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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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The Adventures of Stampley Plantation - 3
by WannabeWhitman (wannabewhitman@yahoo.com)
***
(Mm, M+g, ped, nc, rp, dom, intr)
***
DISCLAIMER: This story is a homosexual fantasy
involving slavery in the antebellum South, non-
consensual sex with minors, and racial epithets. If you
think any of this might offend you, DO NOT READ. If you
live in a country, state, or jurisdiction that
prohibits you from reading this material, DO NOT READ.
If you are a minor, DO NOT READ. I realize these
stories might contain material distasteful, even
shocking, to some, but nobody is forcing you to read
it. Keep in mind these are only FANTASIES based on our
country's racial history and my own conflicted
imagination. My intention is not to condone or
encourage racism, sex with minors, or rape.
Although this story is set in the antebellum South, I
have not done extensive research and cannot guarantee
complete historical accuracy. Most of the names,
however, are taken from actual records of slave-owners
and their slaves.
Any and all feedback is welcome and desired! I would
love to hear advice on how my writing might improve,
suggestions for future characters or storylines,
stories and fantasies of your own, and anything else
you might want to share. E-mail me at
WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com.
***
Chapter 2: Surrender
James Stampley woke up the next morning with a hangover
of shame and self-loathing.
Nothing wakes up one's sleeping conscience faster than
an explosive, ball-draining orgasm, and as James
blinked awake to the first rays of sunlight creeping
through his bedroom windows, he recalled his rampage of
lust from just several hours earlier and for a moment
hoped it had all been nothing more than a bad dream.
The warm body of the naked slave boy sleeping soundly
in his arms, however, reminded James that his previous
night's indulgence had been all too real.
James blinked his eyes in shame when he looked at
Elijah's angelic, peacefully slumbering face, dried
tear-streaks still on the boy's brown cheeks. In his
mind he could still hear echoes of the boy's screaming
and sobbing at having his virgin ass torn open by
James's furiously pounding cock. The sounds of the
boy's forced submission seemed distant and discordant
with the peaceful sounds of morning drifting through
the bedroom windows.
James looked down at Elijah's sleeping face with
tenderness, and wondered what demons had possessed him
to steal the boy's innocence so sadistically, to take
pleasure from the boy's body with no regard for his
cries of pain and resistance. And even worse, to find
arousing the sounds of Elijah helplessly gagging on his
dick, or to find excitement in calling him degrading
and hateful names James had never uttered - and never
imagined he'd WANT to utter - before that night.
James had seen the light in Elijah's eyes as the boy
had described his childhood games to the older white
man, but still made the choice to extinguish it. He had
known Elijah's mother and little brother were probably
suffering through a tearful, sleepless night waiting
for the boy's return, and still James had ravaged his
little body mercilessly just half a mile away. He
realized that his adult dick would cause the boy's
untouched asshole enormous pain, especially since spit
was his only lubrication, but had still chosen to
plunge pitilessly into its virgin depths.
James was already beginning to see the truth in the old
Abolitionist mantra that the institution of slavery
dehumanizes the Master as well as the slave.
Despite these feelings of guilt, James's dick
stubbornly sprung to life as it found itself
accidentally nestled between Elijah's smooth, warm ass-
cheeks, still sticky from cum that had leaked out of
the boy's asshole during the night. The smell of
Elijah's nappy Negro hair, the feel of his soft skin
beneath James's hands, and the beauty of the boy's
angelic sleeping face only made James's dick come to
life even faster.
Yes, he had behaved no better than a beast the night
before, but James couldn't deny how wonderful it had
felt to sink himself deep into the boy's hot, squishy
insides, or to feel his dick buried in Elijah's warm,
unwilling mouth. Even in his most vivid virginal
fantasies, James had never anticipated pleasure as
intense and addicting as he'd discovered the night
before. As guilty as he felt, James couldn't bear the
thought of never knowing such pleasure again.
Perhaps one final fuck before sending the boy home,
James thought. He could be slow and gentle this time,
giving the boy time to get accustomed to the new
sensations. While these negotiations continued, James's
body was already making up its mind. His hands softly
stroked the length of the boy's neck to his crotch.
James's nose began nuzzling Elijah's hair, and his lips
began tasting the salty skin of his neck. His dick
jerked to its full length, pressing against the tightly
sealed crack of the boy's ass.
But just when James's body was reaching a state of
arousal that would surely wake the sleeping Elijah, he
remembered something that caused him to freeze his
exploratory groping.
Abel, the mulatto houseboy, would be arriving at any
moment to empty James's chamber pot and pour fresh
water for his morning-wash. In his impulsive passion of
the night before, James had nearly forgotten his own
routine. He was already ashamed enough to have Mr.
Potter and that ugly overseer aware of his moment of
moral weakness, and he most certainly didn't want Abel
or the other slaves to know.
He had to admit, a small part of him found the idea of
the stunning mulatto houseboy innocently going about
his work, stumbling upon the naked Master fucking the
ass of one of his younger slaves, looking at the scene
in shock and confusion - to be intensely arousing. But
in his early-morning state of moral ambivalence, James
was in no mood to suffer the inevitable awkwardness of
such a moment, not to mention the rumors it might
inspire, or the embarrassment it would most certainly
cause Elijah.
There was no choice but to send Elijah from his bed as
speedily as possible. For a moment, James wondered if
his recollection of Abel's impending arrival was an act
of divine Providence, rescuing him from the moment's
temptation.
James gently but urgently began shaking the sleeping
slave boy awake.
"Wake up, Elijah! Elijah, wake up! It's time for you to
go home!"
James had to intensify his efforts before the boy
finally awoke from his deep slumber, opening his eyes
with a startled look, first of confusion, struggling to
recall where he was, then terror. James looked away in
shame, realizing HE was the source of the boy's fear.
"It's okay, Elijah, I'm not going to hurt you," James
said comfortingly. "It's time for you to go, before
your mother and brother get too worried about you."
James realized the words probably sounded hollow and
absurd to the boy's ears.
Elijah sat up in the bed, rubbed his eyes and looked
around the room like he was lost.
"After you've dressed," James instructed, "take the
stairs and exit out the front doors. Please be careful
that nobody sees you."
"Yes, Massuh, I'll be careful, Massuh," Elijah replied
as if talking in his sleep.
He stumbled out of bed in a sleepy daze and began
hurriedly putting on the clothes that were still where
he'd left them when ordered to strip the night before.
James hoped it was just his guilty imagination, but he
thought to himself that the boy looked lost and sad,
like a mere shell of the animated, talkative boy that
had first entered his room. Deep down James knew it was
too late, but he wanted to say something kind to
Elijah, something to conclude things between them on a
positive note.
"Oh, and Elijah..." James added, as the boy started to
leave the room. "I didn't fully introduce myself to you
last night. My name is James Stampley. You can call me
Ja... Master James," James said, catching himself
before committing to an informality he might later
regret.
"Yes, Massuh James," Elijah replied impatiently,
looking at the floor, before dashing out the bedroom
door.
James sat alone for a moment on the edge of the bed,
naked and disheveled, asking himself what the hell it
was he'd just done. The smell of anal sex and Elijah's
skin still lingered in the air, stirring little spasms
of sadness and longing in James only seconds after the
slave boy's abrupt departure.
