OwenM

Memory of Alex

Chapter 1

Let me start out by saying that I'm not much of a writer. Back when I was growing up, I had dreams of becoming a famous author, writing fantastic science fiction stories that rivaled the best that were ever written. I'd wander the bookstore, closing my eyes and seeing my book sitting on the rack in front for the best sellers. People would stand in a line that snaked halfway around the mall just to let me sign their copy, just like I did the one time I got to meet the greatest of them all, mighty Asimov himself. I even had a ream of paper a teacher gave me on my last day of fifth grade. I started that summer with the goal that by the end of it, I'd have all five hundred pages filled with my first novel.

I filled ten of them.

It's not that my dream died, it's just that my life changed. Life has a way of doing that, changing in the ways that you least expect it at the times that you never see it coming. I guess afterwards you can look back and imagine that all the signs were there if you could only have seen them. I've been doing that a lot these days.

Some people might think that I never sat down and started page 11 because I didn't have much of a story to tell. That's what I used to tell people, that I wanted to be a writer but I was just waiting for the right story to come along. The truth of the matter is that I've had a story to tell, a good one, and I've had one ever since I put my pencil down mid-sentence on that June day so long ago.

I just didn't think anyone wanted to hear it. But then, in one of those strange twists of fate, I should come across this site. I don't even remember exactly how I stumbled in here in the first place, but as I read story after story after story, the only thing I could think was if I had actually found a group of people that might want to hear my story. It took me a few months to work up the courage to do this, and if somehow you are reading this you know that I managed to push that send button.

I don't know why I'm so nervous. I am completely convinced that not a single one of you is going to believe a word of this. Heck, if I read this story, I'd have a hard time believing it. So what would be the point of me trying to insist that everything you're about to read is completely true? Believe what you like, my goal is not to convince all of you that there is a truth out there that you might only have dared to hope existed.

Get to the story, you say?

Then let's go back thirty years or so, to a June day when my life changed forever.

I hated it here. It was too hot and way too sticky, and we didn't have any air conditioning. There were too many bugs, and not just the little gnats and mosquitoes and fireflies that I was used to when we lived in Massachusetts. These were big bugs, the kind that made me shiver. I never was the kind of kid that liked bugs. Florida sucks.

I knew early in the morning that this day was going to be a real scorcher, because when I woke up at the ungodly hour of six, the sheets were clinging to my body as though I had crawled into bed after forgetting to dry myself off from swimming. Six would have been normal if it were a school day, but school was over for the summer, and it was my god given right as a ten year old boy to sleep for as long as I felt like it. Trouble was, it was so hot that I didn't feel like it anymore.

I sat up in bed, peeling the sheets away from my skin, noticing only then that somehow I had shed my pajamas during the night and had nothing left on except my underwear. They were tangled up with the blanket on the floor. I was about to put them on and then decided they weren't worth it, it was too hot to get dressed anyway. I picked my glasses up from the nightstand and scanned the floor. Had to check for bugs, they had a way of crawling up through the floorboards especially at night. I saw a beetle so big three weeks ago that I screamed until my father came into the room and smashed it with a broom. It was yellow inside.

It seemed safe enough, so I got out of bed and walked quietly across the bare wooden floor, watching out for the places where I knew the floor squeaked. Back in Massachusetts we had a house big enough that Alex had his own room, but that had changed when we moved. I could tell that Alex was still sleeping because he was snoring just a little bit, which was kind of funny but I kept myself from laughing. He had kicked off his blanket too and was laying all spread out on his bed just wearing his underpants too. But that was normal for him, he didn't wear pajamas any more. He told me he was too old for them now that he was twelve. Alex didn't like sharing a room with me, but I didn't mind.

I managed to get out of the room without waking him up. Except for those sounds that insects make when its hot out, the way that you hear a low buzz that gets louder for a few seconds and then fades away, the house was silent. Dad was already gone at work and wouldn't be back until late. I was glad that he decided we didn't need babysitters anymore now that Alex was twelve, since it meant that we could pretty much do what we wanted. I pushed the door to the one bathroom in the house open and barely had my underwear down before I couldn't hold it back anymore.

I didn't like the bathroom here. It was nothing like our bathroom back in Massachusetts. That house had three bathrooms and they were all nice and clean. This one was kind of dirty, no matter how much you tried to clean it. Dad tried to make it look nicer when I wouldn't take a shower at first, and he sat there for hours scrubbing the tile and the tub, but it didn't make a difference, it still looked dirty. I took a shower anyway because I felt bad that he tried so hard.

I don't know how long I stood there before I heard a shout and a crash from the bedroom. I pulled my underwear up as I ran to find out what happened. Alex was sitting up in bed, wide eyed.

"One of those fucking bugs just ran right over me!"

I recoiled, checking the floor in front of me, but I didn't see it. I looked back up at him, he was all wide-eyed and scared. He looked at me and his face quickly melted into a scowl.

"What're you looking at?"

"Nothing," I said, backing up a couple of steps, a little smile creeping across my face as thoughts of sweet justice filled my head. "I thought there was a girl here."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, I heard a scream and it sounded like a girl."

His eyes narrowed. "You are so fucking dead, Jakey." He curled up like a cat about to pounce, and I made a mad dash from the room, with him in sudden pursuit. I giggled as he chased me around the house, over and over again since it didn't take long to run the whole way around, yelling about how dead I was going to be. He eventually caught up to me when I tripped trying to go around the kitchen table, pinning me down to the linoleum floor on my stomach and sitting on my lower back. I didn't mind, the linoleum felt good because it was a little cool and I was really sweaty from running.

"Now you're gonna get it," he said as he grabbed the waistband of my underwear.

"Nooo, not that!"

I didn't really expect that he wouldn't do it. He yanked, hard, driving them up the crack of my ass and crushing my balls to my front. I howled, not because it really hurt that bad, but because it was fun to howl when we played like this. He rolled off of me.

"I'd kick your ass if it wasn't so hot." He laid down on the linoleum next to me for a few minutes while we cooled off.

"You want a pop-tart?" he asked. I nodded. He lifted himself up and went over to the cabinet to take them out. I watched him go. For as much as he kept telling me that I was going to die and that he was going to kick my ass, I knew he never really meant it. I mean, he was my big brother and all, so I looked up to him in all the ways that little brothers usually do. But I think it was something more. As I watched him get the pop-tarts out, I remembered the time when I was eight, when a group of kids decided that I would be good to beat up on. He came over, but instead of just saying he was going to kick their asses like he always did with me, he really did. He got in a lot of trouble for it too, but he told me that night that no one picks on his little brother.

"Here, puke-face," he said, throwing the package over to me. I ate it sitting on the floor while he sat at the table. "Whatcha want to do today?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. It's too hot to go outside."

"Yeah," he answered. "I'm gonna watch TV." It was weird, the way he told me like that before he left the room, almost as if he wanted me to come with him. I didn't much feel like watching TV though, I wanted to work on my story. I finished my pop-tart and went back to our room, taking out the stack of paper from the bottom drawer of the desk, squaring it neatly and picking out a sharp pencil.

I stared at the paper without writing anything for what seemed like hours. I knew the word, they called it writer's block. I had written ten pages about this spaceship and the people that were on it that were going to some mysterious part of the galaxy to get something. I just couldn't figure out what they were trying to get and why they wanted to go there, and I couldn't think of anything else to write about. I tried a couple of things but erased them after just a few words. I erased so hard on the last one that I tore a hole in the paper and had to re-write the whole page over again.

"Can I read it yet?"

I hadn't even heard Alex come in, I was too busy copying.

"No."

"Come on, I won't laugh or anything, I promise."

"I just wanna finish the first chapter, that's all."

"Yeah," he said. He laid down on his back with his hands folded under his head and stared silently at the ceiling. I finished my copying, both of us not saying a word. I was in the middle of actually writing a new sentence when he spoke.

"I'm bored. Let's do something."

"I'm writing," I answered.

He didn't say anything for a moment. "I got an idea of something to do."

"I said I'm writing," I growled.

"We can do this for just a little bit and then you can go back to writing if you want," he offered.

"I wanna finish this."

Then he said something really weird. It was in a very different voice than he usually used, very serious, like the one when he told me that no one picks on his little brother.

"Please, Jake."

I put down my pencil and looked back at him a little annoyed. "What do you want to do?"

He kept staring at the ceiling. "Never mind," he said quietly.

I groaned. "C'mon, you made me stop already."

"Well, I just…" he trailed off, and then took a deep breath. "I thought we might just do a game, like one where, ummm, you tie me up." He looked over at me. "You know, to see if I can get out of it."

I made a face. "You want me to tie you up?"

"No, well, just to see if I can get out of it, you know? Like Houdini."

"They used chains and stuff for him."

"I was just thinking, that's all."

I put my pencil down on the stack of paper, shrugging. "If you want, I guess."

"Ok," he said, sitting up. "But I gotta show you how to do it right."

"I know how," I said boastfully. He didn't answer, grabbing his boots from the closet and pulling out the laces. I watched him curiously as he threw them on the bed and then grabbed a few of his dirty sweat socks from the floor and threw them on the bed too. He sat down again, taking two the socks and tying the toe ends together in a knot.

"Come here," he said. Curious, I got up from the chair and sat down on the bed next to him.

"Ok, here's how you do it right," he said, picking up one of the shoelaces. "First, you tie my hands behind my back, but you gotta do it a special way." He picked up my hands and placed them together in front of me. "You tie a knot around them first like this," he said, demonstrating but leaving them loose, "and then you wrap it around like a figure eight like this, then you use the rest to wrap in the middle like this." I nodded as he undid the shoelace from my wrists. "Then you do the same to my feet, but leave some extra so that you can tie my feet to my hands when I lie on my stomach." He rolled onto this stomach, bending his legs back so that his feet touched his butt. "Make sure everything is really tight, I don't want this to be too easy."

"Uh huh," I nodded, looking over at the socks. "What are those for?"

"Oh, ummm," he said looking at them. "The one tied together is so that you can gag me."

I wrinkled my nose. "Why?"

"Cause it's part of being tied up," he said, in that tone that older brothers reserve for their little brothers that don't understand the ways of the world. "Use the other one to blindfold me. Make sure you put those on tight too and knot them so that they don't come off."

"Ok," I said slowly. This was getting kind of strange. "How long do you have to get out?"

An odd look came over his face. "I dunno, just leave me until I get out."

I looked at him in surprise. "What if you can't get out, then you'd have to stay tied up all day."

"They I'd have to stay tied up all day," he repeated, almost like he was talking to myself instead of talking to me. "I'll just stay in my underwear cause its too hot to get dressed."

"Whatever," I shrugged. He rolled over onto his stomach and put his hands behind his back, his wrists crossed.

"Remember, do it nice and tight."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." I started wrapping the shoelace around the way he told me, pulling it tight on each pass. This might actually be kind of fun, having Alex tied up, especially if I did it so that he really couldn't get out. Then I could do whatever I wanted to him and he wouldn't be able to stop me. Not that I wanted to do anything really mean, I just wanted to get even and tickle him. An evil little grin spread across my face. Or maybe give him a really big wedgie and leave him like that because all tied up he wouldn't be able to get it out. I giggled.

"What's so funny?" he asked as I cinched the shoelace tight.

"Nothing. Is that tight enough?" I watched him try to twist his wrists and then pull them through the shoelace. He didn't get anywhere.

"Yeah, that's pretty good," he said. "Now my feet." He crossed his ankles, and I used the other lace to tie them together the same way, wrapping around in figure eight's that then wrapping a little more around the middle. "Don't forget to leave the extra," he reminded me.

"I know, I know," I said, pulling the shoelace tight and knotting it off. He pulled his ankles back so that they rested close to his hands. I pulled the extra lace and tied it off to his hands. "How's that?"

He pulled his ankles back. "Too loose."

"It's good enough," I answered. "It's not like you're gonna be able to untie it or anything."

"Just make it tighter, ok?"

I rolled my eyes and untied the shoelace. For a moment, I couldn't figure out how to make sure that his ankles would be right up against his hands, and then I had the idea to lean on his legs to force them closer and keep them there while I tied them off. He grunted as I leaned on him. "You told me to make it tighter," I said as I finished and got off of him.

"Yeah, it's ok," he answered. I watched him strain a little against the laces, but again, nothing gave an inch. "Do the blindfold." He lifted his head up, his eyes closed, and I lined up the sock. In a moment, it was knotted off behind his head.

"Can you see?" I asked curiously.

"Nope," he answered. "Just a tiny little bit of light."

I picked up the other two socks that were knotted together. They were dirty and had the unmistakable musky odor of old feet. "You really want me to gag you with this? It's kinda gross."

He took a deep breath. "It's ok, just put the knot in my mouth and then tie it off really tight so that I can't spit it out." He lifted his head from the pillow again, his mouth opened wide. Up until now, I didn't feel strange about any of this, it was just a kind of game to me. When he opened up his mouth like that, it stopped feeling like just a game to me, like there was something different happening. It was just a feeling, though. He had to open his mouth even wider as I pushed the knot into his mouth. He put his head back on the pillow and I tied it off behind his head.

"Say something," I said, curious to hear what he sounded like gagged.

"Mmmffmmm," he answered. I could barely hear him.

"Cool," I said. "It really works. Try to get out." I slid off the bed and stood up, looking at my brother, that strange feeling suddenly getting stronger, taking shape and lodging itself firmly in my stomach. My idea of tickling him or leaving him with a massive wedgie didn't hold so much appeal any more. I watched him strain against the laces, trying to pull and tug, but he quit before he had tried for very long and then laid still on the bed. I felt like I should gloat or something because I had tied him up so that he couldn't get out, but that didn't feel right either.

"Can you get out?" I asked him. He shook his head no. "Then I'll untie you."

He shook his head no and grunted into the gag. I took it out anyway.

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding a little annoyed.

"Untying you," I said.

"Don't. I wanna get out on my own."

"But you said you couldn't."

"I wanna keep trying." I didn't answer him. The feeling of strangeness was getting stronger. "Just put the gag back and let me try." He tilted his head back and opened his mouth again. I sighed and stuffed the knot back in his mouth and tied it back off, but not quite as tight as the last time.

"I'm gonna write," I said. He didn't answer, lying still on the bed, and I went back to the desk, picking up my pencil and trying to remember where I had left off. It was right in the middle of a sentence. I read the words, but couldn't remember at all what I was going to say afterward.

For five minutes I stared at the paper and then groaned in frustration, turning around to look at Alex. He was moving around a little, I could see him trying to find the knot with his fingers. I smiled, because the knot was on the other side of his hands where he couldn't reach it anyway, but them the smile faded from my face again. This just seemed… mean, to leave him all tied up like that. I tried to imagine what it would be like, not being able to move much or see anything and having to suck on that big hunk of dirty sock. Didn't seem like much of a game to me.

I turned back to the writing, sharpening my pencil, straightening out the stack of paper, trying to go back and read the ten pages that I already knew by heart anyway. But none of it helped. More and more I found myself turning around to stare at Alex, more and more unable to turn away and go back to my story. He hadn't made any progress at all in getting out and he had been like that for over an hour.

I finally got out of my chair and stood next to him. His whole body was covered with sweat. His hands and his feet had turned a dark shade of red that sent another twinge through my stomach. Before, I hadn't thought twice about the fact that he wasn't wearing anything but his underwear. I mean, we were brothers and we shared the same room, I had seen him in his underwear or even naked a million times. But somehow, with him all tied up like that, the image of him being so exposed sent another twinge of weirdness through my stomach.

He started whimpering a little, and I snapped out of my thoughts. "Do you want me to untie you?" I said quickly, getting nervous that I had left him like that for way too long already. He didn't move for a moment, and then he started to shake his head no.

"Your hands are all red," I said to him, my voice a little shaky, "and they feel kinda cold. I'd better let you out." He kept shaking his head no and making noises into the gag, but I picked the knot loose and pulled the sock out of his mouth. He coughed a couple of times.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked, sounding angry.

I got scared. "Cause your hands are all red and everything and…"

"Put it back, I wanna get out on my own!"

"I don't wanna do this anymore," I said nervously, untying the blindfold. He blinked as it came away from his face, looking over at me, his eyes fiery.

"C'mon, just put them back."

I shook my head and started working picking the knots loose around his hands. All his pulling and straining had made them really tight, and it was hard to pick them apart. He let me work on them for a minute or so and then suddenly rolled on to his side away from me.

"Don't do that," I said, exasperated.

"Don't let me out," he said, not sounding angry. "I wanna get out on my own."

"You're not going to get out, its too tight." I reached over him and tried to grab at his hands, but he rolled over again so that he was lying on top of them. I pushed him in the side to try and get him to roll back over, but he wouldn't budge.

"Just… just a little while longer."

"Why?" I asked. He didn't answer. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"A little, but I don't care."

"This is really weird," I said. "I don't wanna do this anymore."

"Ok," he sighed. I watched him roll back over onto his stomach. With a renewed fervor I gradually worked the knots loose around his hands, unwinding the shoelace until he was able to pull his hands apart and his feet rested back on the bed. I got off the bed, backing away.

"You do the rest," I said. "I'm gonna watch TV."

He didn't answer, and I left. I turned on the TV, but the cartoons were already over for the morning, except for the little kid ones on PBS. It didn't matter, I didn't really care what I watched. I just wanted to stop thinking about how strange Alex had been acting. He came into the living room, a towel slung over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he announced. I shrugged.

The water was on for a long time.

Chapter 2

"Pizza's here, boys!" Dad yelled from the hallway. Alex and I looked at each other, and at exactly the same time we jumped off the couch, except Alex shoved me back into the couch before I could stand all the way up. I growled at him, but he just laughed as he made it into the kitchen first. The heady smell of dough, cheese, and warm cardboard drifted into the living room, and I smiled. Pizza was a rare event these days, but so was Dad being home for dinner.

"Did you get mushrooms? I wanted mushrooms," I whined as I slid into a chair at the table.

"Just plain," Dad said sympathetically. I pouted, but the smell of pizza was enough to clear my mood quickly. Alex threw the box open, a cloud of steam rising to the ceiling, and deftly dealt three pieces onto paper plates, pushing one in my direction. I grabbed it and began to wolf it down ravenously.

"It's not like pizza from home, but it's ok," commented Alex between bites.

"I'm glad you approve." Dad pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair.

"Aren't you going to eat?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, I already ate," he said quickly. "The pizza is for you boys, eat up." Looking at his watch, he stood up. "I've got to be going."

"When are you going to be home?" Alex asked.

"I get off at six, but I probably won't get home until seven thirty or so with the bus schedule."

"You have to work all night again?" Alex sounded a little worried, and I looked over to him, wondering if I should be worried too.

Dad tousled his hair. "They pay good money for graveyard at the hospital," he answered. "A few more nights like this and we might be able to think about getting a car again." I smiled at the thought of having a car, taking the bus everywhere was such a pain.

"I think I could get a paper route," Alex said. "Jimmy said that he makes almost ten dollars a week."

Dad sighed. "Can we talk about this when I get home in the morning?" Alex didn't answer. "I've gotta go, boys, see you later." I stood up from my chair to give him a hug, which he returned warmly, ruffling through my hair just as he had done with Alex a moment earlier. Alex didn't get up, though. He was too big for hugs, but I didn't feel too big for hugs. He didn't even say good bye like I did as Dad left the room, the front door closing softly behind him.

I grabbed another piece of pizza and wolfed it down as fast as I could. Alex pushed his chair from the table, muttering something I couldn't hear, and headed for the living room. A half-eaten piece was still on his plate. I stopped chewing myself, wondering why Alex didn't want to have pizza. I mean, it wasn't like it was bad pizza or anything. I got up from my chair and padded softly over to the entry to the living room. Alex was sitting on the couch, his knees pulled up to his chest, his head bent down.

"Don't you want pizza?" I asked him.

He looked up, his face streaked with tears, his eyes furious. "Get the fuck out of here!" I took a step backward but stayed, petrified, until a pillow from the couch sailed through the air and connected with my face. "Leave!"

I turned and sat back down at the table, feeling like I wanted to cry myself but not knowing why. The pizza still sat mostly uneaten on the table in front of me, but I didn't feel really hungry any more either. I picked at the cheese absent-mindedly, remembering how we used to get pizza every Friday night. Back when we were in our real house, not this dump. Back when Mom was still around. My job was to hold the pizza on my lap when we went out and picked it up. She even let me pick some of the mushrooms off and eat them before we got home. It was like a secret, but I think Dad always knew.

But Dad kept on saying we can't live in the past, that we had to think about the future. I didn't know if that meant if we weren't even supposed to remember how things used to be, but I didn't think it would be all that bad to keep on trying to remember what things had been like. Like where my bed was in my old room, or what Mom used to smell like when she used to go out with Dad on Saturday nights and leave us with the babysitter. I looked up and stared at a dirty spot on the wall. I couldn't remember the babysitter's name anymore. Somehow, that seemed important, to remember her name. I began to get angry, and pushed my chair away from the table, kicking my foot hard and accomplishing nothing.

The TV came on in the living room, so I got up and stood in the doorway. Alex was just sitting back down on the couch, gathering his legs and hunching over the same way I found him before. I shuffled my feet and coughed. "Are you still mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you," he said sullenly. He didn't explain any further.

"Can I watch TV too?"

"Whatever," he said, barely loud enough for me to hear him. I went and sat down in the chair, not wanting to share the couch with him right now. He didn't seem to notice I was there.

I missed my big brother. I mean, he was still there, but it was like he had been beamed away or something and replaced by some kind of mutant big brother. Mom always said that Alex had a smile permanently plastered on his face. He had never seemed to get sad or angry, and even though he sometimes teased me and called me a pain he never did it that much. He made me laugh every time I was crying just by making my stuffed bears do suicide jumps off the banister. I smiled a little, remembering how he would make the grossest noises when they hit the floor.

Now, well, things were different. More like he was now. Dad said it was just that he was becoming a teenager, but I thought it was more than that. And then there was the other thing, the thing that even though I had tried not to think about for the last four days, it kept creeping back into my head. I just couldn't understand it, and it played over and over again in my head. I mean, there was no way he could have gotten out, and he wasn't really trying to get out after a few minutes, so why did he keep on telling me that he wanted me to leave him? There was only one explanation I could think of, that he actually wanted to be tied up. That just didn't make any sense, why would he want to be like that?

Even though I just didn't get it, a thought had been nagging at me all day. Twice already I had thought about saying something and chickened out. But looking at Alex, his eyes still red from crying, my resolve hardened. It was only fair, after all, for me to do something nice for him, after all the nice things he had done for me. Even if it didn't seem nice.

"Wanna do something?" I asked.

"No," he said pointedly.

I took a deep breath, my face turning red. "I could tie you up if you wanted." His head whipped around, his eyes suddenly wide and boring into me, not saying anything. I fumbled for the words. "I mean, ummm, if you… wanted to."

His eyes suddenly narrowed. "Why do you think I want to be tied up?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, I just thought." I looked at the floor. "Or we could do something else."

The room fell completely silent, but I was shouting inside my head. Stupid, I thought. I was right, why would he actually want to be tied up? Now he's even madder at me than before. I could feel his eyes drilling a hole right in the top of my head. It seemed ages before he spoke, and when he did his words were slow and kind of careful.

"I wanted another chance to get out."

I looked up. "So you want to?"

He smiled and nodded, standing up and walking to the bedroom. I followed him, a grin on my face too. I was just happy that I could do something nice for him. He sat down on his bed, taking the boot laces out from under the bed that he had never put back into his boots and the socks we had used from last time. He had never even untied the two that we used as the gag. I wrinkled my nose. He just sat there for a moment, looking down.

"Same way as last time?" I asked. He nodded, getting awkwardly to his feet. I watched, surprised, as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and shed his shorts, standing in his underwear. "Why are you taking off your clothes?"

"Cause it's more comfortable," he answered quickly, lying back down on the bed on his stomach, crossing his hands behind his back. Not waiting to see if he would change his mind, I sat down on the bed beside him, picking up the bootlace and wrapping it around his wrists the same way I had done the last time. I could hear him breathing, loud and fast.

"Make sure it's really tight," he said between breaths.

"But last time it made your hands all red and cold," I answered. "I should leave it a little looser."

"No, that doesn't matter. Just make sure it's hard for me to get out." I nodded and pulled the laces tighter on his wrists, knotting them off four times before turning my attention to his bare feet. Without me asking, he crossed them as well, and I wound the lace around his ankles, pulling the cord so tight that I heard him gasp a little.

"Sorry," I said quickly.

"It's ok," he answered. "Just make it really tight." I finished tying off his feet, leaning against his legs like he showed me to force his feet in close to his hands, then tying the remainder of the cord around his hands. I pulled away when it was all done.

"Is that tight enough?" I asked.

He pulled a little bit. "Yeah, that's pretty good." I picked up the sock to tie around his eyes, but he shook his head. "Wait a second, I've got an idea." I paused. "What if I had a good reason to get out, like if I couldn't get out then something would happen."

"Like what?"

"I dunno, something that I wouldn't want." He didn't speak for a moment. "Like getting tied up all night."

"All night? How could you sleep like that?"

"We could do it a different way so that I could sleep. C'mon, it would give me a reason to try harder. So let's say that if I don't get out in an hour, then I have to be tied up all night."

I thought about what he was saying. Why did he say that being tied up would be something that he didn't want? I mean, I was completely sure that he wanted to be tied up, and it seemed the tighter he was tied up the better. So then he probably would want to be tied up all night. I shrugged. "If you want."

He nodded his head slowly, and I shrugged. I tied the sock over his eyes, knotting it tightly in back of his head. "Open up," I ordered, and as he did I pushed the knot of the other two socks deep into his mouth and tied it securely behind his head as well. He mumbled something that I couldn't understand, but I ignored him. With a grin on my face, I traced a fingernail down the sole of his foot. He rolled over onto his side, his protests muffled. I giggled.

"I could do whatever I wanted to you," I teased him. He laid there completely still. I wasn't really going to do anything to him, I just wanted to scare him a little. After a minute, I left him alone on the bed and went to watch TV, noting that the time was just after 7:00.

The problem was, I couldn't concentrate on the TV. At first, I got up to check on him after five minutes, padding quietly across the room to stand in the doorway, silently, watching him. By the way he was struggling around, he was really trying to get out. I grinned to myself, because I knew there was no way he could. I had knotted everything really well and made sure that the knots were on the other side of his fingers so that he couldn't reach them. He couldn't even find the knots on the lace on his feet to try and let them out. Satisfied, I sat back down, but it was only a couple of minutes later before I was standing back in the doorway, watching him.

I didn't really know what was so fascinating about it, watching my mostly naked brother writhe around on his bed. Before long, I went to sit down on my bed, unable to take my eyes away from the scene in front of me. His body was covered with a sheen of sweat from the exertion he was going through. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead but they got mopped up by the blindfold. With all the struggling, his underwear had been pulled down a little, showing just the top of his butt-crack. He eventually stopped wriggling around, laying still and moving nothing but his fingers and toes. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, and then he started to whimper a little bit.

I figured that was my cue. I got up and sat down on the bed next to him. "Do you want me to let you out?" I looked over at the clock. "It's only been 35 minutes. If I let you out now you lose."

