My Brother-in-Law Discovered My Videos and Subjugated Me

I had been wanting to tell this properly for some time, without embellishing it and without hiding the dirtiest part. It was a story that marked me for a long time and that, although it began with shame and fear, ended up awakening things in me I hadn’t fully understood until then. I was already dating a man older than me, a confident guy, dominant in bed, the kind who enjoys setting the pace and deciding how, when, and where to make you come.

With him, I started letting myself be filmed. At first they were simple games: me on my knees, sucking him while he held the phone; him coming in my mouth; other times on my face, forcing me to part my lips so the cum could be seen dripping down my chin. It turned me on knowing he kept those images, that he could watch them later and remember how he had used me.

He swore to me many times that nobody else would see them. I believed him. I wanted to believe him because I was wrapped up in him and because, deep down, it suited me not to ask too many questions. Until one afternoon I went to his house and it wasn’t him who opened the door.

His brother greeted me. I’ll call him Darío. He was an adult, only a little younger than his brother, but with a much harsher presence. Taller, broader-shouldered, with a way of looking at you that made you uncomfortable because it seemed to undress you even while you were still clothed.

“Come in, he’ll be here soon,” he told me calmly, though there was something strange in his tone.

I went into the living room thinking it wouldn’t take long. I sat on the sofa, crossed my legs, and tried not to feel uncomfortable. Darío disappeared down the hallway for a moment and returned a few minutes later with a half-smile I didn’t like at all.

“Hey, can I show you something?” he asked.

“If it’ll be quick, sure.”

“It’ll be quick. That depends on you.”

Something in his tone put me on alert. Even so, I followed him to his room. As soon as I went in, he shut the door behind me with a sharp click. I didn’t attach any importance to it until he turned on the monitor and I saw, full-screen, an image of my face covered in semen.

A wave of heat hit my face. I stood frozen, staring at the screen and recognizing my own expression: my mouth open, my eyes half-closed, the white streak across my cheeks. It was one of those videos my boyfriend had promised to keep just for himself.

“I see you recognize yourself,” Darío said.

“What the fuck is this?”

“What you do when someone shuts a door and puts a cock in front of you, apparently.”

I tried to turn off the screen, but he caught my wrist before I reached the desk. He didn’t squeeze hard; he didn’t even need to. The simple gesture was enough to make it clear that the situation had gotten out of hand for everyone except him.

“Let me go,” I said.

“Relax. Your secret is safe with me... if you behave.”

My stomach clenched. I already knew where this was going. The humiliation of seeing it there, the fear that those images might leave that room, the certainty that I depended on a man who was looking at me with hunger and the upper hand—all of it lit a thick, heavy shame inside me. And beneath the shame, an involuntary arousal that made me even angrier.

“You have no right to have that,” I said, trying to sound firm.

“And you don’t want anyone else to see it. So don’t talk to me about rights. Talk to me about options.”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice.

“I saw several videos. In every one, you do what you’re told. In every one, you swallow, open your mouth, let yourself be used. So I’m going to save us both some time. I want to try that mouth.”

“You’re sick.”

“Maybe I am. But if you scream, run, or waste my time, I’ll print screenshots and distribute them wherever I need to. Understood?”

I looked at him with hatred. With fear, too. And with that damn current between my legs that was already beginning to make me wet. It wasn’t clean desire; it was something else, dirtier, born from feeling trapped, exposed, controlled.

“If I do what you want, you’ll delete everything,” I said.

He laughed in my face.

“Don’t start negotiating as if you’re the one in charge. Get on your knees.”

I didn’t move. Darío grabbed me by the nape and pushed firmly, without exaggerated violence but without leaving any room for doubt. His fingers sank into my hair and he brought me down until my knees touched the floor. My breathing was already short.

“That’s better,” he murmured. “Now you really look like the girl in the videos.”

He lowered his zipper, then his pants and underwear. His cock sprang upward, thick, hard, and bigger than I expected. I had already seen naked men; I knew what it was like to take a good cock in my mouth, but that one truly impressed me. The tip was wet and taut, and its girth made me swallow before I had even touched it.

“Open,” he ordered.

I parted my lips. He gathered my hair as if making a makeshift ponytail and ran the tip over my mouth, first marking my lower lip, then my tongue. The salty taste of pre-cum reached me at once.

“Wider, slut.”

I didn’t have time to do it properly. He thrust half his cock into me in one movement and immediately made me gag. My hands went to his thighs on pure reflex. He didn’t let me pull away. He tugged my head until he was buried deeper, and I had to relax my throat as best I could so I wouldn’t choke completely.

His first rhythm was dry, almost experimental, as if he were measuring me. He moved in and out of my mouth with short strokes, seeing how much I could take. Then he began going deeper. Each thrust opened my mouth wider, filled it with saliva, and made my eyes water. I heard him panting above me and giving little laughs whenever I choked.

“So this is what you did with my brother,” he said as he fucked my mouth. “Look at you. You like it more than you pretend.”

