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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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WARNING!
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The Adventures of Stampley Plantation - 7
by WannabeWhitman (wannabewhitman@yahoo.com)
***
Part 7 (MM, nc, rp, intr)
NOTE TO READERS: This is an ongoing series involving
slavery in the antebellum South, non-consensual sex
(sometimes with minors), and the use of racial
epithets. The material is mostly of a homosexual
nature, but includes some bisexual themes. If you think
any of this might offend you, DO NOT READ. I realize
some material may be distasteful and offensive to some
readers, but nobody is forcing you to read it.
The series covers a wide range of sexual expression,
however, so just because you dislike one chapter
doesn't mean you won't enjoy others. 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 6: Roadblock to Redemption
James woke up the next morning with an ache in his
heart. The feeling had been there when he'd gone to
bed, persisted through a restless night's sleep, and
now threatened to stalk him for the rest of the day.
He looked sleepily out his bedroom windows and saw the
sun beginning to rise in the distance. Today was the
day of his journey to Columbus, where he planned to
investigate the sale of Elijah and Thad's father and
determine what options there were, if any, to buy him
back.
Yesterday, he'd been so distraught by the dream of his
deceased mother, and so devoted to the idea of
redeeming his despicable behavior, that he'd insisted
on arranging the trip for the next day. This morning,
lonely and half-asleep, he dreaded the length of the
journey, and the stress of finding his way around a
strange city. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back
under his covers and escape the chill of the morning
air.
James rose wearily from his bed, walked to the chamber
pot in the corner of the room, and let out a hot,
light-yellow stream of morning piss. After shaking the
last drops from his relieved dick, he wet a cloth in
the washbasin beside his bed and proceeded to wash his
face, neck, underarms, and crotch. The distractions of
this morning routine did nothing to relieve the ache
pounding in James's chest.
For one thing, he missed Elijah more than he wanted to
admit. There is no lonelier feeling in the world than
climbing into a large, empty bed where one has shared
pleasure and joy with another human being for the
previous ten nights. Of course he would have loved to
enjoy the warm grip of Elijah's ass, or release a load
or two of cum into the boy's stiffly sucking mouth, but
James's sense of emptiness at the boy's absence was
about much more than that.
He missed hearing the boy's cute snoring in the middle
of the night, or the way he'd sometimes mumble
incomprehensible sentences in his sleep. He missed the
musky smell of the boy's sweat and ass that hung in the
midnight air after an hour of intense fucking. He
missed the eager, messy way Elijah devoured his
breakfast every morning, just as wide-eyed with
disbelief and excitement on the tenth morning as he'd
been on the first.
James also felt a sense of dread and desperation when
he'd consider that it had been almost an entire day
since he'd seen the boy. What if Elijah had fallen ill,
run away, or - James nearly fainted as he thought of it
- taken his own life? What if he'd gotten into a fight
with one of the other slave-boys, bruising or
permanently scarring his beautiful face? What if one of
the older bucks, hearing rumors of Elijah's new duties
in the Master's mansion, had decided to have his OWN
fun with the boy's youthful body? Or even worse, what
if one of the overseers, oblivious to James's
affections for Elijah, had used the boy for a drunken
midnight fuck?
When James thought of these possibilities, his entire
body grew hot and weak with an insane, overwhelming
jealousy. He found himself wanting to throw shoes or
dishes or lamps against the walls, smashing them in a
fury of irrational panic and possessiveness.
James was also having misgivings about his plans to
find Elijah's father. They were the misgivings of a man
still dedicated to the "straight and narrow," but
disheartened by the self-denial he knew his moral
decision demanded.
On the one hand, reuniting Elijah with his father would
make James a popular Master and instill a sense of
obligation in Elijah to repay the favor. But on the
other hand, bringing the father back to Stampley
Plantation would disrupt the dynamic James had been
enjoying for the past three weeks. It wasn't as if
thoughts of Elijah's helpless, grieving mother never
troubled James's conscience. But for some strange
reason, the absence of the boy's father made him all
the more erotically exciting for James.
James liked being the only man in Elijah's life, a
fatherly figure with extra benefits. The idea of
stealing Elijah away from a mother AND father troubled
James in a way that dragging him from a broken home
didn't. Not to mention that a grown slave man could
create a lot more trouble if he took it in his mind to
protect his son, drawing unwanted and embarrassing
attention to James's new habits.