Although he felt foolish for thinking it, James had to
admit that a part of him already missed his slave boy's
presence.
***
For the rest of that day, James's emotional anguish was
excruciating.
For hours at a time, James could think of nothing but
the brutality with which he had treated Elijah, and the
emotional scars it must have inflicted on him. He
thought with astonishment of how easily he'd succumbed
to temptation, treating Elijah like a brute beast whose
only purpose was to satisfy the cravings of its Master
- simply because the laws of the corrupt country in
which he lived tolerated, even encouraged, such
behavior. He even briefly considered the idea of
freeing Elijah and his family as absolution for the
awful way he'd treated the boy, going so far as to
compose half a letter to a local attorney experienced
in the legal complexities of manumissions, before
tearing it in two and telling himself the matter needed
more time for reflection.
By far the worst part of the day, however, was enduring
Mr. Potter's cocky, teasing looks over dinner. Mr.
Potter seemed to find it especially amusing to lick his
lips and make crude suggestive gestures in Abel's
direction every time the oblivious houseboy left the
dining room to fetch more wine or clear their plates,
as if to say, "Now there, Little Jimmy, is another fine
specimen of nigger-boy pussy -- why not take HIM to
your bed tonight?"
Despite James's visible discomfort with the subject,
Mr. Potter's teasing only intensified while the two men
enjoyed their after-dinner smoke on the front verandah.
"So, Little Jimmy, how was your first piece of nigger
pussy?" he asked bluntly. "Nigger-BOY pussy, I reckon I
should say," he added with an obnoxious laugh. "Now
didn't I tell you ain't nothin' in this world like
nigger pussy? Hell, give me some tight nigger-girl cunt
over a white broad's sloppy pussy any day."
"I'm not proud of what I did last night," James
replied, fidgeting with his glass of wine. "And if you
don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it."
Mr. Potter stopped grinning for a moment.
"Come on now, Little Jimmy, don't go beatin' yourself
over the head over what you done to the nigger," he
said, patting his deceased friend's nephew on the knee.
For a brief moment, a look almost resembling human
sympathy seemed to pass over his face.
"Ain't no point to feelin' guilty over somethin' as
natural as the sun settin' at night and risin' in the
mornin'. Niggers is just doin' what God made 'em for.
God made the white man smarter and stronger, and then
gave him niggers just like he gave him beasts and
women, to work for him and do his bidding. Ain't no
harm in treatin' 'em like animals if that's what they
is."
Mr. Potter paused, taking a deep reflective puff on his
cigar and looking west toward the setting sun.
"Don't worry, Little Jimmy," he continued. "The
guilt'll go away by and by. Give it a couple weeks,
maybe three. You'll get used to the idea of a different
nigger-boy every night soon enough."
"What if I don't WANT to get used to it?!?" James
snapped, looking up from scowling at the porch. He was
simultaneously irritated by and envious of Mr. Potter's
amoral attitude toward the whole thing.
"Shiiiiiit, son, once upon a time I thought the same
damn thing, believe it or not," Mr. Potter smiled,
although his tone of voice turned the calmest and most
sympathetic James had ever heard it. Perhaps he's had
too much wine, James thought.
"You ain't the first to feel that way, and you sure as
hell ain't gonna be the last."
Mr. Potter paused, as if deciding whether or not to
continue.
"I remember my first nigger pussy like it was
yesterday. My Papa gave it to me as a present when I
turned 15 - probably same as his Papa'd done for him, I
imagine. Didn't even take it from our stock neither -
got her from a special Atlanta auction, I believe."
He took James's look of reluctant curiosity as
encouragement to continue with his story.
"Took me to the overseer quarters late that night, and
there she was, standin' there shakin' and cryin',
surrounded by a good five or six of my Papa's
overseers. Poor little nigger couldn't of been any
older than 13. Black as midnight, too, real pretty
little thing. They'd pushed one of the overseer's beds
to the middle of the room, and the little nigger was
already naked and tied by her wrists to the bedposts.
'Virgin same as you,' Papa told me. 'Now strip, fuck
her, and prove your manhood to my men.'
"Those was his exact words. I reckon he figured the
plantation would be mine soon enough, and what better
way to prove my worth to my future employees than
rapin' a little nigger girl right in front of their
very eyes? Then the bastard up and left me in the room
with 'em. 'Fore he left, he told 'em they could take
whatever I left over, but warned, 'Any of you touch my
boy, I'll rip your tongue out and hang you with it same
as I'd hang a nigger.'"
Mr. Potter laughed bitterly, shaking his head and
taking a nervous puff on his cigar.
"My old man left me to prove my manhood, and all's I
could keep from doin' was pissin' my pants. Hell, I was
probably more scared of being bare-ass-naked in front
of Papa's men than I was of tryin' to fuck pussy for
the first time. And somethin' didn't feel right in my
gut 'bout the whole thing. I gotta admit, pretty as the
little nigger's body looked to my horny teenaged dick,
I felt sorta bad for her. The nigger bein' my own age
and all, and layin' there blubberin' her eyes out and
kickin' up her feet, lookin' like she'd seen Lucifer
himself come up outta Hell."
Mr. Potter's voice sounded distant and resentful; for a
moment he seemed transformed into the scared 15-year-
old boy of that late night over four decades ago.
"I even tried to leave, but my son-of-a-bitch Papa'd
locked the door on me. I realized that was Papa's way
of makin' me into a man. I knew if I backed out I'd
never be anything more than a bitch or a nigger in my
Papa's eyes, and the eyes of his men. So I whipped out
my dick and fucked the little nigger all the same.
Fucked her while my Papa's men stood around the bed
jackin' their dicks - hell, some of them cocksuckers
was probably turned on more by the sight of my naked
ass than the actual nigger-girl. Papa wouldn't have
said nothin' 'bout it if he didn't have no reason to
worry."
Mr. Potter chuckled to himself, finding the thought of
his Papa's overseers lusting over his teenaged buttocks
strange, funny, and flattering all at the same time.
James didn't want to admit it, but he found his cock
lengthening at the image of the horny overseers jacking
off to the sight of their Master's teenage-boy-ass
pumping up and down into the virgin folds of Negro-girl
flesh beneath him.
"The second I was finished, one of them horny bastards
climbed right back on top of the little nigger to take
my place. Takin' turns like. And Papa didn't come back
for me till each of 'em had his way with her at least
twice. Poor little nigger probably took a dozen or more
loads up inside her virgin pussy that night. When they
was done with her pussy they flipped her over and
pounded her ass just as many times. Poor thing was
nearly passed out, the men's juices oozing out both
holes by the time they was done with her. And fuck if I
can ever forget the look on that nigger-girl's face.
Gave me nightmares for months."
Mr. Potter's voice trailed off and for a moment he
seemed to forget James's presence beside him.
James's dick was still semi-hard, but his heart went
out to the sensitive teenage boy trapped inside the
gruff man smoking next to him.
But several moments later, Mr. Potter's emotional
candor disappeared as suddenly as it had materialized.
