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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 - 4
by WannabeWhitman (wannabewhitman@yahoo.com)
***
(Mm, nc, intr, dom)
DISCLAIMER: This story is a sexual fantasy involving
slavery in the antebellum South, non-consensual sex
with minors, and the occasional use of racial epithets.
The material is mostly of a homosexual nature, but does
and will continue to involve some bisexual themes. If
you think any of this might offend you, DO NOT READ. I
realize these stories might contain material
distasteful and offensive to some readers, but nobody
is forcing you to read it. Keep in mind these are only
FANTASIES based on America's racial history and my own
conflicted imagination about that history. 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,
characters or scenes you particularly enjoy,
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 3: The Bribe
Elijah was dreaming of escape.
He was out of breath, running for his very life through
a dark forest in the middle of the night. His mother
and little brother were with him, and together they
were using the stars and full moon to guide them North.
He could hear the blood-curdling howls of the hounds in
fast pursuit of the three runaways. But his fear didn't
matter, because at that moment he was FREE. Free from
his Master's clammy groping hands. Free from the sweaty
grunts and searing pain every time his Master mounted
him from behind. Free from the helpless feeling of
knowing his teenage body was not his own, but rather
subject to his Master's every whim and perversion.
He was running, running, running from the yelping of
the hounds, but large tree branches kept getting in his
way. One thick branch in particular hung menacingly in
his way, hitting him in the face and blocking his path
as he tried to duck beneath it. He cried out for his
mother and Thad, but they were nowhere to be found. He
felt like the tree branch was suffocating him........
Elijah jerked awake from his dream with terror in his
eyes.
He was still in Master James's bed. The full moon
pouring through the bedroom windows and the sound of
coyotes howling in the distance told him it was still
in the deep of night.
The tree branch of Elijah's dream was actually his
Master's rock-hard dick, poking and pushing for an
entrance into his sleepy mouth. As soon as Elijah woke
up enough to realize what was happening, he turned his
head away in disgust. He recalled that only a few hours
earlier, that same dick had been shoved inside his
shit-hole. Even though Master James had cleaned it off,
the thought of putting it in his mouth was anything but
appetizing.
Elijah felt his Master grabbing a handful of hair at
the back of his head, forcing his face to confront the
veiny monster demanding attention from his tired mouth.
Elijah knew resistance was futile. Clenching his eyes
shut in disgust, he reluctantly let his Master's cock
push past his lips and deep into his mouth.
James straddled Elijah's face, clutching a clump of
nappy hair at the back of the boy's head, thus forcing
his mouth's submission to every urgent thrust.
James was especially turned on by the spontaneity of
the act. In the past when he'd woken from sleep with
midnight cravings, all he could do was splash cold
water on his cock, or relieve himself with a quick,
frustrating jerk-off. But tonight, when dreams of
Elijah's cum-drenched face had awakened James's dick,
all he had to do was turn to the naked slave-boy
sleeping beside him for immediate satisfaction.
James was thrilled by the idea that a boy as innocent
and beautiful as Elijah had no choice but to serve his
sexual needs at any time of the night or day. He was
also beginning to realize his power to destroy the
slave-boy's innocence, slowly and methodically, orgasm
by orgasm, until all purity and resistance had been
irreversibly eradicated. He knew without a doubt that
this power lay within his reach; it was now only a
question of the extent to which he'd explore and enjoy
that power.
Part of him viewed his newfound power with shame and
fear. Why on earth would a decent, compassionate man
like he want to turn a happy, spirited young boy into
an exploited animal, a hollow shell of a human being?
But a deeper, darker part of James couldn't resist his
curiosity to witness firsthand what such a
transformation would look like, especially if HE were
the one responsible for the boy's corruption.
Even though James had reached explosive climax just
hours ago, he couldn't believe how good it felt to
plunge his dick into Elijah's half-asleep mouth. The
sight of the boy's tightly shut eyes and facial
grimaces under the moonlight only intensified his
mounting pleasure. With his left hand, James rubbed
Elijah's forehead, cheeks, and chin, savoring the
smoothness of the boy's brown skin. With his right
hand, he enjoyed the feel of Elijah's wooly, disheveled
hair clutched in his fingers.
He forced Elijah's face into his crotch, stabbing his
cock deeper and deeper into the boy's helpless mouth.
Every time his dick hit the back of Elijah's throat,
James could hear moans, gasps, and cries of protest
coming from the boy's mouth, creating a rhythmic
accompaniment to every thrust. If James happened to
slam his dick into the boy's mouth with extra violence,
these sounds would be punctuated with a rise in volume,
gagging noises, or increased sense of panic in Elijah's
gasps for air. Rather than awaken James's latent
compassion, however, these sounds only further enflamed
James's lust.
Elijah tried in vain to make his mind and spirit leave
his body until the assault was over. He tried to
imagine himself fishing with Thad and Moses, or
listening to the stories his father used to tell him
and his little brother. Rather than relieve his
anguish, however, these attempts only intensified his
pain and sense of shame. Wherever his father was,
Elijah hoped he was still alive so that he couldn't
look down and see his eldest son with the Master's cock
stuffed in his mouth, like a hog roasting on a spit at
Christmastime.
Elijah no longer felt the same fear for his life that
he'd experienced during his first oral assault two days
earlier. He knew his Master's dick could choke him, but
not to the point of actual suffocation. This time
around, Elijah knew the thrusting attack would
eventually be over.
It was still hell on earth while it lasted, though. The
Master's dick tasted salty and clammy, and shot bolts
of pain throughout his body every time it stabbed the
insides of his cheeks or the back of his throat. Since
he hadn't had anything to drink for several hours,
Elijah's lips and mouth were parched, forcing him to
strain to produce more saliva before the Master noticed
anything was wrong.
James noticed that it was taking him longer to climax
this time. Too bad for the boy, he thought to himself.
The extra time allowed James to throw back his head,
close his eyes, and relish every stroke of the boy's
hot tongue against his shaft; every suction of Elijah's
thick Negro lips as his own cock slurped in and out of
their nearly-virgin opening; every glimpse by moonlight
of the boy's angry, panicked eyes when they'd open wide
after a particularly brutal thrust.
Every few minutes, James took his dick out of Elijah's
mouth and smacked its hardness against the boy's chin,
lips, cheeks, and forehead. He liked wiping a trail of
precum from the boy's ear, down his neck, across his
Adam's apple, and up to his other ear, a mark of
degradation on the caramel-skinned slave-boy. It only
took seconds of such playfulness, however, before
James's dick would miss the wet tightness of Elijah's
mouth and dive back into its warm resting-place.