He shook his head no. As I watched, a mosquito landed on his arm. I didn't do anything, and by the way he reacted I could tell that it had bit him. I guessed that was part of being tied up, if a mosquito bit you there was nothing you could really do about it, except that Alex rolled over onto his side and crushed it on the bed. He turned back onto his stomach, and I saw that his underwear had been pulled down a little more. It was kind of embarrassing to see his butt like that, almost as embarrassing as when I actually took it and pulled it back up for him. He grunted something into the gag.

"Sorry, they were kind of coming off," I said, getting back off the bed. "22 minutes left." I went back to my perch on my bed, lying on my stomach propping my head up on my elbows, my feet in the air, my eyes glued to him. The last twenty minutes went by very quickly, and before I knew it the clock had made a full circle around. I went back and sat down on the bed beside him.

"One minute left," I said to him. Even though he had pretty much been still, he started to struggle again really hard, but there was no way. The seconds ticked off, and I watched the clock change from 8:05 to 8:06. "Time's up," I said, reaching behind his head and undoing the knot that held the gag in place. He spit it out as soon as it came loose, coughing a little.

"That wasn't really a whole hour!" he said.

"It was a whole hour!" I retorted, untying the blindfold. He blinked as it came away from his eyes. "See, it's after eight already. So you lost."

"Shit," he said. "Let me out, I gotta go to the bathroom."

"Eww," I said. "Don't pee in the bed." I started to pick apart the knot that held his feet to his hands. All of the knots had gotten even tighter from him pulling on them, so it took a little while to get them all untied. He started to wriggle a little bit, and I knew he had to go badly. "I'm going as fast as I can." When his hands finally came loose, he pulled them out of the laces and jumped off the bed to go take his piss. It came out so hard I could hear it hitting the water even from the bedroom, and I couldn't help but giggle. He came back into the room when he was finished, a sheepish look on his face.

"You're really good at tying up," he said, putting his arm around my shoulder as he sat back down on the bed. "I didn't think you would be so good at it."

"It's not like I figured it out on my own, you showed me how." I looked over at him curiously. "Who showed you how to do it?"

"Ummm, Davey and Tim and some of the other kids… from scouts," he stammered. "It was how we practiced tying knots sometimes." His face looked a little red. "I guess I have to get tied up now."

"If you don't want to…"

"It's ok," he interrupted. I knew that he would. He took a deep breath, and then got up off the bed. I watched him go over to his closet and take the shoelaces out of his sneakers, bringing them back to the bed.

"What are those for?"

"We need four," he said, without any further explanation. One by one he tied one end of the sneaker laces and the boot laces to the feet of the bed, leaving the other end on the bed. When he finished, he looked at me expectantly.

"I don't get it, how am I supposed to do this?"

"See, I lay down on the bed like this," he answered, rolling onto his stomach. "Then you tie this one to my hand and this one to my other hand." He spread his arms out so that they were at each corner of the bed.

"Oh, I get it," I said. It did seem a lot more comfortable than being tied up like he was before. "What about the blindfold and the gag?"

"I have to have them both, they're part of being tied up."

"But what if you can't breathe or something and I'm sleeping?"

"I'll be able to breathe, don't worry about it," he said, sounding like an older brother again. He shuffled his feet.

"Ok, so lets start then."

"There's one more thing." His face looked like it was turning even more red than it was. "When we… played this game at scouts, the loser… the loser had to…"

"Had to what?"

He shook like he got the chills. "Had to get tied up with no clothes on."

"Duh, you're not wearing any clothes."

"I mean naked," he said softly.

"Naked?" I blinked. "Why?"

"Because," he answered. "It's… it's more like a punishment for losing that way." He stared at the wall. When he started to talk, it seemed like he was talking to someone else, not to me. "Sometimes the loser got to stay in the tent, but usually we went out into the woods where anyone who came by could find him. Sometimes the loser would get tied to a tree, hands behind the back, sometimes with hands tied above his head, sometimes lying on the ground and all stretched out. Always naked." He shivered again.

I breathed out, not even realizing I had been holding my breath. "Wow," I said. "Did you ever lose?"

He looked over at me, his eyes a little wet, but not like he was crying. "I lost a lot. Most of the time." He wiped his hand across his face. "If you don't want to, it's ok."

"It's not like its me that has to be naked," I said. I felt a little twinge in my stomach. If before, tying him up in his underwear had seemed ok if a little strange, now it felt like some kind of line was being crossed. Now it became something that we could get in trouble for, something that we shouldn't be doing, something that was somehow forbidden and naughty even if no one had ever told me not to tie my brother up naked. The thing was, the fact that we were crossing this line made me even more curious to participate rather than less. It made me want to take the chance, to try and find out the hidden things that I could sense were behind all this but just couldn't quite grasp. "C'mon," I said playfully. "Take 'em off and lay down."

A little smile spread on his face, and then he turned back over onto his stomach before pulling his underwear down and off. That disappointed me a little, because I had wanted to take a look at his front. Even though I frequently saw him naked, it was usually just a glimpse, and he was always careful to face away from me whenever he was changing or coming in from the shower. His butt just wasn't as interesting to me. After all, a butt is just a butt. Things in front, that was different.

"How am I supposed to do this?" I asked him, my eyes still fixed on his bare rear. He scooched down until his feet were hanging off the bottom of the bed.

"Just tie the ropes around each foot. Make sure that the rope is really tight to the bed so that I can't move my foot too much." I got off the bed and stared at his foot, wondering how I could make it really tight. The idea came to me, much the same way as I had done when I leaned on his feet to make them go closer to his hands. I pushed down on his foot and then wrapped the lace around really tight. He grunted a little, but was otherwise silent.

"Ok, try that."

He pulled at his foot, but it didn't move at all. "Damn, you're really good at this," he said, a hint of admiration in his voice." I smiled and did the same thing to his other foot, making sure it was hanging off the bed the same way and pulled to the other corner. His legs were spread a little apart, and when my eyes wandered back to his butt I could see just a little bit of his other parts sticking out underneath the bed. Fascinated and embarrassed at the same time, I pulled my eyes away and went to the other side of the bed. I didn't need to ask him, I just grabbed his hand and pulled it out straight until it was stretched out as far as it could go, not quite hanging over the bed like his feet were. Quickly, I tied the rope tightly around his wrist, making sure to keep everything taut. He didn't say a word, and I did the same to the other wrist, making sure again that the knots were all behind his hands where he couldn't reach them.

When I was done, I stood up next to the bed, my mouth hanging just a little open at the sight in front of me. My brother, all stretched out on his bed, arms and legs spread apart, completely naked. He struggled gently. "Wow, this is really tight," he said softly, and then his tone changed a little, sounding a little hesitant. "Are you going to gag and blindfold me?"

As an answer, I sat down straddling his bare back, picking up the sock that we used to cover his eyes. He obediently lifted his head up and I tied the sock off behind his head. Without missing a beat, I picked up the gag sock, the knot all wet with his spit. Just as I was about to put it in, he turned his head away. "Jake?" he said, his voice even more shaky.

"What?" I said, annoyed that he had kept me from finishing.

"Just… keep an eye on me, ok? Make sure that nothing happens."

I rolled my eyes. "Like what?" I didn't wait for his answer, I just reached around and shoved the sock into his mouth. He tried to spit it out at first, but I held it tightly and had it knotted off before he could do anything. He was trying to say something, but I couldn't understand a word he said. I got off his back and stood at the side of the bed. "I'm not letting you out until morning, ok? I'm gonna set the alarm to go off before Dad gets home." He pulled at his bindings, hard, and I smiled. He wasn't going anywhere. For some reason, an idea struck me, and before I could think I acted, slapping his butt hard with my hand. He shouted in the gag, which hardly made any noise at all. "Have fun," I said, leaning in to speak right in his ear, and then I turned and left the room as he kept shouting and pulling at the ropes that held him down, going back to the television.

By the time I was done with TV and getting sleepy, he was lying still on the bed. I watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he slept quietly. I turned off the light and climbed into bed, falling asleep to the sight of the moonlight coming in through the cracks in the blinds, reflecting off his bare skin.

At some point, I woke up in the middle of the night. Groggily, I looked over toward Alex, who was still securely tied to the bed. He was making noises into his gag, soft grunting noises, which wasn't loud enough to have woken me up, but the creaking of his bed had been. It's not that he was trying to get out or anything, but he was moving around a lot, his lower body sliding back and forth on the sheets. I stared at him, wondering if he had to pee or something, but then he arched his back strangely, moaning a little louder into his gag and staying there for a few seconds before collapsing back into the bed and lying still again. I figured since he didn't keep moving he was fine, and turned over, drifting back off to sleep.

Chapter 3

I laid on my back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Music was playing softly on the clock radio, but I wasn't really listening to it. It had just turned on a few minutes ago, signaling me that it was finally five o'clock, but that didn't get me up anyway. In the far corner, over by Alex's bed, a spider was sitting in the middle of an intricate web, patiently waiting for a fly or mosquito to come by. Usually, I hated flies, and even though spiders were gross I was less inclined to molest them because they helped get rid of bugs I hated more. But today was different. I was on the side of the fly. I wanted to warn all of them of the web, that once caught there was no getting away from it, so they'd better be careful.

I left the spider alone anyway.

I was glad I set the music instead of the alarm. The music was nicer than that blaring beeping that we used to make sure I would get up on time in the morning. I used to never get up when the alarm would ring, especially when it was a school day. I would just keep on slapping it over and over again until finally dad would have to come in and make me get up. Now, things were different. Now it was important that I woke up in the morning, because if I didn't… I shuddered. I didn't want to even think about what would happen if I slept in.

Dad had gotten the job at the hospital working overnights six days a week. If you combined that with his regular job during the day it seemed like he was working every single hour of the day. He would come home in the morning for a couple of hours before going to his day job and wouldn't come home until the next morning. On Thursdays, when he didn't have to work at the hospital, all he did pretty much was sleep. I guess the good thing was that we were going to be able to get a car pretty soon.

Not having Dad around meant that we free to do pretty much whatever we wanted. I had thought having all that freedom would be good too, but it got pretty boring after only a couple of days. Well, at least it got boring for me. Alex always had something to keep him busy. I grinned thinly at my little joke. He was anything but busy these days. In fact, for the last couple of weeks since this new schedule had started for Dad, he pretty much hadn't done anything at all.

That was because he was tied up virtually all the time.

Even if I didn't understand it at all, I had begun to at least accept that Alex really, really liked being tied up. After that first time when I had tied him to the bed all night, it was all he could think about doing. Even though he complained about being all stiff and sore after that first night, we still went through the same ritual the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that. I wasn't quite sure exactly when, but at some point the beginning part of tying him in a hogtie (he had taught me that word) so that he could try and get out just stopped and I would simply tie him to the bed for the night.

It wasn't just at night, either. It was like he just couldn't get enough of it. The moment that Dad walked out the door, he would be standing in the living room with the ropes in his hand, not a stitch of clothing covering his body. I was more used to seeing Alex naked than Alex with clothes these days, and if at one point I had been intrigued by seeing all his private areas in front, now it was just old news. Even my fascination with how he always seemed to have a boner for some incomprehensible reason whenever I was tying him up had died off. It was the same for him, too. He used to be kind of embarrassed for me to see his front, but now I think he didn't care anymore.

He seemed to have all these different ideas of ways to be tied up that I never would have dreamed existed. Every day, it was something new. Yesterday, he spent the whole day tied up in a kitchen chair off in a corner of the living room, his arms wrapped around the high sides and then tied together in the back. To make sure that he couldn't stand up, he had me tie a rope around the rungs on the bottom of the chair. Each foot was tied to one side and a rope wrapped around his stomach, just in case he tried to move a little. The day before that, he had me tie him bent over the kitchen table, his feet tied off on the bottom and his hands tied off to the legs on the other side, his butt sticking up in the air. I had thought that was funny.

I guess I had reached a kind of balance, like a see-saw with people on it that weighed exactly the same. The whole thing still made me feel really strange inside. I knew I was hurting him when I tied him up, not just because he complained afterward but because he would make all those funny whimpering noises all during it. He would usually act all scared too, just before I would put the gag in his mouth. If I stayed to watch and listen for too long, I would start to feel bad for him, so I usually left him alone pretty quickly and tried not to think about it. Hurting my big brother just felt wrong.

But at the same time, I could tell for absolute sure that Alex was really happy, and it was obvious that it was because I was tying him up. I guess that was a part of the reason why I was doing it, because he really seemed to love it. The strange part was that even though it hurt him, I knew that he wanted it to hurt, at least a little bit. I knew he liked it when I made it so tight that he couldn't move an inch, when I shoved the gag in his mouth as hard as I could. But that wasn't the only reason, even if it was the only reason that I would admit openly to myself. I didn't think about the little tingly feeling in my stomach when I would tie him or when I would stand and stare at him without him knowing I was doing it. That little hint of electricity, of excitement, that curled around the edge of my brain. I quickly put it from my head.

The clock read twelve minutes past five. I was supposed to go and get Alex at five, but it wasn't like he knew what time it was. I sighed, knowing that I couldn't leave him in there forever. Besides, he had promised to make me bacon and eggs for dinner tonight, and I was getting pretty hungry. Slapping the alarm clock into silence, I rolled off the bed and went out into the living room.

I took a deep breath as my hand wrapped around the knob of the coat closet door, yanking it open. There were no coats in there, they were all piled up on the couch. Just Alex, naked as always, tied as he had carefully instructed me this morning. He was kneeling, facing the back, his arms stretched out straight above his head. He had drilled two holes up near the closet bar on each side and put eye bolts in that I could use to tie the ropes so his arms stayed apart from each other. He couldn't stand up either because of the rope that was tied around his waist and to his bound feet, keeping him stuck in that uncomfortable kneeling position. By the look of him, all slumped over and moaning, it was really uncomfortable. That was not to mention that he was covered with sweat, and even in the stifling heat in the living room I could feel the blast of hot air when I opened the door.

He started moaning loudly the moment I opened the door. I quickly undid the knot of the gag and pulled it out of his mouth. "This really hurts," he said hoarsely, coughing a couple of times.

"It's supposed to," I said flippantly. "You told me it would." I started to untie the blindfold.

"I didn't think it would hurt this much," he said softly. "My arms are killing me, can you let them down first?"

I sighed, leaving his blindfold and picking at the knots that held his right hand. It was all red and cold, like his hands usually were when I was untying him. He stayed silent as I undid the rope, finally pulling it away from his wrist and letting go of his hand. His arm fell to his side. "Fuck!" he yelled, and then hissed loudly.

I became a little frightened that maybe I really shouldn't have left him in there all day like that. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, it'll be ok," he said, grimacing. I undid the rope holding his other hand as fast I could, and he hissed again through clenched teeth as the other arm fell to his side. I had the ropes around his ankles and his waist off in no time and pulled the blindfold from his eyes. He blinked, as usual, and sat back on his butt, slowly straightening out his legs.

"Next time I want you to do that, remind me how much it hurts," he groaned, scooting backward out of the closet and laying down on his back.

"I don't think we should do that again," I said, shuffling my feet.

"Not for that long," he added, nodding his head. "Maybe for a shorter time." I shrugged. "Man, I've gotta take a whiz something fierce."

I giggled. "So go," I said.

"I can't move yet," he said, bending his arms and hissing in pain. I sat down next to him and waited for a few moments while he just laid there like a lump.

"C'mon, I'm getting hungry and you promised to make bacon and eggs tonight."

"Just give me a second, alright?" he said annoyed, stretching out his legs, saying "Ow" under his breath about ten times before he got them out straight. I sat down next to him, a little grin on my face.

"So you really can't move," I said, a little taunt in my voice.

He shook his head. "Everything hurts."

I brushed my fingertips across his bare stomach. His eyes opened wide. "Does that hurt?"

"Don't," he warned.

"Or what?" I teased, running my other hand down the sole of his foot. He yanked his foot away and groaned from the effort. "I could tickle you all I want."

"I'll make you pay," he growled.

"Yeah, when?" I tickled his stomach in earnest, and he started to thrash and giggle. "You're tied up all the time, how are you gonna get me back?"

He pushed me hard in the chest, forcing me back onto my arms. The smile was gone from his face as he rolled over and stumbled to his feet. "Shit, I'm gonna piss all over the floor," he said, his hand clutching at his dick. I stared at him before bursting into laughter, the sight of him staggering across the floor making my sides split. "Shut the fuck up!" he yelled as he forced the bathroom door open, not even bothering to close it behind him. The groan of relief he let out made me roll onto my back, laughing so hard that it didn't even make a sound, that I couldn't even breathe. He peed for what seemed like forever before he came back out, his face in a snarl.

"If I could run you'd be so dead right now," he warned.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, sticking my tongue out at him. He waved his hand and went into the kitchen, not even bothering to get his clothes.

"What kind of eggs do you want?" he yelled, standing on his tiptoes to get the mixing bowl from the top cupboard.

"Scrambled," I shouted back. He didn't acknowledge. I laid on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, wiping the sweat from my brow. I looked over at the closet that had been my brother's prison for the day, the ropes dangling from the hooks, still swaying gently for some reason. It was so hot in here, how could he stand being in the closet all day like that? Curiously, I got up on my knees and made my way into the small space, just barely big enough for my feet to be inside with the door closed. I reached up for the bar, stretching my arms out the way that Alex's had been.

Suddenly self-conscious, I looked over my shoulder. Alex was busy in the kitchen, out of sight. I picked up the gag that was on the floor of the closet, feeling how wet the knot was with his spit. What would it be like to have that in my mouth? Curious, I tentatively opened my mouth and put the knot halfway in. It was so big that I had to stretch my mouth open to push it in further. I tried, my tongue getting caught and being pushed to the back of my throat causing me to choke for a second until I spit the thing out into my hand. He had that thing tied in his mouth all day long?

I glanced back again. Alex was standing at the stove, busy with the food. My stomach filled with butterflies, I got to my feet. In less than a second, my shorts and underwear, the only clothes I was wearing, were on the floor. I kicked them out the door and then pulled it shut behind me. The closet was almost completely dark, only a little sliver of light showing beneath the door. I got back down on my knees, picking up the sock gag and putting the knot back halfway in my mouth, biting down on it. I wrapped my hands in each of the ropes, not really tying them, until they were stretched out straight. I crossed my feet, just like Alex's had been tied.

And then I just stayed there. The closet became miserably hot almost immediately. I tried to imagine in my mind what it must have been like for Alex, tied up like this, not being able to see anything, not being able to talk or even move. My arms started to feel sore almost immediately.

The door behind me suddenly opened, and I whirled around, pulling my arms free from the ropes, spitting the gag out. Alex stared at me, a surprised look on his face.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I stammered. "I was just…" I trailed off, not knowing what to say.

He got a strange look on his face. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "if you ever want me to tie you up, I would."

I shook my head. "No way. I don't ever want to be tied up like you." He looked at me sideways, his eyes narrowing. "I mean, how could you stay in the closet like that all day? My knees and my arms were already starting to hurt and I was only in there for two minutes!"

"I don't know," he said quietly.

"Why do you want to do this?" I blurted out. "What, do you like getting hurt or something?"

He looked down at the floor. "I don't know that either," he mumbled, turning around and going back to the kitchen. I stared at him as he left and then pulled my underwear and shorts back on. The smell of cooking bacon filled my nose as I went into the room, slumping down in the chair. Alex poured himself a glass of milk and downed it in one breath, and then poured himself another. I looked at the half empty milk jug.

"Did you drink all that milk? It was full!"

"I'm really thirsty," he explained, not turning away from the pans. "Could you get my clothes, I got spattered with some grease." I went and got his shirt, shorts, and underwear from the floor of our room, bringing it back over to him. Without taking his eyes from the pans, he pulled them on. "Feels weird to wear clothes again," he said, more to himself than to me.

"Why?"

"I dunno, I guess because I haven't really worn anything for a whole day. I never got dressed this morning." He was silent for a moment. "I think I like being naked better."

"I don't like going around naked like that." I wrinkled my nose.

"I do," he said, dropping his shorts and underwear back to the ground. He left his shirt on, I guessed so that if any grease splattered again he wouldn't get burned. Dinner was done a few moments later, a monumental pile of eggs and bacon that he dumped onto a plate and put it on the table. "There's no cheese," he explained, handing me a fork. We didn't bother with plates, we just both ate off the same one. I wasn't really hungry, but Alex was stuffing it in as fast as he could.

"Is it good?" he asked between mouthfuls.

"Yeah," I said. "You make good breakfast for dinner."

He smiled. "Thanks."

I chewed on a piece of bacon. "Remember how we used to have breakfast for dinner? Dad would always make pancakes too."

"Yeah, I would have done that except there was no mix or syrup left."

I giggled. "And do you remember the time that we went to make breakfast for mom and dad in bed? We were making eggs and bacon and pancakes except we used the wrong kind of pan for the bacon and then it got stuck and it lit on fire and Jeremy had to find the fire extinguisher…" I trailed off, my mouth open and filled with half chewed egg. Alex's face turned white. "I didn't mean…"

"You aren't supposed to talk about him anymore," Alex muttered.

"I'm sorry, I forgot!"

"You're such a fucking stupid little kid." His face grew red again. "Stupid!" he shouted across the table, shoving his chair back so hard that it fell over backward. He stood there clutching the table for a minute, his eyes drilling silently into my head, and then turned and stormed off to the bedroom. I put down my fork, the remnants of the dinner no longer holding any appeal. I was a stupid little kid. I had promised never to mention Jeremy to Alex again, and like a stupid kid I just went and blurted it out.

Not knowing what exactly to do, I got up from the table and went quietly over to the bedroom. Alex was lying face down on the bed. I wasn't sure if he was crying or not.

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it as completely as I had ever meant those words before.

"It's ok," he said sullenly without another word. I shifted from foot to foot, trying to think of a way to make it up to him.

"Do you want me to tie you up again?" I offered, grasping at the only thing I could think of.

He was still for a moment, and then nodded gently. While I untied the ropes in the living room and brought them back to the bedroom, he had slipped off his shirt and was lying on his back, the blanket and pillows shoved off to the floor. I tied the ropes to the feet of the bed while he laid there in silence.

"Aren't you gonna turn over?" I said, ready to start binding him. He shook his head, and I shrugged, tugging at his ankle and leaning into it to make it as tight as possible, tying it off. "This rope that you bought makes it a lot easier."

"Tighter," he said, breathless.

"I can't make it any tighter," I whined.

"Just make it as tight as you can." I untied his foot and re-tied it, leaning into it as much as I could, hard enough that he grunted as I tied it down. I did the same with this other foot, spreading his legs wider than usual over the sides of the bed instead of to the end. He didn't move, and I got up to grab his wrists and start tying those off as well.

"I want to be put in the closet again tomorrow," he said softly. "All day."

"But you said we wouldn't do it for so long. You said it hurt a lot more than you thought it would."

"I know what I said," he said, sounding a little annoyed. "I don't care, I want to be put in there and left there. I want to spend the whole day in there. The whole night too, until it's time to let me out because Dad is coming home."

"But what about…"

He read my mind. "No food. No water. No pee breaks. Just leave me there." I stared at him, and his voice started cracking. "I wish you we had a better place where you could just lock me up and leave me there for days, or even weeks without letting me out. I wish…" He trailed off. I was paralyzed.

"You're scaring me," I said, my voice shaky too. "How come you want something like that?"

"I wish someone would just come along and kidnap me, and keep me tied up all the time. I would just be locked up and I would know that I was never going to get free, ever." My hand started to shake. "C'mon, finish it up," he said harshly.

"I… I don't want to anymore." My voice was cracking badly now. "I don't want you to get kidnapped."

"Jake," he said, his voice softer.

I started to cry. "I already lost one big brother I don't want to lose my other one too!"

"I didn't mean… shit," he said, propping himself up on the bed despite his tied feet. "I'm not going to go anywhere, ok?" I shook my head. "I promise, no one is gonna kidnap me. Look, I'm sorry I called you a stupid little kid, ok? I didn't mean it. I mean…" He took a deep breath. "I mean that you're the best little brother I could ever have. What little brother could tie someone up as well as you can?" His voice was a little more playful, and I smiled.

"C'mon," he said, laying back down. "Just tie me up for tonight and we'll figure out what to do tomorrow, ok?" I wiped my eyes and sat back down on the bed.

"Am I really the best little brother you could ever have?"

He looked at me, as serious as I had ever seen him be. "You're… you're so nice to be doing this for me. I mean, no one else would ever do something like this for me. I promise," he said, his voice resolute. "I promise that one day I'm going to pay you back for all of this, that I'm going to show you… how much…" He wasn't able to finish, but I understood. I blinked, and then took his wrist in my hand and pulled his arm out straight. Setting my teeth, I yanked him hard and held him down while I tied the rope. After I was done and looked at him, I saw that he was smiling. I finished his other hand, and then tied the blindfold around his eyes. Before I was about to put the gag in, he spoke.

"Hey," he said softly. "See you in the morning."

"Yeah," I answered, pushing the sock into his mouth and tying it around his head. He laid his head back down when I was finished, and I looked at him, straining gently against the ropes like he always did when I first tied him up. He suddenly looked different to me, not the bigger, stronger brother I had always looked up to, but smaller, more frail, weaker. It scared me, as much as what he had told me scared me, and I didn't care that it was just past 6:30. I stripped off my clothes, and as naked as he was, I climbed into his bed next to him. If he had to be naked, I was going to be naked too. He mumbled something incomprehensible into his gag, but I wrapped my arms around his chest, our bare flesh pressing together. I would never let him go.

Someone was shaking me awake, but my eyes just didn't want to open. I was aware of music playing from somewhere, but I couldn't quite place it. The person shook me again, and I finally opened my eyes.

"Hey, dad," I said sleepily, rolling over onto my side, wondering what had happened to my blanket. I reached out, feeling something warm next to me and then yanking my hand back.

My eyes jerked wide open. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. The music came from the clock radio, having gone off exactly when it was supposed to but with the music I had set on it yesterday instead of the blaring alarm that would ensure that I would wake up. I stared in horror at my brother, lying right next to me, still tied, still naked, myself as naked as he was. My stomach sank into my feet.

"Let your brother out and get dressed," he said quietly. "I think we need to have a little talk."

Chapter 4

The heat was oppressive. Not a breath of air came in through the open windows in the house, the air still and silent and just a little hazy, thick and heavy. One time, I had gone into a sauna with my father in a hotel, but I only stayed in there for about a minute before the heat and all that steam made me dizzy and I fled to the delicious feeling of a cool, dry world. Except now, there was no way to get out. Actually, the best choice if I had a sauna right now would be to go in, because it would probably be cooler in there.

I sat on my bed, my knees pulled up to my chest underneath my t-shirt, stretching it out. My arms were wrapped around my legs tightly, my face down, as I rocked back and forth gently. As hot as it was, and as thirsty as I had become from sweating enough to soak my clothes straight through, I didn't dare get up from the bed for anything. It was as if I had invoked a circle of protection around it. While I was there, I would be safe, but if I left… the thought turned my stomach, and I went back to rocking.

Truth was, I didn't know what to feel, other than that the whole world was about to cave in on me. I mean, I knew I was in trouble, probably bigger trouble than I had ever been in before. Bigger trouble than I would ever get in again. More than once, the thought had drifted through my head that I could just run away, but the concept of trying to walk around in this heat ended that idea every time it surfaced. I wasn't quite sure why I was in trouble, what rule I had broken, since there were no rules for what we had done wrong. Somehow, I just knew it.