As if startled into a recollection of the manly, racist
façade he had to maintain in order to preserve his
pride as a Southern gentleman, Mr. Potter took an
aggressive puff on his cigar and declared, "But that
was a hell of a long time ago, Little Jimmy. I only
told all that to let you know I can guess what it is
you're feelin' inside. But that it's a fuckin' waste of
time and energy. Only reason I felt bad at the time was
cuz I was lookin' at things all wrong, see? I was
viewin' the little nigger girl like a human, almost
like an equal. But what Papa was aimin' to teach me is
that niggers AIN'T human, and they sure as hell ain't
our equals. They ain't nothing more than property -
goods to buy, use, and sell. Soon's you look at it the
right way, you'll wipe that scowl clean off your face,
and learn there ain't nothin' better than Georgia
livin'. It just takes some time, that's all. Soon
enough you'll find the cryin' and beggin's all part of
the fun."
James nodded distractedly, and took another sip of his
wine. He no longer had the will to argue with Mr.
Potter.
Despite his resistance to the places his imagination
was taking him, James was already picturing ELIJAH in
the black slave girl's place, wrists tied to the bed-
posts in the dirty overseer quarters of the Potter
plantation, only thrown on his stomach instead of his
back while the Master's son and half a dozen lecherous
overseers filled his ass repeatedly and mercilessly
with their runny cum.
He felt an urgent desire to run upstairs and masturbate
before allowing the previous night's demons to overtake
him once again.
"I'm afraid the wine, your story, or a combination of
the two have made me ill, Mr. Potter, and I must retire
early," James lied.
Mr. Potter grinned, seeing through the young man's weak
excuse. "Sure enough, Little Jimmy. Abel did put out
some mighty strong wine tonight."
"I'll be sure to think on what you've told me," James
declared as he put out his cigar and set down his glass
of wine. With a nod goodnight, he rushed off the
verandah and up to his bedroom.
"Now that last statement ain't a lie," Mr. Potter
thought to himself with an amused chuckle.
***
On the second day following James's encounter with
Elijah, vivid daydreams of his sexual conquest began to
crowd out guilty thoughts of the boy's damaged
innocence.
James realized that temptations to sins already
committed are ten times more powerful than temptations
to sins only imagined. It was easy enough to deny
himself pleasure in the abstract, but now that he KNEW
what it felt like to swirl his tongue around a boy's
mouth, to feel a virgin tongue taking its first
tentative licks of his dick, to have a slave-boy's
untouched asshole slowly surrender its virginity to the
persistent prodding and pushing of his cock - the
temptation to experience those ecstasies AGAIN was
maddening.
Only intensifying this temptation was the knowledge
that the pleasures he'd experienced that night with
Elijah were right at his fingertips. All he had to do
was say the word and they could be instantly and
permanently integrated into his daily routine.
James was also surprised to find that a kind of
delirious need and jealousy had crept into his longing
for Elijah. He found himself wondering what the boy was
doing at any given moment - playing "catch a nigger"
with the other pickaninnies? splashing around in the
creek with the other boys? hunting for squirrels or
rabbits? sleeping? laughing? crying?
When James wondered these things, he'd be overcome with
loneliness and anger that the boy was living life
WITHOUT HIM. After the addicting power James felt
through his sexual domination of the boy, this
detachment from the boy's everyday life was a lack of
control, a powerlessness he found he didn't like at
all.
Sometimes James's jealousy would take an even more
irrational form. Even though he knew without a doubt
he'd been the first to touch Elijah sexually, James
began wondering if Elijah was being enjoyed by one of
his overseers, or perhaps one of the older teenaged
bucks. In one of his more paranoid moments, the thought
even crossed his mind that perhaps Elijah's own mother
was using him as a sexual substitute for her sold-away
husband. He knew deep down the idea was outrageous, but
his body still shuddered with jealousy at the thought.
He blamed these strange feelings on Mr. Potter's story
from the evening before. Although the image of Elijah
in the Negro girl's place was intensely arousing, it
also inspired a fierce feeling of possessiveness
mingled with lust at the idea of his slave-boy's body
being enjoyed by numerous other men.
Once James's passions had been reawakened by his
memories and possessiveness, the all-too-familiar
rationalizing began. Sometimes James persuaded himself
that he truly wanted to KNOW Elijah - not only his
body, but also his thoughts, fears, hobbies, and
dreams.
At other times James would barter with his conscience.
Just one week, he'd offer, then never again. Just one
more week, and then he'd free the boy, his brother, and
his mother. He even tried telling himself that a week
of unpleasant and degrading sexual services for Elijah
would only make him value his eventual freedom all the
more.
Through various acrobatics of mental diplomacy between
his dick and his conscience, James assented to ONE WEEK
with Elijah - no more, no less. He would be kinder,
gentler, and spare the boy the verbal insults. He would
free the boy along with the rest of his slaves at the
end of that week.
It was about an hour after supper when James reached
this decision. He'd been enjoying his post-dinner smoke
alone, since Mr. Potter had been called away to deal
with a captured runaway from his own plantation.
All that remained to be worked out was an arrangement
with Abel that would give James undisturbed privacy
with Elijah for hours at a time. Knowing his own
fickle, impulsive nature, James leapt from his chair on
the verandah and walked to the back of the house,
looking for Abel. He wanted to finalize the plans
before changing his mind.
The kitchen was spotless and empty. He heard Abraham's
loud coughing coming from a room to his left - the room
shared by Abel and his parents. Abraham was still sick
and unable to serve in his normal capacity as Head
Houseboy, leaving the responsibilities to his less
experienced but more than competent teenaged son.
James heard low, sweet singing coming from outside.
Walking through the kitchen and out on the back-porch,
he saw Becky taking down clothes from a line where
they'd been hanging all afternoon.
"Good evening, Master James," Becky greeted him,
smiling.
She was a pretty, light-skinned woman in her late
thirties, slightly overweight now but James guessed
she'd been quite a beauty in her younger years. Her
light skin also suggested to him that Abel was probably
a quadroon (one-fourth black), perhaps even an octoroon
(one-eighth black) rather than the mulatto (one-half
black) he'd originally assumed him to be.
Of course on some level these distinctions were absurd,
since the laws of the South lumped even octoroons,
often indistinguishable in appearance from full-blooded
whites, into the same inferior, despised category of
"nigger."
But on another level, these categories had a great deal
of social significance to whites and blacks alike.
Considered by whites to be smarter and more physically
appealing than darker-skinned Negroes - and also due to
the largely unspoken awareness that they were almost
always the progeny of the Master or one of his sons --
mulattos, quadroons, and octoroons almost always held
positions as "house slaves." Darker-skinned Africans
toiling in the fields bitterly envied these positions
because they typically involved lighter physical labor
and included better meals and living conditions,
usually rooms in the Master's house itself.
"Good evening, Becky. Delicious supper tonight, as
always," James said, smiling.
"Oh, go on, now, Master James, you tell me the same
thing every night," Becky replied, playfully waving him
away.
James had noticed soon after his arrival how Abel and
his parents spoke "proper" English, at least while in
his presence. He guessed this was probably due to them
having better access to education and more exposure to
whites. Although the grammar of his house-slaves far
surpassed anything he'd ever heard come out of Mr.
Potter's mouth, James thought with amusement.
"That's because I MEAN it every night, Becky," James
insisted warmly.
Other than Elijah, Becky and her family were the only
slaves James had really talked with one-on-one, and
something approaching affection had developed between
them.
"I was looking for Abel," he continued. "Any idea where
I might find him?"
"Oh, yes, Master James," Becky answered, taking what
looked like one of Abel's white collared shirts off the
clothesline. "He's taking his bath before bed."