I couldn’t answer. I could only breathe during the withdrawals and take him again. His cock struck my tongue, my palate, my throat. My saliva streamed from the corner of my mouth and fell to the floor. He guided me as if I weren’t a person but a warm sleeve for his dick.

At one point he let me pull out just the tip, enough to gasp. I took the opportunity to say:

“That’s enough... you did it...”

He slapped his wet, saliva-covered cock against my cheek and then gave my lips a light smack.

“I’m not finished. And you don’t decide when it’s enough.”

He shoved it back in until it hit the back of my throat. This time he held me still for several seconds, my nose pressed against his pubis. I felt the suffocation rise quickly, my eyes filling with tears, my throat contracting around him. I slapped his hip to make him ease up. He did it when he wanted to, not when I asked.

I came out coughing, strands of saliva hanging from my chin. Instead of giving me air, he ran the tip over my face, dirtying my cheek and brushing my swollen lips.

“Look at how you end up just from this,” he said. “And I haven’t even fucked you the way I want to.”

The words struck me between the legs. I was still on my knees, breathing badly, wet now not only in my mouth. He noticed, because he lifted my face and looked directly at me.

“Are you wet?”

I didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question.”

“A little,” I admitted, dying of embarrassment.

He smiled as if I had just confirmed something he already knew. He made me return to the task. This time I loosened my jaw, used my tongue, and sucked him better. If he was going to use me, I at least wanted to avoid another brutal assault on my throat. Darío immediately understood the change and groaned with pleasure.

“That’s it. Much better. Suck it properly.”

I worked him with my mouth and one hand at the base, letting him fuck my mouth when he wanted and setting the pace myself whenever I could. The head slid hotly over my tongue. Pre-cum continued to seep out, and I swallowed it instinctively. The more obedient I looked, the more aroused he became.

“It comes naturally to you,” he said. “What a slut.”

He gripped my hair again and began thrusting once more. This was no longer testing me. Now he was truly using me. His pelvis struck my chin, my throat opened again and again, and I felt moisture running down the insides of my thighs even though he still hadn’t touched my pussy. That was what disturbed me most: realizing that the humiliation was turning me on so intensely.

When he began to tense, he pushed all the way in and came down my throat. I felt him pulse, releasing hot jets that I had to swallow between gags. He didn’t let me go immediately. He left his cock inside me, breathing hard, while I tried not to vomit.

“Swallow it all,” he said. “Not a drop outside.”

I obeyed. When he finally let me pull him out, I remained bent forward, coughing, my chest rising and falling at high speed. Darío caught my chin and lifted it to get a better look at me.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “But this doesn’t pay for anything. It only whets my appetite.”

“Delete the videos,” I insisted, my voice still broken.

“No. Take off your clothes.”

I looked at him in disbelief.

“You said you wanted to try my mouth.”

“And I tried it. Now I want the rest.”

I shook my head. He placed a printed screenshot on the desk. I didn’t know when he had printed it, but there it was: my open, submissive, recognizable face. A lash of panic shot through me.

“Don’t make me be any clearer,” he said.

With trembling hands, I pulled down my skirt and then my panties. He watched without helping me, enjoying every second of my humiliation. When I straightened, I was wearing only my open blouse and heels. He came closer, put his hand between my legs, and gave a low laugh when he found me soaked.

“Look at her. Terrified and dripping. You’re exactly the kind of slut I thought you were.”

He thrust two fingers into me. I accepted them with an involuntary gasp. He moved them roughly inside me, not to give me pleasure but to see how ready I was. Even so, every thrust rubbed against me inside and made me squeeze my thighs.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Say what?”

He pulled out his fingers and rubbed them across my lips.

“That you’re ready for me to fuck you.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. I knew that saying it meant giving him something more than my body. It meant accepting the role he was forcing on me. But I also knew I was already in that game up to my neck.

“I’m ready for you to fuck me,” I whispered.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

He turned me around and bent me over the desk. The wood pressed against my belly. I heard a wrapper crackle, then the brush of his tip between my folds, moving slowly, as if he wanted to remind my body who was in charge. He tapped my clitoris lightly with the head before positioning himself at the entrance.

“Don’t move.”

He entered in one thrust, deep, opening me with a taut pain that soon blended with pleasure. I let out a muffled moan and gripped the edge of the desk. Darío held my hips and began fucking me with a hard, steady rhythm, without unnecessary caresses.

The room filled with the sound of his thrusts against my ass, the creaking furniture, my broken breathing. Every time he withdrew almost completely and entered again, he made me feel how thick he was. He wasn’t making love to me. He was using me, and the rawness of that undid me inside.

“This is how I wanted you,” he said, leaning over my back. “Open and quiet.”

He pulled my hair backward, forcing me to arch more. With his other hand he squeezed one breast through my open blouse, then yanked down my bra and pinched my nipple. The brief pain drew another moan from me.

“If you like it, say so.”

“I shouldn’t like it.”

His answer was to drive into me harder, making me slam against the desk.

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“Yes,” I finally admitted, panting. “Yes, I like it.”