I'm not sure which was worse, having to wait or having to go and talk to Dad first. That honor had fallen onto Alex. After Dad had left the room, I couldn't move for the longest time, all the while Alex was squirming around and shouting into his gag. Some of it was surprise, I guess, but a lot of it was that I was scared of how angry Alex would be. I mean, I was obviously the one who had done the tying, but he was the one who had been tied, and in my mind it seemed clear that made me far more guilty than him. It took all the courage I had inside me to pick apart the knot that held the gag in his mouth, but when I did and he spit it out, he didn't say a word. In fact, he stayed silent the entire time that I untied him, lying still and waiting for me to undo all of the ropes myself instead of helping out like he usually did.

I tried not to look at his face as I finished up, but every now and then I couldn't help but glance in his eyes. It was strange, because I couldn't quite tell from them if he was angry or not. I mean, I knew he had to be angry, but at the same time he didn't look really furious. It only made me even more frightened, because I didn't understand why. Even after I finished untying him, he laid still for a few moments, long enough for me to get off the bed and push the button to silence the alarm clock. He got up as I sat down on my bed, trying hard not to cry.

"Are you mad at me?" I finally asked in a trembling voice. Alex didn't answer. Slowly, he got dressed. "I'm really sorry!" I added, knowing that even if I meant it, apologizing would be meaningless. He still said nothing, his silence as loud as if he were screaming at the top of his lungs. I sat there, oblivious to my nudity, wishing he would say something. Anything.

When he was finished getting dressed, he sat down on the edge of his bed, staring off into space. I wished he would scream at me, or even pound on me, I wouldn't have even cared. He just sat there, completely still, staring. Dad hadn't come back into the room yet, but I certainly wasn't going to go and get him.

Then the clock decided to start playing music again. I looked over at it, the sudden noise jolting me in fear. Alex jerked suddenly too, and then got up off the bed. With a single motion, he yanked the clock from the wall and threw it to the ground, smashing it into several pieces.

"Alex," Dad said quietly. I whirled around. He was standing in the doorway. "Why don't we go for a walk?" He didn't sound angry either, which made the whole situation even more confusing, and more frightening. Alex shuffled across the floor, kicking a piece of the dead clock, his head hanging low. They left the room, and I heard the front door close quietly, signaling that they had left the house.

It had taken all the courage I could muster to get off the bed and get dressed. It seemed like a bad idea to still be naked when Dad got back. Still, I dressed faster than I ever had before and was back on my bed instantly. I don't know how long I'd been sitting there, with the alarm clock smashed and with no other clues that time was even passing besides the buzzing of insects coming from outside.

The sound of the front door opening quietly nearly made me scream. I grabbed the pillow and hugged it tightly as Alex came into the room. I wanted to hide behind the pillow, but I couldn't help but peek out. His face was blank, fixed in a strange way between numb and stunned. He sat down on the edge of his bed as I watched him, and then spoke in a low, flat voice.

"Dad's waiting for you outside."

My stomach leapt into my throat. I couldn't move. My mouth trembled, wanting to ask Alex a million questions, about how angry Dad was, about how much trouble we were in, about what he was going to do or say to me when I got out there. But I couldn't make a sound. I just sat there, completely still. Alex didn't look at me.

"Jake, go outside," he said softly. I nearly jumped.

"Are we in really big trouble?" I finally spat out, my words thin and shaky. He didn't answer, lying down on his back with his hands folded behind his head. Wobbly, I got up from the bed and carefully peered out of the bedroom. The front door was open, Dad sitting on the stoop. I looked over at Alex for some kind of strength, but his eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling. With a deep breath, I managed to put one foot in front of the other and slowly shuffle across the house to stand in the open doorway. Dad turned around.

"Come sit down next to me," he said softly. I shook my head warily, my eyes wide. "Please come sit down. You're not in trouble, I just need to talk to you." Still I didn't move. He sighed and then turned to face sideways. I felt like I was ready to run like a rabbit at the slightest sign of danger.

"I know you're scared, but you don't have to be," he said, his eyes looking friendly at yet sad at the same time. "You haven't done anything wrong. The only thing I would have been angry about was if you had done something to Alex that he didn't want, but from everything Alex said it was all his idea."

"But… then Alex is in…"

"No, honey, Alex isn't in any trouble," Dad answered. "Please sit down, I don't want to have a conversation like this." He patted the concrete beside him. I took the invitation, sitting down all the way on the other edge of the stoop, poised to flee. "Alex was very clear that none of this was your fault in any way, that you were just doing what he had asked you to do. That is true, right?"

I nodded, confused. None of this made any sense.

"Alex also told me that you've been doing this for a few weeks now, pretty much every day." I nodded again. "Look, honey, I know that no matter how many times I've said that you boys can talk to me about anything, I'm not surprised that you kept this a secret from me. I suppose it's not something you can talk to your father about, is it?"

I shrugged. "I guess," I mumbled.

"Why?"

I shrugged again. "I dunno. I guess… it's just that kind of thing."

He sighed again, and then looked over at me intently. "How much do you know about sex?"

I nearly fell over, blinking several times in shock before my face began to turn red from embarrassment. Why would he pick a time like this to bring up a conversation about… that? Now I was completely confused. None of this made any sense whatsoever. I was so surprised that I actually managed to answer him. "Just that, you know, a man and a woman get together and they… make babies."

Dad smiled gently. "I suppose that's what I get for not having the courage to talk to you boys earlier." He shook his head. "There's a lot more to sex than making babies. You've heard of masturbation?"

I turned even redder and nodded. "At school," I whispered. "But the guys call it jerking off."

"You're not a slow kid, I'm sure you put the connection together that 'jerking off' has something to do with sex." I nodded again, being careful not to look in his direction. "People think about and do all kinds of things when they're jerking off. Some boys think about girls, and some boys think about other things. Your brother is one of those boys that think about different things, like being tied up."

My head jerked of it's own accord, my eyes gluing themselves to his. My head felt like it was about to explode. Again, I managed to speak only because I was so completely surprised. "Alex wanted to be tied up for… for sex?"

"You know, Alex told me you really had no idea why he was asking you to do all those things to him."

The realization began to seize my brain, things suddenly clicking into place. That's why he wanted to be naked. That's why his thing was always hard whenever I tied him up. How come I didn't figure this out before? But just as soon as it all made sense, it all fell apart in my head and became even more muddled.

"But… but…" I struggled with the words. "But then why did Alex want me to make it hurt all the time? And how could he do it if he was tied up? And…"

Dad shook his head, and I trailed off. "A lot of people who think about being tied up also think about being hurt. Some people want to be hurt just a little, while other people think about getting hurt a lot. Which would you say Alex is more like?"

That was easy. "He wants to get hurt a lot," I answered, the words coming more easily. "Yesterday he stayed tied up in the closet all day kneeling with his arms stretched above his head and it really must have hurt because I stretched my arms up too…" I turned beet red, not believing that I actually just told that to my father. He just smiled and nodded gently again.

"You don't have to be ashamed to tell me these things, honey," he said. "Sex is never anything to be ashamed about, no matter how strange it might seem to talk to me about it. You know, I'm kind of glad this all happened like this, because I had been putting off talking about this kind of stuff with you boys for too long now."

"I guess I'm kinda glad too," I answered. "It was getting pretty weird."

"Were you feeling uncomfortable about doing what Alex was asking of you?"

I shrugged. "I guess. I mean… he just wanted to get hurt more and more and then last night he was talking about wanting to be kidnapped and I was getting really scared. But…" I trailed off. I looked back down at the grass, stubby and wide. Grass down here was all rough, not like the grass I remembered from back in Massachusetts. I didn't know why I was thinking about grass.

"But what, honey?" Dad asked.

I sighed. "Do you think it's ok for me to keep doing this stuff with Alex?"

He sighed as well. "That's a very hard question for me to answer. To be completely honest, there's a part of me that would rather you two didn't play these kinds of games together." He stared off across the grass. "There's a part of me that wishes that Alex didn't have these kinds of feelings, that he wasn't…" Dad's voice cracked, and for a moment I thought he actually sounded like he was going to cry. I looked over at him with a mixture of curiosity and fear. "But, that doesn't matter," he said firmly. "The only thing that matters is if you want to do keep doing these things with Alex. It's your decision, and Alex's, whether or not you should continue." He looked at me intently. "Do you want to?"

I thought for a moment. Did I want to? The whole thing was still terrifying, and even though he had said that Alex wanted to be hurt that didn't make it any less scary. In fact, it became even more frightening, thinking that Alex actually wanted to get hurt like that. The fact that I was the one who was hurting him just made it worse. But at the same time, there was a strange little feeling down in my stomach, a feeling that as weird as this whole thing had become, there was a part of me that was seized by curiosity. After all, this had to do with the great mystery of sex, and the promise of the secrets that could be revealed captured my imagination and made my fingers tingle with excitement.

I nodded.

"Ok, then," he said. "You have my official permission to tie up Alex any time that both of you want." I smiled. Official permission to tie up Alex was a strange thing to have. "I have a couple of rules you have to follow, or I will take this permission away. First, you are never to leave Alex completely alone while he is tied up. You can be in the other room, but you must never leave the house." I nodded. "Second, I don't want you to ever tie anything around his neck, or make it hard for him to breathe. That's how accidents happen." I nodded again. "Third, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. If you feel uncomfortable about anything Alex asks you to do, you just say no. Understood?"

I nodded again. Dad slid over and put his arm around my shoulder. His face changed a little and became more serious, his voice a little darker. "Alex and I had a very frank discussion about the feelings that he had, about all the things that he wants to ask you to do that he's been too afraid to bring up."

"What kind of things?" My stomach did another flip.

Dad was quiet for a moment. "What Alex wants… what he needs is to feel like he's being taken out of control, like he has no say in the things that happen to him."

"It's already like that," I said. "I don't untie him no matter what he says until the time is up."

"I think it's more to do with your attitude," Dad said thoughtfully, and then shook his head. "I think Alex should talk to you more about this, he can express what he wants better than I can. In the meantime," he said, slapping his knees and rising to his feet, "I have something I want to show you."

I followed him into his bedroom, watching wide eyed as he reached up to the very top shelf in his closet, the one that he could barely reach standing on his toes, pulling down a small cardboard box. He set it on the bed, opening it carefully so that the box flaps obscured what was inside. Gingerly, he took something out of it. I moved forward so that I could get a closer look, but that didn't help me figure out what it was. It had a smallish black ball that had somehow been attached to a small belt. Dad held it in his hands, looking at it intently for a few moments, before looking up and handing it to me. I took it as if it were a snake ready to strike, holding it by the very tip of the belt at arm's length.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"It's a gag," he answered. I blinked, surprised, and then held it closer so that I could inspect it. Now it made sense, the ball must go in his mouth like the knot from the socks do, and instead of tying it behind his head the belt keeps it on. I looked at it intently, noticing that the ball looked pretty beat up. I wasn't totally sure, but it looked as though it had teeth marks all over it, as though it had been bitten all over at some point.

But before I could ask about the gag, Dad handed me another strange object, or I guess I should say pair of objects, because there were two of them that were attached together with a chain. They looked like those clips that I had seen the science teacher use to attach a meter to an electrical circuit he had made during a lesson.

"What are these for?"

Dad smiled thinly. "These are clamps. You put these on him, right here," he said, pointing at my chest. I looked down, dumbfounded.

"How would that help to tie him up?"

"It's not to tie him up," Dad corrected me gently. "They hurt when you put them on him. You put them right on his nipples, one on each side."

I stared wide-eyed at the clamps. In all the times that I had tied Alex up the way that he wanted, so that it hurt, never had it crossed my mind that there were other things besides the way he was tied up that could be used to hurt him the way he wanted to. Instead of pain just being a side-effect, causing pain was the only purpose these little things served. I instantly dropped them, watching as they fell to the floor with a soft clink, backing off two steps without ever letting them leave my sight.

"Maybe that's too much for you right now," he said softly, picking them up and putting them back in the box, replacing it on the very top shelf of his closet. "Alex doesn't know about these things yet, and I'm not going to tell him about any of them because I don't want him pressuring you to do things you're not ready to do." The image of putting those clamps on Alex flashed into my head, and I shuddered. "Not until you're ready."

I nodded. I felt like my head was full and I couldn't stuff anything else in there. Dad motioned for me to sit down on the bed next to him, and I did. "Jake," he said, his voice cracking again, "I don't know if Alex has been able to tell you how much what you've been doing means to him, but I want you to know that what you're doing for Alex means more…" He trailed off, and then tousled my hair. "I'm going to catch hell for being so late to work."

I looked at him with misty eyes and an unsettled stomach. "Do you really have to go?"

He nodded, getting off the bed. "Go and talk to your brother." I nodded back at him, watching him walk over to our bedroom, standing in the doorway. "Alex, I'm going to work now." If he answered, I couldn't hear it. Dad smiled at me as he walked back from the house, closing the door silently behind him. I stayed put on the bed, trying to make sense out of everything that I'd just been told. It seemed impossible.

I didn't notice that Alex was standing in the doorway to Dad's bedroom until he coughed. I stared at him. He fidgeted, looking down at the floor.

"Do you wanna skip stones at the lake?"

Without a word, I got up off the bed, signaling my willingness to go along with him, only because it was easier to just go than to say no. The lake was a half-mile [800 m] walk along a path through the woods that stood behind the house, a nice easy flat walk like everything in this dead flat place. At least it would have been easy if the heat hadn't been bearing down upon us like a pile of thick woolen blankets from which there was no way to crawl out. We walked in silence, Alex leading, me following a safe twenty paces behind him.

When we reached the lake, we set out to find the right kind of stones along the bank. We hadn't been down to skip stones since we had started, I remembered with another little shudder, but still there weren't many good flat ones to be found since we had been regulars down here before that, stripping the banks of every stone that could be successfully flung across the rippling water.

Alex found a good handful long before I had even located two. Without comment, he handed over more than half of his stones to me, dumping them into my cupped hands before turning and expertly flicking the stone across the water. I watched with more than a little envy how his stone gently hopped along the water, leaving tiny rings of ripples to mark the places where it had bounced. Seven. Alex's record was ten. I had never done more than five. My first throw skipped twice before sinking below the still, dark water.

Alex was more careful with his stones, the result being that even though I had twice as many as he did, he still had two leftover when I was done. He handed me one and then stood in front of the water, his face fixed in concentration, throwing the stone. I counted the rings as it skipped along, my eyes widening as I counted the last set.

"That was eleven," I said. "It's a new record."

He turned and looked at me, his eyes watery. "I'm really sorry." He kicked at the grass. "I'm sorry for getting you mixed up in all this stuff. It wasn't fair… fair of me to poison you like that."

"Poison me?"

He just shook his head. "I'm sorry I lied to you too."

"You didn't lie to me," I said quietly.

He shook his head. "All that stuff about scouts, I just made all that up. I never got tied up at scouts." He looked back over the water. "I wanted to, but nobody would do it. I tried to get a lot of people to do it, but no one ever would. I lied about why I wanted you to do it too."

I shrugged. "It's ok, I guess. I'm not mad."

"I guess you don't want to do that stuff anymore, now that you know." He sounded so sad that I felt like maybe I would start to cry too.

"It's ok," I answered. "I don't care."

He turned around slowly. "Really? You would still do it even though… even though Dad told you why…" He trailed off.

"Yeah, I guess," I said slowly. "It's really important to you."

His eyes met mine for the briefest moment, and I saw a flash of something there that I had never seen before. It reminded me of the way he had looked at me when he had pulled me up from the ground and helped me gather my books after he had handily dispatched the bullies that had been teasing me, except that it seemed much stronger this time. Not a word needed to be said from there. I skipped my last stone, watching it slip beneath the calm surface after a mere four bounces, and then followed Alex back towards the house.

My eyes didn't stray from the back of his head the entire time back. I knew why we were heading back, and what would happen to him once we got there. I knew that he was going to be spending a very long and difficult day locked up in the closet, just like he had asked me to do last night. But as we walked, I felt different about it, and the closer we got to home the stronger I began to feel. This was what Alex wanted. I knew that, not only because Dad had told me, but because Alex had shown me that himself. And if this is what he wanted, and if this is what meant so much to him, then I could give it to him. I could do whatever it would take to help out my brother. In those moments, I understood that look that he had given me back at the lake, and my resolve became firm and unwavering.

When we entered the house, Alex went into the bedroom and sat down on the bed in silence. I stood in the doorway, taking a few deep breaths before speaking to him.

"I'm tying you up in the closet again." He looked up sharply but didn't say a word. "You're not getting out until the morning." His face turned a little white, but he looked down at the floor and nodded. "Take off your clothes and get the ropes."

I wondered if Alex had as many butterflies in his stomach as I had in mine. For a moment, he didn't respond, and then he stood up like the Tin Man when he hadn't been oiled. Jerkily, he pulled his t-shirt over his head as I watched, fascinated. This was the first time I was going to see him naked knowing why we were doing this, and it changed everything. He pulled off his sneakers and socks while I stared, unable to take my eyes away from him. It seemed to change things for him too, because instead of pulling his shorts and underwear down together, he pulled the shorts down and then stood there in his white briefs. I could see his thing sticking straight out even through the fabric, and maybe he could too because he started to turn a little red.

"Do I hafta take off my underwear?" he asked in a small voice.

I hesitated, not used to him asking about something like that. But I didn't hesitate for long. "Yeah," I said. "You have to take them off. You have to be naked."

A look of defeat crossed his face, and slowly he pulled his underwear down to his knees, his eyes fixed on the floor. He let them fall to his ankles and then stepped out of them, his bare body on display in front of me. Only this time, my eyes were riveted on his crotch, on the thing that jutted out from his body, on the way that it looked so much longer than mine, on the way that the tip of it looked all red, on the way that his balls hung down in his sack while mine were still all tight and pulled up to my body. I studied it with an intensity that I had never reserved for something as mundane as a dick, looking at every nuance, every fold while he stood still, his arms at his side.

I eventually came out of my reverie. "Get the ropes," I said hoarsely, clearing my throat. "And some socks." Wordlessly, he obeyed, bending down to pull the ropes out from under the bed, leaving me to stare at his butt, the cheeks spread apart just far enough that I could see what his asshole looked like, all pink and kind of puckered up like I imagined mine looked like when I had to kiss some yucky old family member. He straightened up, a mass of rope in his hands, and then pulled a pair of clean socks from his drawer. I was about to tell him to get dirty ones like we usually used, but then the thought crossed my mind. It didn't matter anymore.

I motioned with my head for him to head out into the living room. He went and opened the closet door, and without a word from me began to methodically empty it out, stacking up the piles of coats and winter things that we would never need while living in this furnace on the floor. The closet was quickly emptied, and then he turned and looked back at me. I took another deep breath.

"Get in," I said, a little more harshly than I meant to. "On your knees," I said more gently. He complied, kneeling down facing the back of the closet. I came up behind him, placing the pile of ropes close by so that I could reach them without having to go far. He had already crossed his ankles, and I started to tie his feet together, first tying a tight loop around one ankle and knotting it off before wrapping it around in a figure eight, making sure each wrap was pulled tight so that he wouldn't even be able to uncross his feet. I knotted it off without a word, and then took another length of rope and began to wrap it around his waist, pulling it very tight so that it couldn't slip off and knotting it. Using the extra from that, I pulled it down and tied it off to the rope binding his ankles, making sure that it stayed taut.

Straightening up, I looked at Alex, my eyes taking in the same scene that I had witnessed only yesterday. But things looked completely different today. Where yesterday there had been only confusion, today there was clarity, there was purpose, there was meaning behind all these meaningless acts. He squirmed a little, testing the ropes that bound him, that would prevent him from standing up even when his knees would probably start aching beyond anything I could imagine. His butt clenched and unclenched, his shoulders sagging, his arms shaking slightly.

Firmly, I grabbed his left wrist and started to tie the rope around it, knotting one loop off and then wrapping it around at least twenty times until the rope became short enough that it wouldn't leave too much extra dangling off. I knotted it tightly, tying it off behind his wrist where he wouldn't be able to reach it. I did the same to his other hand, letting them both fall to his side before standing up behind him. I could see him shaking a little.

"I'm not going to let you out," I said.

"I know," he answered.

With only those words exchanged, I grabbed the rope around his left wrist and pulled on it hard, forcing him to straighten out his arm above his head. I threaded it through the bolt on the left side of the closet bar and pulled it tight, forcing his arm to be completely outstretched. I made sure he was up on his knees and that his arm was pulled out completely before tying the rope off to the hook. He whimpered like a kitten as he tried to pull on the rope and found that he couldn't bend his arm even a little, and then was silent again. I repeated the procedure on his right arm, completing his bindings. He was shaking even harder now.

Again, I let my eyes wander over his nude form, seeing him like I had never seen him before. I looked over his shoulders at his thing, still jutting out in front of him as straight as a flagpole and as hard as steel. My eyes brushed across his skin, the way he had goosebumps even in the sweltering misery, the way the hairs on his arms were all sticking straight up. I watched his big toes move back and forth as he stretched out his feet, looking at the way his calves and thighs showed the slight shape of his muscles in a way that mine didn't. I stared at his butt, at how it jutted out from the rest of his back, how both sides dimpled as he clenched his cheeks together. I looked at the hollow in the small of his back, the way his shoulders looked a little wider than the rest of his body, how his blond hair rested sloppily on his head.

"Jake," he whispered. "Please let me go."

It shook me from my daze. Before I realized what I was about to do, I started to reach for the rope than held his right hand in place, but then I pulled away. My father's words rang in my ears. What he needs is to feel like he's being taken out of control, like he has no say in the things that happen to him.

"No."

"Please," he said, sounding like he was going to cry. "I don't want to stay here all day, it already hurts, please untie me."

I could feel myself wavering, but I still managed to pick up the sock. I pulled it around his eyes and knotted it off behind his head, plunging his world into darkness. He whimpered again, trying to pull his head away while I did it, but tied up like he was there wasn't much he could do.

"Jake, please!" he said more insistently. "I'm not kidding, let me out."

I went into Dad's room and retrieved the gag from where I had left it. Socks weren't necessary anymore for this. We had something real.

"Open up," I ordered. He clamped his jaw shut and shook his head. "Open your mouth," I said more forcefully. He stubbornly refused, his jaw clenched, his head bent forward. There was no way for me to make him open his mouth, I knew that, but my mind started to work in strange ways. "Fine," I said, sounding like a bad guy from the TV. "For every minute you don't let me put it in, I'm going to leave you here an extra hour."

"You can't, Dad will see…" he said, sounding panicked.

"So?" I tried to make an evil laugh, but it just sounded stupid so I stopped quickly. "Dad already knows about it, so what if he finds you still tied up?" Alex was silent for a moment, and then hung his head forward even more, his shoulders slumping back down. Slowly, he opened his mouth. Without hesitation, I pushed the ball past his lips. His head jerked back in surprise as he realized that it wasn't the usual pair of socks, but I didn't comment. I pulled the strap tightly behind his head while he protested, his words muted and muffled, completely unintelligible, and then buckled it in place.

He was completed tied now, bound, gagged, and blindfolded, about to be confined for countless hours in a stifling miserable cell. But I wasn't done with him yet.

Leaving the closet door open, I grabbed a kitchen chair and dragged it to Dad's room. Even standing on the chair, I was barely able to feel around in the box perched up on it's shelf. I wondered about the other things I was feeling in there, wondering if I should take the whole box down and look into it, but my hand ran across the clamps and I yanked them from the box. Leaving the chair there, I went back into the living room and stood behind Alex. He had fallen silent.

"I've got another surprise for you," I said, my voice not harsh at all, but sounding more like I was about to give him a lifetime supply of candy bars. With one hand, I reached down and found his nipple, just barely darker than the rest of his tanned skin. I squeezed it gently between my fingers, making it stick out a little. Alex jerked in surprise and said something that I couldn't understand. I pried the clamp open with my other hand, and reaching around his neck I maneuvered it into place so that the open clamp was poised right over his chest, and then I let it go.

Alex jerked so hard as it bit down on him that I thought he might actually break the ropes. He shouted into his gag, yanking his arms as hard as he could, trying to twist around and stand up, but the ropes didn't yield an inch. He kept on shouting as I grabbed his other nipple, trying to wrench himself from my grasp but unable to get any leverage bound as he was. In a short moment, the other clamp was biting down on him. He reared back his head and then screamed, really loudly, loudly enough to actually shake me for a moment. I fell backward onto my butt, staring at him, his chest heaving, his body shaking with the beginning of tears.

"You want it to hurt," I said, apologetically. He shouted into his gag again. My eyes wide, not wanting to look at him any longer, I pushed the closet door shut with my feet. His shouts were more muffled now, but I could still hear them plainly. Mechanically, I turned on the TV, cranking up the volume until I couldn't hear him anymore, except for those few times when the TV would fall silent and I could hear his cries and whimpers.

"I'm not letting you out," I said to myself, trying to sound certain. "I promise."

I was true to my word.

Chapter 5

The road was slick and wet, covered with muddy puddles that hid cratered potholes deep enough to soak the unwary halfway up the shin. Afternoon thunderstorms were nothing new around here, they happened every day at precisely four o'clock, so precisely that you could set a clock by when the first peal of thunder echoed over the trees. It was always over by four thirty, the sun coming back out from behind the clouds, the rain only adding to the stickiness in the air instead of washing it away.

Alex trudged on ahead of me, stepping carefully along the side of the road to avoid any puddles, as if it made any kind of difference at this point. I had been sure we would be safe, with the afternoon thunderstorm already come and gone, that we could make the hike into town only having to deal with the heat and the inevitable mosquitoes. Even if I had been worried about it, Alex was so dead set on making the walk that I probably wouldn't have said no anyway.

After what he had been through two days ago, I wasn't going to say no to anything he asked for.

We were already more than halfway down the three mile [5 km] walk when the first large drops began to fall from the sky. Neither of us had seemed to notice that the sky had clouded up again, so it had caught us both by complete surprise. I noticed them landing on the road in front of me, then felt the first few land on my head and shoulders, mixing themselves with the layer of sweat that covered my entire body.

"Fuck," Alex swore under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. He stopped walking as the raindrops began to fall faster and harder almost immediately.

"What are we gonna do?" I asked nervously, already starting to feel the rain dripping everywhere.

He glanced around quickly. A loud peal of thunder sounded, shaking both of us. For a moment, neither of us moved, and then a flash of lightening not very far away signaled another even louder boom. "Can't go into the forest, not safe in a thunderstorm," he said rapidly, turning to face me, his eyes wide. "We gotta try and lay down in the grass, c'mon!" He took off from the side of the road, running down a short slope into the tall grasses beyond. The rain quickly began falling in sheets, soaking us both as we struggled to find a place to get at least a little shelter, but there was nothing. There was only a low fence and a farm beyond, the crops there offering just as little protection as the wavering grasses we stood in.

Even though I thought it impossible, the rain grew heavier and heavier until it was more like a waterfall from the sky. A huge crack of thunder made me cry out, so loud that I couldn't even hear myself shout. Alex pulled me down into a low ditch, lying me down on my stomach as a huge flash of light nearly blinded me. The instantaneous crack of thunder that accompanied it was louder than any I had ever heard before, leaving a ringing in my ears. Muddy water was flowing freely through the ditch, but when I tried to get up, Alex yanked me back down.

