an hour I was summoned to the study.  Dad was looking very stern behind his desk and Don, smiling, was seated next to him looking very smug.  I stood before the desk nervously waiting.  Although we did witness each other being punished, it was never in this sort of position.

Of course, dad asked the same question as he had at dinner and my answer was not any better – "To work hard."  Then he asked how many times I had tried smoking.  With Don there, I could not pretend to be an angel so I admitted to once.  (Yes, Don had caught my one and only time doing it.)  I went on to explain that it had been a very unpleasant experience so I only did it once.  When asked, Don said he believed me.  Then dad noted that he had observed that I had been more attentive to my chores in the last few weeks and wondered if I had any explanation for my improved behavior.  I still was not about to tell him about being spanked and strapped by my little brother so I just said that I did not know why.

"I'll tell you why, son.  It was because your brother strapped you for your neglect just like he spanked you for smoking."  I was about to yell at Dan for telling but he looked as surprised as I surely looked angry.  Dad continued: "I came home early that day and I heard you begging Don to spank you again.  That was followed by him lecturing and strapping you and even talking about the spanking for smoking, son."  It was an OMG moment – dad knew it all and had not stopped it.  Then he told us the new order of things.  Younger brother Donald was now in charge of me with full authority to discipline – both corporally and otherwise – me as he saw fit anywhere and any time.  He was responsible for checking that I studied, did my assignments and chores.

I protested that he was three years younger and was not capable of such responsibility.  Beside it was not right for a little brother to be in charge.  "Stevie, you accepted, even begged Donald to spank you twice before so that your protests now are silly.  From now on you are the 'little brother' and he is the 'big brother'.  If you truly had been the big brother you would not have submitted to him.  You would have acted like a man and confessed rather than being a spineless crybaby wimp."  I was devastated that my own father thought so poorly of me and so much more of his stepson.

It was then that Don spoke.  "Stevie, get back to our room and into position for a strapping.  I'll be there shortly when father and I finish talking."

I was so shocked that I just docilely said: "Yes, Sir." and did it.  It was when I was laying over my bed, naked with my butt sticking out waiting, that the full meaning of what dad said really registered.  I was now the 'little brother' and Don was the 'big brother' – the brother-in-charge.  With this decree he now had far more authority over me than I ever even dreamed of having over him.  Far more than any sibling should have, even over a much younger one.  But why didn't this feel wrong and why was my cock so hard?

Eventually Don came to me.  He told me that he expected that I would work hard to improve my grades, to do my chores and to obey him without question and to be respectful.  He was going to be very strict with me and most generous with the strap and flip-flop and other things yet to be revealed.  Now he was going to strap me for the first D grade.  I would get spanked twice for each D and once for each C.

I heard him pull his belt out of his pants and I got a chill of anticipation for I knew how it was going to hurt.  I wanted to run but I was even more scared to do that not that there was any place to run to.  The seconds seemed like hours.  He swung the belt and it cut into my butt like a hot rod.  While I was still in agony from the first cut, the second and third came.  It was worse that the other time and the blows landed hard and fast.  I was soon crying.  That did not relieve the pain nor cause him to stop.  I could not help it.  Eventually, he stopped and let me cry for some time. This was the third time he had disciplined me and each time I completely lost control and turned into a blubbering mess of a crybaby.  It was even worse than when dad, an adult, had spanked me although I still always cried.  Don had not cried when dad spanked him since he had been eight.  I felt small.  I was the older one and should have been pushing him about but I had not been able to do that for several years.  Now he was pushing me about and would do so in the future and I would have to accept it.  In the future I would learn that he was an alpha male and I certainly was not.

Eventually, I stopped crying and Don ordered me to washup and then get to my homework.  I started to dress and he told me not to bother as "Naughty little boys don't need clothes to cover their little hairless pee-pees and hot red bottoms."  It was hard to study but I had a strange motivation now.  I found out as time passed that he was very serious about not dressing after he punished me even if others were around including mother and other females, cousins and friends.  I hoped that when I got pubes he would change his mind.

The next day before school, he directed me to return home immediately after dismissal and to my studying and homework.  Then before bedtime he checked what I had done and was doing.  He was taking his assignment very seriously.  He also had gotten a nice blank book which he had carefully labeled "Steven's Punishment Record".  Beside the title page he had inscribed the details of the three spankings he had already administered, especially how red my ass got and how I had cried like a sissy boy.