James blushed at Becky's surprising announcement, and
his dick twitched involuntarily.
Becky paused and looked at James, worried. "I'm sorry,
sir, he told me he was done for the day and you didn't
need him any more, so I thought it'd be okay for him to
clean himself up. You know how dirty a teenage boy can
get, even when he doesn't play outside like the other
boys."
"Oh, everything's fine, Becky," James assured his Negro
cook. "I just needed to make some last-minute changes
to my schedule, that's all. The storage-room off the
kitchen to my left, right?"
It was a stupid question, because James knew exactly
where it was, remembering it from his second-day tour
with Mr. Potter. He took his own baths in a private
room in another wing of the house. Apparently regular
baths were perks for the lighter-skinned slaves.
"You can't miss it. Oh, and Master James..." Becky
added, as James turned to go back in the kitchen. "I
hope you have a big appetite tomorrow night, because
I'm cooking up your favorite: fried dumplings!"
"My stomach's growling already," James laughed, waving
goodbye and returning to the kitchen.
He hoped his friendliness had masked the blush on his
cheeks and churning of his stomach ever since hearing
that the stunning 16-year-old houseboy Abel was just a
few feet away, naked and bathing. He knew he could just
as easily have told Becky to send her son to him when
he was finished with his bath and fully clothed, but he
couldn't resist this lucky opportunity to see the boy
naked. Until now the only skin he'd seen on Abel's body
was his face and hands, since the rest was always
covered in crisp, ironed serving-attire, and he felt a
delirious craving to see more.
Stay focused, James coached himself. One week with
ELIJAH is all you get, and that is your sole purpose
for this errand.
James noticed that the storage-room door was partly
ajar. It won't hurt to sneak a peek, he told himself. I
AM the Master of this Plantation, after all -- I can do
anything I damn well please.
Pushing the door open a few more inches, James saw a
large rectangular pantry-room with wooden shelves of
supplies covering three of the four walls. Large
barrels sat on the floor around the edge of the room -
James guessed they contained sugar, flour, beer, wine,
and other items consumed by the household in mass
quantities.
In the center of the room was a circular metallic
washtub, probably four feet deep and five feet in
diameter. And standing straight up in the tub, facing
away from James, was the most breathtaking specimen of
the teenage male form he'd ever seen.
Abel was completely naked, scrubbing his chest, neck,
shoulders, and back with a soapy bristled brush as
steaming, sudsy water dripped off of his glistening
golden skin. The 16-year-old houseboy's body was
youthful but much more developed than Elijah's scrawny
boyish body, with slight adolescent muscles flexing
down his back and buttocks as he scrubbed.
James's eyes were magnetically drawn to Abel's
midsection, where two muscular mounds of firm, mulatto
flesh protruded in almost perfect semi-circles from the
boy's back. Completely hairless, Abel's ass was more
perfect and inviting than James had ever guessed based
on the shapes made out beneath the boy's silk dress-
pants. Abel's white ancestry was clear in his face and
light skin, but his Negro ancestry was unmistakable in
the firm bubble-butt.
James's dick began to stiffen in his pants. The fact
that he was spying on this boy's private moment made
the sight all the more appealing. He felt a strange and
surprising compulsion to run toward the boy, drop to
his knees, spread the boy's gorgeous ass-cheeks with
his hands, and run his tongue up and down the
previously-untouched crack, gradually pushing forward
to taste what he could only imagine was a delicious
cherry.
James considered the very real possibility that he
could order the boy out of the bath, bend him over one
of the wooden barrels, and enter the boy's virgin hole
right then and there. The idea only seemed problematic
when he remembered that both of the boy's parents were
only yards away and could discover them at any moment.
James realized this was an odd concern; he was the
Master, after all. Their son was HIS property, to do
with what he pleased.
Hell, he could fuck the boy in front of one or both of
his parents, and they wouldn't be able to do a damn
thing about it. James cringed at his own monstrous
fantasies. He LIKED Becky and Abraham, he told himself.
They hadn't done anything to deserve such mistreatment,
and he dreaded the messiness of screams and tears and
drama he'd have to deal with should Becky discover her
only son being raped by the Master in the pantry.
Besides, ELIJAH'S was the body he desired tonight, the
goal that had led him to this moment in the first
place.
James's conflicted thoughts were interrupted when Abel
turned around and caught his Master staring. The boy's
eyes lit up in surprise, and he dropped the brush into
the water beneath him. He immediately moved to cover
his crotch with his hands.
"Master James!" the boy cried out in surprise, blushing
and looking down to make certain his privates were
covered.
This position gave James a chance to admire the boy's
taut chest, his stomach rippled with the beginnings of
six pronounced muscles, his slender arms, lanky legs,
and the tiny, dark-brown specks of nipples against his
light-golden skin.
"I'm...I'm sorry, Abel, I didn't realize you were
washing," James lied, looking at the walls to avoid
embarrassing the boy.
"It's alright, Master James," Abel said, smiling. "You
just scared the bejesus out of me, that's all!"
James remembered noticing Abel's winning personality
when the boy greeted him upon his arrival to Stampley
Plantation. Abel had been a bit wary of him then, but
quickly warmed up to his new master in the nearly two
weeks following.
"I almost thought I was going to faint for a second,"
the boy laughed. "Like the women in those books Master
Walt taught me how to read."
Still modestly covering his crotch, the boy sank down
into the washtub in a crouched sitting position, facing
James.
"What do you need me to do, Master James?" Abel asked
eagerly, his piercing green eyes sparkling with energy.
If only you knew, James sighed to himself.
"I thought I'd done everything on Papa's list," the boy
continued, wrinkling up his face in the cutest puzzled
expression. "It's a lot to remember, but I'm trying my
best, Master James."
Abel's eagerness to please made James smile, and caused
his still semi-hard dick to twitch again.
The boy continued, barely coming up for air: "Your
chamber-pot's cleaned out, and I poured fresh water for
your nighttime wash. Did I not leave out enough cigars
for your evening smoke, Master James? Or would you like
more wine? Just let me get dressed, and I'll bring you
more wine..."
"No, no, no, nothing like that Abel," James
interrupted, laughing. "You haven't done a single thing
wrong. In fact, you've been doing a terrific job - even
Mr. Potter thinks so."
Abel blushed a deep scarlet across his golden skin at
the compliment.
"I just wanted to make a few... ummmm... changes to the
schedule," James explained.
"Yes, Master?" Abel asked, and as he listened he lifted
up his arms and began absent-mindedly scrubbing at the
small patches of dark silky hair in his armpits. James
desperately wished he could see the treasure hidden
just beneath the sudsy water.
"In order to ensure my privacy, I'd like you to conduct
your upstairs tasks ONLY between 3 p.m. and 9 p.m."
Abel seemed puzzled, but nodded his head.
"In other words," James emphasized. "You are strictly
forbidden from the upstairs rooms at any other time."
"Yes, Master, that's easy enough to remember, sir,"
Abel assented, smiling. "But what about your morning
wash and chamber-pot?" he asked, seeming sincerely
concerned.
"Just leave two pitchers of water in the evening, and
that should be plenty," James instructed. "You can
empty the chamber-pot in the afternoon. Do you have any
questions?"
"No, Master James, I'll do just as you say, Master. You
don't have to tell me to do a thing twice," Abel
assured him.