The whole thing lasted for what felt like hours, even though it was probably over in fifteen minutes. Flashes of lightening and peals of thunder surrounded us, never ceasing, and the stream in the ditch had turned into a river as runoff from the farm and the road filled it up. We had to move halfway into it, the water having gotten so deep that it wasn't safe to stay there anymore. Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me up, signaling through the deafening noise to make for the fence. We slipped and slid in the mud that seemed to be everywhere, both of us falling face down several times before we managed to scramble and lay down next to the fence. I folded my hands behind my head and forced my face into the grass, Alex's arm over my back, trying to keep myself from crying.

He kept his arm over my back the whole time, protecting me like the big brother he always had been, but all I could think about was how things were so different yesterday morning when it came time for me to finally free him from his imprisonment. I had slept on the couch that night with the television turned on, waking up with the dawn when the snow changed to a test pattern with that annoying high pitched tone. At some point, Alex had given up shouting and kicking feebly at the door to try and get my attention, and the closet was completely silent as I got off the couch and opened the closet door. He was hunched over when I opened it, but as he realized I was there he straightened back up again, making soft plaintive noises into the gag. I carefully unbuckled it and gently took the ball from his mouth. He coughed.

"Take them off," he had moaned. "Please take them off." I did as he asked, reaching around and pinching one of the clamps to take them off of his chest. He shouted and twisted as I did. "Please just take them off!" he moaned.

"I took one off," I said quietly.

"It hurts even worse!" His voice cracked. I got a little nervous, and reached around to take the other one off. He jerked in the ropes really hard and shouted loudly.

"They're off," I told him, placing my hand on the back of his neck. He whimpered and then started to sob in a way that I scarcely could remember ever having seen him do, a full wracking cry that shook his whole body. I reached up to untie his right hand, and starting when I saw the condition of his wrist. He had obviously been twisting and pulling to try and free himself, and had managed to rub his wrist so raw that I could see it bleeding in a couple of places. The fear growing in me, I quickly pulled the knots loose and let his hand out. It fell to his side, his sobbing continuing unabated. I let out his other hand as well, untied his feet, and took of his blindfold.

He couldn't walk on his own, so I helped him from the closet and laid him down in his bed. He sobbed the entire time, rolling over onto his side and pulling his knees up to his chest. I covered him with a sheet so that he didn't have to be naked anymore and went to get him a glass of water and some Tylenol. It took some coaxing for him to sip it and swallow the pills. I stayed with him as his sobs finally began to die down, sitting on the bed and gently rubbing his neck and his back the way that Dad used to do whenever I had gotten hurt, because I knew how much better that used to make me feel. He fell asleep before Dad came home, and I laid down next to him and fell asleep as well. Dad didn't even wake us up.

When the rain finally did end, it did so just as suddenly as it started. One moment, the rain was falling on my back so hard I was going numb, and the next moment there was nothing. A more distant crack of thunder seemed to indicate that the storm had already passed, kind of like an all clear sign I had seen in a movie about World War II following a bombing raid. We tentatively sat up, wondering if it was going to start up again. For a moment, we just stared at each other, and then we both burst into laughter at the same time. It was just too funny, how Alex was completely covered from head to toe with gobs of mud.

"Where's your shoe?" I asked him, looking at his dirty left foot.

"Somewhere in that stupid ditch," he said, shaking his head. "When we ran up the mud kinda swallowed it up." I looked over toward the new river, which must have been several feet deep. "I don't even know exactly where we were, it could be anywhere down there."

"Dad's gonna be mad if you don't find it," I warned him.

"What am I supposed to do, feel around under the water until I find it?" he said angrily. "It's gone, we'll never get it."

"We'd better go home," I said.

"No," Alex answered after a pause. "I still wanna go into town."

"But we're covered in mud!"

"So?" He sighed. "I need to get a pair of shoes at the thrift store. Maybe Dad won't notice."

"But we were gonna get snacks with that money."

"So we can't get snacks anymore!" he said angrily. "Don't be such a fucking baby."

That had been the plan. Alex had emptied his bank onto his bed while I had watched, carefully counting the change he had accumulated over the last three years, amounting to a whole ten dollars and thirty-two cents. He had put it in a plastic bag and shoved it in his pocket. In a sudden panic, I looked for the huge bulge it made in his shorts, relieved to see that he still had it. We were going to buy a mound of doughnuts, chips, cookies, and candy with a bottle of soda to wash it all down and gorge ourselves until we got sick. I was hesitant, wanting to argue with Alex that he shouldn't use all the money he had saved on junk food, but I didn't want to argue with him. I wished we had taken the bus, but it only came once every couple of hours and he was right, it was faster to walk.

There was no choice but to wade back through the ditch to get up to the road. I felt the mud sucking at my feet, trying to pull my shoes off as well, but I managed to make it up to the road without losing them. Alex grimaced, and we plodded slowly along into town. There was only one advantage to the storm that I could see. The air was no longer choked with humidity, somehow replaced with a fresh coolness that seemed like it would never come to this part of the world. Our clothes clung to our bodies, my sneakers so soaked that they made a squishing noise with every step I took.

So there we were, trudging along the last half mile [800 m] into the town of Wenahatchee. To call it a town was somewhat generous, at least as far as what I knew of as a town. I had seen plenty of small towns all around Massachusetts, even though we had lived in the suburbs of Boston. A small town by my definition was lined with hundred year old houses, the lawns neatly trimmed, a row of businesses framing a park in the middle. Wenahatchee was nothing like that. It was little more than a single street with a few ugly looking squat houses huddling around it. Half of the buildings were boarded up, probably for a long time from the looks of it.

As we entered the town, a group of kids maybe a little older than Alex were standing around at the lone gas station. I hoped that they wouldn't pay any attention to us, but that wasn't meant to be. At first, all they did was to stare, point, and giggle quietly. I turned red, and I could tell that Alex was as embarrassed as I was by the way he stared down at the road. They came down from their perch and assembled loosely in front of us, blocking our way.

"What the hell happened to you?" a tall, lanky boy said in a thick drawl, an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"Got caught in the rain," Alex muttered, never looking up.

"It looks more like you was wrestling with pigs," he said pointedly, the other boys laughing at the joke. Alex was silent. I moved closer to him. "You sure you wasn't wrestling with no pigs?"

Alex looked up angrily. "I don't wrestle with pigs. That's something people like you do."

A chorus of ooh's came from the boys, but the tall one motioned them to be quiet. "Now, now, don't be takin no offense. You boys ain't from around here, but down here we help each other out when there's trouble." He looked Alex over. "Looks like you lost a shoe there." Alex nodded warily. "Tell ya what, you boys go meet us in back of the dime store in ten minutes and I'll getcha a pair of shoes from my cousin that'll probably work for you."

"All right," Alex muttered. The boys parted to let us continue down the road. I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder as we moved far enough away, feeling as though we had just dodged a bullet.

"They were kinda nice, I guess," I said tentatively.

"Yeah, let's see if they actually show up," Alex said back. "I dunno, maybe I should just go buy a pair of shoes instead and skip it."

"But he's gonna give you a free pair. Then we could still get the snacks."

Alex shrugged, and we continued down the road. The sun was already retreating, twilight beginning to set in. A wind had started to blow, actually making me feel a little cold for the first time I could remember since we came here. We spent the fifteen minutes staring in the dime store window, staring at the small display of toys arrayed in a corner before we made our way to the lot behind the building. A high fence separated it from the houses behind, a lone car parked back there next to a large, smelly dumpster. The tall boy was already there, leaning against the building, holding a pair of shoes.

"See?" I whispered. "Now we can get the snacks." We walked up to him.

"Size nine," the boy said in a friendly way. "That work for you?"

"Yeah," answered Alex. "Should be ok."

The boy's smile suddenly vanished. "Now how you gonna pay me for these?" From out of the shadows the rest of them suddenly materialized, forming two groups on either side of the store to cut off any avenue of retreat.

Alex answered hotly. "If I gotta pay for em, you can keep em."

"Now let me tell you somethin, boy," he said with menace. "Round these parts, someone does you a favor, it ain't polite to refuse." He spat on the ground. "Damn fuckin yankees never did learn themselves how to behave."

Alex looked around. I moved closer to him, trying to hide my trembling. "Fine, how much you want?"

"Just two bucks, that's all. That ain't so bad, is it? You do got two bucks, right?"

"Yeah," said Alex, not relaxing a bit. "I got two bucks." Warily, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the plastic bag of change. The boy smiled thinly again as Alex started to open it up to retrieve some quarters, and then without warning punched him in the gut.

Alex doubled over, clutching at his stomach, the bag of change spilling out onto the pavement. I heard him gasping for breath as he fell to his knees. Hands suddenly grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms behind me. I struggled hard, but they held me tightly.

The boy casually pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit his cigarette as Alex fought to catch his breath, then turned his attention to me. "How much money you got?" he said quietly.

"I don't have any!" I shouted. "Leave us alone!"

He came up to me, blowing a puff of smoke in my face. I coughed. "You ain't gonna make me go into your pockets and check, are you boy?" I struggled again without success. He took another drag, and then reached out and actually put his hand into the pocket of my shorts. My eyes went wide as I felt him reaching in a direction that he had no business reaching in. My foot instinctively kicked out, striking him in the shin. He didn't even flinch.

"Damn, boy, is that the best you can do?" he said mockingly, pulling out of my pocket and going into the other one, but at least this time he didn't try to grope around. "You really don't have any money, do you? What kind of stupid kid is you, running around with no money like that? Don'tcha know you gotta have money in case of emergency?" He turned back around and looked at Alex, who was wheezing but had managed to get himself back up onto his knees. The boy grabbed Alex's hair and yanked his head back, Alex shouting out in sudden pain.

"You gonna keep this to yourself, ain'tcha, boy?" Alex didn't answer. The boy forced Alex to nod. "Yeah, that's right, you gonna keep this just between us." He let go of Alex's head and bent down to gather up the plastic bag and the change that had spilled out of it. Alex suddenly lunged out, trying to grab at the bag.

"Run!" he shouted at me. I desperately tried to stomp on the foot of my captor, but I missed, sending a shooting pain up my leg. The tall boy casually reached into his pocket, pulling out a switchblade and popping it open. We both froze.

"You don't wanna be causing no trouble, now, do ya?" He took the cigarette from his mouth, flicking the ashes at Alex's face. My stomach leapt into my throat, terrified that this boy was crazy enough to do something really bad. For a moment, there was silence, broken by the sound of a man's voice.

"What in the hell is goin' on back here?"

The tall boy suddenly turned pale. "Paw, there ain't nothing goin on back here."

"Like hell there ain't nothin goin on back here." I felt my arms being suddenly released. The boy quietly moved the knife behind his back, turning to face the man. I turned as well. The man was heavyset, wearing a dirty pair of overalls and an undershirt, what little hair he had greasy looking. He walked over to where Alex was on the ground, and whistled. "Boy, what's happened to you?"

Alex looked up at the older boy. "Nothing," he said, reaching out and starting to gather up his money. I stared at him, wondering why he wasn't spilling the story to the man, how the kid that was apparently his son had pulled a knife and was trying to rob us. All I could do was to keep silent as well.

"Nothin'?" the man said incredulously, looking over at me. "You boys done got yourselves covered in muck!"

"We got caught in the rain," Alex muttered.

"I'd say you did," he man commented, turning to his son and cuffing him on the ear. "Don't think I didn't see what's goin' on here, boy." He reached behind the boy's back and retrieved the knife, holding it accusingly in front of his face. "You in one heap of trouble, Jimmy boy." The kid looked down at the ground. "Get your ass home, now!" The boy turned and walked sullenly away, while the rest of the gang still there fled as quickly as they could. The man turned his attention back to Alex, one had on the back of his neck, the other outstretched to help Alex get back to his feet. Alex shook his head.

"Your son didn't do anything," Alex said softly, putting the last of the scattered coins into the bag and shoving it back in his pocket. "It was just a misunderstanding."

The man nodded. "You don't fret none over it, ok? I wasn't born yesterday, you won't have nothin to worry about with Jimmy comin back after you for gettin him in trouble. I'll see to it he knows you swore nothin happened." I blinked as I understood the wisdom behind the words. Alex took the man's hand and got up to his feet. "But you'll accept my apologies for his behavior, I hope. I'm sure you'll feel better with a hot meal, a fresh change of clothes, and a ride back home. Anyone you need to call to let know you boys is ok?"

Alex shook his head. "Dad's still at work." He looked over at me, making sure that I would play along with whatever he wanted to do. I silently acknowledged that I had never stopped doing that. "Thanks."

"Ain't nothing, boys. C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." We followed him back to one of the houses just off the main road. It was as small as the one we lived in, but it looked like it was a little better kept up. We followed the man up into the house warily, keeping our distance behind him to make sure things were safe, but I was convinced that there was nothing wrong here. The boy who had pulled the knife, Jimmy, was sitting sullenly on a couch in the living room. "Get you ass in the bedroom, boy," the man growled at him, "and find these boys some fresh clothes that'll fit 'em." We followed the man into another bedroom, where he pointed us to the bathroom. "There's fresh towels and everything you need in there. Jimmy'll leave you somethin to wear home as a gift out here." He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

I looked over at Alex, who looked back at me. He shrugged, and I followed him into the bathroom. We both started to undress, and Alex was about to turn on the water when we heard a door slam and the raised voice of the man in the next room.

"Whatcha think you're doin, tryin to rob a couple a kids like that?" The boy apparently didn't answer. "You only lucky that kid don't wanna get you in trouble, or I'd be hauling you down to the Sheriff's office and letting Billy lock you up for a while!" Both of us stood completely still, our clothes lying on the floor. "Get you trousers down, boy, you're gettin a beating to end all beatings." "Paw, no!" the boy protested. "I'm too old for that!"

"Like hell you too old to feel my belt. Get em down, bare that ass, boy."

There was a pause, and the next thing we heard was a loud crack. Both of us jumped when it happened. The boy cried out immediately afterward. "You keep you're damned mouth shut, boy, that weren't nothin compared to what's comin." The cracks came fast and loud, every cry and moan the boy made audible to us through the thin walls. Alex looked pale, but didn't move. I was terrified by the whole thing, about a kid not much older than us getting a real life beating just in the next room. The concept of getting something even as tame as a spanking was completely alien to me, our parents had never so much as touched us. Punishments involved things like getting grounded or losing a favorite possession, never getting hit like that, and even if it did, not getting hard enough to make a kid cry like that. The beating continued on and on, the boy's cries reduced to a steady sobbing interspersed with the occasional shout that followed the loudest cracks of the belt.

But I stopped paying attention after a while, because I was too busy looking at Alex.

His nude form made it completely apparent how he was reacting to Jimmy getting beaten in the next room. His thing was hard, sticking out in front of him. His hand was wrapped around it, gently pulling back and forth. My eyes fixed in his crotch, watching him tug his dick like that, knowing despite my lack of knowledge that he was doing something related to the great mystery of sex. His face turned red and he turned away when he realized I was watching him, but I had seen enough to understand that much.

We took a quick shower together, helping to scrape the mud off each other's bodies and out of our hair. True to the man's word, fresh clothes, even if they were a little too big for Alex and definitely too big for me, were waiting neatly folded on the bed for us. Dressed and scrubbed clean, we cautiously came back out into the living room of the house. The smell of cooking food filled our nostrils. The other bedroom door remained closed and silent, presumably where Jimmy was recovering from his punishment. I couldn't imagine what he had just gone through.

But I bet that Alex could.

In the entire time that we ate, a hearty meal of beef stew and fried potatoes with plenty of milk to wash it down followed by two generous pieces of pecan pie with ice cream, the boy never reappeared. I wasn't sure if it was because he was still hurting, because I didn't know how long it would keep hurting after you got beaten like that, or if it was because he was too embarrassed to come back out. We each ate two helpings, the man trying to put a third in front of us because he kept saying how we both looked half starved.

The man's name was Billy Parsons, he told us, shaking hands with us warmly. He asked a few questions about where we lived, where we were from, nothing too nosy, just in a friendly way. He packed our dirty clothes into a garbage bag and was even generous enough to wait outside the grocery store while we went in and bought armloads of doughnuts, candy bars, and sodas. It was nice to ride back in his truck and not to have to trudge all the way back to the house in the dark, especially having to carry all that food. We clambered out of the truck, the man giving us a friendly wave as he drove back up the road.

We lugged our stash into the house, but neither of us really felt like eating anymore after having eaten enough to stuff ourselves at Mr. Parsons' house, so we collapsed in front of the television and watched whatever happened to be showing. Alex was pretty much silent the whole time, having shed the clothes we had been given in favor of wearing one of Dad's undershirts and his own underpants. I was still dressed in the big clothes, too lazy to get up and change them. At every commercial break, I thought about saying something to him, but it took me a couple of hours to work up the nerve.

"Alex?" He looked over at me. "What were you doing in the bathroom at Mr. Parsons' house?"

He turned red. "Why do you have to ask me about that?"

"Were you, you know…" I trailed off.

"None of your business," he said harshly.

"C'mon," I said seriously. "I wanna know."

"Why do you wanna know?" he muttered. "It's nothing you need to worry about yet. You're still too little."

My voice was indignant, but still serious and low. "I'm big enough to tie you up and help you out."

"That's different."

"Why is it different? It's not fair that I do this stuff to help you out and you won't tell me anything about it."

Alex was silent for a moment. "What do you want to know?" he asked in a low voice.

"Were you…"

"Yeah," he interrupted.

I tried to formulate the question that had been plaguing my mind for the last few days. "But how do you… you know…"

He turned over to me with an expression of contempt mixed with annoyance. "Geez, I don't know! I just do it, that's all. When you're old enough you'll know what you're supposed to do. It's a stupid question."

I folded my arms and glared at the television. Fine, I thought to myself. Next time you ask me to tie you up, I won't do it until you tell me how. But my face changed as a better idea crossed my mind. I turned over and looked at him.

"Go get the ropes," I ordered.

His head whirled around to look at me, turning white. "Now?"

"Right now," I barked. "Take them in the kitchen and take off your clothes." He stared at me, frozen in place. "Do you want me to put you back in the closet instead?"

I thought that would get to him. I couldn't imagine what he had gone through in that closet, but remembering what he was like afterward should have been enough to scare him into doing what I wanted him to do. Instead, he looked at me, his eyes glittering. "For how long?"

I was really angry now. "For as long as I want to! You're going to get it really bad now, get the ropes and get naked!"

I sat there stewing on the couch as I heard him rummaging around in the other room, waiting until there was silence before I went looking for him. The ropes were on the table, his clothes were nowhere to be seen. "Tie them to the table legs," I said harshly. "And if they come off while you're tied up you're going to be in really big trouble." He did as I told him without a word, the ropes securely tied with heavy knots to each of the four legs of the wooden table.

We had only done this position once before, but it seemed exactly right for what I had in mind. He knew it too, and when he was done he put himself in position without me having to tell him to do it. Standing at the short end of the table, he spread his legs apart until they were right up against the table legs and then stood there, waiting for me. I didn't waste any time, I tightly lashed his ankles in place. He didn't move or say a word. When I was finished, I left him there to go get the gag and the clamps from Dad's room. He was wordless when I came back, his eyes fixed on my hands. I put the clamps down on the table where he could see them, and holding the gag went behind him. I didn't have to order him again, he opened his mouth wide, and I shoved the ball in as far as it would go, pulling it to the last belt notch. He made a noise when I pulled it that tight and tried to adjust himself, but I ignored him.

I went back around to the side of the table and picked up the clamps. His eyes went even wider, although his palms were still pressed flat on the table surface, white and trembling. I looked straight into his eyes, my anger boiling over at him, and he started to shake his head. "Shut up!" I shouted. "This isn't the worst you're getting tonight!" He grew even more pale and started to whimper into the gag. Viciously, I grabbed his nipples, one at a time, and snapped the clamps on them, holding them open and then suddenly releasing them instead of letting them go gradually. He shouted after each one, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, but his hands never left the table.

I grabbed a bunch of his hair in my hand, pulling on his head to cue him to bend over. He did so without resistance. The table was at just the right height for him in this position, his stomach resting on the smooth surface without him having to bend his knees or stretch himself upward. He hissed when his chest rested against the table from the clamps being shifted. I quickly yanked each arm out straight and tied his hands off to the opposite end of the table. He shifted around, moaning a little as I stood back, my lips tightly pursed together. It was just the right position for what I had in mind, his butt sticking out in the air.

I left him in there to wonder what was going to happen next as I went into our bedroom, rummaging through his drawers until I found what I was looking for. We had gotten it a few years ago, when we had gone to Texas for a vacation. It was a real cowboy belt, big and heavy and with a massive buckle shaped like the state. It didn't fit him anymore, but I knew he still kept it as a souvenir. I swished it around in the air a couple of times and then hit the bed with it, hard enough to make the pillow the jump, the dull thud dying out quickly. It wouldn't sound like that when I hit him. It would make a sound more like the one when that boy was getting hit. A loud crack.

The fire still burning in my eyes, I went back into the kitchen and stood on the far side of the table so that Alex could see me, the belt hanging from my hands. He looked up slowly, his eyes already red. His eyes grew wide as he saw the belt. After earlier tonight, he must have realized exactly what I was going to be doing with it, because he started to pull at the ropes, moaning into his gag and shaking his head back and forth.

I stared at him, his eyes meeting mine, not full of fury like mine were. I had thought he would be just as angry when he realized what was going to happen, what I was going to do to him, that he would shout at me for doing something so clearly out of bounds to him. It was one thing to leave him in the closet all night, even with the clamps on, but this was something of an entirely different level. This wasn't just leaving him, this was me hurting him deliberately, with action instead of inaction. But instead of anger, his eyes were full of a strange combination of fear and something that almost seemed like longing. Like he was scared out of his mind that I was going to do it, and yet begging me to do it all at the same time.

My anger vaporized, replaced only with the realization of what I was doing. Alex wanted it to hurt, he wanted to be taken out of control and have things done to him like this, so it wasn't as much the part that I was going to whip him that bothered me. I was more disturbed that I would handle him like I just did because I was mad at him, not because it was what he wanted. It felt like a violation, as though I had just severely mistreated him. I blinked, placing the belt down on the table and putting my hand comfortingly on his shoulder.

"Sorry," I whispered. He tried to say something, so I reached behind his head and unbuckled the gag. His eyes were moist.

"Are you going to whip me?" he asked in a trembling voice.

I shook my head. "I don't think I should."

"I think you should." I looked down at the floor, knowing he was going to say that. "I think you should whip me as hard as you can."

I nodded. "I will, but only because you said so. I was gonna do it because I was mad at you for not showing me, but it… I'll do it cause you said so."

"I'll show you later, ok? Tomorrow. I promise." I nodded, and went to put the gag back in his mouth. "Jake?" he said tentatively.

"What?"

"I love you."

My heart skipped a beat. In all the years we had been brothers, I had heard him say he loved me a handful of times, mostly when he was told he had to by a grownup. Never had he said it like that, with an incredible sincerity that reached out and seized my throat, choking me up. I smiled faintly, unable to answer him in kind even though the words echoed in my head. I pushed the gag back into his mouth, buckling it as tightly as I had it before, and stood behind him with the belt. He whimpered.

I pulled the belt back and struck with as much force as I dared. It connected with the bare flesh of his butt with a resounding crack that filled the kitchen. There was a moment of absolute silence as I held my breath, broken suddenly by Alex's bloodcurdling scream. I watched in a terrified fascination as a wide red mark appeared as if by magic where the belt had struck him. Alex thrashed wildly in his bonds, shouting hysterically into his gag.

I pulled the belt back and struck him again. His scream was instantaneous this time, and even more intense. His thrashing continued as he tried to free himself, but I knew that there was no hope. My mouth set, I started to whip him over and over again, falling into a kind of rhythm almost like a song. Crack, scream, crack, scream. At first, I concentrated on his butt, which quickly turned from red to crimson. An accidental blow to his upper thighs that made him howl in agony made me realize that there were other places to hit him as well, and my blows soon wandered down his legs and up onto his back. His screams were gradually replaced by choked sobs, his thrashing reduced to a few gentle tugs as he sagged from his arms, his legs having collapsed under him. Still, I beat him, until my arm was sore from the effort and his butt had turned from crimson to purple with the bruises.

I left him tied to the table, sobbing, turning off the light as I headed to the bedroom. He would spend the night as he always spent the night these days, bound and helpless, but this time in far more pain than he had even endured in the closet. I laid down on my bed on my back, staring at the ceiling, trying to think about something else, anything else, than the single thought that dominated my mind.

It wasn't that I had just beaten my brother senseless that bothered me.

It was that I had enjoyed it.

Chapter 6

"How you boys like your burgers?"

The heady aroma of seared meat mixed with the smoke hanging low in the air, making my mouth water in anticipation. Barbecues were an unfamiliar treat, something that was part of our other life in another time. We didn't own a barbecue down here. I missed the taste of food cooked and eaten outdoors, the heightened flavor from the charcoal, the simple pleasure of licking watermelon juice from your fingers in the dimming twilight.

A week ago, Mr. Parsons came to our house to pick up the clothes he lent us after our confrontation with Jimmy. Even though Mr. Parsons said we didn't have to, Alex washed and folded the clothes we borrowed to make sure that we returned them the way we found them. He invited us to come to his house for a fourth of July barbecue complete with fireworks. I was worried that Dad wouldn't want to go, because it was one of the few days he was going to get off from working, and after all it was the fourth of July, but he thought it was a great idea. He still hadn't met Mr. Parsons, and he wanted to thank him in person for being so nice to us.

I sat cross-legged on the grass, my plate ready to receive the hamburger as soon as it was done, the bun already coated in ketchup and mayonnaise the way I liked it, a generous scoop of potato salad covering the other side. The grass here in Florida wasn't the same as I remembered. Back home, the grass was soft, a thick mat of narrow blades that did little more than tickle your bare leg. Here, it was broad, coarse, scratching anything it touched. Still, it was better than our house, where the weeds grew waist high because we didn't even have a lawn mower to take care of them.

Alex was on the far side of the lawn, sitting by himself at a picnic table, keeping himself busy by peeling the red paint away from the spots where it had bubbled and cracked. I had no interest in sitting with him, and he preferred to be by himself most of the time these days anyway. Besides, from here I was in the best position to know when the hamburgers were finished, to smell the tart aroma of beer, and to listen to the conversation between Mr. Parsons and my father.

"Where is everyone? I thought you'd have family teeming all over the place."

"Naw," Mr. Parsons said. "They all out doin other things." There was a funny sound in his voice.

"Including your son?"

"I reckon he's running about with some of them no good friends of his. Probably exploding mailboxes or getting into some mischief. That boy'll be lucky to still be out of prison by the time he's sixteen." Mr. Parsons spat on the ground and took another swig of beer. "Gets it from his momma's side, he does. They was all no good, right down to the core." My father nodded and shrugged. "It ain't for a lack of tryin, neither. I done my best to discipline that boy when he needed it, but nothin I do seems to work. He just runs off after every lickin like it didn't mean a damn thing to him, pardon my French. Now you got yourselves a couple of good, solid boys there." He looked over at me, and I smiled. "You should be proud."