The next evening it was time for the first spanking for the second D grade.  He put me over his lap and used grandma's old hairbrush.  It had a heavy oak handle with an oval head that was three inches wide at the middle.  I quickly learnt why it had been a favorite instrument to spank little boys.  Unlike the strap which conformed to my shape and the flip-flop that flexed as it struck, this was rigid and packed a major wallop on my still sore behind.  I dreaded to think what a failing grade would bring as I diminished into that blubbering crybaby once again.

As you would expect, I cried myself to sleep once again.  I had a strange dream which woke me in the middle of the night.  I dreamed that I was a Peter Pan sort of boy who had never grown up and that Don was still in charge of me.  But the Don in my dream was already grown up – he had a mustache and was dressed in a business suit and tie while I was still a boy like I am now.  I looked at Don sleeping confidently in his bed.  He was still just a ten-year old boy.  But he had great power over me as my aching butt reminded me constantly.  I wondered how long that power would last.  Was this dream some portent of the future?

During lunch I explained to my friends that I had to skip hanging out with them after school for my parents were really on my case about my grades and I had to concentrate on studying.  Maybe on the weekend, I added.  That night Don told me that he was pleased how I was working and that he decided that the remaining eight spankings would be spaced out with only three a week.  Of course, Don did not forget them and dutifully recorded them in the punishment book as he administered them.  There was even a delay because I cheated on my chores and my butt had to paid the price.

The next Friday his friend, Ralph, had a sleepover when I was scheduled to get another spanking.  Privately, I asked and then begged him not to do it in front of his friend but to no avail.  At the usual time, he came to check on my homework progress and to spank me.  He even made me explain to Ralph why all this was happening.  I had to strip in front of two ten-year olds and lay across Don's lap so that he could spank my butt with the flip-flop.  It was totally humiliating to be reduced to a crybaby in front of another kid.  I was sure that he would tell everyone also.

In the morning Don let me know that Ralph, at the price of a few hits with a second flip-flop had promised to keep quiet about the spanking.  But kids don't keep secrets very well so this was of little comfort.  Eventually, all of Don's friends and our cousins got to help spank me.

* * * * * * * * * *

After about a month, my grades did start to improve but Don insisted that I not slack off as he expected that I would achieve a couple of B's at the very least.  Then this special relationship started to become public knowledge as our friends saw how he bossed me and how I obeyed him plus the word about spankings leaked out as the many eye witnesses talked to each other and their best friends.

It was some three months after this started that the worst happened.  One afternoon at the school playing field I did not obey Don's order when he said it was time to go home and study.  I nearly died when pulled me over to a bench, yanked down my jeans and briefs and flipped me over his lap for a spanking.  Everyone watched as he methodically used his belt to reduce me to the bawling baby that he was always able to do.  Perhaps it would not have been so bad if he hadn't made it bare assed OTK and if I hadn't cried but I'll never know.  It certainly did not help that I kicked off my briefs and jeans so that I did not even have them to pull up to cover my still hairless boy parts and hot red ass when he stood me up.  He did not even pick them up but just took them from some helpful kid who did.  He did not stop to allow me to put them on until we were out of the school yard.

Of course, my status at school plummeted, especially when the pictures showed up two days later.  Don's status had a corresponding rise as the rumors that he was in charge of me was now considered absolute fact.  This also changed me.  I now knew, deep in my heart, that Don was in charge of me and both could and would swiftly punish any disobedience.  I surrendered, stopped fighting and accepted his control; this made life somewhat easier.

Then the end of the school year came and I hoped that I would be freed.  My grades were better and the chores were being done.  But dad said no and that was that.  Don was OK though and as long as I did my chores, obeyed the rules and was respectful to our parents and him, I could sit comfortably.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the fall I was fourteen and was starting the eight grade and Don was eleven and entering the sixth grade.  We worked out the rules for the new term.  Well, actually, he worked out the rules and I agreed but at least he let me have the dignity of a voice.  Then came that happy day that all boys are most anxious for – the first pubic hairs heralding the start of manhood.  I proudly showed them to Don and he surprised me by telling me that he had gotten me a present in anticipation of this day.

It was a small package.  I thought of several nice things that would have been appropriate such as condoms and a razor (even though I would not have to shave for sometime).  But it was a tweezer.  I was puzzled and then Don explained.  "Stevie, you are the little boy here and it is not appropriate for you to have pubes when I don't.  The tweezer is to remove them."

I was devastated at that.  I almost cried as I dropped to the floor, kissing his feet and begging him not to do this.  He let me grovel a while and then pulled me up so I was on my knees.  He pulled my head forward into his crotch.  I could smell his boyhood and feel that it was hard as he exercised his power.  He tried to be gentle as he stroked my head but insisted that there was not any other way.  I cried.  When I stopped crying, I thought about speaking to dad but then he delivered the ultimate blow.  He said that he had already spoken to dad about this and he had approved.  Eventually, I got up and he used the tweezer to yank out the first two short hairs that had sprouted.