Darío gave a dry laugh and sped up. My legs trembled. My face was pressed against the wood, one nipple exposed, my panties tangled around one ankle, and my brother-in-law’s cock entering and leaving me as if he had already marked me. The humiliation burned as fiercely as the arousal.

He slipped one hand between my legs and began rubbing my clitoris with fingers wet from my own fluids. The contrast between the brutality of his thrusts and that precise rubbing drove me out of control. My pussy clenched hard around him, and he grunted behind me.

“That’s it, squeeze me. Come if you want. I want to feel it.”

I came like that, bent over his desk, my mouth open and my body shaking around his cock. The orgasm hit me abruptly, almost furiously, and left me breathless. Darío didn’t slow down. He kept fucking me through the contractions, taking advantage of my heightened sensitivity to draw sharper cries from me.

When he felt my knees give way, he pulled out and forced me upright. He turned my face toward him and kissed me for the first time—a dirty, brief kiss, more about possession than tenderness. Then he slapped my cheek.

“To the bed.”

He pushed me onto the mattress and made me get on all fours. I was already far too worked up to argue about anything. He positioned himself behind me again and spread my ass with both hands to see how wet, swollen, and open I was. The mere air against that area made me shudder.

“What a pussy,” he said. “I’ve wrecked you and you still want more.”

I didn’t know whether it was true or whether he was saying it to break me down further, but when he entered me again, this time from that position, I felt him go even deeper. The angle struck me inside in a way that made it hard to concentrate. Every thrust jolted me forward. I clung to the sheet while he held my waist and fucked me with no hurry to finish.

“Tell me who is using you,” he ordered.

I clenched my teeth.

He gave me a sharp slap that left my skin burning.

“Answer me.”

“You.”

“Who?”

“You, Darío.”

“Louder.”

Another thrust, another slap.

“My brother-in-law,” I said at last, red with shame. “My brother-in-law is using me.”

“That’s it.”

His hands traveled over my back and gripped my neck without fully squeezing, just enough to remind me of his control. The rhythm rose again. I could tell he was getting close because he began fucking me deeper and more erratically, losing some control of his breathing.

He put two fingers in my mouth from behind.

“Suck them.”

I licked and nibbled them while he continued entering me. Then he pulled them out and rubbed my clitoris with saliva and the remnants of my own wetness. That vulgar, direct detail was what finally broke me. I began moaning without shame, moving my ass against him, asking for more with my body even as my mind screamed that it was wrong.

“That’s it, slut,” he murmured beside my ear. “Move for me.”

I came for the second time with his hand on my clitoris and his cock drilling into me from behind. This time the orgasm almost made me collapse face-first. He held me up and, only a few seconds later, came inside the condom with a series of short, deep thrusts, releasing a low groan that raised goosebumps on my skin.

He remained still for a moment, still inside me, breathing over my back. Then he pulled out and left me lying there. I was still trembling. The room smelled of sex, sweat, swallowed semen, and something irreversible.

Darío removed the condom, tied it off, and threw it into the wastebasket. Then he went back to the desk, touched the mouse, and minimized the video as if everything that had happened had been nothing more than a simple task to check off. I sat up slowly, rearranging my clothes with clumsy hands.

“Are you going to delete them now?” I asked.

He didn’t even turn around at first. When he did, he wore that same calm smile.

“No. Now I know exactly what I can do with you.”

I felt anger, fear, and a stab of arousal I hated admitting.

“You’re a fucking bastard.”

“And you just came twice while I fucked you. Don’t fool yourself: that doesn’t make you innocent.”

I wanted to say something, anything that would give me back a little dignity, but nothing came out. Because he was right about one thing: I had walked in terrified, yes, but I had also come. My body had betrayed me in the most obscene way possible.

He came closer, lifted my chin, and wiped a trace of dried saliva beside my mouth with his thumb.

“When I want to use you again, I’ll let you know. And you’ll come. If you’re smart, you won’t make me remind you why.”

I didn’t nod. I didn’t promise anything. I simply picked up my purse and left that room with weak legs, my pussy sensitive, and the feeling that something inside me had broken. In the living room, the house looked the same as always. Normal. Silent. As if nobody knew that, only a few yards away, I had swallowed, let myself be subjugated, and ended up becoming the dirty secret of two brothers.

***

For days I kept telling myself it wouldn’t happen again. That it had been a one-time thing, born of fear. That as soon as I could, I would find a way to recover or delete those files. But the truth was that, along with the fear, I couldn’t shake the memory of how he had dominated me: the hand in my hair, the curt command, the way my body responded when he made it clear that I wasn’t going to be in charge of anything.

And when his first message arrived, short and brutal, it didn’t surprise me as much as it should have.

“Tomorrow. Alone. And ready to obey.”

I read it several times. I should have refused. I should have blocked the number, told my partner everything, caused a scandal, broken away from it all. Instead, I felt heat low in my belly and bit my lip while imagining his fingers at the nape of my neck again.

That was the day I understood something it took me a long time to admit: he hadn’t only blackmailed me. He had also discovered the part of me that had long wanted to surrender, get dirty, obey. And, as ashamed as I am to say it, the first time he turned me into his slut was not the last.