"I am very proud of my boys," my father said approvingly. "I couldn't be more proud of them than I have been over the last few months." I blinked and smiled. "They've really risen to the times and held things together."

"You must've given them a fair number of lickins when they was smaller for them to turn out like they did."

My father coughed. "Actually, I never believed in disciplining the boys physically."

Mr. Parsons narrowed his eyes. "You don't say."

"I never needed to. They never got themselves into any real trouble, and when they needed limits set I was always consistent and reacted with appropriate consequences."

Mr. Parsons shrugged. "My daddy whaled the tar outta me every time I crossed the line, and I turned out fine."

"Different things work for different people, I suppose," my father commented, finishing his beer and going to get another one. He winked at me on the way, and I smiled. The way he whipped his son was the only thing that bothered me about Mr. Parsons. I liked everything else about him, his generosity, his easy-going nature. I felt comfortable around him, almost like I could trust him, but I'd remember the sounds we overheard, the crack of the belt and Jimmy screaming and crying. It kept me just a little wary around him.

Alex picked away at the paint, oblivious. I glared at him. He's probably doing that just to get in trouble with Mr. Parsons. He's probably hoping that if he does, Mr. Parsons will beat him too. Alex looked over at me, his shoulders slumping, his eyes downcast, another one of his attempts to apologize. I glared angrily at him and looked away. I wasn't interested.

Mr. Parsons motioned to me, a thick cheeseburger perched on the end of his metal spatula. I jumped to my feet, holding my plate out so that he could place it on the bun, then returning to my place in the grass to enjoy my prize. It had to be the best cheeseburger I'd ever tasted, moist and red, the juice dripping down my chin as I struggled to get my mouth around it. "Alex, your burger's ready too, come n get it." Alex shook his head.

"I'm not really hungry," he mumbled. My father walked back over to Mr. Parsons with a plate, taking the hamburger and bringing it over to Alex. I watched him sit down next to my brother, his arm around his shoulder, talking softly in his ear. Alex pushed him away, and when my father persisted, he slid off the picnic table and walked briskly out of the yard into the field beyond. Go, I thought. Just keep going.

Dad sighed, picking up the plate and walking over to me. "Can I join you?" he asked.

"Sure," I said, taking another huge mouthful. I'd already inhaled half of it, and was intending not to stop until I'd polished at least three of them. He sat down cross-legged as well, his plate in his lap.

"How's the burger?"

"Good," I said, pieces of meat and bun flying from my mouth as I shoved in another bite.

"So how are things going? I hardly ever seem to get to talk to you boys anymore. You're asleep when I get home and usually off somewhere when I leave."

I shrugged. "It's ok, I guess."

He leaned inward. "How about the other thing?"

He didn't need to be any more specific. "We don't do that anymore," I said abruptly.

"I see," he said. "Did something happen?"

"No, we just don't want to anymore," I lied.

"Is that why Alex is being so moody today?"

"I don't know why he's like that," I said in an exasperated tone. "Why don't you go talk to him about it instead of me?"

My father finally took the hint, picking up his plate and brushing off the ants before getting back up to join Mr. Parsons at the picnic table. I finished my hamburger and went to get another one from the table, taking it without a word, not as interested in the sports related conversation between Dad and Mr. Parsons. Alex gradually drifted back into the yard, slinking around in a corner, kicking at a rock. He looked over at me, recoiling when I flashed him another look of quiet rage, finally sitting at the other end of the picnic table. Even though I was stuffed after two of the monster burgers, I went to get my third. Dad had finally coaxed Alex into getting a plate, but from the look of it he did little more than push it around on the plate.

Serves you right, I thought. I hope you're miserable.

As hard as I tried to cling on to my anger, I could feel it cracking apart slowly as I sat back down, watching Alex push his plate away and place his head on the table. The other feeling started coming back, the one that I had woken up from in near dawn on that day a week and a half ago.

That night, I sat bolt upright in the bed, the sound of my own shout still echoing in my ears from the dream that instantly slipped away from me. I had looked over desperately towards Alex's bed, wanting him to comfort me, but his bed lay empty and unused because he was still tied to the table in the kitchen where I had left him. I ran from the bedroom into the kitchen, flipping on the light so that I could see. What I saw made my heart leap into my throat.

Alex's legs, his back, and his butt were all covered with vicious bruises. My eyes went wide, my stomach sinking. He lifted his head slowly as he realized I was in the room, his eyes puffy and bloodshot. I knew that he hadn't slept for even a minute, and that he'd spent most of the time crying. He moaned into the gag, quiet and hoarse. Tears started to form in my eyes as I stood there, unable to move. He moaned louder, pulling with exhausted muscles on the cords that bound him, struggling feebly in his restraints. The thought screamed in my head.

I did this to him.

After what felt like an hour, I sprang into action. Not bothering to even try to pick apart the knots that held him fast, I grabbed a kitchen knife and sliced the ropes in two, running around the table until his limbs had all been released. He strained to move, fresh tears starting to run down his face as he timidly stretched his exhausted muscles. I yanked on the gag to get it loose, pulling the ball from his mouth, and reaching under him to get the clamps off his chest. He didn't make a sound when I pried them off, scaring me even more.

"Are you ok?" I asked in a shaky voice.

He tried to stand up, then grabbed the table as his legs buckled beneath him, collapsing onto the floor. I bent down to try and help him, crying myself now. "Please Alex, please be ok." He shook his head, but I helped him to his feet and got him to stagger into the bedroom, letting him collapse on his bed. I looked at him lying on his stomach, those horrible bruises, panic beginning to seize me.

"I wanna call Daddy," I said, tears running down my face.

"Don't," he whispered.

"Don't?" I screamed. "I think you need to go to a doctor!"

"No doctors," he whispered. "I'm ok."

"You're not ok! You're all covered with black and blue spots and some of them look like they're even bleeding and… and…" I collapsed in tears, holding my knees to my chest and rocking back and forth. "Why did you make me do this to you?" I screamed.

"It's ok," he said, reassuringly, rolling over on his side. "It's not really bad, I just got dizzy." I could see the grimace on his face, I knew he was lying. It made me cry even harder.

As much as I wanted to call my father, to have him come home and feel his arms around me telling me that everything was ok, I just couldn't call without Alex's approval, and under no circumstances did he want me to bother Dad. He told me that Dad needed to work and he could get fired if he had to run home to look after us. Besides, he didn't want Dad to know what we had done.

I kept watch over him long into the day. Images kept drifting through my head, images of an after school show I had watched one day in which a boy makes friends with a kid in a hospital who dies, except that it was Alex lying in the hospital bed, pale and weak, slowly dying from his injuries. Every time he drifted off to sleep, I shook him back awake, terrified that he would never open his eyes again. He never got mad at me, trying to reassure me each time that he wasn't going to die, telling me how he felt better because I was so worried about him. Even so, every time his eyes fluttered shut I brought him back.

It took a few days for Alex to get back to normal. We made sure he was tucked into bed whenever Dad was around, pretending to be asleep when he left during the day so that we wouldn't have to explain. His bruises looked better the next day, and bit by bit I became convinced that Alex wasn't on the verge of death. Just a few days ago, with most of the marks having faded and with Alex no longer wincing whenever he sat down, we were watching television, eating peanut butter and jelly for dinner. We didn't bother making sandwiches, just passing the jars back and forth and eating directing from them with spoons.

"What do you want to do after dinner?" he asked me.

"Let's play poker again, that was fun."

"Ok." He took a huge spoonful of jam. "What are we gonna play for?"

"We could just use peanuts like last time," I suggested, my eyes glued to the television.

"I had a different idea," he said quietly. I turned over and looked at him. The tone of his voice, the look on his face, I knew exactly what he had in mind, even if the details were unclear. For some reason, I became infuriated.

"No," I muttered. "I'm not doing anything like that."

"I didn't say…"

"I know what you were going to say!" My hands balled into fists. "I'm not doing that stuff anymore."

He looked stunned. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I grew even angrier. "Because!" It seemed so obvious to me, I couldn't understand why he still had a confused look on his face. "Look what happened the last time!"

"We don't have to do it like that," he said, his voice soothing. "There's other things we could do."

"I don't care about other things!" I stood up, my clenched at my sides. "I'm not tying you up, I'm not hitting you, I'm not doing any of that stuff anymore, and stop making me do it to you!"

He looked down at the floor. "I thought you did it because you wanted to."

I grabbed his t-shirt in my hands, shaking him back and forth, not caring that he was bigger and stronger and could easily overpower me. I screamed hysterically. "No! I never wanted to! You made me do it! Every time! I hate you!" He didn't resist at all, allowing me to shake him back and forth until I let him go, taking a couple of steps backward before running for the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

I knew that everything I had just said was a lie. I knew what I had felt that time when I was hitting him. The sound of when the belt cracked against his flesh, so crisp and satisfying. Watching him thrash, hearing the beautiful music of his screams. Seeing the desperate look in his tear filled eyes, his lips wrapped around the black rubber of the gag. But even more, the feeling of power that coursed through my veins as I ordered him around, forced him to strip, made him bend to my will. And the other feeling, the one I had never felt before, down below that powered my arm for blow after blow. I just needed everything I said to him to be the truth. I needed him to be responsible, needed to have someone else to blame. Anything to convince me that I wasn't the monster I knew I was.

Alex stayed away from me for the most part for the last few days. We ate our meals separately, and he spent most of his time out of the house in some unknown location. He slept on the couch, not wanting to bother me. Every now and then, we crossed paths, his eyes meeting mine. I wanted to apologize to him, to tell him that I didn't mean what I said. I didn't hate him, I loved him as much as he loved me. I could see the apology written over his face every time as well, but all I could do was to return an icy stare, a look of hostility so overwhelming that he had no choice but to slink away.

"Alex," I heard my father say. I looked up, Alex still sitting with his head on the table. "Go help Mr. Parsons cut up the watermelon."

"I'll do it, Dad," I volunteered, standing up.

"This will be Alex's job," he said firmly. "You'll help with the fireworks later, understand?"

I smiled. "I can help with the fireworks?" He nodded. Alex rose to his feet, shoulders sagged, following Mr. Parsons into the house. Once they were inside, my father came over to me, motioning for me to follow him, sitting down on a large wooden swing in one corner of the yard. I sat all the way to one side.

"Jake, I need to know what's going on," he said. "Something's wrong and I'm getting more and more worried about Alex. Did you two have some kind of fight?" I pulled my feet onto the swing, getting into my favorite position when I was feeling scared and lonely, pressing my knees against my chest. Slowly, I nodded. "What happened?" I couldn't speak, and he lowered his voice. "Does this have anything to do with the other thing?"

I nodded again. He shook his head, sliding over closer to me so that he could put his arm around my shoulder. "I should have stopped it, I shouldn't have let you get involved in this. You're too young, and Alex… I suppose he's just pushed you too far, asked you to do things that you're not ready to do. I'm really sorry."

"Why does Alex want to get hurt so much?" I whispered.

He sighed. "It's just the way he is." He rubbed my back. "I suppose there are a lot of reasons, but you want to know something? I don't think finding the reasons why really matters very much. Better to spend your time understanding what you are then to always be obsessed with the reasons."

I screwed up every ounce of my courage. "Was Jeremy the same way?"

I could feel my father grow tense, his arm stiff, his fingers no longer gently caressing my shoulder but painfully digging into my flesh. "Why are you asking that?" He sounded angry, or maybe frightened.

"I just thought…" I stammered. "I thought that if Jeremy was like that…"

He relaxed a little. "I don't know," he said, his eyes fixed at a point off in the distance. "I don't really know if Jeremy was like that or not. I…" His face became unreadable. "Are you worried that if Jeremy and Alex are like that, that you will be too?"

I took a deep breath and shook my head. I know I wasn't like that. I was something much worse.

"I guess I should let you in on a little secret, if you can promise me that you'll never tell another living soul." I looked up at him, suddenly seized by curiosity. He leaned down, whispering in my ear.

"I'm like that too."

I started back, shocked. "You are?"

He nodded. "Ever since I was Alex's age. So I guess that maybe you could be right. Maybe Jeremy was the same, but we can't know that anymore. Maybe you'll turn out to the same as well. But I don't want you telling him, he's upset enough about all this as it is. Do you want to know something else? I never had a brother that was willing to help me out with these kind of things. I'm more than a little jealous. I don't think Alex knows how lucky he is to have a brother like you."

I stared at him, wanting to pour it all out, how I wasn't like that at all, how I was just some kind of sick freak. I couldn't find the words. He gripped my knee.

"I'm sick of using all these euphemisms. There's a word for all this. It's called masochist. Someone who likes being hurt."

I stared off in the other direction. "Is it normal to be like that?"

"I don't know if it's entirely normal," he said, "but at the same time there are a lot of people who are masochistic."

I closed my eyes, trying to disconnect from myself so that I could ask the question burning in my mind. "Then… if there are people who like to get hurt, are there people…" I couldn't finish it.

"Are there people who like to hurt people?" he finished it for me. I stared off into space. "Of course there are. There's a word for people like that, it's called sadist."

Sadist. There's a word just for what I am.

"Isn't it… isn't it wrong…"

He looked at me curiously. "No, it's not wrong to hurt people that want to be hurt. It would be a very lonely world if there were masochists without sadists, don't you think? It's only wrong when a person hurts someone that doesn't want to be hurt. It's kind of like having two matching pieces of a puzzle. You just have to find the two right people that match up, one person to do the hurting, one person who likes to be hurt. How could finding two people that need each other be wrong?"

My head was swimming. I knew with every fiber of my being that there was never a right time or a right way for someone to hurt someone else. People who did that went to jail, went to hell, went to wherever they put bad people to keep them away from the good ones. I could hear what he said, understand every word, but how could I believe any of it? How could I allow myself to believe that what I had done to Alex, the torture I had inflicted upon him, was ok?

Mr. Parsons and Alex returned with trays full of watermelon wedges, cake, and coffee. My father clapped me once on the knee and got up to help them lay out the food, leaving me alone on the swing. I kicked my legs back and forth, the swing rocking gently. Mr. Parsons came over with a full plate, setting it down on the swing beside me.

"You gonna help me with the fireworks tonight, right boy?" I nodded. "You ever lit fireworks before?" I shook my head. "Well, there's really only one rule. Don't get blowed up." I smiled and giggled. "Just do what I tell ya and ya'll be fine. And you listen to me on more thing," he said more seriously. "Billy Parsons weren't born yesterday, he can see a few things that's going on. You two boys is too close to each other to be fightin like this. From what I can tell, you the one that's doin all the fightin." I looked down. "That there is the only brother you got, and brothers stick together no matter what, ya hear me? You go patch things up with him. Ain't nothing he coulda done that bad."

Mr. Parsons didn't even wait for me to answer, just left the plate of food on the swing. I looked at it, and then looked over to Alex, who had found a quiet corner of the yard under a tree, sitting with his back to the trunk and gazing off across the fields at the sunset. I kicked at the dirt, stared at a rock, then looked back up at him. With a sigh, I picked up the plate and walked mechanically across the yard, my mind blank, standing in front of Alex. He looked up at me, his eyes large.

"Can I sit here?" I asked softly. He nodded, and I sat down, facing him. He looked like he was going to say something, and then decided not too. "Wanna have a race?" I said. "Down to the fence past the field and back. Ok?" He didn't say anything. I jumped to my feet and started running. "Last one back has the smallest dick!"

That got him started. "You are so last," he said playfully, jumping to his feet. I glanced over at my father, smiling. Mr. Parsons nodded approvingly at me, lifting his beer bottle in salute. We tore off across the field, our laughter echoing in my ears.

"I miss this," my father said, pulling the sheet up over my bare chest. "I'm never around to put you boys to bed." He smiled. "I'll bet you're up until the wee hours most nights anyway."

"Most of the time," said Alex, lying on top of his sheet reading a book. "Usually we just stay up until morning and then go to sleep."

"Hey, you're not supposed to do that until college," he warned, and then laughed. "As long as the house is burned down when I get back, then I suppose its all fine. At least, until school starts. Then we'll have to have some rules around here instead of letting anarchy reign." I smiled. School was still weeks away, and nothing to be worried about just yet. Dad adjusted the covers, touched my nose playfully, and then his eyes seemed to cloud up. He started singing in a soft voice, a song I hadn't heard in a long time.

Let the sun be there
Let us all take care
That we sleep at night
While the moon shines bright

If I were a mountain
I'd look down to the sea
If I were the ocean
I'd be as happy as can be

For I'm like the mountains
I stand tall and strong
And I'm like the ocean
And I sing the ocean's song

Let the sun be there
Let us all take care
That we sleep at night
While the moon shines bright

"She did," he said quietly. "I thought it was time we started singing it again. It's been over two years." I got out of bed and sat next to my father, his arm going around my shoulder as we all started crying together. That day came flooding back to me, Mom going out with my oldest brother Jeremy to buy him a new pair of soccer cleats first thing in the morning before we all went to Boston for the day. One hour, two hours, three hours went by, they didn't come home. Dad kept saying that everything was fine, but I knew it my heart that it wasn't. All day we waited, no news, no phone call, nothing. The police didn't come until after dark. Dad sent us to our rooms, I sat shaking with Alex on his bed, neither of us daring to speak. When he came to tell us, I already knew what he was going to say.

"We've still got each other," he said softly. "And we're going to stick together, no matter what, right?"

"No matter what," I repeated, a mantra from days past, a young child that would say that whenever I needed reassurance that my parents loved me "no matter what." We didn't say anything else, Dad holding us until our crying subsided, tousling my hair before getting up.

"Don't go to sleep too late boys, ok?" We both nodded as he shut the door quietly behind him. Alex looked over at me, wiping his eyes on his arm and sniffling.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked, his voice quivering. I shook my head. "We don't have to do that stuff ever again if you don't want to."

"It's ok," I said quietly. "I didn't mean what I said."

He got up and turned off the light, leaving the room bathed in moonlight that reflected off his bare skin, pearly gray and luminescent. He shed his underwear, walking back and sitting beside me naked. "I made a promise that I didn't keep," he said quietly. I wasn't sure what he meant, but he put his arm on my shoulder, pushing me gently to lie down on my back. Tenderly, he lifted my head and put a pillow underneath it, his hand coming to rest on my chest, rising and falling as I breathed in and out.

"Alex," I said softly, not understanding what he was doing, lifting my head up, a little nervous.

"Shhh," he said, placing his finger on my lips. "I promised I would show you how to do it." He gently pushed my head back down on the pillow. "I miss mom and Jeremy a lot."

"I do too," I whispered.

"But when I get really sad, I like to remember that I still have one brother left. You're the best brother anyone could have."

I blinked. "You too," I whispered.

His hands traced down my sides, hooking into the waistband of my underpants. I lifted off the bed so that he could pull them off completely. I was surprised to see my thing standing as tall and stiff as his. He laid down next to me, his skin warm and soft. I closed my eyes.

The next thing I knew, his hand was wrapped around me. My eyes sprang open, my jaw fell, my heart began to pound hard enough to explode. It was not the first time he had ever touched me. In fact, we had touched each other many times in days long past, playing together in the bathtub, chasing each other naked around the house trying to grab the other's pecker until mom screamed in frustration. Back then it was a game. This was no game. I knew in the back of my mind that this was wrong, that boys, kids were not supposed to do these kinds of things together, especially brothers. His breath was hot on my skin, his own hard dick pressed into my thigh.

Without warning, his hand slid down, stretching the skin on the head of my dick ever so slightly before he pulled back up. A wave of sensation flooded my brain, short-circuiting synapses. A feeling grew in the pit of my stomach, the same one that I had felt standing over Alex while he cried under the belt. I sat bolt upright, pushing Alex off to the side.

"What's wrong?" he asked, scared.

"I dunno," I said, my voice shaking.

"Did you feel anything?" I nodded. "Lie back down, that's just the beginning."

"I'm scared."

He sat up beside me, holding my hand. "There's nothing to be scared about. It's not going to hurt, it feels better than anything else you ever felt. I promise." I let him gently push me back down on the bed, his hand wrapping itself around my dick again, this time stroking a little harder, a little faster. I gasped under my breath, and he smiled, his finger tracing over my chest. "How does it feel?" he asked.

I had no answer for that. I had never felt anything like this, the warmth of his body, the power of sensations coming from my groin that I hadn't imagined even existed before this moment. I breathed hard, my eyes meeting his. He smiled again. "This is just the start," he said. "Wait until the finish." He stroked me again, sending another wave of ecstasy through my entire young frame. I shuddered, my eyes crossing. He bent down to whisper in my ear.

"Tie me up."

I turned to look at him. "But then, you can't…"

He put his finger on my lips again. "There's another way." He let go of me, the absence of his hand making me feel cold and alone, then reached under the bed and pulled out two lengths of rope, dangling from his hand. "Please. No torture, just tie me up."

I took the rope from his hands. He turned around, placing his hands behind his back his wrists crossed. It took me no time at all to bind his hands tightly. I did the same to his ankles, using the remainder of the rope to tie them to his hands so that he was unable to stand. Carefully, he turned around, maneuvering himself so that he knelt between my legs.

"Hold my head down while I do this," he whispered. "Push hard. Don't let go." I had no idea what he meant. He bent over at the waist, his face right next to my thing, still hard and throbbing, my eyes wide with shock as he opened his mouth. He couldn't possibly…

I fell back down on the bed, the sensation as his tongue ran over me more than my ten year old mind could handle. Moments later, I was enveloped in warm wetness, his tongue running back and forth, up and down. I groaned, the feeling amplified far more, thrusting instinctually deeper into his mouth. He moaned softly, and I remembered the hands. I reached out, grabbing his hair and pushing him down on me so that he couldn't pull back up. Alex moaned even louder, his ministrations faster and faster, bobbing up and down on me. I felt the feeling building inside, biting my lip to keep from crying out. I knew what he wanted, what he needed, and I yanked his hair hard, pushing his face into me. The feeling grew and grew, amplified, multiplied, until a single instant when a rush hit me like an avalanche. I groaned as it overwhelmed me, swept me away into a world that held no boundaries, no limitations, a world where I could soar free. If there was a heaven, I knew this is what it had to feel like.

And then it was over. I collapsed, not even realizing that my back was arched so high that the only parts of me touching the bed were my heels and my head. Alex moaned softly again, and I pried my hands loose from his hair, letting him sit back up, a grin on his face. "Well?" he said.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

"That's what it feels like."

"Holy shit," I whispered again. He ran his finger across my forehead, wet with my sweat, and then giggled. I couldn't help it, I started to giggle, which soon turned to a full throated laugh. We laughed long into the night, finally falling asleep nude snuggled up against each other, Alex's hands and feet still bound. He woke me in the middle of the night with his mouth on my dick once again, and as he brought me to a climax that felt even more powerful and significant, waves of emotions flooded in me, waves of love for my brother so powerful that I knew when he asked me to help him resume his explorations into pain tomorrow, there could only be one answer.

I would tell him yes.

Chapter 7

It was early when my eyes fluttered open, the sun just high enough that light was filtering in through the bedroom windows but not yet shining in brightly and turning the room into an oven. The temperature was pleasant, or at least I had gotten used to the heat and stickiness to a point where I didn't notice it as much. The bed molded itself perfectly to my frame, the pillow soft beneath my head, the warm naked body of my brother pressed against my equally bare flesh. I couldn't remember ever feeling comfortable, so at peace in my entire life.

He lay on his side, his back to me, the front of my body pressed up against his. Carefully, I rolled over to the other side of the bed, not wanting to wake him just yet. His shoulder rose and fell evenly with his breathing, his quiet snores reverberating in my ears. The gentle light bathing his skin gave him an almost fuzzy appearance, like the slightly out of focus camera shots used in movies to show romantic scenes. The stark white of the areas of his body normally covered by underwear stood out so sharply from the rest of his well-tanned form that it nearly shone on its own.

Hardly realizing what I was doing, my hand reached out and gently stroked his shoulder blade. I never really thought before about what he felt like, how soft and smooth his skin was under my fingers, how the gentle curves of his arms belied the muscles that I still didn't have. His dark hair was fine and soft, cascading through my hand, tickling the spaces between my fingers. I let my hand trace the ridge of his spine, down to the small of his back where his bound hands rested, down past them to more personal places. He didn't stir as I traced the cleft of his butt, wondering if mine looked like his did, jutting away from my body, the chasm a deep fissure between his cheeks. My hand wandered around to his front, blindly reaching until it found what it was seeking, surprised to find it already stiff and throbbing.

Alex moaned and stirred. Not ready to wake him, I withdrew my invading hand, letting it settle on my own little hard-on. Mine felt so inadequate compared to his, so short and thin against what I considered to be his impressive endowment. The feeling raced through me as my fist tightened, a slight gasp escaping my lips, desire wrapping itself around my soul to bring myself back to the heights of ecstasy that I had experienced for the first time last night. With a jerk I yanked my hand back, confused and frightened without any idea why. I turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling, retreating into my thoughts to escape the pulses of feeling that rocketed out from my thing.

Last night, everything seemed so clear. What Alex did for me made me feel like I could soar into the highest heavens, like being awakened to find out that life was richer and more full of possibility than I had ever dared to imagine. I felt so certain that when Alex asked me one again to accompany him into the depths of agony, I could be there for him. Now, nothing was certain. Now, what we did last night felt more like a filthy secret than something to be shouted out loud in a crowded room. I realized with horror what I had just done, exploring my brother's body in a way that no brother ever should, and even worse, realizing that when I did it, my thing leapt to attention. I realized that last night I was ready to go back down the path of becoming that monstrous thing that reveled in the agony of another person. So many bizarre thoughts and feelings rushing through me with the power of a massive waterfall, washing away the me that I knew and replacing it with some dark and sinister thing that should never have seen the light of day.

Alex yawned, rolling over awkwardly to face me, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "What time is it?"

"About seven," I answered, looking away.

He groaned. "Could you untie me? I gotta take a leak really bad." The moment he was free, he jumped out of bed, not even bothering to pull on his underwear before running for the bathroom. The sounds he made captivated me; the powerful stream pounding into the bowl, the sigh of relief he made when it started, the distinct sound of a toilet flushing, imagining him standing there, dick in his hand, shaking off those last few drops…

What the heck is wrong with me??

Alex came back into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. I glanced over for a second, his eyes warm and soft, a caring look of concern face. I turned away as fast as I could. His hand felt warm on my shoulder. "How are you doing?" he said quietly, his voice full of concern.

"Ok," I answered, hoping that would be enough.

"No you're not," he said. "Jake… I… I'm really sorry that I…"

He didn't deserve to take all the blame. I was the guilty one, far more than him. I turned over. "It's not your fault."

"Of course it's my fault," he said softly. "Everything was my idea, wasn't it?"

I sighed. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Ok," he said softly, turning away. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. I just don't want you to feel like we did something really bad, cause I don't think we did."

I felt close to tears, but said nothing. He got up, picking up a pair of underpants from the floor and slipping them on. I watched the firm globes of his butt disappear beneath the thin white fabric, once again embarrassed and ashamed that my eyes were fixed on his body, that my thing had once again expressed it's own interest as well. He quietly left the room without even looking at me. A pit quickly grew in my stomach, forcing me out of the bed after only a few minutes and into the doorway, watching as he settled onto the couch to watch cartoons with a bowl of cereal balanced between his folded legs.