James slowly dressed in the crisp, clean clothes Abel
had laid out for him the night before: a white collared
shirt, vest, frock coat, stovepipe hat, and cotton
slacks. James grabbed a small leather satchel from his
closet and filled it with some money, enough clothes
for the next two days, the novel he'd been reading
before meeting Elijah, and a signed pass for the
stable-boy, so that he could run errands or enjoy some
leisure time without being harassed while James was
conducting business elsewhere.
After pausing to make sure he hadn't forgotten
anything, James walked down the marble staircase and
out the front door. Jacob the stable-boy stood
dutifully beside the hitched wagon he'd pulled up in
front of the plantation-house.
"'Mornin, Massuh James," Jacob greeted him, moving
immediately to take the luggage from his hands.
"Good morning, Jacob," James replied, feeling a sudden
pang of excitement and nervousness. He hadn't had any
interaction with the stable-boy since the day of Mr.
Potter's tour, and the striking, even intimidating
effect that the young man's good looks had on him came
flooding back to his memory. Even with the puffy eyes
and chapped skin of early morning, Jacob looked like a
beautiful African prince.
Perhaps the day's journey won't be so dull after all,
James thought with growing enthusiasm. The stable-boy
would definitely make for some pleasant eye-candy to
get his mind off Elijah.
Jacob carried James's satchel and placed it in the back
of the wagon.
"Do you think it's going to be a hot day?" James asked,
his voice breaking like a teenage boy's. He wanted to
establish some kind of rapport with the slave, but felt
like a blubbering idiot the instant the words were out
of his mouth. How absurd, James thought to himself. A
Negro slave no older than 19 turning a grown white man
nearly twice his age into a stuttering schoolgirl!
"Do the rooster crow in the mornin', Massuh James?"
Jacob smiled, instinctively slipping into "happy darky"
mode in spite of himself. He knew most white folks
loved clever little comebacks like that.
"Right you are, right you are," James replied,
laughing. His body, tense since coming into Jacob's
presence, relaxed a little in relief at what felt like
a step toward casual camaraderie. "I guess the only
thing to cool this summer heat would be some rain, but
I suppose we don't want that either if we want to make
it to Columbus today."
"You 'sho right about that, Massuh James," Jacob nodded
with a strained smile on his face. Goddamn white folks
and their fake-ass attempts at small-talk with niggers,
Jacob thought with contempt. He noticed James's
resemblance to Master Walt and wanted to spit in his
face.
"How long you figure the trip will take us?" James
asked, walking toward the wagon.
"I reckon we'll get there somewhere abouts sundown,"
Jacob answered, holding out his ebony-colored hand to
help James into the rear wagon seat. "I done took
Massuh Walt on this trip plenty of times, so don't
worry, you in good hands, Massuh James. I knows all the
short cuts."
"Now that's music to my ears," James said, grinning and
using the support of Jacob's strong arm to hoist
himself up to his seat on the wagon.
Corny-ass motherfucker, Jacob thought to himself,
smiling and nodding.
Just as Jacob began checking on the security of the
bridles and reins, both men heard high-pitched shouts
coming toward them from within the house.
"Master James! Master James!" It was Becky, hollering
and waving her right arm for them not to leave. "Don't
you boys forget your lunch now," she scolded, shuffling
onto the front porch and handing Jacob a basket with a
blue cloth covering the top.
James thought he detected a vibe of awkwardness between
the two. Probably Jacob's dark skin, James guessed. He
knew a lot of stuck up mulattos in the North, and
figured there were plenty in the South as well.
"There's enough fried chicken and biscuits for the both
of you," Becky beamed, looking past Jacob to where
James was sitting in the wagon. "There's a jug of cider
too. I hope they feed you well where you're going, but
in case they don't, I'll be sure to have a real good
meal waiting for you when you get back!"
"Thank you, Becky! You sure do know how to treat a man
like a king!" James said, smiling. "I swear you're the
best cook in Georgia, Becky. My Uncle sure was lucky to
have you around for so long!"
Jacob smirked at Becky, knowing his back was to James.
Becky blushed, for more reasons than James knew.
"You two be safe now, you hear?" she said, changing the
subject and shooing Jacob away.
"Don't worry about us, Becky," James assured her. "I
know I'm leaving my place in good hands with you and
Abel. See you in a couple days!"