That night I prayed that he would start puberty soon so that he would grow his own hair in the hope that then he would allow me keep mine.  But that time was to be a year away and I found that two or three times a week, I got plucked.

Time kept moving and things were as expected.  Don managed to acquire some new toys of torture to use on me.  He frequently went to flea markets and garage sales and found them.  He got a fraternity paddle, a razor strop, a tawse and an honest to goodness British school cane.  He always showed them off to me explaining that I was not so little physically and he needed more powerful implements.  I can assure you that they were effective even in the closet for I knew that they would hurt.  He managed to use each of them on me nevertheless for I never went more than a month without some infraction that earned me punishment.

For the weeks that I was good and not deserving of a spanking, Don did something else.  He gave me good boy spankings.  He would strip me, tweeze my pubes and put me over his lap.  Then he would gently hand spank me while telling me that I was good boy and remind me that if I had been bad I would be in pain and crying from one of the many implements he had.  I actually got to look forward to these.  I don't know why but they made me feel good.

For all of this, I must admit that it had a good effect on my school work for that year I achieved a couple of B's.  Having finished eight grade, I was going on to high school in the fall.  I tried to get dad to free me from Don's control but it was no use.  He said I was a much better behaved boy with Don in charge and it was going to stay that way.

The summer was good.  Don let me alone as long as I did my chores and followed the rules.  It was uneventful until it was time to shop for clothes for the new school year.  It was just one item – underwear – that was a problem.  I wanted to get boxers but Don said that little hairless boys – like me – wear briefs.  He quickly shut me up by declaring that if I objected, he would select generic tightie-whities and cartoon briefs for me.  I settled for some brand name briefs in colors.  That evening he gave me a spanking like the very first one using a flip-flop.  When I was bawling (yes, I still did that every time) he told me that I needed a reminder to remember that he was the brother-in-charge.

On Labor Day, just before the school year was going to start I asked dad, again, about not being under Don's control pointing out that I was fifteen now and starting high school.  He did not reject the request like he had all the previous ones but said that he would discuss it with mom.  He brought it up at dinner and asked Don what he thought.

"Dad," said Don, "I think that is up to mom and you to decide if Stevie is grown up enough to be on his own.  It certainly would be easier for me not to be his babysitter.  Since he is starting high school he probably should have a larger allowance, a latter curfew and more freedom."  I thought that was wonderful and dad followed up with my release.  "I hope that you can handle it, Steve."  The latter curfew and larger allowance followed.  I was elated.  I was stuck with the briefs rather than boxers but it was more important that I could keep my pubes.

It was six weeks later that I knew that I was trouble.  I managed to get three failing tests back that week.  Mom and dad had both been reminding me about my chores not being done promptly and I had been breaking my curfew.  Even I could see I where I was heading – for disaster.  I realized that there was only one way out.  I went to Don for help.  Soon I was groveling at his feet begging to be his little brother, under his control and promising to be obedient.  He told me to ask mom and dad at dinner and if they agreed it he would do it.  As you would expect, they agreed but I lost all my new privileges.

Don was now twelve and knew his mind better than two years ago when this all started.  He was better at giving orders and knew how to get me to obey more effectively.  Somehow I thought of him as really being my older brother and sort of felt that I was still a kid of ten rather than my actual fifteen.  The net result is that we got along well and our parents were pleased.  It was very rare that he had to give me a severe spanking but I did learn about the paddle, the razor strop, the tawse and the cane that year.

I also learnt other things.  It was November and one evening he was sitting on the edge of his bed and told me to kneel between his legs.  "Do you remember the last time you were in this position, Stevie-boy?" he asked.  I sure did for that was when I was begging him not to pluck my newly grown pubes.  I could not help to look down at myself and see how smooth and hairless I still was.  It made me realize that I was still just a little boy.

He had a T-shirt covering his crotch and pulled it away.  Suddenly I was confronted by his still small bush.  "WOW!  You got a bush!  And you're only twelve."  He was becoming a man physically.  The aroma from his crotch was not like last year's boy smell but was much more masculine and adult.  I could not help to stare at his equipment.  He pulled my head forward and held it close.  His cock stiffened.  Soon it was pointing straight out.  It was already as large as mine.

"Kiss it, Stevie; kiss your big brother's cock." he commanded.  "Make love to it, my little boy."