The suction of Elijah's stiff lips and awkward
wriggling of his tongue soon had another stream of hot
semen surging from deep within James's balls to the
head of his dick. Having already released a load of cum
into Elijah's ass two nights before, and having
splattered his face with hot juices just a few hours
earlier, James now felt an urgent desire to unleash his
orgasm in the slave-boy's unsuspecting mouth. He
tightened his grip on the back of Elijah's head and
thrust his cock deep into the boy's throat, holding it
there as he pumped stream after stream of steamy liquid
down the boy's esophagus.
Elijah's body fought to free itself as he felt the
sudden explosion of runny fluid in the back of his
throat, but James's strong hands held him firmly in
place. The older white man's cum had a pungent odor and
sour taste, and Elijah's throat gagged to refuse it
entrance into the boy's healthy young body. Choking and
sputtering, Elijah felt his mouth filling with the hot,
bitter fluid until it ran out the corners of his mouth,
down his chin, and into a puddle on his naked brown
chest.
"Swallow it!" James hissed in frustration.
Elijah squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to
open his throat to the slimy, disgusting liquid. Some
of it oozed into his throat and he gulped it down
hurriedly.
"Listen, boy," James warned sternly. "Don't let this
happen again. Next time you'll know what's coming, and
you'd better swallow every drop. Like this..."
James scooped up gobs of cum from Elijah's chin, neck,
and chest, then shoved them into the boy's slobbery
mouth.
"Lick my fingers clean," James ordered, enjoying the
thrill of mastery over the visibly repulsed boy.
Elijah resentfully licked the white gooey fluid off the
older white man's fingers, doing everything within his
power to avoid puking from the acrid taste. He almost
preferred having his Master's spunk shot deep into his
bowels; at least that way he wouldn't be forced to see,
smell, or taste it.
Even after Elijah had licked his fingers thoroughly
clean, James continued to probe the boy's warm mouth
with his fingers. James got a sadistic thrill from
looking down at Elijah's clenched eyes while he grabbed
the boy's tongue and rubbed his fingers along the
ridges of small white teeth. James even poked his index
finger into the back of Elijah's throat, just to hear
his raspy adolescent gagging one more time.
His body spent from its second orgasm of the evening,
James's sadism soon gave way to resumed tenderness. He
pulled the boy into a close embrace facing him. In that
position, he gently stroked Elijah's wildly matted hair
and kissed the boy's sore mouth. His tongue explored
all the places his fingers had just fondled, and he
sucked on Elijah's cute little tongue.
James sensed the tension in Elijah's body. He knew the
boy wasn't reciprocating his tenderness, but by that
point he didn't care. Elijah was his PROPERTY, after
all, and existed solely to feed his sexual appetites
and keep his loneliness at bay. He could keep him a
sexual prisoner like this for weeks, months, even YEARS
at a time.
James's kissing became slower and clumsier, until
eventually he fell asleep in mid-kiss.
Elijah waited until his Master was safely asleep, then
squirmed out of his embrace to face the opposite wall.
His esophagus still burned from the tangy taste of his
Master's juices, and his body felt dirty from the
sticky cum still caked on his face and chest. But as
miserable as he felt, Elijah was relieved to have his
ordeal over with, for another few hours at least.
Next thing he knew, Elijah was being shaken awake by a
bony white hand on his shoulder. His eyes shot open and
he tried to remember where he was.
"Wake up, my little black beauty," James said kindly,
but the words made Elijah cringe. James was wearing
pants and sitting on the edge of the bed. He was
holding a wide metal tray that carried several plates
of steaming, delicious-smelling food and a glass
pitcher filled with an orange liquid.
"Time for breakfast, Elijah," James explained, nudging
the boy awake. "Becky must think I have a monstrous
appetite this morning," he laughed, winking at Elijah.
James wanted Elijah to forget his sexual brutality
during these moments of quiet intimacy, but Elijah only
nodded with a far-away look in his eyes.
James moved to sit with his back against the bed's
headboard, the tray resting on his lap, and motioned
for Elijah to sit up beside him. The boy sleepily moved
into place beside his cheerful Master, wiping his eyes
and looking down at the food laid before him. There
were hot flaky biscuits drenched in melted butter and
strawberry jam; slices of crispy bacon; two bowls of
steaming oatmeal; and chunks of freshly cut watermelon.
Elijah's eyes opened wide in wonder at the feast in
front of him. James smiled, realizing this was probably
the first decent meal of the teenage boy's life.
"Eat all you want," James encouraged. "I can even ask
for more if you'd like. Poor Becky might think I've
lost my mind, but she'll cook up more if I ask."
Elijah stared at the food in shock. His pride urged him
to refuse his Master's kindness, but his growling
stomach insisted otherwise. Elijah's bony ribcage
wasn't just the look of awkward adolescence; it was
also a sign of severe under-nourishment. Master Walt
had never let his slaves starve, but he certainly
wasn't generous with food rations. Other than
Christmastime, Elijah's diet consisted primarily of
cornbread, gruel (basically mashed corn), fried
potatoes, boiled greens, and fish if he and his buddies
were lucky enough to catch some. With the exception of
the occasional rabbit or squirrel, meat was a rare
delicacy, and fruit was even scarcer. Even with the
food Elijah was accustomed to, portions were small and
never fully satisfied his hunger. Elijah knew that
white folks in the big house lived better than their
slaves, but he'd never imagined prosperity quite like
this. The temptation to sample such wealth was too
strong. Elijah reached forward, grabbed one of the warm
biscuits, and then greedily crammed it into his hungry
mouth.
"There you go," James said, laughing sympathetically at
the boy's raw display of hunger. He watched in
amusement as Elijah devoured his breakfast like a
madman, shoveling food into his mouth faster than his
skinny arms could reach for it.
"Easy now, Elijah," James warned, still chuckling.
"Don't make yourself sick! It's not going anywhere, so
take your time."
He reached out and took his own bite of biscuit,
watching Elijah out of the corner of his eye.
"Most slaves would kill to be in your place right now,"
James explained. He wasn't sure if it was true, but it
hit the persuasive note he was aiming for. Elijah
continued inhaling his breakfast, seemingly indifferent
to his Master's words.
"I know you're probably not fond of the........things I
make you do when we're together," James continued. "But
you'll see that being my personal slave has its
advantages. No other slaves get to sleep on such a soft
bed, for example, or wake up to such a feast. Besides,
I think I've treated you with more kindness than the
overseers probably treat your mother in the fields."