"What do you mean?" I said softly. He turned to look at me.

"About what?"

"About… not doing something bad."

He put his cereal down and stood up, walking a little closer but still keeping his distance. "About you feeling that we did something bad?" I nodded. "I don't think we did."

"But we did," I said, my voice cracking. "I mean… we're not supposed to do stuff like that, are we? Isn't it wrong? Especially cause…"

"Especially cause we're both boys?" I nodded fiercely, my eyes fixed on the wooden floor. He came closer, putting his arms around me. "I don't care," he said softly, the tears starting to flow down my cheeks. He began to sniffle as well. "I don't care what anybody says we're supposed to do or think or be like. I don't care that I'm not supposed to jerk off or that I'm not supposed to like being tied up. I just want to do what I want to do without anyone telling me what I'm supposed to do anymore." His voice became firm, full of resolve and conviction. "I don't give a shit anymore what people think about me. I don't give a shit that its not cool to say that I love my brother." I sobbed on his shoulder. "Cause I do. You're the best brother anyone could ever have and I would do anything for you. Anything." He pulled away and picked up my chin. "If you tell me that you never want to do anything with me again, I won't ever talk about it, never."

I suddenly felt torn apart, ripped into two. A part of me was grateful, relieved that I was off the hook, that the confusion could be over. But the other part of me, the one that started small but gradually became stronger and stronger, it told me how selfish I was being when my brother was anything but. How I was putting my own squeamishness in front of what I understood he not only wanted but needed. How could I do that so someone that just told me I was the best brother that anyone could ever have?

I shook my head. "It's ok," I said softy, trying to make myself sound certain. "I just… feel weird about it, that's all."

"I know," he said sympathetically. "It seemed weird to me at first too…" He trailed off. "Do you want breakfast?"

I nodded. He put his hand on my shoulder, leaving it resting there for a moment, and then turned to go into the kitchen. I followed, sitting down at the table while he pulled out a bowl and poured the cereal and milk for me, putting it down in front of me.

"I could have done that," I said.

"But I like doing it for you," he said back, sitting down next to me, his own bowl apparently forgotten in the living room.

I took a spoonful of cereal, forcing myself to swallow it. My words were addressed more to the cereal bowl than to Alex. "Do you want me to tie you up today?"

"Not if you don't want to," he said firmly.

Was it really so horrible? Was it really that bad to give him all the things he wanted? It wasn't as if I had to endure the long hours of suffering, the excruciating pain, the mind-numbing boredom of being tied up and abandoned. He did so much for me… it was only right, it was only fair that I did the same for him.

"It's ok," I said, forcing myself to sound not only certain, but happy to participate even if I wasn't. "After all, it's not me getting tied up."

"Uh huh," he said, smiling. "If you want we can try something else today." I looked at him with uncertainty in my eyes, but he dismissed it quickly with a warm hand on my shoulder. "Not torture or anything like that."

"Then what?"

"Well, something different." He looked away from me. "I kinda…" He laughed nervously.

"What?"

"It's hard to say. I…" he trailed off, taking a gulp followed a deep breath. "I want you to tell me what to do," he spat out. I blinked in confusion while he sat back in his chair, looking as if he was ready to run away or maybe throw up. He sighed when he understood I had no idea what he was talking about. "I mean… I want… I'll be… a slave." The last words were so soft I could barely hear them.

"A slave?" I asked, dumbfounded.

He turned red. "Yeah, you know… you tell me to do stuff and I do it."

"What, like regular stuff?"

"Whatever you want."

I blinked, a little smile spreading across my face. "So if I told you to bark like a dog you would do it?"

He looked at me for a second, and then howled at the top of his lungs, so convincing I might have found myself in a dark wood on misty Halloween night were it not so bright and miserably hot. I exploded with laughter as he started to bark, loud, full barks like a big dog, milk running out of my nose and bits of cereal flying across the table. He stopped barking, a huge grin across his face.

"Ok, now jump up and down and make sounds like a monkey!" I demanded, giggling uncontrollably.

"Come on," he said, the grin leaving his face. "Be serious!"

"But I don't know what I'm supposed to do." I dragged my sleeve across my face to clean off the milk.

"More serious stuff," he said, the mirth suddenly leaving the room. "You know, you could make me do stuff for you, kinda like a servant."

"Why do you want to do that?" I asked curiously.

"I dunno, I just want to," he said. "Wait, before we do it, there's something we need first."

He got up from the table. I followed him dumbfounded into my father's room, watching him without comprehension as he reached up on the high shelf, going right for the box that Dad had pulled down the day he gave me the gag and clamps. From the way he balanced himself precariously, grunting, I could tell it was heavy. My eyes wide, I watched him set it on the bed, the contents rattling noisily with a metallic sound, pushing the cover off the box.

"How did you know about that?" I stammered.

"I knew it was there," he said, rummaging around in the box. "I knew you got the gag and the clip things from Dad." Triumphantly, he pulled something from the box, setting it down on the bed. My mouth hung open, still too stunned to even look at what it was.

"What do you… you mean… you knew about the box? Dad told you?"

"No," he said, without any further explanation, removing something else from the box and placing it down on the bed. I looked over at them, my mouth still hanging open. They were fairly short strips of what looked like black leather, wider than a belt and far too short to be one. At one end were a series of narrow slits, almost like holes for a belt buckle but much longer. At the other end, a small metal ring was set into the leather. A much larger ring was fixed in the middle. He placed yet another one down, and then another, and then another, five in total. There seemed to be two shorter ones, two a little longer, and then one even a little longer than that. Alex kept rummaging around in the box.

"What… what are those?" I whispered.

"Cuffs," he said quietly, almost reverently. He stopped looking in the box, picking one up. "See, it goes around my wrist like this." He wrapped the leather around, pushing the small ring through one of the slits so that it formed something like a really wide bracelet. "All it needs is a lock in the ring and then it can't come off." He took it back off and laid it on the bed, continuing to rummage around in the box.

I stared at it, comprehension suddenly flooding into my head. "And then I can use the ring to tie you to things," I said in awe.

"Yeah," he said nodding. "Ah ha!" He pulled out a plastic bag, dropping it on the bed where it made a noisy, metallic sound. I stared at it while he pulled a few small, brass padlocks out of the bag, five in all, setting them down next to the cuffs. "There," he said softly, turning to look at me. "Can you… can you put them on me?"

Like a robot, I nodded, mechanically walking up to pick them up from the bed. It was almost as if I was watching from a distance, seeing things happen more like they were on a television show than in real life. He held out his hand, and I wrapped the same cuff around it, pushing the small ring through the slit, taking one of the padlocks in my hand. His hand was trembling, goosebumps standing out on his forearm as I threaded the open padlock through the ring, snapping it shut with a click that made both of us jump. I let go, and he reached over to touch his wrist, stroking it like a beloved pet. "I never wore them before," he said to himself.

"How do you know about them?" I asked again. He didn't answer, just holding up his wrist. The big ring rocked back and forth, making a strange sound not quite like metal ringing together but also not quite like metal hitting something soft. "Who told you about them?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, holding out his other wrist. "Please."

I shook my head. "I wanna know." It was true, I could feel it building up inside me, a burning need to know how he seemed to know so much about such inscrutable things. He didn't answer. I picked up the other small cuff, holding it in my hand, reluctantly wrapping it around his wrist and securing it with another padlock. The two larger ones were just as efficiently locked onto his ankles.

"What's the other one for?"

"It's a collar," he said breathlessly. "For my neck."

"I know where a collar goes," I said, the irritation showing in my voice at his secret still being withheld from me. "But why do you need to get tied by your neck?"

He turned a little red, looking away. "You know… you could attach a rope and it could be kinda like… a leash." I instinctively took a step backward, the idea of leading him around like an animal beyond strange but somehow incredibly attractive to the other part of me, just waking up and whispering in the back of my mind of things I could do to my brother. He quickly spoke to break the tension. "I just want to wear it, you don't have to actually do anything with it."

"Fine," I said, picking it up and wrapping it around his neck.

"It's too loose," he complained.

"It's gonna make it hard to breathe."

"It still needs to be tighter, just not too tight." I pulled it two more notches, the leather snug around his neck, the big ring positioned in front. I snapped another padlock to hold it in place. Immediately, he walked over to the mirror, staring at himself and the leather locked onto his body. I could see him trembling slightly, and I could feel myself doing the same, my thing straining at my underwear as much as I could see his doing the same. That other person inside me woke up even further, gently trying to push aside the parts of me that were scared and uncertain, longing to listen to Alex whimpering and crying in unspeakable agony. I shoved it back aside, wiping the sweat from my brow.

"What else is in there?" I asked softly, not wanting to look for myself, probably not able to comprehend what anything would be used for without Alex's guidance. He tore himself away from the mirror, coming back to the bed and looking inside.

"There's a bunch of chain," he said. My stomach jumped, the possibilities of leaving Alex chained up instead of just tied curling around the corners of my mind. I tried to shove the sudden images away, but was unable to. He pulled something else from the box, long and wooden, holes dotting the dark surface. "It's a paddle," he said. "For hitting."

"I know," I whispered.

He pulled more things from the box that required no explanation, all clearly instruments designed with the express purpose of causing pain. A short whip with a lot of strands, each knotted off at the end. A longer whip more like the kind that Indiana Jones used but not as long as his. Something that Alex called a strap, looking like the paddle but softer and more flexible than the wood being made of thick leather. There were other pairs of clamps in there, ones that looked stronger and even more vicious than the ones we used. And then, Alex took something out that made my jaw drop in surprise and then made me burst into laughter.

"It's a giant dick!" I pointed, sputtering. "What the heck am I supposed to do with a giant dick?" He wasn't laughing at all. I managed to get myself under control.

"It ummm… it goes in my butt."

I stared at him and then cracked up again. "How is a dick supposed to fit in your butt?"

"It goes… you know, inside," he said quietly.

"You're kidding."

"Nope, it really does."

I tried to imagine it, but it was just too weird. "It goes inside, like… where the shit comes from?" He nodded. "That is so gross." He shrugged, taking another rubber looking thing from the box.

"This is the same kind of thing, but because it gets wider and then smaller it stays in and won't come out."

"I don't wanna put stuff in your butt and get your shit all over everything," I said, scrunching up my nose. "That's just sick."

"If you don't want to," he said softly, putting the dick and the other butt thing back into the box. He looked into it. "That's it."

Questions leapt into my mind once again, questions that I knew he wasn't going to answer. I knew, or at least suspected why Dad even had this stuff, because he told me that he was into it, but the way that Alex seemed to know so much about it… He knew all the names, what the stuff was used for, how it was used… how could he know all that? The box was supposed to be a secret, Alex didn't know about it. A burning desire to know more rose up inside me. The other part of me whispered in my ear, telling me what to do, how to find out. I felt like I snapped, like a light switched turned on, or more like off. My dick began to throb, eager for the release that it experienced for the first time last night. I let it take over.

"Alex," I said in a commanding voice. He turned away from the mirror where he was staring again and looked at me. "Go put on a pair of shorts and get your backpack."

"Why?"

"If you're my slave then you have to do what I say," I answered. "Get me shorts and my shoes too." He stared at me for a moment, and then went out of the room, returning with the requested items cradled in his hands. "What are you waiting for, get dressed," I ordered, pulling on my own shorts and slipping my shoes on. He finished just before me, standing at the edge of the bed wearing only his shorts, a delicious look of fear on his face.

"Hands behind your back," I ordered. He turned around, and I bound his wrists together with one of the padlocks. Even though he could move a lot more than when I tied his hands together, using the cuffs and the padlocks somehow seemed more secure. "Go stand facing the corner in the kitchen until I'm ready for you." He obeyed.

Hurriedly, I shoved everything laid out on the bed into the backpack, fishing into the box to grab a few lengths of chain and all the padlocks I could find, careful to avoid touching the butt things. I stuffed all of the keys to the locks into my pockets, not sure which one worked which lock but confident that it wouldn't be too hard to figure out. The pack was heavy as I slung it over my shoulders, almost too heavy for me to carry, but I wouldn't have to carry it long. Dropping it in the living room, I retrieved the pair of clamps and the gag from the drawer in our bedroom along with two pairs of socks and shoving it all into the pack with the rest of the gear. I picked it up and took it into the kitchen, where Alex was waiting for me in the corner as I had ordered. He looked like he was trembling again.

"I can't do this without untying your hands," I explained, fishing in my pocket for a pair of keys to try first. Miraculously, the first ones I tried were the right keys, the padlock opening smoothly. I held it in my hands. "Put the pack on."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice shaky.

"Put the pack on," I said stubbornly. He picked it up and slung it over his shoulders. "Good, now put your hands behind your back again."

"Jake, it's kinda heavy…"

"Put your hands behind your back," I growled. "Or you'll get punished." He maneuvered his hands, crossing them together uncomfortably just beneath where the backpack rested on his bare back. I snapped the padlock back into place. A wicked idea formed, and I ran off to return a moment later with a length of rope. Carefully, I turned the collar so that the big ring was in the back, and then I tied the rope to the ring. He whimpered a little, but didn't say anything. "That way you can't try to run away."

"Where are we going?" I didn't answer. "You're not really taking me outside like this," he said, terrified.

"Yeah, I am."

"But… someone could see!" he whispered fiercely. "I'm wearing all this stuff!"

"No one's gonna see if you stay quiet and do what I say," I told him. "We can't do what I want here, we gotta go somewhere else."

"Just let me take all this stuff off first. We can put it back on when we get there," he offered.

"No, you have to wear them." I opened the back door and pointed. "Now let's go or I'll make you walk naked instead."

He turned pale. "I'm not wearing shoes."

"You can walk barefoot." I tugged on the rope tied to his collar. He stumbled out of the corner.

"Jake, please!"

I let go of the rope, angrily walking back in front of him. He tried to walk backward, but off balance as he was with his hands tied and the heavy pack he stumbled, barely keeping his balance. I deftly unbuttoned the front of his shorts, letting them fall to his ankles while he looked at me, horrified, only his underpants left.

"You want to lose those too?" I asked softly.

He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. "Please, Jake, please don't make me go outside like this. I'll do whatever you want, just please don't make me go."

It was amazing to me, how the sound of him begging tearfully like that was just as powerful as listening to the sounds of his tortured screams. My thing throbbed even harder, my hand wandering down to stroke it through my shorts. Images flashed in my head of what was about to happen to Alex, what I was about to do to him. I wanted to force him down on his knees right there, whip it out and shove it in his mouth, but I knew there were other things I needed to know first.

"Let's go," I said, picking up the rope and giving it another sharp tug. He shuffled slowly, crying now, standing in the doorway in front of me for a moment until I pushed on his shoulder to get him to walk. I knew that no one would see us, that no one ever came around here, that where we were going was as quiet and abandoned as the most remote parts of the world. He stumbled down the stairs, almost losing his balance but managing to right himself without falling flat on his face. He turned around, his eyes begging for sympathy, his face streaked with tears. I held the rope firmly. "Move."

Glancing around to make sure that no one was nearby, I led him through the backyard into the woods. Once we were there, I felt more relaxed now that we were out of sight from the road obscured by the dense trees. Alex walked slowly, his eyes fixed on the ground, his bare feet already covered in the squishy mud and moss that covered the forest floor. Every now and then he stepped on something sharp or surprising, causing him to hiss and one time even bringing him down to his knees with a cry of pain. I stood behind him silently, holding the leash tight while he struggled to get to his feet. My eyes stayed fixed on his body as he walked, the way his muscles tensed and loosened, the sweat beaded on his face and his shoulders that he couldn't wipe away, the clenching and unclenching of his butt hidden only behind thin white cotton. It drove me even further into the depths of lust. Alex undoubtedly guessed where we were going, because he led onward in the right direction without a hint from me.

We reached a small clearing that was halfway there, marked by several rusted out appliances that someone had abandoned. I yanked on the rope suddenly, causing him to nearly fall over. He stood still with his shoulders slumped over while I walked around in front of him. I tried to look at his face, but he turned away when I did, at least until I put my fingers into the waistband of his underpants.

"Please don't," he said softly. I ignored him, pulling them slowly down, relishing the way his stiff dick popped out and stood straight out in front of him. He turned beet red, sniffling like he was going to cry again, but didn't offer any resistance as I pulled them down to his ankles.

"Step out of them." Awkwardly, he kicked them away, leaving him completely nude and exposed. It still wasn't enough to satisfy me. Forcing him to turn around, I opened the top of the pack and took out the gag, holding it in my hand. "Open up," I ordered. He hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth wide. I shoved the ball in place and pulled the strap tight, then rummaging around in the bag again until I found what I wanted. I walked around him, holding them in my hand. His eyes went wide when he saw them, taking a step backward and shaking his head as hard as he could. I grabbed his collar and held it, forcing the first clamp open and letting it snap shut on his nipple. He cried out in the gag, tears running down his face. He offered no resistance as I put the other one on, another squeal muffled by the gag.

"Let's go," I ordered. He walked slowly away, sniffling and whimpering a little. My dick was throbbing again at the sight of him forced to march naked, bound, gagged, and in pain.

We reached our destination after another twenty minutes of walking. Inexplicably, nestled amongst the trees and choked with the underbrush, was an old shack. It must have been abandoned for years, the windows boarded up, the door barely hanging open on rusted hinges. An old car with no tires was merrily rotting away in the front yard, tree debris and bird droppings make it look as if it had been spray painted with graffiti. Alex had found it a few months back, on a day when he had been feeling badly and had gone off to be by himself. He showed it to me a week later, proud of his find and pointing out how certain he was that only the two of us knew about it by the absence of beer bottles and cigarette butts. He still came out here every now and then when he wanted to be alone, but not since we had started our tie up stuff. He turned around and looked at me with sad eyes.

"Inside," I ordered, pushing him on the shoulder. He walked carefully, and I realized why very quickly, rusty old nails littering the ground. I let him go as slowly as he wanted, shuffling along behind him until we climbed the single step on the porch, the ancient and decaying wood creaking and groaning under our weight. The shack was dark inside, lit only by the sparse sunlight filtering in through the cracks in the walls and the holes in the ceiling, but my eyes quickly adjusted. It was empty save for a pile of dirty lumber and wooden crates in one corner, a thick layer of dust billowing up with every step we took. It was one room downstairs, but what might have been a loft at one time covered half of the room. Many of the floorboards from the loft were gone or had never been nailed in place, leaving exposed beams. Alex came to a stop in the middle of the room, sniffling. I looked up, examining the beams. They still looked solid enough, and had held my weight without a problem when I had climbed up in the loft and shimmied out on one of them the last time I had been here, so I knew they would work for my purposes.

Pulling the key I knew worked on his hands from my pocket, I unlocked his hands from behind his back. He pulled them forward with a groan, immediately pulling the clamps off from his chest, squealing once again as he took them off. I looked at him angrily, but didn't do anything about it. They would be back on him soon enough. I helped him drop the backpack on the floor, and then re-locked his hands in front of him. He stood still while I went into the corner, picking up one of the upside down crates, my eyes going wide when I saw what was hidden beneath it. I looked over at Alex, who was turning red.

"You used to tie yourself up out here?" I said incredulously, staring at the pile of ropes. He nodded slowly. I picked up the crate and brought it over to a point beneath one of the beams. "I thought this was going to be something new, but you already did this." He didn't answer. "Stand on the crate."

He climbed up carefully onto the box, balancing as best as he could with his hands locked together in front of him. I went into the backpack, pulling out a few more padlocks and a length of chain. Without comment, I shoved the padlocks in my pocket and laid the chain around my neck to keep my hands free, then climbed up the rickety ladder into the loft. Carefully, I maneuvered myself to be straddling the beam right above him. He looked up at me, very clearly understanding what I intended to do, soft moans coming from his lips. I locked the length of chain around the beam, leaving the free end to dangle loose.

"Put your hands above your head," I ordered. He stretched them out, high enough that I could easily reach down and lock the free end of the chain to his wrists. His elbows were still a little bent, but that didn't matter much to me. I climbed back down, my eyes drinking in his nude body, his arms stretched out above his head, balanced precariously on the crate. He was shaking his head as I came over near him, begging incomprehensibly into his gag.

I kicked the crate away.

With a jerk, he fell a short distance, screaming at the top of his lungs into his gag. His feet were still several inches off the floor, kicking madly to try and find something to balance on. I watched him thrash around helplessly, his pitiful cries filling the small room as all his weight strained at his wrists and shoulders. Eventually, he stopped kicking, his head slumping forward, sobbing quietly.

I reached up behind his head, unbuckling the gag from his mouth. He coughed hoarsely. "Jake, please, you gotta let me down, this really hurts."

"Not until you tell me how you know about all this stuff," I said, finally putting my plans in action. He was silent. "I'm gonna leave you here until you tell me everything."

"Please," he whispered.

"Nope. I don't care if it takes days, you're just gonna hang there." I picked up the clamps and pried one open, standing in front of him. "Are you gonna talk?"

"Don't make me do this," he said softly. I snapped the clamp onto his left nipple. He hissed and then cried out at the renewed pain. Without comment I snapped the other one in place as well, stepping away as he started kicking and thrashing around again. "Jake, god, please, it hurts so much! Please, please, I'll do whatever you want, please just let me down…"

"Tell me how you know about the stuff."

He started shouting through his tears. "Don't make me tell you!"

I opened the pack and pulled out another pair of vicious clamps, looking more like miniature version of jumper cables than the alligator clips that were on his chest now. He stopped kicking, staring at me wide eyed as I walked back up to him. "Tell me or else."

His voice trembled. "You wouldn't…" I grabbed his balls in my hand. He started to try and yank away, but I held them firmly, squeezing them until he moaned in pain, staying still. "No, please, not on there, please…" he begged through his tears.

"Tell me."

"I can't!" he shouted.

I pried the clamp open, pulling some of his sac between the jaws, then letting go.

Alex screamed so loud it felt like the entire shack was shaking, high pitched enough to shatter the windows if they still had glass left in them. I couldn't imagine what it must feel like, having that thing biting into such sensitive flesh, helpless to do anything about it, but my only reaction was to stroke the hard thing between my legs. He sobbed and hung still again, the only acknowledgment made when I snapped the other clamp onto more of his ball sac was a soft whimper.

"Tell me or I'm going to leave you here all day." The only sound coming from him were his sobs. "It's gonna be really hot and the mosquitoes are gonna eat you alive." He still didn't answer me. "Tell me!" I shouted, bending down to feel in the backpack, pulling out the longer, single whip. Furious, I walked behind him with purpose, my head pounding, my arm tensed. "Tell me!" I screamed again, pulling the whip back and swinging it against his body with all of my strength. Alex jerked mightily, his body sent swinging by the force both of my blow and his reaction. It was a moment before he screamed, and when he did it was blood-curdling, a scream unlike any I had ever heard from him before, far more desperate and real than any other he ever let out. It shocked me for a second, not sure if that scream was just ringing in my ears or if he was doing it.

"Jake!" he said, when he finally caught his breath. "Please, Jake!"

"Just tell me," I said softly.

"I can't. I just can't. Please, don't make me tell you, I… I…"

"Why? Why don't you just tell me?"

"I just can't talk about it."

I was silent for a moment, watching slowly stop swinging, his feet still dangling. "I'm going to whip you until you tell me."

"God, no!" he shouted hoarsely. "You can't hit me with that again, you don't know what it feels like!" I reached out, touching the dark red line that the whip had drawn over the small of his back, wrapping around his side and ending with a purple splotch on his stomach. He jerked as I touched it, hissing in pain. "Please, it feels like you're cutting me open. Just let me down, I… I can't feel my hands."

I pulled the whip back and with a sneer sent it cracking against his butt. He screamed instantly this time, another deep red welt raising on his skin. He started to cry hysterically. "God, please you have to stop!"

"Tell me," I said in low growl, lashing him again higher on his back. I waited for his screaming to subside.

"I can't!" he shouted hoarsely. "I can't tell you, I promised I would never tell!"

"Never tell what?" I shouted, lashing him hard three more times, the whip cracking against his body, more dark red lines crisscrossing his back. He couldn't even scream anymore, his shouts completely hoarse and nearly silent.

"Jake…" he whispered. "I can't take it anymore."

I whipped him again, the put the whip down on the floor, walking back in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands a dark shade of purple. He looked strange, all stretched out like that, his shoulders hunched in an odd way, his chest all stretched out, his head hanging forward between his arms. His dick was completely soft and limp, a thin trickle of blood leaking from where the last blow had wrapped around his back and cut him just above his groin.

"Tell me," I said softly. "Just tell me and I'll let you go."

He nodded slowly, barely able to speak, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper so soft that I had to stand on the crate and put my ear right next to his mouth.

"It's… it's Jeremy's stuff…"

I felt myself suddenly turn cold all over.

"Dad used to do it to him…"

My knees began to shake.

"I saw them one time… and Jeremy told me about it…"

The room began to spin.

"And… and… and I couldn't understand… I was so stupid, I didn't get it… and I told Mom that Dad was hurting him… and… and then they had a car accident…"

Everything went black.

My eyes fluttered open, the taste of blood in my mouth. The complete disorientation of waking up and not knowing I was and how I got there seized me, and I sat up suddenly, my head beginning to spin again. My foot hurt.

Then I saw it, Alex hanging from the rafter. I thought it was a dream at first, but to my horror I quickly realized it was for real. His eyes were closed, I wasn't sure if he was even conscious.

"Alex?" I asked softly, my voice shaking. His eyes fluttered open, trying to speak but no sounds came out. Absolute and utter terror gripped me, forced me to my feet. I pushed the crate over trying to get him to put his feet up on it. He tried, but seemed to have a hard time balancing. With the strength found in fear I dashed up the ladder, getting myself out on the beam. "Hold on," I said reassuringly to him, failing to reassure myself in the process. My hand was shaky as I put the key in the lock, slowly turning it until it clicked open, but with his weight still pulling the chain there was no way I could get it off. My stomach leapt into my throat.

"Alex you gotta stand on the crate," I said urgently. I could see him trying. "Please, you gotta try, I can't get you out!" His hands felt like ice. "Come on, do it!" I shouted desperately. His feet managed to touch the crate, a little slack forming in the chain for just a moment, which was long enough for me to slip the padlock out. The chain fed quickly around the beam, sending Alex crashing to the ground, where he lay completely still in a tangled heap of limbs. It took all my presence of mind not to jump down there, forcing myself to shimmy back and climb down the ladder.

"Alex!" I cried, tears coming down my face. "Please be ok, please be ok!" I ran over to him, touching his neck, wrapping my arms around his naked body. Feebly, he reached up and touched me, his hands still locked together. I undid them in a heartbeat, ripping off the clamps on his nipples and balls. He didn't even flinch.

"Alex, please be ok, I'm so sorry!"

I put his head in my lap, cradling him like I remember my mother cradling me when I broke my arm falling from the monkey bars.

"You really did it," he said softly, coughing.

"I really did what?" I asked, terrified that he meant that I really hurt him this time.

"You tortured it out of me. You… you really did it."

"I'm so sorry," I said softly, crying.