Jacob carried the lunch-basket to the back of the wagon
and secured it with some leather straps. Then he walked
to the front of the wagon and hopped onto the flat
board making up the front seat about four feet in front
of James. Taking the reins in his hands and nodding
with another smirk toward Becky, Jacob gave a sharp
flick of his wrists and the wagon took off down the
dusty path leading to the main road.
It took James at least an hour to grow accustomed to
the noisy jerking and bouncing of the wagon. In Boston
and on the journey to Stampley Plantation, James had
always ridden by stagecoach, which while bumpy and
occasionally dusty, was a much quieter and smoother
ride. The sounds of the horses' hooves against the
dusty road, combined with those of the turning wheels
and rocking body of the wagon, made the ride so noisy
that he couldn't talk to Jacob without shouting.
After a couple awkward and futile attempts at starting
a conversation over the racket, James finally gave up
and settled back for a silent ride. James was partly
relieved to be spared the pressure and embarrassment of
interacting with the young slave.
The freedom from conversation also gave James the
opportunity to drool over Jacob's lithe adolescent body
without interruption or distraction. Just as he had
when Jacob had driven he and Mr. Potter around Stampley
Plantation's 3,154 acres that second day, James savored
every visual detail of the teenage boy's good looks.
Only this time he didn't have to break his ogling down
into quick, fleeting glances while pretending to listen
to Mr. Potter's boring stories. He could stare as long
and intently as he liked, knowing Jacob's eyes were
focused on the road.
He started with the stable-boy's thick, wooly hair,
tangled and sprouting a good three inches in all
directions. It looked dirty and had flecks of straw and
leaves in it.
Then James took in the young man's smooth neck, sturdy
and colored deep ebony. A thin sheen of sweat glistened
on top of the rich dark skin. James's eyes moved slowly
to Jacob's slender back, its shoulder-blades pressed
out against a beige, scratchy-looking shirt. He loved
to watch Jacob's back muscles tense and ripple when the
boy would shift in his seat or lean forward, elbows on
his knees.
He could see patches of sweat soaking through Jacob's
shirt under his arms and across his back. James
wondered how the Negro's sweat would smell and taste.
But of course the part of Jacob's body that earned the
bulk of James's attention were the muscled half-globes
resting on the wooden seat, pressed tightly against the
young man's muddy cotton pants as if trying to escape.
James shook his head in lustful amazement at the
consistent beauty of Negro male buttocks. Every ass on
a Negro male he'd seen so far curved firmly up and out
from the small of the back in perfect upturned semi-
circles. So different from the flat or flabby asses on
most white men!
It's just not fair, James thought with amusement. You'd
think God could have stopped after endowing the Negro
with a phallus longer, thicker, and more powerful than
the average white man's. That was certainly generous
enough. But no, he also saw fit to bless the Negro male
with a temptingly upturned, perfectly rounded backside
that made anyone looking at it, man or woman, want to
reach out and grasp its firm, fleshy mounds. "Cursed
race" my ass, James chuckled to himself.
A thin line of sweat outlined Jacob's ass-crack through
his dirty pants. James's dick jerked to life when he
stared too long at it. He got goosebumps when he
imagined how exciting it would be to clutch the ripe
upturned melons in both hands, slowly spreading them
apart to see, smell, and taste the mystery hidden deep
in their crease.
It turned James on even more when he thought of the
youth's strength and masculinity. James wasn't naïve;
he knew Jacob probably wasn't a virgin to the realm of
all things sexual, as Elijah had been. In fact, James
would be surprised if the young man hadn't made at
least a dozen Negro girls VERY happy over the past few
years. Picturing the young buck pumping his manhood
deep between a pretty Negro girl's thighs only
increased his desirability in James's eyes.
But James was aroused to think that Jacob was most
likely a stranger to the experience of sex between men.
Perhaps not as ignorant to the concept as Elijah had
been, but almost certainly just as inexperienced.
James recalled the thrill he'd gotten when Mr. Potter
informed him one night that as far as he knew, neither
James's uncle or any of his overseers had ever had a
liking for boys or men. "Unless they was bought from
someplace else," Mr. Potter assured him mischievously,
"all the Stampley boys got assholes just as pure and
tight as the day they popped out their Mama's bellies."
Mr. Potter had gone on to tease him about how lucky a
bugger like James was, as he frequently had to pay high
prices to replenish the supply of virgins for he, his
two sons, and his overseers.