After two years of learning to obey Don, I did not have any will to resist him.  I kissed it and then licked it.  "Good boy, Stevie, good boy." he said gently.  The words that I had learnt to love hearing from him.  It was always a good feeling to please my big brother.  I even let him slide it into my mouth.  He really liked that.  Then I realized that I was sucking his cock and it just felt right and natural.

He exercised more control by gripping my head and moving it as he wanted.  It was not long before he exploded filling my mouth with his hot man cream.  As he held me, it flowed down my throat.  "Good boy, Stevie, very good boy." he repeated as he started all over.  I was so very happy that I was pleasing him.  He stopped after the third time.  When I got up, we saw that I had shot a load on the floor without even touching with my own dick.  "I guess that proves you liked doing this." he declared as I wiped up the mess.  There was not anything to say because it was obviously true.

Of course, it was only a couple of days later that he fucked me like a proper man does with his boys.  That was even more fun.  From then on he took his pleasure with me often and I never even thought of refusing for he was in charge of me.

That is what happened all through high school.  Don was in charge and I was his boy in every way.  I had to obey him, serve him sexually and he set the rules.  Every time I spoke to dad about not being under Don control, he asked Don what he thought.  The answer was always the same: "I'm sorry to say, dad, but Stevie still needs to be watched closely but, of course, it is up to mother and you."  The rules did not change very much over the years for my curfew was still like I was in the sixth grade and every pubic hair that managed to sprout was ruthlessly plucked out like a weed.  This made it very difficult to go out with friends because I had to be home so early and it is embarrassing to date without pubes when one should have them.

* * * * * * * * * *

I did not get into college but tried a couple of technical schools to learn a trade.  It did not work out so I ending up working for dad in the family business.  I have not advanced very much.  I started as a stock boy and still do that most of the time; the rest I spend being a handyman, er, handyboy for Don.  Don went to college and got a business degree and now runs the family business which has prospered.  He  has reaped the gains and has a large house.  The family is Terri, his wife, and the twins, Kurt and Kyle.  I live over the garage and work on the grounds under Don's watchful eye.

With a loving wife and a demanding business, Don does not have much time for me but he still spanks me and fucks me at times (especially when Terri is not available).  I consider the twins as my family and have enjoyed watching them grow from babies to youths.  They are now thirteen and really changing fast.  It is hard to believe that it is some thirty-three years since Don first spanked me since my little world has not changed very much.

As you guessed, I have babysat for the twins a lot of times but never for more than a day.  This changed yesterday for Don and Terri are going away for a week and the twins convinced them that they were old enough to stay home with just me.  One of their arguments was that dad (their granddad) had told them how grown up and trustworthy their father, Don, had been even at ten.  They solemnly promised that they would be good like their dad.

The next morning was a hot day and I awoke to the sound of the twins playing in the pool.  I put on a T-shirt and shorts and went to see.  They were both nude.  They were beautiful.  Like their father, they had long since started puberty for their cocks had started to grow and they had nice bushes.  I was very jealous for after three decades of being plucked, I knew I would never have a bush.  I did have a duty, however, to do.  I called them to task for swimming nude.  They laughed and said that there was not anyone else around (which was true) and that it was more fun.

I really did not know what to say but soon it would not matter.  Kurt had gotten behind me on all fours and Kyle gave me a push.  I was now swimming in the pool with my clothes on.  The two of them attacked me and kept me under the water so I was gasping for breath.  This meant that they could easily strip me which they did.  Then, as they threw my clothes on the deck, they lectured me for swimming with my clothes on.  A little while later we were out of the pool and they made fun of me for being a naughty hairless little boy as well.  I was amazed at much they sounded like their father had so many years ago.

It did not take very long for them to get to say that I should be spanked for that transgression.  Kyle sat down and yanked me across his lap with Kurt helping.  Then they spanked me hard and fast.  They were bigger than their father had been at that age and they hit hard.  Soon I was in tears for I always cry when spanked.  Somewhere alone the line they switched places so that they both had a turn at spanking me.  I cried for a while and when I could see, I saw two very hard cocks in need of attention.  One of them stretched out on a lounger and my face was impaled on his hard shaft.  The other one got behind me and rammed in.  They fucked me with the enthusiasm of youth which their father had not done for many years.  After they had cum, they traded places and did it again.

I was wondering how they knew about doing all of this when Kyle said: "Boy, go get your punishment book and a pen."  My hesitation due to shock must have shown because he then added: "We know all about how dad been in charge of you since he was ten.  Get it, now, boy."  Of course, I ran and got it so that they could fill in another entry.

I now had another pair of 'big brothers' to serve and obey.  Like Peter Pan I'm never going to grow up.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., July 15, 2004

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