Elijah didn't look up, but resented the Master
mentioning his mother so casually. He focused on the
pleasant sensations of breakfast, and tried to ignore
his Master's annoying rambling.
James poured Elijah a glass of orange juice. The boy
stared at it curiously, then gulped it down greedily.
It was his first taste of orange juice; water was the
only liquid he'd ever drank with breakfast. He liked
its sweet, cool taste, and it helped wash from his
mouth the smell of morning breath and aftertaste of
swallowed cum.
"Refreshing, isn't it?" James asked, smiling and
stroking the boy's greasy, nappy head. "What I'm trying
to tell you, Elijah, is that if you continue trying to
make ME happy, I'll do my best to make sure that YOU'RE
happy too. I have to confess, I'm already growing quite
fond of you."
Elijah wanted to spit his food in his Master's face and
tell him the way to make him TRULY happy would be to
send him back to his mother and little brother, and
never make him do another disgusting thing with him
ever again. But he remembered the Master's threats from
two nights before, and knew his fate as a slave-boy was
to submit to suffering without challenge or complaint.
"Thank you, Massuh James," Elijah mumbled with his
mouth full of bacon. "This breakfast's real good,
Massuh. I know you'se been kind to me, Massuh James."
He remembered his mother's advice, telling his Master
everything he wanted to hear.
James got goose bumps at the sound of the teenage boy's
raspy, grateful voice. His dick also twitched at the
sight of Elijah's brown naked body, covered in crumbs
and remnants of dried cum from the previous night's
adventures.
Even the sight of Elijah EATING was arousing to James.
He enjoyed watching the eager gulps of his slave-boy's
Adam's apple, imagining the food being swallowed deep
into the boy's insides where it would be digested into
a part of the boy's beauty, sweat, energy, and shit. He
knew it was crazy, but part of him envied the food's
contact with the most intimate and unreachable parts of
the boy's breathtaking body.
Swept up in a moment of impulsive passion, James took
Elijah's cheeks in both hands, interrupting his
breakfast and pulling him close for a deep, tender
kiss. He licked the crumbs off the boy's fleshy Negro
lips, sucking tenderly at Elijah's half-open mouth
still full of half-chewed food.
Elijah rolled his eyes back to look at the ceiling,
frustrated with his Master's interruption of his
breakfast. He watched in silent protest as James moved
the breakfast tray to the floor, stood to remove his
pants, and climbed back beside him, smothering his face
with aggressive kisses.
"Damn," Elijah thought sourly. "He ain't even gonna let
me finish eatin' before he takes his way with me
again."
"You can finish your breakfast later," James assured
him breathlessly, caught up in his growing frenzy of
lust. "Now it's time for you to EARN it."
He pulled Elijah down into a horizontal position on his
back, and covered the slave-boy's scrawny naked body
with his own nude, pale, middle-aged flesh.
He grabbed Elijah's face in both hands and devoured it
with his mouth, relishing the smell and taste of sleepy
boy. He nuzzled the boy's neck and grinded his dick
against his legs while Elijah stared at the ceiling
above him in boredom and despair.
This moment of passion, begun with a flash of tender
foreplay, quickly turned into something urgent and
animalistic. James's dick was already fully hard and
poking hungrily around the warm crevices of the boy's
thighs and buttocks. He felt a greedy, overwhelming
desire to fuck the boy quickly and without mercy. He
had watched Elijah's breakfast slide eagerly down his
throat, and now he longed to feel the boy's insides
again before they became polluted from digestion.
James shoved Elijah's legs into the air and pushed the
boy's knees against his chest. Elijah's ass tensed in
anticipation of its second violation in several hours,
its third in the boy's entire young life.
James leaned across the bed and reached down to the
abandoned breakfast tray on the floor. He scooped up a
glob of melting butter from one of the dishes, returned
to his position between his slave-boy's spread legs,
and smeared it all around Elijah's dark, wrinkled
asshole. The boy's asshole tightened at first touch,
then loosened slightly, then tightened again, panting
in dread of the assault just seconds away.
James pushed one, then two of his butter-drenched
fingers into Elijah's resistant asshole, watching the
boy wince in pain as he did so. This was a new and
interesting sensation, he thought, the feel of his
FINGERS exploring the boy's forbidden insides. He loved
the panicked grip of the boy's asshole as it fought
fiercely to expel the unwanted intruders. He savored
the silky, slimy feel of the boy's rectum as his
fingers wriggled their way deeper and deeper. He smiled
as he watched the boy gasp in protest, then cover his
face with his right arm in frustration and
embarrassment.
James removed his fingers, but just before he started
to wipe them on the bed-sheets, he had a wicked impulse
to make Elijah lick them clean. The idea of the boy
being forced to taste the melted butter mixed with the
slime from his rectum was surprisingly and sadistically
exciting to James. Without warning or permission, James
shoved his gooey fingers into Elijah's horrified mouth.
"Lick them clean!" James ordered, enjoying his command
over the boy.
Elijah started to choke, but had no choice but to suck
his own slimy insides off his Master's fingers. He
longed for another drink of orange juice to rinse out
the nasty taste and musky smell of James's fingers.
James nearly climaxed right then, just watching
Elijah's expressions of surprise and disgust.
He knew it was time to fuck the boy's warm, greasy
asshole - briefly but brutally. He placed his eager
cock against the boy's tight opening, then fully
entered the boy in one forceful thrust.
Elijah screamed in protest so loudly that James worried
for a second that Mr. Potter, Becky, or Abel would come
running to see who'd been murdered. James smothered the
boy's screams with his right hand, pressing down on the
boy's face as he used his dick as a battering ram to
open Elijah's tight entryway. The warm melted butter
intensified the normal pleasures of ass-fucking, and
allowed James's dick to sink deeper into Elijah's guts
than on his first two fuckings.
With a threatening look, James removed his hand from
Elijah's mouth. Elijah substituted his screams of agony
with quick, guttural gasps of pain that accompanied
every thrust. Every gasp was paired with a clenching-
shut of the boy's eyes in misery and endurance. These
sights and sounds provided physical proof of James's
power over Elijah, inspiring him to slam his adult body
into the boy's scrawny frame with even greater
intensity.
It only took a dozen brutal thrusts into his slave-
boy's lanky brown body before James felt a weaker but
still-powerful orgasm building up within him. He leaned
down and smothered Elijah's cries by shoving his tongue
into the boy's gaping mouth, tasting sweet remnants of
biscuits and bacon mixed with the fouler taste of
butter and ass-juices. He lunged his body deeper and
deeper into Elijah, thrilled by the feeling of the
boy's sprawled legs and feet wrapped around his back.