This meant that the idea of sucking a man's prick or
taking another man's dick up his ass was probably as
foreign and repulsive to Jacob as eating horse manure
or fucking a pig. He probably had a gal of his own,
maybe even a wife. Hell, he might even have kids for
all James knew. The possibility only increased Jacob's
masculine, virgin appeal.
What began as casual ogling, intended to pass the time,
slowly grew into a maddening lust. James's admiration
for the boy's lanky build and tight adolescent muscles
soon turned into an intense, demanding curiosity to
see, smell, taste, and touch all the hidden and most
intimate parts of his stable-boy's body.
If James had been in a similar situation a month ago in
Boston, lusting after a young Negro driving one of the
city's coaches, he would have had no choice but to
suffer his strangling, impotent lust from afar, then
rush home for relief from the frustrating substitute of
his hand.
But everything is different here, James reminded
himself. Jacob was a piece of James's PROPERTY, no more
or less so than the wagon beneath him, the clothes on
his back, or the money in his leather satchel. James
knew he could stop the wagon, rip off the young man's
clothes, and take the stable-boy's body right then and
there in the back of the wagon or ditch by the side of
the road. And in the unlikely case that his white
Southern peers discovered the rape, James knew he would
almost certainly have their tacit, if not explicit,
approval.
Hell, a man like Mr. Potter would hoot and holler and
congratulate him on in his depravity. Even the
sodomitic nature of the behavior would probably escape
condemnation, for the simple fact that he'd be fucking
a beast, a piece of chattel, rather than an actual man
considered his equal. Knowledge of his immunity from
judgment or punishment spurred James on in his lustful
thoughts.
Another part of the temptation for James was Jacob's
age. Jacob was a young MAN, fully in the prime of his
physical and sexual development. James had taken great
pleasure in robbing Elijah of his innocence; there was
no doubt about that. But with the exception of his
enormous dick, Elijah was still physically and mentally
a boy. Any sense of his manhood was only vaguely
formed, tentative and hypothetical.
Jacob, on the other hand, was a virile young MAN. He
was probably cocky when hanging out with his buddies or
trying to impress the Negro girls. He probably bragged
about his dick, and most likely knew how to use it
well. In just one day's time, he probably produced
enough spunk to fill a bucket.
He had curly dark facial hair down his cheeks and above
his lips. He had a lithe muscled build that probably
made him a frequent victor in boxing or wrestling
matches with his Negro pals. He was probably aware, at
least vaguely, of the interest some men might take in
his dick or asshole, but proudly reserved the first for
pussy and the second solely for farting and shitting.
Violating the virginity of a young MAN, forcing his
body's participation in shameful and emasculating acts,
would be a thrill far beyond that of stealing a boy's
innocence. James's dick hardened in his pants as he
realized that taking Jacob's MANHOOD would be a
pleasure exceeding even that offered him by Elijah's
virgin asshole.
The possibility, once fleshed out in his mind,
immediately became an obsession. Fully imagined, it was
an experience James couldn't shake from his mind. A
life without sampling such a pleasure suddenly seemed
unbearably boring.
James looked down with embarrassment at the hard dick
clearly outlined against the fabric of his trousers,
and hoped Jacob didn't look back at him. He clenched
his eyes shut and tried to focus on the dream of his
mother and the decidedly NON-sexual purpose for the
day's journey.
He even tried to think of Elijah, but the boy who'd
consumed his thoughts just an hour earlier now seemed
small and distant in his mind. After more than ten days
of fucking the same mouth and ass - beautiful, to be
sure, but the SAME nevertheless - James craved the new
pleasures that a body like Jacob's promised.
Just wait to get back to Stampley, James told himself.
It would be impossible to enjoy Jacob on the trip to
Columbus without inconvenience or embarrassment. But if
he waited three days, he could enjoy the young man in
privacy for as long as he wanted. Three days felt like
an eternity to wait for the pleasure his mind and body
now stubbornly demanded. James shifted uncomfortably in
his seat. Hoping it would make the time go by quicker,
he pulled his hat down over his eyes and fell into an
awkward, restless nap.
Jacob hadn't wasted a moment's reflection on his new
Master since the trip started, other than to feel tense
and annoyed by the man's eyes staring intently at his
back. Damn, Jacob thought to himself, ain't there
plenty of things to look at besides a nigger's back?!?
The sun rose to illuminate a beautiful day. Jacob
enjoyed the smell of the trees, fields and occasional
pond or creek they'd pass on their drive. He liked to
feel the mild breeze against his face, created by the
wagon's movement. His stomach growled in eager
anticipation of Becky's fried chicken and biscuits.