"Well, good night then, Abel," James said slowly,
reluctant to leave the naked bathing beauty before him.
But the promise of the night's more immediate rewards
urged him on.
"Good night, Master James," Abel said in his cute
adolescent voice, still focused on his battle with the
dirt under his armpits.
Having overcome one temptation, it was now time for
James to give in to another.
All he had to do now was visit the overseer quarters,
find the ugly overseer he'd seen two nights earlier,
and discreetly ask him to find the same boy and send
him to his Master's room.
Visions of Abel's gloriously naked body flashed through
James's mind as he walked toward the overseer cabins,
but he knew the night had other pleasures in store for
him.
***
When Elijah stumbled home to the slave quarters two
days earlier, he felt the way he guessed some of the
slave men and women felt around Christmastime after
consuming too much alcohol. The world around him seemed
to be spinning, and he found it difficult to walk
straight.
In less than half a day, the boy's world had been
transformed from a place of relative safety and
contentment to a place of danger and fear. He had left
his home a carefree boy who loved playing with friends
and being near family, but now returned to it a sad and
scared young man with an aching asshole, knowledgeable
of perversions his former self could have never
imagined.
As Elijah walked back to the slave quarters, he caught
himself looking worriedly over his shoulder every few
feet, scared that Master James might drag him back to
the big house at any minute.
He could still feel some of the Master's juices
sloshing around his insides, so his first stop was one
of the five outhouses on the southern edge of the slave
quarters. After emptying his bowels, he hiked to the
creek, where he hoped to wash and make it home before
the other slave children woke up and started playing
outdoors. There was a time he would have boasted to his
friends of his personal invitation to the Master's
house, but now he viewed it as something secretive and
shameful.
Stripping off his soiled clothes, Elijah bathed more
aggressively than he ever had in his entire life. He
scratched and scrubbed at his skin like a wild animal,
desperately trying to rinse all traces and odors of the
older white man from his skinny body.
When he returned home, he found Thad sitting at the
table, sound asleep with his small head buried in his
arms. Their mother had already left for the fields, and
Thad had obviously been trying his hardest to stay
awake for his older brother's homecoming.
Tears welled up in Elijah's eyes when he recalled the
fun of their checkers game the night before, a symbol
for him of a better time that was now forever lost.
Closing the front door quietly, he walked over to Thad
and carried him gently to their bed in the corner,
collapsing on it with him. Neither boy having had much
sleep the night before, they slept there together all
morning and afternoon. Elijah's arms spooned Thad much
like his Master had spooned him earlier that morning.
At one point Thad stirred and sleepily asked, "You
okay, 'Lij?" Elijah responded by squeezing his
brother's arm and nuzzling closer.
Some of the slave children knocked on the door, curious
about their playmates' unusual absence; when nobody
answered, they ran off laughing, assuming the two boys
had probably just gone fishing.
When Phoebe returned home around sundown, Thad was up
and preparing dinner, but Elijah was still on the bed,
curled up in a fetal position.
Tears immediately began running down Phoebe's cheeks,
and she ran to cradle her eldest boy in her arms. She'd
promised herself she wouldn't cry, but the sight of her
shell-shocked son lying there looking so lost and
helpless was too much for a mother's heart to bear.
Elijah melted under his mother's touch, and his young
body began sobbing convulsively. The comfort of his
mother's arms allowed him, however briefly, to be a
child again, and he released all the emotions built up
over the past day.
Phoebe rocked Elijah in her arms, whispering soothing
words in his ears while Thad watched them both,
confused and helpless. It didn't seem to him like
Elijah had been whipped, as his young mind had feared,
and everything about his clothes and appearance seemed
normal. Thad had no idea what had happened to his older
brother in the new Master's house, but he knew it must
have been really bad, maybe even WORSE than a whipping.
"Now, now, Elijah," Phoebe said softly. "You'se alive,
son, and I thank the Lord in heaven for that much."
Elijah gasped for air in the midst of his tears, trying
to calm his sobs.
"Don't forget what I told you, son," Phoebe continued.
"White folks can be mighty wicked sometimes, 'specially
those with slaves. But it don't matter what white folks
do to us, they can't take away the love we feel in our
hearts. They can starve us, whip us, sell us and...hurt
us, but none of that will EVER stop me from lovin' you
and Thad, you hear?"
And with that, Phoebe got up from Elijah's bed, went
over to examine Thad's supper preparations, and did her
best to return to their normal routine. She knew her
son had needed her comforting arms, but at the same
time she didn't want to coddle him. She didn't know
EXACTLY what Elijah had been through the night before,
but she knew that whatever it was, he was certain to
see much worse in his future.
The life of a Negro slave was difficult - Lord knows
she knew that firsthand - but licking your wounds and
feeling sorry for yourself didn't do anything but make
things worse. As much anguish as it caused her to see
her son's wilted spirit and hollow eyes, she was
determined to continue with life as if nothing had
happened.
Both mother and son breathed a huge sigh of relief when
no overseer came knocking on their door that night.
Elijah remained in bed all the next day, other than a
couple visits to the outhouses behind their row of
cabins. Sometimes he slept, at other times he stared at
the cabin's walls and tried to ward off flashbacks of
the older white man gagging his mouth and mounting him
from behind.
Normally Elijah was the first to leap from bed in the
morning, eager to play with the other slave children,
but today he felt weary and disinterested. His eyes had
been opened to a strange, confusing world where white
men enjoyed licking inside Negro boys' mouths, grabbing
them by the hair and calling them "niggers," and
shoving their dicks into their shit-holes. Suddenly the
world of silly games and splashing around in the creek
with the other kids seemed small and childish to him,
remote and inaccessible.
Every hour or two Thad would run back to the cabin from
playing with the other children, and beg Elijah to join
him and the others. His brother's strange behavior
worried him, and today's games just didn't seem as much
fun without Elijah's energy and creativity.
"Come on, 'Lij, come outside, won't you?" Thad pleaded.
"It ain't no fun without you. And Lil Rooster's
cheatin' again at 'catch a nigger', but I know he won't
try it if you was around to catch 'im. Plus Moses and
me found us a new fishin' spot we wanna show you."
But Elijah just shooed Thad away and turned toward the
wall.
"Suit yourself, 'Lij," Thad said dejectedly. "But all
of us misses you real bad. I told 'em you was sick, but
I ain't tell 'em 'bout the new Massuh askin' for you.
They just think you sick."
Elijah was in the same pitiful position when Phoebe
returned from the fields.
"Get your butt outta bed, young man!" she ordered. "You
think you a rich little white boy that can lazy around
as he pleases? Get up and help your Mama with supper."
Elijah rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and reluctantly
obeyed his mother's wishes. He had to admit it felt
good to stretch his stiff limbs and get his mind off
his troubles for a little while.
After supper, Phoebe talked him into joining her and
Thad in a game of marbles they'd made, like the
checkers game, out of pebbles. For a good hour he
enjoyed a brief escape from his sorrow, even laughing
in spite of himself at his mother's jokes, or one of
Thad's gleeful expressions when he'd win a round.
This pleasant domestic scene was rudely interrupted,
however, when Mr. Snopes flung open the front door
without knocking.
"Master wants the boy again," he growled. "Guess the
boy's got talent," he added, smirking and obscenely
licking his lips. "Master said the boy knows his way to
the big house."