"Don't cry," he whispered. "I wanted to tell someone, anyone, so bad for so long… and… and I couldn't do it… and you made me tell you, you didn't stop, even when I told you that I couldn't feel my hands and that I couldn't take it anymore you didn't stop… and I knew you would really do it, you would keep going and I had no choice and… and…" He started to cry too, and I held him tightly in my hands, the sounds of our sobs filling the room. "Thanks," he whispered, grabbing on to me tightly.

We remained in that embrace for a long time.

Chapter 8

The thin trail of smoke drifted towards the ceiling, the cigarette perched carefully between my index and middle finger in the way I had seen it done on television many times before. I just couldn't manage to bring it to my lips again, the memory of how the searing smoke made me retch like I was going to puke at any moment. It wasn't as if Alex did much better when he tried. At least I had the decency to remain quiet while he hacked up a lung. His barely suppressed giggle when I doubled over in my fit of coughing infuriated me, and it was plain by the look on this face when he saw my anger that he knew he would pay for it.

We bought them from a vending machine in the back of the diner in town. I stood watch while he dropped the quarters into the machine, my heart racing the entire time that one of the sweaty, fat guys in overalls would have to pass us by to use the john. It took forever for him just to pick what brand to buy. I kept telling him that it didn't matter, just to pick something, but for some reason he was agonizing over every little thing, like what menthol meant and why some were called '100's'. He finally came out with the packs stuffed into the pockets of his shorts, the telltale bulge patently obvious as we slinked our way back out of the diner, the money for our cokes and doughnuts still on the table. I didn't get to see them until we were safely out of town, alone with the hum of the late afternoon mosquitoes. He bought Camels and Kool.

It was my idea to actually try and smoke one. I thought that we should at least try to be like any other normal kids and taste the forbidden fruit of the cancer stick. I guess that's why any other brothers would have bought them, but it wasn't the way things worked with us. He actually wanted to get cigars, but they didn't sell those in vending machines.

As usual, the cigarettes were Alex's idea. Most new things were his idea. I could lay claim to only a couple of recent flashes of inspiration, while his inventive mind never seemed to run short of fresh ways for him to suffer. I looked down at him from the comfort of the couch. He squirmed and whimpered into his gag, his wrists and ankles tightly bound in an excruciating hogtie. Even his collar was attached with a rope to his ankles, forcing him to arch his back and bend his head back. In the most casual way, I let my arm fall from the couch, the trail of ash dislodging from the cigarette, hot embers landing on his bare back.

"Mmph!" he groaned, jerking in his restraints. I sighed.

"For crying out loud, I think you'd get used to it by now. We've done almost the entire pack." He settled back down, lying as still as he could. I knew that his muscles were getting sore, he always complained after being hogtied for a while how everything ached. Even though I had ordered him to be completely motionless, I was willing to tolerate him wriggling around just a little.

"This is getting boring," I announced, pushing the lit end of the cigarette against the heavily bruised flesh of his tender ass, finding an unmarked spot amongst all the other burn marks. He cried out, rearing his head back as I ground it in until there was nothing left but the filter. "Stop being such a baby," I chided as he broke into a choked sob. "I'm only going to let you take a break if you promise to be quiet and behave, ok?" He forced himself to swallow his tears, the shaking in his body immediately settling into an unnaturally stiffness as he forced himself to be still.

"That's better," I said after letting him hold the position for about a minute. He relaxed, but kept silent. I bent down and unstrapped the gag from his mouth, a thin trail of drool hanging from the rubber ball as I pried it from his mouth. He had been wearing the thing for almost an entire day. I put it in after dinner last night and just left it there, his jaw jammed open and his tongue cruelly scrunched in the back of his mouth. I could see him wince as he forced his mouth closed.

"May I please have some water?" he said hoarsely.

"You're supposed to stay silent," I growled.

"I know, but I'm so thirsty I can't stand it anymore."

"Just shut up," I ordered. "If you can't keep quiet then I'll tie you to your bed without any until morning, understand?"

He nodded, defeated. Slowly, I untied him, letting him slowly stretch out his tired muscles for a few minutes until he lay still on the floor, his head resting on his arm. "That's enough rest. I need to get sucked off."

Without a word, he pulled himself up. I turned around on the couch, planting my feet on the floor, my legs spread apart as he shuffled on his knees between them. My hands behind my head, I leaned back and let him pull my underwear down, his hands gently massaging my throbbing dick for just a moment. I closed my eyes, the warmth of his mouth drawing a gasp from my lips only seconds later, his tongue working over me. There was no way I could ever tire of this. Every time, it seemed to grow in intensity instead of weaken, the sensations stronger, the time until my explosive orgasm growing shorter. Maybe he was just getting better at it. I grimaced as the climax overtook me, forcing my groin into his face and then collapsing back into the couch when it was over.

"That's better," I sighed, wiping the sweat from my face with the sleeve of my t-shirt. "You can go and get some water now." He immediately got to his feet and made straight for the kitchen while I pulled my underwear back up. From the sound of it he downed four glasses full before he came back into the room and stood in front of me.

I narrowed my eyes. "I know I said that you could go free tonight but I decided to put you on punishment instead."

"But Dad's coming home for dinner tonight!" he answered, his eyes fiery. "That's not fair!" "It's not supposed to be fair!" I said back, just as hotly. "You laughed at me when I tried to smoke so you're getting punished tonight, and because you talked I'm going to make it worse."

His eyes were full of fury. "No. I want to see Dad."

"That's fifty more lashes," I said in a low voice.

"Fuck you. I'm getting dressed." He turned to leave.

"You know what happens if you don't cooperate!" I shouted. "I won't tie you up anymore!"

He snorted without a pause. "Yeah, sure. You like it too much to stop."

"I do not!" I yelled after him, but he ignored me. "I don't!" He slammed the bathroom door behind him, the shower turning on almost immediately to drown out any protest I might decide to hurl at him.

I sat back down on the couch, my face burning with anger at what he said, punching the pillow as hard as I could in a futile effort to funnel my rage somewhere. "You're going to really pay for that," I snarled to myself. Tomorrow morning, after Dad left, I would march him back down to the shack. He would spend the whole day hanging by his hands, or maybe even his ankles, food for the mosquitoes. I would whip him until bled, until he couldn't even scream anymore, and then I'd keep lashing him until he passed out. My dick stood at attention yet again even though it had just been satisfied.

"Dammit!" I shouted, throwing the pillow across the room. My eyes stung, but no tears began to flow. What in the fuck was wrong with me? It was the first time Dad was going to be home in a week, and I knew that Alex was looking forward to it as much as I was. Even more, I was looking forward to all three of us just hanging out, the idea of us sitting at the table and eating like a real family sweeter than the finest candy.

Dad even said he might get out the projector and we could watch old home movies, something we hadn't done since the accident. At first, I didn't understand the look on Alex's face when Dad made the suggestion a few days ago, but then he spoke softly, saying how he was starting to forget what Mom and Jeremy looked like. Dad looked upset and wound up going to the bathroom for a while. I was pretty mad at him, but lying awake while Alex sobbed quietly in pain, tied to his bed with clamps placed strategically on sensitive parts of his body, I understood what he meant. I wasn't sure I could remember their faces either. I wanted to watch them too. I wanted to watch them with him, with Dad, the three of us together, the last remnants of our kind.

If Alex hadn't stopped me, I would have done it. I would have beaten him and left him to suffer for the night without ever letting him even say hello to Dad. I would have ruined everything, and for what? More and more it kept happening, the desires rising up inside me, the words coming out as though I were nothing more than a puppet on a string, acting under the influence of some outside power that held me firmly in its grip. Everything else was forgotten, nothing existed except the raw, visceral need to hear him screaming, to see the fear in his eyes, the power flowing through me blacker than the dark side of the Force. There were times when all I wanted was to lay in bed next to him in the way that we did so rarely anymore, our naked bodies pressed together while we talked until we passed out sometime late into the night.

But how could I do that when he was locked in the closet, or tied to the table, or left in any of the half a dozen other creative places where he usually spent the night? If I wanted to, I could just untie him, couldn't I? I could just leave him free for the night, any night I wanted. But no matter how much I needed him to be my big brother again, I still found myself reveling in the bittersweet symphony of his agony night after night, day after day. I knew it was useless to resist, to tell myself that it could be different. No matter how strong my resolve, it would be shattered hopelessly every single time. It was like the assemblies at school, the ones where they told us how bad it was to drink and use drugs, how you couldn't stop yourself once you started and you would become an addict.

That was me. Addicted to torturing my brother.

I was so scared two weeks ago when I beat the truth from him in the shack that I had gone too far, that I had really hurt him in a way that would require a doctor or a hospital. But I didn't, and just like every time after a day in bed he was much better and ready to get started again. I had sworn to myself that night that I would never do it so hard again, that I would be more gentle with him. That flew right out the window the very next time I had him tied down to his bed. If anything, the beating I gave him was even more vicious, and with the exception of a few short respites, he had spent the entire time since then in bondage and in pain.

That's why I was so mad at him now, because his accusation was hitting far too close to home. He knew, he somehow understood my insatiable need as far more than just a little brother helping his big brother out. I was as much a part of this as he was. It was like riding a roller coaster. The first time getting on I was scared, but after a few times I got used to it, then I grew to love it. Now it felt like they were running it over and over again, and even though it was still as glorious as the first time, they wouldn't let me off when the train pulled into the station. Faster and faster it whipped around the track, dangerously close to derailing each time.

With a groan I pulled myself from the couch and went to the room to get a pair of shorts, taking the bowl of used cigarettes with me. The bathroom door was still uncharacteristically shut, closed against me even though it meant that the steam from the shower would make it unbearable in there, adding to the already rampant mildew that seemed to sprout from everywhere. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was doing in the shower. After all, I didn't let him get off at all for the last four days, even when he begged me to just let him shoot last night as I teased his painfully hard dick before leaving him tied on his back, unable to finish himself off. My shorts retrieved, the stubbed out filters dumped surreptitiously out the window, I slouched back onto the couch, the sound of cartoons mixed with the inevitable late afternoon static as the skies prepared to dump on us in what had become a daily ritual. Alex didn't say a word when he came out of the bathroom. All I heard was the bathroom door opening and the bedroom door slamming.

I didn't even hear the bus pull up in front of the house, the rain was so loud. I just saw the front door fly open, Dad literally soaked all the way through even though it was a short run from the highway into the house. He was clutching several brown grocery bags close to his chest.

"Hey kiddo, give me a hand, would you?" I sprang off the couch to help him with the bags, the paper wet enough that I thought they would give way and spill their contents everywhere at any moment.

"I thought you were going to bring back McDonald's," I said, a little disappointed.

"I had a better idea," he said with a wink, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and rubbing his hair dry. "I thought that a couple of steaks, some Rice-A-Roni, corn on the cob, nice fresh rolls, and an apple pie for dessert sounded good." A grin crept across my face. "Or would you prefer a Big Mac?"

"No, steak sounds good," I said, trying to hide my eagerness. I couldn't remember the last time we had steak. It cost too much.

"Alex, come on out here," he called. The bedroom door opened a moment later, Alex dressed in his long sleeve button down dress shirt and a pair of jeans, his wet hair neatly combed. Dad looked at him strangely. "Look at you, all spiffed up. Have you got a date or something?" he said with a wink.

"Dad, geez." Alex rolled his eyes and shook his head, then flashed a withering look over at me. I knew why he was all dressed up like that. It was because it was the only long sleeve shirt he had left that still fit him, the only shirt that would cover the rope marks on his wrists, the welts on his arms, and the raw areas around his neck where the collar chafed. He picked up one of the bags and carried it into the kitchen. "Can I help make dinner?"

"Well, I sure as heck am not doing it all by myself." He rubbed my hair as I looked up eagerly. "And before you ask, yes, you can help too. Go get washed up." I ran off to the bathroom as pots and pans clattered away, the aroma of melted butter already drifting past my nose as I hurriedly scrubbed the dirt and smells from my hands. Dad was getting ready to put the steaks in the pan when I was finished while Alex stirred the sizzling rice in the pot. I stood next to him at the stove, looking for something to do.

"So what did you boys do today?"

I shot a glance over at Alex, who didn't look up. "Nothing really. We hiked into town and got some cokes at the diner."

"And doughnuts," I chimed in.

"Cokes and doughnuts," he repeated. "Anything else?" I shook my head. "Are you sure?"

"Just that," Alex said.

"Really," he said, looking at me with eyes narrowed. "Then why does the house smell like a stale ashtray?"

I froze, but Alex seemed unfazed. "We just tried one. It was gross."

"You know how I feel about smoking," he chided gently. "There's a lot better things to spend your money on."

"We just wanted to try one, ok?" Alex's voice had an edge to it.

"It made me want to throw up," I chimed in.

"Then, for the first and only time, I'm glad you got sick to your stomach," Dad answered, mussing my hair again. "I just can't believe you boys tried it inside the house. I assumed you were at least smart enough to do it where you wouldn't get caught."

Alex slammed the wooden spoon down in the pot. "It was just a stupid idea, ok?" He turned and stormed from the room.

"Alex," Dad called, but he didn't answer. The bedroom door slammed shut. "What's wrong with him?"

I shrugged warily. "I dunno."

"Maybe he's just turning into a teenager," Dad sighed. "Here, take over. Pour the rest of the stuff in, stir it, and cover it up so it can cook." The steaks sizzled in the pan as I followed his instructions, just placing the lid on the pot when the words just came out.

"We didn't buy the cigarettes to smoke them," I said offhandedly. "Well, we tried one but only one time each."

"They why did you get them?"

"Alex wanted me to try them on him."

"I'm not sure I follow…" He looked at me without comprehension for a moment, and then I saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, followed instantly by a look of shock. "You burned him with cigarettes?"

"It was his idea," I whined.

"Jesus," he said, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the steaks. "Jake, I told you I don't want to know anything specific about what you two are doing anymore."

"I just wanted you to know that we weren't smoking," I said contritely.

He was silent for a moment. "I would've been happier thinking you were," he said in a low voice. "The next time you feel an urge to tell me something like that, do us both a favor and keep it to yourself."

"All I ever do is make people mad at me!" I shouted, storming off from the kitchen into the living room and sitting back down on the couch, my arms folded. I didn't understand the way he was reacting, the way he didn't want to know anything about what we were doing. After all, he was the one that patiently explained everything to me, he was the one that told me about the stuff in the box, he was the one that made me feel as if doing it wasn't as abnormal as I had first thought. But then something changed, right around the time that I had tortured the truth from Alex. I wanted to tell him so bad what I knew, but I just couldn't find those words, so I tried to tell him what we did instead. He didn't let me. He just told me the same thing, that we could do what we wanted but he wanted it to be just between me and Alex, that he didn't want to be involved anymore.

Dad came out of the kitchen, looking at me as he knocked on the bedroom door. "Alex, come on out of there," he said authoritatively. "You too, Jake, come back into the kitchen. This is not the way I planned to spend my evening home with you two."

"Me neither," I said quietly, getting back off the couch and joining him in the kitchen. Alex sullenly followed a few moments later, busying himself with setting the table as I stirred the rice and dropped the corn into the boiling water. We finished getting dinner ready mostly in silence, Dad trying to get us to talk by asking questions and cracking stupid jokes, but neither of us really felt like joining in. It wasn't until we were eating that we started to loosen up a little, listening to Dad talk about his jobs and how we were getting closer to being able to get a car.

The movies did the trick, though. Dad pulled the projector and the screen out of his closet right after dinner, pulling the shades down to make the room dark enough to be able to see. He even made jiffy pop. We sat on the couch side by side, watching familiar scenes that somehow seemed new again. Mom and Dad having a cake fight at their wedding, Jeremy crawling around the house with no diaper on as a baby, the time that Alex pulled out all the pots and pans and started banging on them when he was just a toddler. I wished the old movies had sound, that I could hear what everyone was saying, what they sounded like, especially Mom. Still, it felt good to watch the movies, even if it was sad to see Jeremy and Mom like that. It somehow didn't bother me as much, seeing them in all these funny and happy times, watching Mom reading all three of us a story when I was just two as we all snuggled in her bed.

"Now, this one has always been a favorite," Dad announced, putting the next reel in. The moment it started, I could feel my face getting red, and Alex started giggling uncontrollably.

"Not this one!" I said, hitting Dad in the shoulder. He laughed too as I watched myself as a little kid running around with just a shirt on, a training toilet set up in the middle of the room. Alex and Jeremy kept on trying to bring me back and get me to sit down, but I was just too much of a stupid little kid to know what I was supposed to do and just kept running around.

"Man, you really didn't want to give up diapers," Alex teased.

"Shut up," I said playfully.

"Actually, you were harder to train," Dad said to him, winking at me. "Jeremy wasn't really interested in helping you out and you seemed perfectly content to wander around the house no matter what smells leaked out your butt." Alex rolled his eyes. "At least Jake had the two of you working on him." He shook his head. "You were so excited to have Jake join the big boy club." I looked back at the screen, watching the two of them patiently bringing me back to the potty over and over again, saying words to me that I wished I could hear. Strangely, I didn't feel quite so embarrassed anymore.

The scenes continued to unfold, soccer and hockey games, birthday parties, summer camp, the trips out west to the Grand Canyon and Yosemite, little boys gradually stretching and turning into bigger boys. I never realized how much Alex looked like Jeremy before.

"Last one," Dad said quietly, putting in the reel and starting it up, the Labor Day barbecue that was only a couple of weeks before the accident happened. When Mom and Jeremy appeared on the screen, I could hardly believe that I was losing the memory of how they looked, their faces instantly and indelibly etched back into my head. I remembered how hot it was that day, the kids swimming around in the neighbor's pool while the grown-ups drank beer and cooked hamburgers, Jeremy sitting on the chair by the pool because he didn't feel good that day…

I sat bolt upright, my eyes wide. It was a hot day, I remembered it distinctly, and yet Jeremy wasn't wearing shorts and a t-shirt or even a bathing suit. His long sleeve shirt was securely buttoned at the wrists and the neck, carefully tucked into his jeans, his socks and shoes still on as he watched wistfully from the sidelines while we splashed around. I glanced over at Alex, who was just staring at the screen, wondering if he was seeing the same thing I was, the way that Jeremy was dressed just the way Alex was right now. The realization flooded through me, wondering how I could have been so blind as to never see it before. The sudden change in Jeremy, the way he no longer ever wanted to go swimming or even change casually in front of me, the way he used to kick me out of his room when I would come in late at night after a bad dream or when I couldn't sleep instead of letting me curl up on his bean bag chair in the corner.

Because Dad was doing the same things to him that I did to Alex.

A shudder ran down my spine, a sudden chill set over the room despite the heat. A faceless terror rose inside me, no longer seeing Jeremy like that but instead seeing Alex, seeing him now on that screen with the terrifying knowledge that death would rip him away from me in just a few short weeks. I couldn't breathe, the room spun crazily, and I found myself jumping to my feet and running for the bathroom, ignoring my father's calls as I slammed the door shut behind me and stared wild eyed into the dirty, cracked mirror. "It has to stop," I whispered, the sense of dread growing inside me. I didn't know how, I didn't know why, it didn't make any sense, but somehow I just knew that if it didn't stop that Alex would wind up just like Jeremy. The thought was unbearable. One brother gone was horrible enough, but two was unthinkable.

But how could I stop? How could I overcome those powerful images that surfaced in my head every time I looked at him, the ones that went far beyond anything we actually did, images of violence and torture in the most real sense? How could I force those desires back when they held me in their grip even more tightly than the ropes and chains that held Alex captive?

I stared at the boy in the mirror, a smile suddenly creeping around the edges of his lips. It was so simple, I didn't know why I didn't think of it sooner. There was a way to subdue them, to banish the blood that flowed forever from my sight. I nearly laughed out loud, tearing back out from the bathroom.

Dad was in the process of putting away the projector and rolling up the screen. "You feeling better, Jake?"

I nodded. "Where's Alex?"

"He went to his room to read for a while," Dad answered. "I'm going to sit outside for a while and look at the stars, care to join me?"

I shook my head. "I'm kinda tired," I lied. He nodded. "Night."

"Night," he answered back wistfully. I threw the bedroom door open. Alex turned around and looked straight at me with a little fear until he realized that it was me, not Dad. He had taken off his shirt, the welts and bruises on his back plainly visible. He rolled over to face the wall, burying his face in one of my science fiction books. The image of his bare back, the welts, the shape of his ass, I could feel those hands reaching up inside me and trying to wrest back control, my dick springing to life.

"I don't want to get tied up tonight, so forget it," he said, as if he was reading my mind. "I need a break."

"I wasn't going to say that," I said quietly, sitting down on my bed.

"Good," he said with finality, clearly telling me the conversation was over.

"Alex," I said, shuffling my foot on the ground. "Maybe we could do something different."

"I said I didn't want to do anything tonight." He turned around and flashed me a look of supreme annoyance.

"But… what if you did it to me instead?"

"Don't you ever quit?" he growled. "I sucked you off like three times today, that's enough already. I'm sick of it! I just want to read a book and go to sleep like a normal kid."

"I didn't mean sucking off," I mumbled, looking at the ground.

"Then what the fuck did you mean?" he said angrily.

"I just thought you might want to do it to me one time, you know…" My voice dropped to a whisper. "Torture."

He blinked his eyes, the anger clearing from his face to be replaced with concern. "I thought you told me that you didn't want to try it."

"I changed my mind."

He shook his head and turned back over. "I don't want to."

"Come on, please, I just… I just want to know what it feels like, that's all."

"It hurts. A lot. Now you know."

"Please, Alex."

He turned back over. "Look, you can tie me back up when Dad leaves in the morning, ok? I just want to have one night without it. I just want to read a book and wear pajamas and sleep in my bed and get up in the middle of the night if I want a drink of water or a snack or to pee." His voice was gentle. "Just one night, then we can go back to doing it. I promise."

"But I don't want to go back to doing it!" I could barely hold the tears in. "I want to know what it feels like because then maybe I won't be so mean to you all the time!"

He looked shaken for a moment. "I don't mind," he said softly.

"But its too much! I'm afraid… I keep thinking of things that I want to do and I'm afraid that I'll do them and if I know how much it hurts then maybe I'll just do some regular things and it won't be so bad!"

He got out of his bed and sat down beside me on mine. "You wouldn't hurt me like that."

"But what if I did?"

He was silent. "It wouldn't be all your fault. It would be mine too." He put his arm around my shoulder. "I don't want to torture you. You don't like it."

"You don't like it either!" I sobbed. "You hate it, you said so."

"But I still want it, you don't. I don't know why you want to do this but I don't want to do it to you."

"Please," I begged. "Just once. Please just do it to me one time so that I know what it's like."

"Tomorrow, ok? I promise I will tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's too late!" I said with intensity. "By tomorrow morning I'm gonna want to tie you up again and I'll be mad at you for not doing this and who knows what I'm gonna do or when I'm gonna let you go! It has to be now, right now, please…"

"Ok," he said sadly. "Ok, I will, just… just promise me that you won't stop because of this. I… I need to get tied up, you know? I really need it."

"I promise," I said solemnly.

"What do you want me to do?"

My stomach jumped in terror. "Tie me to the bed on my back, you know how with the feet and the hands tied to the same side so my legs are up in the air?" He nodded. "Do the gag too, and the clamps, and whip me really hard and then make me suck you off." I shivered. "You can leave me tied up all night too with the clamps." He nodded seriously. "Do it really tight and hard, ok? Do it just like I do it to you."

"I'll try," he whispered. I nodded, and stood up to strip off my clothes without waiting for him to order me to do so. He watched as I stood naked, my dick still hard even though I knew it was me and not him that would be screaming in a few short minutes. My hands were icy cold and shaking as I pulled the ropes from their hiding spot and tied them off, thinking how this was the first time ever they were being used on my bed instead of his. He watched me the whole time without moving. When I was done, I picked up the ball gag and handed it to him.

"Do it for real, and don't let me go no matter what," I reminded him. He nodded. I turned around and put my hands behind my back, opening my mouth wide as he pushed the ball into place, surprised at how it forced my jaw to be open to a painful point as he strapped it around the back of my neck, pulling it tight enough to yank it deep into my mouth. I struggled to find a place for my tongue, uttering a muffled a whimper until I managed to position it safely to the side of the ball.

Without a word he guided me to lie down on the bed, gently taking my wrists and binding them securely to the corners of the bed. I watched his muscles flexing as he pulled the ropes tight and did the knots well out of my reach. My entire body was tingling, my breath rapid and short, my stomach churning. Gently, he held my bare ankles together and helped me pull my legs into the air, holding them as he tied a rope around each and went back to the foot of the bed. Instead of the harsh yank that I liked to use, he gently pulled them down until I could feel my butt rising into the air, then tied them off one at a time to the opposite sides to make sure that my legs were completely out of the way and gave him perfect access for my beating, just the way that I liked to do to him…

Fear gripped me. I started to shake my head back and forth. I wanted out. I tried to tell him, but I knew that even though my words sounded intelligible to me, there was no way he could understand my muffled "mmphing." I pulled at the bindings, but they didn't allow me to even so much as move. He was just as good at it as I was.

"I'm gonna go slow, ok?" he said softly. "You're not used to it." I shook my head harder, making the most plaintive noises that I could into the gag. I could see that it was having an effect on him, the fear spreading across his face, but he shook his head. "I said I wouldn't let you go." I tried to tell him that I changed my mind, but he looked away and reached back into the box, coming away with the pair of alligator clips. My eyes went wide as saucers, and I started to shake uncontrollably all over.

"This is gonna hurt," he said sympathetically as he maneuvered the open clip to my waiting nipple. I cried out before he even closed it. "Here goes." Gently, slowly, he let it close. The first thing I felt was the cold metal, then a gentle squeeze that gradually turned into a pinch which turned into a feeling that a blowtorch was being applied to my chest, an unbearable burning sensation that sent tendrils of pain shooting across my chest and down my arm, and that was just with the first one on. The scream came without me consciously making any decision to do it, rising up from my depths, the wailing of a banshee across a lonely moor. I yanked at my restraints, not even trying to get free, just trying to do something to calm the searing agony that held me in its grip.

"Shit," he breathed, immediately prying the clamp open and taking it off me. I moaned in relief as the pain subsided, retreated into an all too close memory. I looked up at him and whined plaintively. "I think we'd better start slower." He got off the bed, going back to the box and rummaging around, leaving me with a moment to think. I could scarcely believe how much that clamp hurt, and I had only endured it for a few seconds at most. Alex had spent entire nights with those things biting into both his nipples and his ball sac…

He came back holding the paddle in his hand. I whimpered and moaned into the gag as he bent down to talk to me, gently brushing away the hair that fell against my eyes. "I'm not going to hit really hard, ok? Just try to hold still and be quiet." I nodded, but holding still seemed completely impossible as he stood back up and lined the paddle up against my butt. I'd seen what the paddle could do to a person, how it could turn Alex's butt a deep shade of crimson and bring out nasty looking bruises, how he would beg me not to use it, to use the whip instead because he hated the paddle so much. He said it was more of a deep, down pain than the surface stinging the whip left behind, one that he found much harder to bear. I shook my head as he looked into my eyes, swinging the paddle back…

It struck against me with a soft thud, not even enough to really hurt at all. It was more as if he tapped me instead of struck me. I grunted involuntarily. He brought it back and tapped it against me again, not even a little bit harder. I looked at him, surprised. It's too soft, I tried to tell him into the gag, which came out as little more than "Mmmff mmmff." He shook his head as if he understood. "Fine, I know." He pulled it back and struck a little harder, no more than if Dad had playfully spanked me. I barely felt it.