Sharing the Master's lunch was one of the few perks to
these trips. That and the chance to see the city, maybe
even enjoy a fling or two with one of the local girls
if he was lucky to get leave of the Master long enough.
He thought about how funny Becky had acted toward him
that morning. She'd been real distant and weird around
him ever since the fling that led to his troubles with
Master Walt. She's probably just pissed I don't give
her the dick no more, Jacob concluded. He was used to
girls and women getting addicted to his dick, then
angry when he moved on to give others the same
pleasure.
Occasionally Jacob and James would pass other wagons on
the road, and Jacob always liked to see if they carried
any pretty nigger girls or women. If they did, he'd
subtly nod or wink at them in a way that left no doubt
in their minds how he felt about their looks.
Of course if there were WHITE women or girls on board,
he was careful to look down and away as the wagon
passed. He'd heard too many horror stories about
niggers being hanged or getting their balls chopped off
after nodding at a white woman the wrong way, or
letting their eyes linger just a second too long on
some white girl's flowing hair or pert young breasts.
Not that Jacob didn't WANT to look. His attraction to
white girls was actually the source of a lot of guilt
for the stable-boy. Vicious and permanent as his hatred
for white people was, he couldn't help but be curious
to know what a white girl's breasts would look like,
naked and groped by his rough black hands. Sometimes
he'd jerk off to fantasies of his cock stuffed in some
horrified white girl's throat, or pumping in and out
between her smooth, pale thighs.
Jacob comforted himself with two thoughts. First, his
attraction was nothing more than curiosity; he'd never
pursued it, and it had never diminished his love of
nigger women. He knew plenty of niggers who drove
themselves crazy drooling over white flesh either they
couldn't have, could have but didn't know it, or could
have, DID know it, and were just too afraid they'd get
caught. Most of the time these obsessions formed after
some rebellious teenage daughter or bored housewife
used them as their sexual playthings for a week or two,
then forgot about them after the thrill of breaking the
taboo had faded. At least he'd been spared THAT fate,
Jacob thought to himself.
The second point of consolation was that Jacob's lust
for white women was solely a lust for violence. He
hated white men, and knew there was nothing the white
man feared, forbade, and despised more than the rape of
a white woman by a nigger. (Of course it was always
considered "rape," even when the white bitch initiated
and begged for it).
In Jacob's mind, there was no better expression of his
hatred for white men, no better act of defiance, than
to force his African manhood into a white girl's pussy,
even if only in his imagination. When he pictured
himself fucking a white girl, it was always rape,
always an act of punishment and humiliation. With every
thrust he was trying to rip open her pink flesh with
his black dick, and pollute her body with his nigger
sweat and seed. Every white cunt he fucked in his mind
was the daughter or granddaughter or wife or mother of
a white man he loathed.
After several hours, James noticed they'd turned off
the main road onto a smaller, bumpier road with less
traffic.
"One of the shortcuts I was tellin' you 'bout, Massuh
James!" Jacob shouted over the din of the wagon wheels.
James nodded and looked around. The road cut through
more forest than fields, and he saw farmhouses, shacks,
and plantation-mansions far less frequently than he'd
seen to the left or right of the main road.
Of course the lack of scenery only added to the boredom
of the trip.
The first few hours of the ride had gone by quickly,
but as the sun rose higher in the sky, the heat grew
more intense and the length of the trip seemed almost
unbearable. James took off his hat and overcoat,
removed his vest, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his
collared shirt to cool off. He noticed the small
patches of sweat on Jacob's back had now spread to soak
through most of his shirt.
As the day approached noon, James's stomach began to
growl, taunted by the occasional whiffs of fried
chicken and biscuits from the back of the wagon.
Eventually his hunger became too much to bear.
"Should we stop and eat soon?" James asked loudly,
leaning forward. He realized how comically
inappropriate it was for him, the Master, to be asking
his slave to determine their lunch schedule.
"Massuh Walt and me had us a spot we always stopped at
for lunch!" Jacob shouted back. "It ain't too far from
here, if you don't mind waitin', Massuh James! Massuh
Walt always liked it cuz it gots a creek for some fresh
water and a swim to cool off!"
James smiled and nodded his approval.