Finally, James buried his head into the sweaty nape of
Elijah's neck and focused all his energy on the orgasm
to come. He whispered Elijah's name over and over in
his slave-boy's ear, grunting in defeated ecstasy as he
heaved his body into Elijah's one final time, emptying
what was left of his body's semen supply deep into his
slave-boy's waiting bowels.
He lay atop Elijah's body, his softening dick still
inside the boy's butter-greased ass, sweating and
panting for breath, for what felt like hours to
Elijah's restless body.
Finally Elijah worked up the nerve to ask hesitantly,
"Can I finish eatin' now, Massuh James?"
James lifted his head up to look down at his shy,
scared slave-boy. He chuckled at the boy's simple
request, uttered with such simplicity and candor. His
chuckle turned into long, convulsive laughter atop
Elijah's frail, confused body. Still laughing
uncontrollably, James rolled off the boy and onto his
back. He reached down to the floor, lifted up the tray,
and put it on Elijah's lap, laughing the entire time.
Now he was laughing at far more than Elijah's nervous
request. He was laughing at the irony and absurdity of
life. He was laughing at the fact that barely two weeks
earlier he'd been a Northern virgin prude, scared of
sex and judgmental toward slavery, and here he was,
naked and sweaty and laughing after fucking the hell
out of a scared, innocent 14-year-old Negro slave - for
the THIRD time in two days. He was laughing at how far
he'd fallen, and wondering how far he still had to
fall.
And it was in that exact moment that James Stampley
surrendered himself to his folly, wherever it might
lead him.
***
James's encounters with Elijah fell into a pleasantly
predictable routine for the next five days.
Using an old stopwatch James had given him and taught
him how to use, Elijah snuck up to his Master's bedroom
every night at nine o'clock. James was usually lonely
and horny following the absence of his favorite slave-
boy, and typically tore off Elijah's clothes before the
boy had the chance to utter a greeting.
James then enjoyed a couple hours of groping, licking,
sucking, and fucking, collapsing at the end of his
climax into a deep but temporary sleep, suffocating the
small boy in his arms.
If Elijah was lucky, James slept soundly until morning.
Most nights, however, James woke up around two or three
in the morning to push his cock into his sleeping
slave-boy's mouth, or poke its reddish head against the
boy's tiny asshole, usually still wet and squishy from
an ass-fucking just a few hours earlier.
Elijah's favorite part of the routine - in fact, the
only part of the routine from which he derived any
satisfaction whatsoever - was breakfast. The
deliciousness of Becky's cooking was only slightly less
amazing to the deprived slave-boy than the apparent
limitlessness of its supply.
Breakfast was usually followed by another sexual act.
This was then followed by another few hours of sleep as
the morning sun warmed the naked sleeping bodies of
Master and slave.
Around noon, James fetched lunch for himself and
Elijah, every bit as plentiful and tasty as breakfast.
In the afternoons, James frequently became talkative
and emotional. Depleted of all sexual drive by this
point, he usually began to feel guilty for the
preceding hours' abuses. So in those final afternoon
hours, James treated Elijah with extra kindness, asking
the boy countless questions about his life. Elijah
usually answered in reluctant mumbling at first, but
grew more eager and talkative as the afternoon wore on.
Regardless of the unpleasant circumstances, Elijah was
a normal teenage boy and loved to talk about himself,
especially to an eager adult listener.
Who was his best friend? ("Thad, I reckon, then Lil
Rooster").
What was his favorite food? ("Probably Mama's catfish,
but Miss Becky's biscuits is a close second").
What were his biggest fears? (Lightning and
Rattlesnakes).
What did he remember about his father? (his deep voice,
the exciting adventure stories he used to tell him and
Thad, the strange scar across his cheek, the prayer he
always used to say before supper, the way he snored at
night after a long day in the fields, the first time he
showed Elijah how to fish, their subsequent father-son
fishing trips every Sunday afternoon).
Sometimes as he listened to Elijah's cute ramblings,
James felt an overwhelming sense of remorse for the
pain he'd caused the young boy's body and spirit. He
longed to restore the boy's virginity. He wanted to
write up manumission papers and send Elijah, his
mother, and little brother off to safety and freedom in
the North. He felt a need to apologize for all the
ugly, brutal things he'd said or done to the boy in the
past week.
But a deeper, darker need had now taken hold of James's
mind, a need to POSSESS the boy COMPLETELY - flesh,
mind, and spirit. Elijah's precocious stories only made
this need more urgent and uncompromising.
Around 2:30 p.m. each day, James gave Elijah permission
to leave, and the boy dashed off with a hurried, "See
ya tomorrow, Massuh James." James then lay in bed for
another fifteen minutes, dizzy and delirious from the
memories of the previous night and day. He felt as if
he were stumbling through a dream; everything seemed
strangely, blissfully surreal. Sometimes he even
wondered if he wasn't falling in love with Elijah.
James always snapped himself out of these afternoon
daydreams by remembering that Abel could walk in the
room at any time after three o'clock. He stripped the
soiled bed-sheets and left them in a pile for Abel to
collect later. After this, James grabbed a clean set of
clothes and headed downstairs for a hot bath.
He stumbled his way through dinner in a daze, sometimes
snapping out of it long enough to admire the shape of
Abel's muscular teenage ass pressing against the house-
boy's silk slacks.
After dinner, he walked to the main road and back,
stretching his stiff muscles after lounging in bed for
hours. Then he suffered through another hour or two of
Mr. Potter's dirty stories and crude humor, impatient
to put out his cigar and return to his bedroom to await
the return of his special slave-boy.
Elijah's routine was very different.
After consuming large meals to which his starved body
was unaccustomed, not to mention being pumped full of
his Master's cum, Elijah's first stop was always one of
the five outhouses on the southern border of the slave
quarters. After emptying his bowels, Elijah snuck
through the woods to a private spot he'd found in the
creek where the other children never swam or fished.
There he soaked himself in the warm creek water until
the smells, sweat, and crusty cum from his Master was
completely washed off. As soon as he felt like his
body, especially his asshole, was thoroughly clean and
prepared for the coming night's ravishing, Elijah snuck
back home and crawled wearily into bed.
He no longer played with the other children, even when
Thad begged or bribed him with tales of exciting new
games or lucky fishing holes. He rarely slept, but
instead stared blankly at the cabin walls, resigned to
his depressing fate as the Master's "personal slave."