Phoebe's heart sank within her. She knew some white men
only liked the thrill of a conquest and frequently used
a particular Negro girl only once before moving on to
others. She'd hoped this would be the case with Elijah,
but Snopes' ugly presence proved otherwise.
The smile on Elijah's face from moments before faded
immediately, and the pit in his stomach returned with a
vengeance. His young body shuddered in anticipation of
another violation. Unlike two nights earlier, there was
now no confusion, no hopeful curiosity that a visit to
the big house might be more adventure than nightmare.
He knew what was in store for him, and resigned himself
to his fate.
Looking first at his mother, then his little brother,
in a gloomy and wordless farewell, Elijah got up
without protest and followed Mr. Snopes out of the
cabin.
***
As he sat on the edge of his bed waiting for Elijah's
arrival, James felt a confidence he hadn't known two
nights earlier.
Now that he'd pushed through the initial embarrassment
of requesting the repeat visit, and rationalized away
his shame at forcing Elijah into a situation the boy
most certainly dreaded, James's mind and body felt
freed up to enjoy the night's sexual adventures.
He also liked the idea that Elijah now KNEW what was
expected of him, allowing James to enjoy the boy's body
without a lengthy, awkward "seduction."
The moment Elijah stepped sheepishly through the
bedroom door, closing it quietly behind him, James
leapt off the bed and threw himself at the boy's
stiffened body like a stallion in heat.
In his mind he'd planned to make pleasant conversation
first, but the sight of the boy's scrawny brown body
clothed in tattered rags inflamed him with an impatient
lust.
James seized Elijah's body in his arms and smothered
his head and face with urgent kisses. He felt like a
man drinking his first drops of water after months in a
barren desert. He licked and slurped at the boy's
forehead, eyebrows, earlobes, neck, Adam's apple, and
nose, relishing the delicious Negro taste of the boy's
sweaty brown skin.
Elijah stood awkwardly in the midst of this onslaught,
eyes closed and surrendered to his Master's gross
affections.
Sucking on Elijah's thick, pliant lips, James half-
carried, half-pushed his slave-boy's young body toward
the bed. He collapsed onto the bed on his back and
pulled Elijah's body on top of his.
As James continued devouring Elijah's face, now shiny
with James's own saliva, his hands greedily roamed up
and down the boy's backside, spending extra time
cupping and kneading the boy's round, fleshy buttocks
through the material of his tattered pants.
Elijah lay like a dead-weight on his Master's body,
still uncomfortable with the weird feeling of having a
grown man's tongue licking around his mouth, and his
hands touching all over his body. He could feel James's
rock-hard dick grinding into his own soft dick through
their pants, and began dreading the searing pain it
would cause as soon as it found its greedy way to his
asshole.
James suddenly reversed positions by flipping Elijah
onto his back. Now James lay on top of him, still
exploring the boy's mouth with his tongue and grinding
his hips against the boy's stomach and crotch.
Although he'd already seen the beauty hidden beneath
his slave-boy's rags, James craved the sight of the
boy's naked flesh as intensely as he had the first
time. Pulling briefly away from kissing Elijah's mouth,
James began hurriedly unbuttoning the boy's shirt,
yanking it out from beneath him and tossing it to the
floor. He gasped at the beautiful sight of the boy's
skinny, heaving chest laid bare before him, but
continued to remove Elijah's shoes, then unfasten
Elijah's pants, pulling them down off of him and
sending them flying to join the shirt and shoes on the
floor beside the bed.
Even though Elijah knew what to expect this time
around, the feeling of being stripped naked by a
strange older man was still uncomfortable and
unpleasant. It made him feel weak and helpless. He
turned to look blankly out the window as James stood
beside the bed and began removing his own clothing
piece by piece. If he was lucky, Elijah thought, this
might be over faster than the first time, allowing him
to return home or at least find escape in sleep, even
if it was in the Master's bed.
Now completely naked, James climbed back on top of his
naked brown-skinned slave, burying his head in the
crevices of the boy's neck and rubbing his fully erect
dick into the boy's stomach and against his nappy black
pubic hairs. Sometimes it nudged at Elijah's own
sleeping six inches of Negro cock, and sometimes it
poked even lower into the crevice of the boy's warm
ass-crack.
As he kissed and grinded into the boy, his fingers
toyed with Elijah's tangled crispy hair, savoring its
unique feel against his skin. James filled the room
with the sounds of his pants and moans of pleasure, but
Elijah remained eerily stiff and silent.
Eager to explore Elijah's fresh young body in a way he
hadn't taken time to during their first encounter,
James moved his mouth slowly down the length of the
boy's body. He paused to taste the boy's wide, dark
nipples, which stiffened under the attention of James's
tongue. He continued his descent, stopping to lap
hungrily at Elijah's cute, protruding belly button,
rubbing his cheeks against the warm, smooth-brown skin
of the boy's stomach. He crept slightly lower, pressing
his nose into the boy's curly black pubic hairs, taking
in a whiff of their sweaty, intoxicating scent.
James pulled his head back and stared for a moment at
Elijah's impressive manhood, at least six inches but
still soft, hanging heavily to the side above two
surprisingly large testicles. In his fumbling eagerness
two nights before, James had denied himself the
exploration of the boy's massive dick, but he wasn't
about to make the same mistake twice.
He lifted the heavy piece of flesh from its resting
place, savoring the feeling of its smooth fleshiness
beneath his fingers. Holding the boy's black manhood in
his delicate white fingers sent shivers down James's
spine.
So THIS is the origin of so much controversy, James
thought to himself. So much envy and strife. And it's
no wonder, he concluded. If this slave-boy's dick was
the average, the superiority of the black man's
genitals was certainly no myth.
James also got goose bumps when he considered the great
taboo he was violating, far beyond the same-sex nature
of this encounter. The black male's phallus was
strictly forbidden to white women (and by extension,
white sodomites like himself); it was something to be
castrated, symbolically and sometimes literally;
something primitive, dirty and disgusting to be feared,
reviled, and turned into the butt of jokes. Yet here
James lay with his face just inches from an African
dick, eager to worship it in a way that transgressed
all racial and sexual boundaries.
Elijah's eyes opened wide when he felt his Master take
his warm, limp dick in his hands. He'd touched his own
dick plenty of times since that day in the barn after
catching Laney in the creek, but this was the first
time ANOTHER person's hand was wrapped around his dick.
It was a completely new sensation, strange and tingly.
Elijah's surprise only increased when he felt his
Master begin licking his balls the same eager way he'd
licked around inside his mouth. It was a weird feeling,
ticklish but not unpleasant.
But Elijah's head jerked off the bed to look down in
amazement when James actually placed his lips over the
head of Elijah's own still-sleeping dick. He couldn't
believe what was happening. Master James was beginning
to do the same degrading thing he'd forced Elijah to do
two nights ago. It didn't make any sense. Although he
hadn't understood its purpose two nights ago, he
quickly observed that his own mouth around his Master's
dick gave his Master great pleasure. But here was his
Master... doing the work of a slave? Was Master James
going to give HIM pleasure? Or did he just enjoy
sucking on Negro boys' dicks the same way he liked
feeling their hair and eating their faces? The shocking
reversal of roles was a new thrill for Elijah, and
caused his comatose cock to twitch awake in his
Master's warm mouth.