"That'd be just fine, Jacob!" he yelled, then sat back
in his seat. Right now he would welcome anything to
break up the monotony of the trip, and quenching his
thirst with some cold creek water, followed by lunch
and a refreshing swim, sounded heavenly. His dick
twitched at the thought of swimming with his slave.
Swimming meant being naked. And while he wasn't sure of
the proper protocol, he sure as hell had no problem
inviting Jacob to join him... which meant all the
aforementioned delights of the lunch-break, PLUS a look
at the flesh stingily hidden by Jacob's sweaty clothes.
About five minutes later, Jacob pulled the reins back
and slowed the wagon to a halt on the right side of the
narrow dirt road. About thirty feet from the road James
could see a small clearing surrounded by trees. He
could see the sparkling of a creek, and now that the
wagon was stopped he could hear the sounds of its
gently flowing water.
Tying the reins around the hitch to the left of his
wagon seat, Jacob hopped out of the wagon and reached
out to help James down. James felt a rush of excitement
at the hot, rough skin of the youth's hand firmly
grasping his own.
"This be the place, Massuh James," Jacob said,
unfastening Becky's basket from the back of the wagon.
"I thinks you'll like it. I knows Massuh Walt was
always real happy stoppin' here. It be real nice and
cool in the shade."
Jacob was right. As James followed Jacob through a
criss-crossed path twenty feet or so through a tangle
of trees and brush, he noticed the air was considerably
cooler than where the sun beat blisteringly down on the
wagon and road. With Jacob's back toward him, James
stole lustful glances at the stable-boy's sweat-soaked
clothes clinging to his body, revealing the contours of
muscles and dark skin beneath. Jacob led him into a
semi-circular clearing at the side of a creek, covered
with tangled grass and shaded by the surrounding trees.
"I don't know 'bout you, Massuh James, but I gots to
piss like a horse," Jacob declared bluntly, unfastening
his belt as he did so. He walked to a far corner of the
clearing and began to piss. James could hear the
thundering sound of the young man's piss splashing
against dirt and leaves. He got a chill of excitement
at the sound and tried to picture the dangling
appendage producing such a powerful stream. It reminded
him of the ache in his own bladder, so he walked to an
opposite corner of the clearing to piss.
After emptying his bladder, James collapsed against the
thick trunk of one of the trees on the outer edge of
the clearing, savoring the pleasant relief of the cool
air.
"Thank you, Jacob," James said, his nervousness of the
morning returning. "This looks like a wonderful place
to stop. Sit down and rest. Lord knows you deserve it
after driving in the heat all morning."
"Thanks, Massuh James," Jacob replied, slumping down
with his back against a tree several feet from James.
Jacob removed the cloth from Becky's basket and
dutifully held the basket out to James. James pulled
out the jug of cider, two biscuits, and a thick leg of
fried chicken. Jacob then eagerly grabbed his own piece
of chicken, and once he saw James take a bite, wasted
no time hungrily tearing into the meat with his teeth.
The first few minutes were silent except for the sounds
of energetic chewing and the occasional compliment to
Becky's cooking skills. The fried chicken wasn't as
crispy as normal, but the salty coating of grease and
flour and the meat already warmed by the heat of the
sun combined to make a tasty meal for the two men.
James took a long drink from the cider-jug, then handed
it to Jacob, who followed suit. James felt a strong
desire to talk with Jacob, to hear about his life on
Stampley Plantation and grow acquainted with the young
man's humor and personality. But he felt shy and
clueless as to how to go about doing so.
Despite Jacob's smiles and jovial words, James sensed a
cockiness and detachment that made him uncomfortable.
James longed for a sincere friendliness from Jacob. He
wanted Jacob to trust and like him in a way he'd never
liked or trusted Uncle Walter, and probably any other
white man for that matter. Even though he was the boy's
Master, James feared that at any moment he'd say
something to annoy the handsome young man, and ruin any
chance at true friendship between Master and slave.
"How old are you, Jacob?" James asked nervously.
"I'se 18, Massuh James," Jacob said with a mouthful of
chicken, focused on shooing away a fly attracted by the
youth's sweat-soaked clothes.
"Ahhhh, what I'd give to be 18 again!" James laughed,
taking another sip of cider.
Jacob looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"You talk like you'se an old man, Massuh James," he
said, thinking to himself that white folks always got
so melodramatic over the pettiest things. He remembered
Master Walt bitching about his graying hair at least a
hundred times on these trips. "You ain't but what...