Phoebe tried to cheer him up when she'd get home from
the fields, singing one of his favorite songs or frying
up a catfish Thad had caught. Sometimes these efforts
brought a smile to Elijah's face, at other times just a
distracted, mumbled "Thanks, Mama."
Deep down he treasured these few hours with his mother
and little brother, but even in these private moments
Elijah felt haunted by Master James's presence. He
could only get caught up in a game with Thad, or one of
his mother's stories, for ten, maybe fifteen minutes
before awful visions of the perverted acts he'd been
forced to perform just hours before would plague his
restless young mind. Even in these moments of so-called
"freedom," the reality of his new life weighed him
down. He longed to be a normal, clueless boy like Thad
again, but he didn't know if or how such a return to
innocence would ever be possible.
Usually in the middle of a competitive game, Elijah
looked at the rusty stopwatch in his pocket and
realized it was close to nine o'clock. With an apology
to Thad and sad glance at his mother, Elijah hugged
them goodbye and returned to the Big House for another
night of submission to the depraved acts demanded by
Master James.
Elijah was surprised at how quickly he got used to
Master James's disgusting uses for his young body. His
shock and defiance on his first night with the new
Master now seemed like part of another lifetime. He
certainly didn't LIKE the things he was forced to do -
in fact, he still found most of them quite painful and
revolting - but he had learned how to comply, sullenly
but silently. Gross behavior like tongue-kissing,
sucking dick, or taking cock up his shit-hole -
activities he never knew EXISTED, let alone imagined
himself actually DOING, just one week ago - now seemed
like things he'd been doing all his life, things he
could do in his sleep if he had to. He knew resistance
would only cause he and his family more suffering, so
he simply closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and
endured his Master's affections as long as they lasted.
Sometimes the nightmare lasted for what seemed like
hours, until his jaw-muscles ached and his asshole felt
like it had been torn to shreds. At other times his
Master's groping was mercifully, almost laughably
short, the grunts and thrusts coming to an abrupt end
after only two or three sweaty minutes.
Elijah still cringed inside every time his Master
pulled out his red veiny dick and pushed it against his
lips, but his mouth slowly adjusted to the unnatural
feeling of having a big penis shoved into it. He
gradually learned how to relax his jaws and throat to
allow for better access and avoid gagging. He figured
out how he could use his right hand at the base of the
dick so that he wouldn't have to take as much of it
into his mouth. He got into the habit of spitting and
slobbering as much as possible, causing less friction
against his lips and mouth, and making the inevitable
later entry into his asshole less painful. He learned
how to balance long, deep suction with short, quick
bobs up and down, or licking up and down the shaft,
allowing for the chance to breathe in between the heavy
sucking. And, most difficult of all, he finally reached
the point where he could swallow all of his Master's
dick-juices without choking.
Elijah still hated the feeling of having a dick crammed
into his shit-hole, but it no longer hurt as intensely
as it had the first couple times. It still shamed and
disgusted him every time Master James mounted him from
behind. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like normal
boys didn't take dicks up the butt the way Sophy took
Jacob's dick that afternoon in the barn. He couldn't
imagine his father, or Jacob, or Lil Rooster allowing
another man's privates to be shoved up inside them.
But at least now the pain wasn't as severe, and he knew
what to expect. The first time the dick pushed past his
asshole always hurt the worst, but after a few
excruciatingly painful thrusts, the burning was
replaced by a dull, steady sensation. The only feeling
he could compare it to was taking a huge shit over and
over and over again. He was embarrassed to admit it to
himself, but a couple times he was even surprised to
feel PLEASURE from his Master's thrusting, making his
own dangling six inches twitch and harden. It usually
only lasted a few seconds before Master James shifted
positions in a way that replaced the brief pleasure
with the more familiar feeling of pain and violation.
Each time Elijah swore he must be imagining things.
After being fucked a dozen or more times, Elijah's
asshole began to loosen and accommodate his Master's
cock more quickly and easily. It retained its firm
grip, but gradually became more flexible and
cooperative. Elijah also discovered that if he pushed
real hard, as if he was taking a shit, his asshole
would receive its intruder with less pain and
difficulty.
James never dreamed a man could have so much sex on a
regular basis, and he loved every minute of it.
He became addicted to the idea of sex without the
seduction and self-consciousness that surely would have
accompanied it if he'd been pursuing another white man
or free Negro in the North. That kind of sex demanded
time and effort, but as a slave-owner he could take
pleasure from Elijah's young body at any time of the
night or day, with just a word or look. And the true
beauty of it was that he never had to consider Elijah's
feelings, or worry about the quality of his own sexual
performance. He could be as quick, clumsy, or
adventurous as he wished, and he knew his young slave-
boy couldn't say a word in judgment or protest.
Sometimes James preferred the simple and familiar,
settling for a quick-thrusting blowjob or doggy-style
fuck. At other times he became more imaginative,
exploring and degrading his Negro slave's body in new
and exciting ways.
Sometimes he'd bend Elijah over with the boy's elbows
leaning on the windowsill, and fuck him aggressively as
Elijah watched his pickaninny friends playing in the
distance.
Sometimes he was content just to fuck Elijah with his
fingers, intently watching the boy's pained facial
expressions as he shoved one, two, then three, and one
time even FOUR, fingers into the boy's stretched
asshole. He loved feeling the silky warm squishiness of
the boy's insides, and seeing the boy's resentment when
forced to lick his fingers clean afterwards.
His favorite position, however, was simple. He liked to
sit with his back against the bed's headboard and make
Elijah lie flat on his stomach between his legs and
worship his Master's cock and balls with his mouth.
This allowed James to watch Elijah's clumsy, half-
hearted blowjobs, but also have a full view of the
boy's plump upturned buttocks. Sometimes he would lean
down to smack, grab, or knead the boy's fleshy mounds
with his hands. Before long one or two fingers found
their way to the sweaty crevice of Elijah's ass-crack,
exploring its hidden treasure in anticipation of the
more brutal plundering to come.
Sometimes James was slow and tender in his lovemaking,
entering Elijah with gradual strokes as he
affectionately nibbled on the boy's ears or neck. At
other times he became rough and abusive, devoted to
causing Elijah as much pain and humiliation as
possible. In these frenzies of angry lust, James
shouted insults at Elijah such as "dumb nigger" or
"dirty pickaninny bastard" as he slammed his raging
dick into the boy's helpless asshole.