Over and over again he tapped me like that, bit by bit a little harder until I squirmed from the light stinging that was developing in my cheeks. At this rate, it would be forever before it started to hurt, and I was getting the sense that Alex wanted this to be over just from the look on his face. I shouted into the gag and looked at him angrily.

"What?" he said, surprised.

"MMMPH!" I said, meaning harder.

"Jake, the paddle can really hurt. I don't want to hit you that hard." I shook my head and flashed my eyes in annoyance. He sighed. "All right. Just one, and then we'll see what happens." He pulled the paddle back and let it fly, biting his lip as he swung it full force. It connected with a loud crack, and my world shattered as pain beyond anything I could have imagined exploded into my head. Tears began to run down my face as I thrashed mindlessly, just trying to calm the horrible agony that seared my rear, my own cries echoing in my ears.

When I was able to actually stop for a moment and look at Alex, he had a look of complete shock on his face, standing so still it was as if time had frozen. The paddle was dangling from his hand, and as I watched he let it fall to the floor with a clatter. It seemed to jolt him back to reality, and all in a flash he fell upon me, working the knots free that held my legs in the air. I slowly let them down as he freed them, gingerly letting my now throbbing butt rest against the blanket. He had my hands untied soon afterward, rubbing them briskly to get the blood flowing again, and then reached behind my head to unbuckle the gag. I spat it out as it came free, a thin trickle of drool following it. I was still crying full force. He grabbed me and hugged me tightly.

"Don't make me do that again!" he said, his voice cracking. I heard him begin to sob along with me. "I'm not going to ever torture you, I'm not going to ever hurt you, do you understand me?" Slowly, I wrapped my arms around him as well, holding him loosely even as he gripped me tightly. "It's not the same, you don't like it, you don't want it like I do, I just… I just can't do it to you…"

As my tears began to subside, I felt a growing sense of frustration building inside me. Three seconds with the clamp, and one good stroke of the paddle. That was it. It hurt like hell, but it was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the everyday beatings that I subjected Alex to on little more than a whim. I had only been given the slightest taste of what he endured, which left me no different than I was before. The pain had already faded into the background, my butt not the least bit sore, my nipple not the least bit tender. Still, Alex was sobbing as fitfully as if it were him that had just taken one of my most severe lashings.

He climbed over me onto the bed, laying down beside me and pulling me close to hold me from behind. I let him, confused, not quite understanding why he was the one who was upset while I already felt like the whole experience was nothing but a dim memory. "In the morning," he said as his sobs began to finally die down, "I want you to tie me up. I want you to beat me as hard as you can, as long as you can. I want you to put me in the closet. I want you to hang me by my wrists in the shack. I want you to… to…" He trailed off. "I'll go back to being your prisoner for the rest of the summer."

There was nothing else I could say. "Ok," I whispered. My plan had failed, even worse than failed because somehow it made him want to be tortured even worse than before. And I knew if nothing else happened, I would give him what he wanted. He kissed me gently on my shoulder and snuggled in closer.

Alex's soft snoring woke me up. He was still curled up around me, the lights in the room still blazing. Gently, I lifted his arm away and laid it down on the bed. He stirred slightly, but resumed his snoring. Not wanting to risk waking him up, I carefully slid off the bed, stepping on the clamps right where he left them on the floor, barely keeping myself from shouting at the sudden stabbing pain. The ropes were still attached to the bed, the gag still laying beside him. I pulled on my clothes and went out into the dark living room, closing the door silently behind me.

The door to Dad's room was standing open. I pushed it in slightly and looked at the empty bed. He was supposed to be staying the night, why wasn't he here? The couch was empty, the kitchen abandoned. Dejected, I pulled the front door open to go outside and sit on the stoop for a while in the cool night air. He was already there, jumping as he turned around.

"You gave me a scare," he said, putting a bottle of beer down next to several empties on the porch. "I thought you went to bed hours ago."

"I guess I woke up," I said, scratching my head. He patted the step next to him, and I shuffled forward to sit down. He opened one of the bottles and held it out to me. I looked at him strangely.

"You're almost eleven," he said wistfully. "I think a man can have a beer, just one mind you, with his son. Just promise not to tell."

"Ok," I said, taking the bottle from him. I took a swig, making a face at the taste of the bitter liquid. He smiled. "It tastes terrible, how come you like to drink this?"

"I guess it tastes better as you get older," he acknowledged. "I can't get over the stars out here can you? It seems like you can see the entirety of the universe from the safety of our little house."

"I guess," I said, holding my nose and taking another swig of the beer.

"Something troubling you?"

"You don't wanna talk about it," I said sullenly.

"Oh, that," he said, turning away.

"Why won't you talk about it?" I asked hotly.

"Jake," he said softly. "It's not that I don't want to be helpful or that it isn't important to me to set you on the right path. I just… don't want to be involved in what you two boys are doing." His face turned dark. "Alex tries to hide the effects, but I've caught a few glimpses here and there." He took a long drink from his bottle, draining it. "You're being pretty harsh with him from the looks of it."

"He likes it that way," I mumbled.

"I know he does, and I wouldn't want to interfere with that. I just think… it strikes me that things might be getting a little out of control."

"What do you mean?" I asked, trembling.

"I mean I went into your room last week when the two of you were still sleeping before I left for work." He opened another beer and took a long drink. "Alex was …well, he wasn't going anywhere, and judging by the look of things it seemed like you had beaten on him pretty badly." My stomach jumped. "A part of me really wants to put an end to this, tell the two of you to just quit it."

"I wish you would," I muttered.

"You do?" he said, surprised. "The two of you have been as thick as thieves on this whole thing. You raided my box… don't think I didn't notice that. Except for earlier, when the two of you seemed to be having some kind of fight, there was nothing to suggest that anything was wrong."

"I just can't stop." I turned away. "It's starting to be too much and I just can't stop." I stared up at the sky. "It's like I think that I want to stop and then my dick just takes over."

He burst into laughter. It made me feel horrible. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh at you, but that just sounded so funny coming from you." He tapped my beer bottle with his. "Drink up, Jake. Welcome to the wild, wonderful world of being a man."

"But… then how can I make it stop… I mean…"

"I know what you mean, and I guess it's not easy. A lot of grown men have a hard time controlling themselves when they think with the head between their legs." I giggled. "It's even harder for kids, with your hormones raging and everything."

"I kinda had an idea, but it didn't work."

"Tell me."

I shifted uncomfortably. "I thought that if I knew what it felt like, you know, what it really felt like when it was for real that I wouldn't want to do it so much anymore."

"I'm not sure I want to hear any more about this."

"It didn't work." I sighed. "But it wasn't because the idea didn't work it was cause Alex couldn't do it to me."

"Jake, stop."

"Can't you just tell us not to do it anymore?"

He looked at me with fire in his eyes. "Do you really think that would do any good? I could just tell you to stop it, throw all my things in the trash? Do you think you really would, with me hardly around enough to provide any kind of structure for the two of you?"

"I guess not," I said miserably. "I'm sure that if I just knew what it was like that I wouldn't be so mean to him all the time." I kicked a stone off the step.

"I don't know what to tell you," he muttered.

The idea flashed into my head, the words coming right out of my mouth before I even had a chance to catch them and pull them back in, slipping right through my fingers as they spilled out into the open. "Maybe you could do it to me."

I felt my hands and feet go cold the moment the words were out in the open, my eyes fixed open as I turned back to look at Dad. He didn't move, the beer bottle dropping from his hand suddenly and rolling down the stairs, the remaining beer slowly dribbling out, dripping under the porch. The whole world went silent.

"Go back to bed, Jake."

"I'm sorry," I said, brushing fresh tears from my eyes.

"I said go inside."

"I said I was sorry!" I got up to go inside, turning back around when I had the door open. "I don't understand!" The tears flowed hot and heavy. "How come you used to do all this stuff with Jeremy and you won't even talk to me about it?"

He jumped to his feet, his face as white as the snow that I would never see again. "How in god's name do you know that?"

"I just… I… I thought…"

He came at me fast. I cringed as his hands gripped my shoulder, crying out as his fingers dug into my flesh. "Jacob Connolly, you tell me this instant how you know about Jeremy." I couldn't speak, couldn't move. "Tell me right now!" he shouted, his face mere inches from mine. I had never seen him so furious in his life.

"I… I… Alex told me!"

"And how in the hell does Alex know?" He dug his fingers in even harder. "How the fuck does Alex know? Tell me!"

"Cause Jeremy told him!" I spat out through my tears. "I wanted to know how come Alex knew all about the stuff in the box and he wouldn't tell me so I tortured him until he did and he told me that it was all Jeremy's and you used to do this stuff with Jeremy and Jeremy told him about it and then he told Mom and then they had the accident! I'm sorry!"

His fingers started to loosen their grip, and all at once his legs collapsed underneath him, falling to the porch directly into a sitting position. He looked like he had the wind knocked out of him, like someone had just punched him in the stomach as hard as they could.

I heard a small voice behind me. "Dad?" Whirling around, I was stunned to see Alex standing in the doorway, tears running down his cheeks as well. Dad looked up at him. "Oh Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ…"

"I heard the whole thing," Alex said softly. "I wanted to tell you, I really did. I… It's my fault, it's all my fault, it's my fault that Jeremy and Mom are dead."

"Don't you say that!" Dad answered fiercely.

"I saw the note, Dad! I saw it before you even did and I didn't say anything! I know what Mom did and it's all because I told her!"

"That's not possible…" he whispered.

"What note?" I said quietly.

They ignored me. "It was under Jeremy's pillow! I found it there when I slept in his bed the next day and I read it and I didn't tell you! I wanted to tell someone so bad for so long but I was so afraid and then Jake made me tell him and it got easier…" He burst into a sob.

Dad pulled himself up on his feet. "Alex," he said gently, reaching out and wrapping his arms around him while I watched. "No matter what you think, it was not your fault. Mom would have found out sooner or later, one way or another. No one could have predicted what your mother did. Anyone else would have just divorced me, forbade me to see my children, sent me to jail, but she chose a different path and if I had only known what I knew now, I never would have started, I never would have done anything with him, I would have let him be like any other sexually frustrated kid." He turned to look at me with a thin smile. "I was thinking with my dick, not my head."

No one laughed. "What note?" I repeated.

"Go ahead," Dad said gently to Alex. "There's hardly any reason to keep it a secret anymore."

Alex took a deep breath. "Mom got into the car crash on purpose. She said she didn't want Jeremy to grow up having to carry the scars of being abused."

Now it was my turn to feel like the wind had been knocked out of me. "Those were her exact words," Dad said softly, letting go of Alex and turning to face me.

"What does that mean?" I asked in a trembling voice.

"But she was wrong," Alex said fiercely. "Jeremy liked it, he told me so. I was still a little kid, I didn't understand how he could like getting hurt and doing all that sex stuff, I didn't understand that until I got older and started to think about all it myself. How could she say that you were abusing him if you were just doing stuff to him that he wanted you to do?" Dad didn't answer. "I know you never did anything to Jeremy that he didn't want you to do." He started crying again. "Why did she have to do it? Why didn't she just ask him?"

"People won't allow themselves to believe," Dad said softly. "There are some things people won't accept, even if the truth is so plainly evident that there is no denying it."

"And then you caught us, and I told you about what I thought about and what I wanted to do, and you didn't say anything. All you told me was that I wasn't a pervert and that it was ok to have these feelings. I kept waiting for you to say something about you and Jeremy, anything, but you didn't. And then you never talked to me about it again." He choked back his tears. "I thought that because you didn't ask me if I wanted you to do it that you… that you didn't love me as much as Jeremy…"

"Oh my god," Dad said, turning back to Alex. He tried to hug him, but Alex batted his arms away. "All I wanted was to protect you boys. I wouldn't ever want you to think something like that."

"Then prove it," he said with determination. "Do it to me like you used to do it to Jeremy." Dad was silent. "Just once. I have Jake to do it to me now, and he likes torturing me as much as I like being tortured." My stomach did another backflip. "Just once so that I know for sure."

"I can't, I just can't. I can't hurt you."

"You're not hurting me if you're doing something I want you to do," he said. "Just once."

Dad took a deep breath. "Just once," he repeated. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, what I should think, how I should feel. Those times with Jeremy… I never felt as close to him as those times when I beat the hell out of him. You boys can't know what it's like to lose a child, it's something that no amount of time or healing can erase. But I still have the two of you." He put his hand on the back of my neck.

"I really miss Jeremy too," I said softly.

"Yeah," Alex whispered.

"I still have the two of you," he said softly. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but ok. I'll do it." Alex smiled softly. "Both of you."

The smile on Alex's face melted away. "No, you can't torture Jake."

"Alex, he asked me to."

"But he doesn't want it. He's not the same."

"Whatever his reasons are, it's his decision." Dad turned to me. "Do you want me to torture you?"

Despite the chills that ran up and down my body, I managed to nod. "Yeah," I said softly.

"Jake, please don't do it," Alex pleaded. "If you know what it's like you won't want to do it to me anymore!"

"I doubt that," Dad said quietly. "I think he'll have a new appreciation for how tough his big brother is, and I think he'll realize that sometimes he's pushing you too far, but I don't think it will drive the desire from his system. I think it will make him better at it."

A strange silence settled over the porch. Even the crickets seemed to respect the power of that moment, what it meant, what was about to happen. "Alex, go find my power drill and a couple of eye bolts from the toolbox, ok? If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right." Alex nodded and ran back into the house. "You're sure about this, kiddo?" he said to me.

I nodded. "I'm scared though."

"You should be," he said darkly. "This is going to be for real, which means no stopping once it's started. You think about that carefully."

"I will," I said, trying to sound brave, but knowing I came up hopelessly short.

"Go and get all the things and bring them to the living room." I ran off, glancing at Alex as he came out of Dad's bedroom lugging the large, metal toolbox. Hurriedly, I started to gather everything up, throwing it all into a huge pile, nearly ripping the ropes from the bed. I gathered up everything, not knowing what Dad wanted to use or what he would need. By the time I was gathering everything up in my arms, I could hear the sound of the drill coming from the living room. Not caring what dropped, I dragged a pile out. Dad was standing on a ladder, drilling a hole into the ceiling while Alex watched from below. He saw me struggling with the pile of stuff and came over to help, picking up the things I was dropping while I put everything down on the floor in the middle of the room.

"That'll do it," Dad said as he screwed a large eye-bolt into the ceiling. He pulled on it hard but it didn't come loose. With a satisfied nod, he turned to me. "Jake, I need a length of chain and a padlock, please." I picked them up and handed them to him, watching as he doubled the chain over, locking it to the bolt right in the middle so that two shorter lengths dangled from the ceiling. One for each of us…

He climbed down the ladder, folding it up and placing it in the corner of the room. "We'll start with you, Alex." I could almost feel him shaking as much as I was. "Take off your clothes." Alex sprang into action, his clothes tumbling around him until he stood naked. It was strange, I thought, that his naked body was looking more familiar to me than when he was clothed. He strode over to Dad, not even trying to cover himself up. Dad picked up a rope, holding Alex's hands together in front of him. "Don't think that just because you have a few welts, bruises, and burns that I'm going to go easy on you."

"I know," Alex said softly, wincing as Dad pulled the rope tight.

"Bend over the couch," he ordered. Alex obeyed, his battered butt on full display as he positioned himself on the raised arm. Dad looked though the pile, muttered something, and then went back into this bedroom, coming out a moment later with the box. I looked at him curiously, because the only thing left in the box was… My eyes went wide as he pulled one of the strange double-cone shaped things out, the bigger one, opening the small bottle and smearing some goop all over it. He wasn't really going to…

Dad placed one hand in the small of Alex's back to hold him down, maneuvering the big thing with his other hand until it pressed against the inside of his butt. Alex squirmed but was silent. I watched horrified as Dad gave the thing a shove, two inches [5 cm] of it instantly disappearing inside Alex.

"Fuck!" Alex shouted. "That hurts like hell!"

"It's hardly in," Dad said flatly. "Don't tell me you boys haven't done this before?" He looked over at me. I shook my head. "Well, there's nothing to be done about it now. It's going in whether you like it or not, and you're going to have to take the bigger one because I still need the small one for Jake." My hands instinctively found their way to my backside, covering it up as best as I could. Dad gave the thing another shove. Alex would have leapt off the couch if Dad wasn't holding him down.

"Stop!" he shrieked. "It feels like you're tearing me apart!"

"Jake," Dad said calmly. "Would you please bring me the roll of duct tape from the toolbox and Alex's underpants?" I did so, wondering what Dad had in mind. The only thing I could imagine was that we would have to wear underpants during the beating to keep the thing from falling our of our butts and that Dad was going to tape them in place. But that's not what he had in mind. With his free hand, he grabbed a bunch of Alex's hair and pulled him back into a standing position. Alex looked wild-eyed, more scared than usual.

"Open your mouth," Dad ordered. Alex slowly complied, but it wasn't fast enough for Dad. In one swift move, he stuffed Alex's underpants into his mouth, forcing the entire thing in. Alex choked and sputtered, but Dad held his hair tightly to keep him from getting away. Once the white cloth was just barely visible behind his teeth, Dad let go of him to pull some of the tape free, sticking down on Alex's cheek and wrapping it tightly around his head, sealing his mouth. Alex stayed completely still as Dad finished the gag with another piece of tape under his chin, pulling it all the way around the top of his head to keep him from being able to open his mouth. "That'll keep you nice and quiet," he said harshly, pushing Alex back over the couch. I could barely hear Alex whimpering as Dad went back to work, Alex struggling mightily but hopelessly as the thing gradually disappeared inside him.

I watched the whole scene with a kind of fascinated terror, scared of what was happening to him, scared that it would soon be happening to me as well. Alex struggled extra hard as the thing reached it's widest point, and then it was as if it was just sucked inside him, the rest disappearing without much of a fuss. Alex whimpered and lay still as Dad rubbed his hands clean on his back. "Get up," he said harshly.

Dad led a whimpering Alex, his face streaked with fresh tears, over to the chains. Pulling his hands high into the air, he looped the chain between Alex's bound hands and quickly locked it in place, leaving my brother stretched out. My dick raged at the sight of Alex strung up like that, enduring a new torture that we hadn't yet tried. Dad dug through the pile and retrieved the larger set of clamps, unceremoniously clipping them onto Alex's chest. He jerked as each one bit down on him, but remained silent.

"Your turn," Dad said, turning over to me. "Last chance to get out of this." I was too terrified to answer. He looked at me sympathetically. "If you still want to go through with it, then you need start getting undressed." I stood frozen in place for a moment before I began to mechanically pull my t-shirt off and dropped my shorts to the floor, leaving me only in my underwear. I had been naked in front of Alex more times than I could count without feeling anything, but an acute sense of embarrassment washed over me at stripping in front of my father. I could feel my face turning red.

"Everything off," he said gently. I turned around so he couldn't see and dropped my underwear, kicking them away from me, holding my hands in my crotch as I turned back around. He looked completely understanding, picking up the leather cuffs from the pile and coming up to me. "I promise I won't take it too far," he said softly so that Alex couldn't hear as he wrapped the cuffs gently around my wrists, locking them in place. "It'll be just enough so that you get the full experience without taking you too far over the edge, ok?" I nodded, his speech doing nothing to calm the ferocious terror that clawed at me. For the second time that evening, I found the ball gag being strapped into my mouth, just as tightly as Alex had done it

"Let's get this plug in you now, ok?" I shook my head, taking a step backward. "Shhh, Jake, calm down," he said soothingly. "It's a lot smaller than the one that I used on Alex. I promise, it won't hurt very much, it'll just be… uncomfortable." Still, I shook my head, feeling like I wanted to run from the house as fast as I could, naked or not. "I understand you're scared, but this is going in whether you like it or not." His voice took on the slightest tinge of menace. "It'll be a lot easier if you cooperate."

He held out his hand, taking mine and grasping it warmly. I let him lead me over to the couch, gently pressing on the back of my head to get me to bend over. I whimpered as he stroked my shoulder for a moment, then left me there while he got the thing ready. I could hardly believe that in just a short moment, something would be going into my butt. That wasn't how butts worked. Stuff comes out. Stuff is not supposed to go in.

I jumped as I felt something cold between my legs, instinctively clenching my cheeks together as though I were trying to hold in a shit. "Just try and relax," Dad said, but it was impossible, how could I relax at time like this? I felt his hand, warm and firm on my back. "Hold still." I could hear Alex's muffled shouts from behind, but couldn't get up to see what he was carrying on about.

And then I felt the strangest thing. It wasn't like it was really strange, it was just strange that it was such a familiar feeling. Somehow I expected that the feeling of something going into my asshole would be different, but it was unmistakably the exact same feeling of taking a dump. It didn't really hurt, at least no more than the times when I had to squeeze out a particularly large or hard one. I squirmed a little, Dad's grip reacting my holding me more firmly against the arm. It started to hurt a little more, the thing getting bigger, stretching me out. I cried out as a sudden stab of pain rocked up my spine, but it subsided almost immediately, the feeling of the plug sucking itself into me bringing a sigh of relief that the worst was over.

"There you go," Dad said. "You did very well." I stood up, the feeling of having to take a dump even stronger than it was before. I tried to push it out by habit, but it didn't move. I grunted, and Dad smiled. "Kinda weird, isn't it?" I nodded. He knelt in front of me, brushing the hair from my eyes. "I'll be here for you when it's over, ok? Just hang in there." I nodded. Without another word, he led me over to where Alex was standing. He was trying to say something, but the words were barely audible through his gag. It works even better than the ball thing, I thought curiously as Dad stretched my hands over my head and locked them to the chain. I'll have to remember that for next time. Maybe I can ask Dad if I can keep the tape.

Alex shouted again, focusing my attention on his face. His eyes looked angry, his stare directed at Dad as he went back to the pile and began to rummage through it. Then he turned his attention to me, his face completely changing. I looked up at him, somehow able to understand exactly what he meant even though he couldn't speak a word. He had a determined look about him, but one that also seemed to speak of compassion, of protection. It was as if he was trying to tell me that everything was going to be ok, that he would take care of me. Startled, I felt his icy fingers wrap around mine. His hands were bent over at a crazy angle to reach down like that, and I knew that it had to hurt him. I pulled my hands away, not wanting him to hurt himself like that, but he shook his head hard, demanding. I couldn't say no. As best as I could, I tried to wrap my hands around his, our eyes locking together.

In that moment, I felt something for Alex that I had never felt before, a love so deep and powerful that it overwhelmed completely, sweeping me away like a piece of driftwood out to sea, not to be lost forever in the black depths but to be beckoned back home. In that moment, we became more than just brothers, as though our very souls flowed together, mixing through our sparse touch into one single being. Nothing could separate us, the laws of time and space crumbling into dust. I could feel his strength flowing into me, sharing his power with me. The threat of the agony I was about to endure meant nothing any more, because I knew I had my big brother suffering right there along with me, teaching me to be strong, teaching me to be brave, being the person that I could scarcely hope to become. I barely even felt it when the clamps bit down on my chest, nothing could touch me, nothing could hurt me anymore. Our tears ceased to be of pain and suffering, they were of love.

Without warning, the lash struck my back, leaving me gasping as searing pain seized at my consciousness. My legs collapsed under me, screams echoing in my ears that I barely realized were mine, Alex's hands ripped away as I hung crazily by my wrists. Desperately, I tried to find my balance, but the next blow hit before I could, turning me half around with its force, lines of fire painted across my stomach where the lashes wrapped around. My vision was blurry through the tears, but I could still see Alex's face. Get up, he was saying to me. Get up and take my hand. Get up and I'll make the hurt go away, I'll make it feel like it did that first night when I took you in my mouth and opened your eyes to a whole world of possibilities you never knew existed.

With grim determination, I shouted despite the pain, despite another blow wrapping around my ass and biting mere millimeters from my balls trying to force me off balance. I somehow pulled my feet beneath me. Alex's hands immediately wrapped around mine, tighter than ever. I gripped back as best as I could as the blows came, but I didn't let go. Lash after lash struck me, but I kept my balance, I let him hold me up. When the pain threatened to become unendurable, when I wanted to just let my legs go, when I wanted to give up and let the darkness swallow me, all I had to do was to look at him, into his kind but firm eyes. Stay with me, they said. Be strong. Be brave.

As suddenly as it started, the lashes stopped falling. Everything hurt, from my shoulders down to my legs. I had no idea how many times he had struck me, never even having tried to keep count. Without a word I watched him walk around to stand behind Alex. I could see his chest heaving, the determination written across his face. Now it's my turn, I tried to tell him. Now you can lean on me and I can hold you up. Now you can take some of my strength and keep it for yourself.

He didn't even cry out at the first lash, although I could see how much it hurt in his eyes. But the pain was only there for a moment, replaced by a bold faced challenge. I almost had to smile. It was as if he was asking if that was the best that Dad could do, that even my weakest beatings were harder than that. I looked up at him with pride, which he acknowledged with a wink. But it was as if Dad knew the signs that passed between us, even though he couldn't see his face. "Think you're not going to scream, Alex?" he said between clenched teeth. Alex flashed a look of victory at me, but I stared in terror as Dad screwed up his face and swung the whip around with astounding force. The crack as it struck Alex's upper back was deafening, throwing Alex forward into me. His eyes were wide with surprise, which turned to terror as he began to shriek at the top of his lungs, a high pitched scream that sounded more like it should be coming from a girl. "That's more like it," Dad said harshly, landing another withering blow. Alex looked at me desperately, in a way that I had only seen him do when I had beaten him with every ounce of strength I could muster. I tried to hold him the way he held me, but my attempt felt paltry compared to his.

The torture dragged on for an eternity. Dad alternated between the two of us, switching implements each time from the cat to the paddle to the strap to the whip and then cycling back through all of them over again. Each time, I knew it was getting worse, I could feel the impact, I could feel the pain, but each time it was as if the pain didn't hold such a strong grip over me. It seemed to have the same affect on Alex, and even when Dad beat him fast and furious he still managed to keep his hoarse screams under more control that those first few shrieks that pierced my ears. Whenever we could, our hands remained locked together, joining us, the shared pain somehow making that bond even stronger.

I didn't want to allow myself to believe that it was over when Dad put down the whip and stood beside us, tears in his eyes. "I can't believe how proud I am of you boys," he said shakily. "Alex, I want you to know that Jeremy couldn't take half of what you took tonight, and it seems like you still have the strength for me to carry on." Alex's tired eyes sparkled a little. "Jake, for a boy your age that's never experienced something like this, you took a pretty harsh bearing with an incredible amount of bravery." He reached up and unlocked my hands from the chain, unlinking them at the same time. I didn't even let them fall, I didn't wait for Dad to finish letting Alex out, I just wrapped my arms around my brother, pressing him against me, wanting to hold him as close as I could for as long as I could.

Dad dropped the keys on the floor, wrapping his arms around both of us, leaving Alex tied. "God, we are one fucked up little family."

Maybe, I thought. But if we have to be fucked up, at least we're fucked up in a good way.

The End