The taste of Elijah's dick was sweaty and odd to James,
but the novelty of the sensation and awareness of its
taboo urged him on. He took all six soft inches in his
mouth without difficulty, burying his nose against the
boy's dark pubic hairs. A strong, sharp odor emanated
from the boy's crotch, unlike anything James had ever
smelled before, even from his own sweaty crotch. Negro
dick must have a smell and taste all its own, James
thought to himself.
James swirled his tongue around the base of Elijah's
dick, then tightened his thin wet lips as he retreated
back to the boy's dickhead. He repeated the motion, and
this time felt the boy's cock jerk a couple times,
hesitant but responsive.
With his mouth still enveloping the boy's dick, James
glanced up to see Elijah watching his every move with
curiosity and wide-eyed wonder. This reminder of the
boy's innocence turned him on even more, and he
increased the speed and intensity of his sucking.
James watched in his own amazement as the boy's dick
sprung to life, thickening and hardening into a
throbbing, massive beast. James lapped at the boy's
balls and licked up and down the dick's length,
encouraging its speedy growth. In less than a minute,
Elijah's dick was a breathtaking nine inches, a huge
monster that seemed out of place attached to the boy's
scrawny 14-year-old body.
This new size and shape made it more difficult for
James to fit in his mouth. Holding the throbbing dark
meat by the base, James could only force half of its
length into his mouth before choking from the
intrusion. He continued slurping it in and out of his
mouth as best he could, encouraged by Elijah's raspy,
reluctant moans of pleasure.
Elijah was guiltily enjoying these new sensations. It
was the first time in both encounters he'd felt
anything resembling physical pleasure. Part of him
wanted to resist the feelings he was being made to feel
by the same man who had caused him so much physical and
emotional pain. But his dick responded against his
will, and Elijah had to admit that the feeling of his
Master's hot mouth engulfing his prick was pleasurable
beyond belief. It felt similar to his own hand pumping
up and down in the barn, only hotter, wetter, and ten
times better.
Plus he got a secret thrill from looking down and
seeing his MASTER'S head bobbing up and down on his
sweaty teenage dick, no different than he'd been forced
to do as a slave just two nights earlier.
He also liked the slurping sounds of his Master's lips
going up and down his shaft, the sounds of his strained
breathing, and the occasional choking noises he'd make
when taking too much dick in his mouth. Elijah was
tempted to place his hands on the back of his Master's
head, just as his Master had done to him, but he knew
it was too risky. He didn't want to do anything that
might interrupt the intense and mounting pleasure in
his loins.
James was surprised by how much he enjoyed the feel of
his slave-boy's thick dark meat pumping in and out of
his mouth. The act had a forbidden submissive quality,
to be sure, but it was also a subtle assertion of his
control and domination of the boy equally powerful to
anything he'd done two nights before. The intensity and
duration of his slave-boy's pleasure was completely at
James's mercy. Elijah's taut boyish body writhed and
trembled under his manipulations. He could take Elijah
to the brink of orgasm only to pull off and leave him
begging for more.
James also got an erotic thrill from imagining his own
mouth as a slave-girl's tight virgin pussy, sucking in
the boy's literal manhood as that pussy would under
different circumstances. He imagined Elijah in a field,
or a barn, or a slave-cabin, pumping his adolescent
cock into one of the Negro girls, making her moan in
pleasure, perhaps even impregnating her with his hot
shooting cum. But Elijah WASN'T enjoying such a
scenario the way a normal Negro boy should be. Instead
he was lying helplessly beneath a perverted older white
man sucking greedily away at his virgin cock. And THAT
was a kind of power as resonant and addicting as any
other in James's mind.
Elijah's head now rested back on the bed, eyes closed
in transcendent pleasure.
James pulled off the boy's dick to catch his breath,
drool stretching between the dick and his chin. He took
as much of Elijah's large balls in his mouth as he
could, swirling his tongue against the soft dark skin.
Adventurous by nature, James licked slightly lower, up
and down the boy's black taint, mostly smooth with
darker-colored skin in the creases of the boy's legs
and ass. Drawn by a musky, intoxicating aroma, James
inched his tongue even lower, until he was licking
dangerously close to the boy's tiny wrinkled asshole.
Elijah's eyes shot open in amazement. Surely his Master
wasn't going to lick... THERE?
James himself was confused by the behavior. He
remembered his sudden urge earlier that evening to rush
forward and spread Abel's firm golden ass-cheeks with
his tongue. Just days ago he would have found the idea
distasteful, even disgusting - licking another male's
asshole like nothing more than a dirty dog. But now the
dark pucker between the boy's two perfect mounds
attracted his tongue like a magnet. This was the most
private and intimate part of a boy's body, after all,
and he desperately wanted a taste.
James pushed Elijah's legs up and back, raising the
boy's small ass to his hungry face. There was a
distinct funky smell - not dirty, but not exactly clean
either. A combination of dirt and sweat and the
intestines hidden just beyond the tiny, tempting
entrance. He took a long, teasing lick first across one
brown ass-cheek, then the other. He swirled his tongue
tentatively around the boy's tiny clenched asshole,
then poked a couple quick times at its wrinkled
blackish-grayish-purplish center.
The first tastes seemed okay, salty like the rest of
the boy's body, only a different texture, and tangier.
Aroused by this new forced intimacy with the boy's
body, James began licking more aggressively, eventually
lapping and slurping and sucking at Elijah's asshole
like a pickaninny eating watermelon.
Elijah couldn't believe an older WHITE man would ever
want to lick a Negro boy's dirty asshole. The idea of
himself doing such a thing to another person, even a
girl like Laney, made him want to throw up. But to his
great surprise, the sensations his Master's actions
were sending through his body were intensely
pleasurable. Before two nights ago the only times he
ever paid any attention to that part of his body was
when he wiped with leaves or dried corncobs after
taking a shit in the outhouse, and he certainly never
imagined it could inspire interest from anybody else,
let alone be capable of stimulating such arousal in his
young body.
The white man's licking tickled at first, but as
James's tongue became more aggressive and persistent,
circling and probing the contracted ring of his anus,
the feeling grew more pleasurable. Elijah's breathing
grew heavier and his body squirmed involuntarily at the
new sensations. He felt his asshole growing wetter and
warmer, and he even felt the grown man's tongue begin
pushing into him, just as his larger, harder dick had
done two nights ago. Only this feeling was an ecstasy
he'd never known existed, whereas the other was a
painful nightmare.
James enjoyed tormenting his slave-boy by going back
and forth between gulping down his throbbing nine
inches and slobbering over his tight panting asshole.
When his mouth was on the boy's dick, James could taste
a sweet, sticky substance in his mouth, and knew the
boy was ready to unleash a torrent of sperm any second.
But just when the boy's dick would begin twitching in
anticipation of orgasm, James would pull his mouth off
and devote attention to licking his ass.
He could hear the frustration in Elijah's quiet sighs,
moans and gasps, and got a devilish thrill from knowing
the boy was too scared and powerless to protest.
James's own dick was jutting straight out and dripping
with precum, energized by this game of simultaneously
worshipping and torturing his beautiful slave boy.
James's complete control in that moment reminded him
that he OWNED Elijah, that the boy's own pleasure was
fun to toy with, but that it was his OWN pleasure that
mattered first and foremost.