About a week after his first encounter with Elijah,
James grew frustrated with Elijah's detached attitude
toward their times together. James wasn't stupid. He
saw Elijah grimace every time James pushed his cock in
the boy's mouth. He felt Elijah's body stiffen, then
grow limp, every time he climbed on top of him. At
first this resistance had been an enormous turn-on,
visible proof of the boy's innocence. But now James was
becoming impatient and annoyed.
James was developing a strong attachment to Elijah, but
he knew deep down that his slave-boy felt nothing
positive toward him in return. He realized Elijah was
only in his arms each night thanks to an unfair and
inhumane culture that legally and socially categorized
Negroes as nothing more than livestock. James knew that
if given the choice, Elijah would gladly leave and
never see his Master again.
The fear of whippings or worse forced Elijah to
surrender to his Master's desires, but James realized
that FEAR as a motivator could only find limited
success. Fear alone could never make Elijah love him,
or come to his bed with enthusiasm. As things currently
stood, Elijah would never be more than a limp rag-doll
to soak up his cum.
One evening during his post-dinner walk, James came up
with a thrilling idea.
Perhaps it was time to explore a new aspect of his
recently discovered power as slave-master. He'd
witnessed the results of FEAR on his slave-boy's
behavior, but why not try out HOPE instead? REWARD
rather than PUNISHMENT? A devious strategy began to
form in his mind.
When Elijah came to his room that night, James ordered
him to sit on the edge of the bed. Elijah looked
startled; usually he was already half-naked and covered
in his Master's saliva by this point. James paced back
and forth, searching for the right words.
"I want to talk with you about something very serious,
Elijah," James began. "It's about your father."
Elijah looked up with surprise and concern.
"Yes, Massuh?" he asked, trying to conceal the
curiosity in his voice.
"Well, Elijah, I've been thinking," James continued,
pulling up a chair to sit across from the boy. "You've
told me a lot of stories about your father lately, and
it's clear you love and miss him very much."
Elijah nodded uncomfortably, staring at the ground.
None of his nights with Master James had begun this
way.
"I guess what I'm trying to say," James pushed ahead,
"is that I feel bad about what my Uncle Walt did to
your family, and I want to make it up to you."
Elijah looked up, his brow wrinkled in confusion.
"I... I don't understand, Massuh James."
"What I'm trying to say," James explained softly,
taking the boy's hands in his own, "is that I'm going
to do my best to get your father back."
Elijah's eyes widened in surprise. He tried to remain
calm, but his heart was already doing somersaults.
"I'se confused, Massuh James."
"I can't promise anything," James clarified. "But I'll
do everything within my power to bring your father
back. I'll write to the attorney and slave-trader who
handled your father's sale, and see if I can track down
who he was sold to. If I'm able to find out that much,
I'll offer good money to buy him back. Double his real
value, if it comes to that."
James wasn't sure how sincere his promises actually
were, but he certainly had the wealth and resources to
keep them. He could worry about that later. Right now
all that mattered was making Elijah believe him.
Elijah stared at his Master, stunned and confused. He
tried to fight back the tears welling up in his eyes.
After four years, he'd nearly given up hope of ever
seeing his father again, but now, without warning or
reason, his new Master was rekindling hope in his
heart. It was too strange and good to be true. Why
would his Master want to reunite his family? Perhaps he
was a kind man after all, in spite of the forced sex
and occasional angry words.
Elijah worked up the nerve to express his doubt.
"But.... why you wanna do that, Massuh James?"
"I told you, Elijah," James explained. "I want to fix
my Uncle's mistake. I really do care about you, Elijah.
I want to make you happy. Bringing your father back
WILL make you happy, won't it?"
Hope crept into Elijah's suspicious eyes. His mother
had always taught him never to trust anything from a
white person's mouth, but Master James sounded so kind
and sincere. Maybe there would be some happiness in his
future after all.
"Oh, yes, Massuh James!" Elijah said, betraying his
optimism. "That makes me real happy."
"I'm glad to hear that, Elijah," James said. "I'll do
everything I possibly can to find him and bring him
back.... but I'm going to need you to do your part."
Elijah furrowed his brow.
"My part, Massuh?" He didn't see what he could possibly
do to aid the search for his father.
"Yes, YOUR part," James explained. "From now on, I want
you to show me some ENTHUSIASM in our.... times
together."
Elijah's heart sank, and his face fell to the floor. He
knew it was too good to be true. He should have known a
white man wouldn't do nothing good for a Negro without
wanting something in return.
"Inthoos.... enthooshiazm, Massuh James?" Elijah
asked, struggling to pronounce the Master's big word.
"In other words," James continued, "I want you to
PRETEND that you like what we do together, even if you
don't. If you want me to do everything within MY power
to make YOU happy, I expect YOU to do everything within
YOUR power to make ME happy, do you understand? That's
only fair, isn't it?"
James blushed at his shameless emotional manipulation
of the helpless boy, but his dick twitched at the
thought that his plan might actually work.
Elijah wanted to cry. It was already all he could do to
suck his Master's dick without gagging, or take his
Master's dick up his ass without crying. He didn't
think he had it in him to pretend that he actually
LIKED it.
Maybe his Master's promise was a trick, but what if it
wasn't? What if his father's safe and joyful return
really WAS up to him? Wouldn't it be foolish not to at
least TRY? He already let Master James use his body
three, four, sometimes five times a day - how much
harder could it be to smile and moan in fake pleasure
while he was doing it?
"I... I reckon that's fair, Massuh James," Elijah
mumbled.
James smiled, relieved his plan was working.
"Listen carefully, Elijah," James replied sternly. "I
want you to act like you LOVE everything I make you do.
No arguments and no frowns, you hear? If you fail to
put on a convincing show, you can kiss goodbye all
hopes of ever seeing your father again."
"Yes, Massuh James, I'll try my best," Elijah said,
trying to muster up some eagerness in his voice.
"Well, then, get started, boy," James commanded, eager
to see the results of his new experiment. "Take off my
clothes and show me how a good little nigger-boy sucks
dick."
James tried not to laugh when Elijah first began
fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. The boy seemed
more scared and hasty than eager and willing, but James
found himself amused with the boy's first attempts. It
was clear Elijah had the right idea.
As Elijah clumsily tried to take off his shirt, James
pushed the boy away, stood up, and pulled off all of
his own clothes. I can at least spare him the ordeal of
undressing me, James thought with a chuckle.
Now completely naked, James lay down on his back, on
the bed. Elijah jumped up and quickly stripped out of
his own clothes, then climbed on top of his naked
Master.