The sight of the boy's tiny throbbing pucker, shiny and
warm with saliva, eventually became too much for him.
Without warning, James flipped Elijah over on his
stomach and stuffed a pillow beneath him, forcing his
boyish brown bubble-butt into the air.
A look of surprise and sudden anxiety replaced Elijah's
look of bliss from just seconds earlier. His heart sank
in dismay and disappointment at this sudden turn of
events, but he knew there wasn't a thing he could do
other than submit to the excruciating pain. This was
his fate, what he'd known was coming all along; the
rest had simply been a confusingly pleasant surprise.
He had no choice but to grit his teeth, bury his head
in the bed, and hope for a rapid conclusion to his
Master's angry thrusting.
James looked down with curiosity and arousal at the
reddish head of his rock-hard cock pressing up against
the clenched resistance of Elijah's still-virgin-like
asshole.
The ass pounding of two nights earlier had done nothing
to damage the boy's natural tightness. It took a brutal
push to break past its stubborn seal, assisted by the
slick wetness left over from James's own tongue and
saliva.
Elijah screamed out in pain and immediately covered his
head with a pillow. There was no crying tonight, as the
pain was now expected, familiar, and inevitable.
James was also more merciful the second time around,
taking his time. He looked down with wonder at his
cock slowly forcing its way, inch-by-inch, deeper into
Elijah's rectum.
Once he had all seven inches buried inside the boy,
James savored the hot slurping wetness of the boy's
guts. He pulled out just as slowly, his dick now
covered in the slime of saliva and the boy's insides,
watching the boy's anal ring gripping his cock as if it
would never let go.
Then he pushed all the way back in, a little harder and
faster this time, relishing the sound of Elijah's gasps
of pain.
Elijah's pain wasn't as brutal and unfathomable as last
time, but it was still searing and relentless. It sort
of felt like he was taking a huge shit over and over
again, only sometimes it burned against his insides.
Sometimes Elijah could get used to taking his Master's
dick when it was all the way in his ass, but the worst
pain came when the older white man pulled nearly or all
the way out, only to tear right back through the
entrance to his tender aching hole.
Elijah still couldn't believe it - one minute he'd been
enjoying a game of marbles with his mother and brother,
and the next minute he had a huge white dick shoved
into his shit-hole.
James's breathing grew heavier as his own body began to
rise and fall, rise and fall, eventually ramming his
dick into the boy's little body with furious speed and
intensity. Like last time, James occasionally laid his
body flat against the boy's back, the sweat of their
bodies sticking together in the heat. He forced the
boy's head to face to the side so that he could smother
it with kisses and witness every time the boy's facial
muscles tightened up in pain from another deep thrust.
No angry, hateful words this time; this encounter felt
different somehow. James was content just to witness
Elijah's complete and delightful surrendering of his
teenage body to his Master's pleasure.
In fact, no words at all were exchanged between the
Master and slave. Just James's grunts of pleasure and
Elijah's cries of pain in his raspy adolescent voice.
Finding a guilty pleasure in Elijah's pained
expressions, and sensing the boy's desire to hide his
head in shame beneath the pillow, James decided to try
a new position. His hard cock still impaling the boy's
small ass, he turned the confused Elijah around on his
back like he would a hog roasting on a skewer. This
allowed James to force Elijah's legs up and spread-
eagle into the air as he resumed slamming his dick in
and out of the boy's tense body.
Elijah's dick had softened dramatically from the sudden
pain of getting fucked, but Elijah's pleasure was now
the farthest thing from James's mind. James loved to
watch his own forehead drip sweat into Elijah's face
while he fucked furiously away. He also enjoyed looking
down at the boy's cute angelic face with its eyes
clenched shut in pain, and teeth biting down on his
juicy bottom lip.
Occasionally James leaned down to kiss Elijah and force
his tongue down his throat, much the same way that his
dick was stabbing the boy's bowels. Something about
having Elijah's skinny hairless legs spread open
beneath him intensified James's pleasure in the boy's
submissiveness. He loved this thrill of using the boy's
body in ways new and constantly changing for both of
them.
As he felt the hot juices of the past two days surging
within him, milked by the fierce grip of the boy's
asshole and wet silky texture of the boy's insides,
James felt suddenly possessed to abuse the boy in a way
his imagination had just now spontaneously directed.
He could feel the explosion of his sperm mounting...
mounting... mounting toward its escape. But at the
moment he knew its release was imminent, James jerked
his dick out of Elijah's ass with a loud slurping
noise, moved onto his knees (straddling the boy's
chest), and unleashed four hot, splattering shots of
cum on the boy's startled, resentful face. Elijah's
face clenched tightly in resistance and disgust,
waiting until James had shaken every last, creamy drop
onto the black boy's mouth, chin, and chest. It was
Elijah's first experience smelling and feeling cum that
wasn't his own, and having it dripping all down his
nose, lips, and chin made him feel disgusted and
degraded.
For James, it was a sight of beauty to behold as he
panted in post-orgasmic pleasure, catching his breath.
Returning to reality from the euphoria of his climax,
James shuffled to the side of the bed, wet a cloth
towel in the washbasin, and tenderly proceeded to clean
the sticky, smelly mess from the boy's face and chest.
He then wiped up the saliva and ass-juices from
Elijah's asshole that was still gaping open just as
James's dick had left it, as if still waiting for its
invader's return.
Without putting out the lights, James snuggled up
beside the boy, wrapping his right arm across Elijah's
heaving chest. Elijah stared awkwardly at the ceiling,
reflecting on the evening's new pleasures and
degradations. He missed the familiarity of his own bed,
and wished he was cuddling with Thad rather than this
strange, sweaty white man. He wondered how much longer
Master James would demand his company that night.
"You're going to be my favorite slave if you keep this
up," James teased the unhappy boy beside him. Elijah
smiled weakly in response.
Remembering his new arrangement with Abel, James
explained, "For the next week, you're going to be my
own personal slave, do you understand, Elijah? We're
going to do this again and again, as often as I'd like.
And since I don't know how often that's going to be,
I'll need you here every day and night, to keep me
company and be available when I'm ready."
Elijah looked at his Master with surprise and
disappointment written all over his face. He couldn't
imagine a life without seeing his mother and little
brother.
"Don't worry," James assured him. "You can go home at
three o'clock every afternoon, as long as you're back
here by nine. I'll give you one of my old watches so
you can use it to tell the time. That should give you
six hours every day to see your mother and brother,
play with the other slave children, and anything else
you'd like. Do you understand this arrangement,
Elijah?"
"Yes, Massuh James," Elijah replied wearily.
Elijah wondered if he truly understood. Master James
had only mentioned a week, but what about after that?
Would this be the form his life as a slave would take
from this point on - a lonely, unhappy boy giving up
his ass to his Master's dick whenever it was demanded
of him? Could he ever get used to the horrible pain, or
the weird, shameful way it made him feel inside? Would
he ever be a NORMAL boy again?
Elijah tried to look into the future, but it offered
him no comfort or answers.
And his heart sank with disappointment as he realized
the older white man next to him was already snoring in
his ear.
***
Any and all feedback is welcome and desired! I would
love to hear advice on how my writing might improve,
suggestions for future characters or storylines,
stories and fantasies of your own, and anything else
you might want to share. E-mail me at
WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com.
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 46