James was thrilled when Elijah pressed his thick Negro
lips against his own and awkwardly tried parting them
with his tongue. James had always initiated the
kissing, and Elijah had always done little more than
open his mouth and stiffly receive his Master's tongue.
But now he was licking at his Master's mouth like a
kitten lapping up milk. There was still a stiffness to
his actions, to be sure, but it was obvious the boy was
making an effort.
Elijah tried his best to imitate the way Master James
usually treated him in these situations. He covered
James's lips with his own, slurping at them awkwardly.
He swirled his tongue clumsily around the inside of the
man's mouth. He did his best to act as if he liked it,
even humming in pleasure as he'd heard Master James do
so many times while engaged in the same activity.
Elijah moved his lips to his Master's neck, kissing and
licking his way stiffly down James's body until his
mouth was against the man's red, throbbing cock. Taking
a deep breath, Elijah swallowed it in one huge gulp,
choking from the over-eagerness of his first attempt.
Elijah refused to give up, diving back down on his
Master's dick with another full gulp. Taking the base
in his right hand and spitting a wet gob of saliva on
the tip of the dick, Elijah rapidly sucked up and down,
up and down, quickly getting his Master's dick slick
and hot with his spit and warm breath.
Elijah's sucking had never been so intense. There was
no need for James to grab the back of the boy's head or
hump his face, for this time Elijah was doing an
extraordinary job on his own. The boy even moaned as he
eagerly sucked up and down. James knew Elijah was
performing, acting purely out of self-interest, but
that was part of the erotic thrill. For James, the
excitement lay in his power to make Elijah perform
degrading acts and pretend like he enjoyed them.
James felt a sadistic compulsion to test the limits of
Elijah's cooperation.
Placing his hands beneath his own head and grinning
broadly, James taunted, "You like sucking your Master's
white cock, nigger?"
Elijah winced, but hoped James hadn't noticed. He was
already doing his best. Why couldn't his Master just
leave him alone? But Elijah was desperate to earn his
father's return, and a powerful incentive such as the
one James placed before Elijah could compel one to do
almost anything - especially a poor teenage slave boy
with so few hopes for the future.
Elijah pulled his mouth off his Master's dick, a stream
of saliva running down his chin. He looked up and gave
James the widest, most convincing smile he could
muster.
"Oh, yes, Massuh, your thing taste real good, Massuh.
Better than Becky's biscuits."
James laughed at the boy's corny creativity. "So your
pickaninny mouth likes white dick, huh, boy?!? Better
than fried chicken? Better than WATERMELON?!?"
Elijah cringed but played along. "Oh, yessuh, Massuh
James, I sho likes the taste of your dick. More than
anything, Massuh, more than watermelon!"
He resumed his animated sucking as if to prove his
point. When he felt like he could hardly breathe, he'd
take long licks up and down the shaft of James's dick,
moaning in pleasure like he was tasting Christmas
candy.
"Lick my balls!" James commanded, enjoying the boy's
enthusiastic servility more than any of the preceding
week's pleasures.
Elijah obeyed, burying his nose against James's large
balls reeking of sweat and semen. He closed his eyes in
disgust, but pretended like he was enjoying a delicious
meal.
James closed his eyes in ecstasy at the feel of
Elijah's nervous warm breath on his balls.
"That's right, nigger," James barked, putting on a
performance of his own. "This will teach you your
proper place in the world. Nigger lips and nigger
tongue were made for the white man's balls. What are
you, boy?!?"
Elijah was confused by the question.
"A slave, Massuh?" Elijah answered, hoping it was the
expected reply.
"I want to hear you tell me what you ARE!" James
demanded.
"I'se a... I'se just a nigger, I 'spose, Massuh,"
Elijah replied sullenly, still lapping at his Master's
balls.
"You're damn right you're a nigger, but what KIND of
nigger?!?" James taunted. He realized with more
amusement than guilt how much he was beginning to sound
like Mr. Potter.
Elijah wanted to cry, but kept a silly grin on his
face.
"I'se just a dumb, dirty nigger," he confessed.
"A dumb, dirty nigger who likes to lick white men's
balls!" James added.
"You'se right, Massuh James," Elijah agreed.
"Say it!" James ordered.
"I'se a dumb, dirty nigger who likes to lick white
men's balls, cuz they sho do taste good, Massuh James,"
Elijah declared, sucking his Master's balls into his
mouth.
Caught up in his sadistic frenzy, James decided to
present Elijah with the ultimate test of his feigned
enthusiasm.
"Lick my asshole!" James barked.
Elijah clenched his eyes shut in disbelief and disgust.
He remembered how good it felt when James had done that
to him several days earlier, but the idea of actually
licking another person's shit-hole was repulsive. It
was the place where farts and shit came out. He thought
of the foul odors of the slave quarter outhouses.
Not this, he thought to himself. Anything but this.
"Please, Massuh," Elijah begged. "I'se doin' my best to
make you happy, but please don't make me do that! I'll
do anything you wants me to, anything but that."
James was annoyed at having the illusion of enthusiasm
disrupted.
"Do you want to see your father again or not?!?" he
growled. "You heard what I said - lick my ass, nigger!"
Elijah knew he had no choice but to cooperate. Wanting
to get it over with as soon as possible, he moved his
tongue lower until it nervously poked at the older
white man's pink wrinkled asshole. Elijah was surprised
that it was pink instead of brown. He was also
surprised to find that his Master's ass smelled no
worse than a mixture of sweat and soap. Still, it was a
gross thing to do, and he tried his hardest to put from
his mind what it was he was actually doing - kneeling
between his Master's legs and licking the older white
man's asshole like it was the most natural thing in the
world!
"Come on, nigger, you can do better than that," James
insisted. "Eat my ass like it's corn-on-the-cob, boy!"
Elijah tried to ratchet up his energy level. He lapped
at his Master's asshole with deep, long strokes of his
tongue, followed by quick, awkward pokes at the center
of his Master's pucker. After more of James's scolding,
he began biting and slurping on it as his Master had
done a few days before. He spit on the winking asshole
and spread the saliva around with his tongue. He even
tried to push his small red tongue deeper into his
Master's ass - something he never in a million years
thought he could ever be made to do!
The sight, sounds, and sensations of Elijah eagerly
slurping on a grown man's asshole for the very first
time was too much for James's aroused body. With barely
a warning, his dick shot streams of white cum into the
air, splattering down onto Elijah's hair, eyes, nose,
lips, and chin.
Realizing what was happening, Elijah dutifully moved to
drink the final few spurts of semen from his Master's
dick. With no coaxing from James, he also began licking
the cum from around his lips, even scooping some up off
his forehead and feeding it to himself.
"Taste good, nigger?" James asked, laughing at the
boy's cum-drenched face.
"Sho do, Massuh James. Your stuff taste better than
mine, Massuh," Elijah lied.
"Come here, boy. Lay on top of me," James instructed.
Elijah sprawled his naked brown body across his Master,
the sweat of their stomachs sticking together.
"You did a real good job, Elijah," James said in a
kinder tone of voice, stroking the back of Elijah's
tangled nappy hair. "Keep it up and you'll be seeing
your father in no time."
***
The charade continued for three more days.
Elijah devoured his Master's dick like a rabid dog. He
smiled and nodded and verbally agreed with the most
offensive insults. He begged his Master to fuck his
tight nigger ass, and moaned in exaggerated pleasure no
matter how much his rectum was burning in pain. At
night he lay awake imagining what the reunion with his
father would be like, and in those moments all the
day's degradations seemed worth it.
Despite his best efforts, Elijah's performance as the
eager, willing slave boy wasn't flawless. He was a
sensitive teenage boy, after all, and even the most
jaded adults have trouble concealing their true
feelings every waking moment. James occasionally caught
flashes of defiance in Elijah's eyes, or winces of pain
or disgust.
The novelty of his latest experiment began to wear off,
and James realized there was no power or threat within
the slave-master's reach that could compel a slave to
reciprocate feelings of lust or love. A slave could be
raped, whipped, degraded, manipulated, sold, and even
killed, but could never be forced to love.
Rather than help him see the futility of his behavior,
Elijah's rejection only made James feel powerless, then
angry and resentful as a result of that powerlessness.
One morning James awoke from his sleep to the sound of
sniffling. He opened his eyes to see Elijah resting in
a fetal position on the far side of the bed, facing the
bedroom windows that overlooked the slave quarters. It
was obvious the boy had been crying.
"What's wrong, boy?" James asked coldly. The tears
might have inspired sympathy just a few days earlier,
but now they merely provoked annoyance.
"Nothin', Massuh," Elijah said quietly. "Just a bad
dream, I reckon."
James knew the boy was lying and wanted to hear the
truth, regardless of how it might hurt his fragile ego.
"Go ahead, Elijah, you can tell me what's the matter,"
he said in as kind a voice as he could muster.
Elijah hesitated.
"I 'spose I just miss my little brother," he mumbled.
"This the best time to fish, so I reckon that's what
put my mind to it."
James felt a pang of jealousy, then anger. Suddenly he
was struck with a tempting idea. Turning it over in his
mind, temptation quickly evolved into full-fledged
obsession.
"If you miss your little brother so much," James said
hurriedly, before his conscience could scare him away
from the idea that had taken shape in his mind, "then I
think it's about time I invite him to join in on our
fun."
Elijah felt dread stabbing at his stomach. He cringed
to think that his own careless words had planted such
an idea in James's mind.
Elijah tried to sound calm and collected: "Oh, no,
Massuh, he probably busy with the other boys anyway.
I'll be okay, Massuh James, don't worry about me. I'se
ungrateful to say such a thing, Massuh."
But James was already past the point of no return: "No,
I think I've made up my mind, Elijah. You've told me so
much about your little brother, it's only fair I meet
him, right? Besides, I'm sure he'd love to see what HE
could do to bring his father back again, wouldn't he?"
Elijah shuddered at the creepy sound of his Master's
voice. How could he have been so naïve as to think his
little brother was safe from the Master's weird
cravings? Was he so cocky that he thought the Master
would never desire other slave boys, including Thad?
But Thad was only ten years old! Surely the Master
wouldn't force a CHILD to do such nasty things?
Elijah turned over and faced Master James, staring
directly in the man's eyes for what felt like the very
first time.
"Please, Massuh James," Elijah pleaded, a stray tear
running down his face. "Don't do nothin' to Thad! He my
only brother, Massuh, and he just a little boy. I been
the man since Daddy got sold away, but Thad.... Thad
ain't never had to be a man, he only ten, he ain't
ready for the stuff a man like me can do. I'll do
ANYTHING you want, Massuh James, ANYTHING.... just
please don't do nothin' to my little brother!"
"Oh, I have no plans to HURT him," James replied with a
devilish grin. "I just want to meet him, see if he's as
handsome as you. Show him what the two of us been up to
for the past week. You don't want to keep secrets from
your baby brother, now do you?"
James was enjoying this sadistic high. If Elijah
wouldn't love him willingly, James would possess the
boy in the only other way possible - through shame and
forced obedience. James knew that even if he didn't lay
a hand on Thad, having his little brother as a witness
to his rape would humiliate Elijah for life.
Elijah was sobbing now. It was the first time James had
seen him break down and cry since their first encounter
over a week ago.
"Why are you doing this?" Elijah kept sobbing over and
over. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Don't be so melodramatic," James shrugged. "What I'm
doing to you is far kinder than anything you'd feel
under the overseers' whips in the fields."
James was actually beginning to believe his own
justifications for the ways he was hurting Elijah.
"Besides," he continued. "I'm going to reunite you with
your father, remember?!?"
Elijah sniffled, remembering the only glimmer of hope
in his bleak adolescent life.
Was the potential reunion with his father worth the
steep price of introducing his little brother to the
Master's brutality? Could he trust Master James's word?
His father could be dead, and Master James might
already know it. But was that a gamble he was willing
to make? Even if it was only a faint possibility, was
it a chance he could turn his back on?
Besides, Elijah reasoned with himself, if Master James
truly wants Thad, he'll take him with or without his
cooperation. And if his little brother's corruption was
inescapable, wouldn't it be better for him to be
present? Wouldn't Thad need his stronger older brother
to coach and comfort him through the nightmare?
"It's your choice," James stated matter-of-factly.
"Bring your brother to my room in one hour, or you'll
never see your father again."
Elijah wiped his tears with the back of his hand. He
knew he had no choice but to obey his Master's orders.
"Yes, Massuh James," Elijah said softly. "I'll... I
mean we'll be here in one hour."
Without another word, Elijah climbed out of bed, threw
on his clothes, looked at the rusty stopwatch in his
pocket, and ran from the Big House toward the slave
quarters.
****
Any and all feedback is welcome and desired! I would
love to hear advice on how my writing might improve,
characters or scenes you particularly enjoy,
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.