22, 23?" Jacob actually guessed James at 28 or 29, but
was an expert in telling white folks what they wanted
to hear.
James laughed, blushing. "That's very kind of you,
Jacob. You sure know how to get on your Master's good
side! I'm actually an ancient THIRTY years old!" James
pointed to the slight receding hairline that had caused
him so much worry over the past couple years.
"That ain't nothin' at all, Massuh James!" Jacob said,
shooing James away dismissively. "You still a spring
chicken!"
James laughed again, relieved at the pleasant back-and-
forth he'd initiated with Jacob.
Jacob found the small-talk tiresome, and wished James
would let him finish his lunch in peace. Master Walt
never talked this much. He actually ignored Jacob most
of the time, which Jacob preferred to James's annoying
questions.
But James persisted, asking Jacob how long he'd lived
on Stampley Plantation, if he was married or had any
family there, what he liked to do in his leisure time,
what his Uncle had been like as a Master, and anything
else he could think of to avoid an awkward silence and
assure the stable-boy that he was a kind and caring
Master.
Jacob's replies were brief and showed just a hint of
impatience, James thought. They were friendly, even
humorous at times, but James couldn't shake the sense
that Jacob was simply putting on a show, keeping his
true feelings and answers carefully concealed. It
seemed like something the young man could do in his
sleep, so different from the spontaneous bursts of
energy and self-revelation James frequently enjoyed
from Elijah.
At first James felt hurt and intimidated by Jacob's
cheerful aloofness. His hurt soon turned to
frustration, and his frustration quickly changed into
anger and horniness. James realized he was probably
just deluding himself with his attempts to befriend his
stable-boy. Perhaps deep down all he REALLY wanted to
do was fuck the young man.
Perhaps all he was TRULY interested in was Jacob's
striking handsomeness, and the effort to get to know
the boy was just a shallow and disingenuous strategy to
get in his pants. Perhaps the institution of slavery
made honest friendship between a white man and Negro
impossible. Perhaps the kind of interracial intimacy
James craved could only be enjoyed through force and
manipulation.
These thoughts saddened James, but also freed him to
drool over Jacob more confidently. Jacob reclined
against his tree, picking the meat out of his teeth
with a small twig he'd found on the ground. James's
eyes were drawn magnetically to the unmistakable bulge
outlined by the thin cloth of Jacob's pants.
Every now and then Jacob absent-mindedly scratched or
grabbed at his crotch, making James's tortured lust all
the more acute. James wondered what it looked like. Was
it bigger than Elijah's? Smaller? Lighter? Darker?
Thicker? Smellier? Tastier? James felt like he would
wither up and die if he didn't feast his eyes and mouth
on its mysteries before the afternoon was over.
This was the perfect opportunity, James thought to
himself. They had complete privacy. The clearing was
back from the road, and the road had seen no traffic
since their arrival. Jacob was his slave, and had to
obey his orders. He could do anything he wanted with
the young man. He could lick every sweaty inch of
Jacob's dark-skinned body. He could fuck the aloofness
and defiance off the Negro boy's face. He could make
him scream and beg for mercy, with nobody around for
miles to hear or care. James's dick sprang to life as
he pictured the limitless possibilities.
"Let's cool off with a swim!" James suggested
spontaneously, leaping to the ground. He'd already made
up his mind what he was going to do, but wanted to make
the transition as easy and natural as possible.
Jacob looked up, surprised. Master Walt never invited
Jacob to join him for a swim, even before the whole
Becky fiasco. Jacob waved James away and shook his
head.
"Naw, you go ahead, Massuh James, I ain't much of a
swimmer." He'd actually been swimming in the creek
behind the slave quarters all his life, but wasn't
comfortable with the idea of being naked in his
Master's presence, and preferred to enjoy a quick nap
while James swam.
"Awww, come on, Jacob!" James insisted. "You can't tell
me you don't want to get out of those sweaty clothes!"
James pointed at Jacob's shirt, which now looked like
it had been drenched with a bucket of water.
"If it's alright with you, Massuh James," Jacob asked.
"I'd be mighty grateful for the chance to rest my
eyes."
James paused, frustrated by Jacob's obstinacy. For a
moment he felt self-conscious about the idea of his
pale, thin body being naked beside the muscled
African's magnificent nude body, and almost changed his
mind. The thought of seeing Jacob's youthful body
completely exposed was too enticing, however, and he
persevered in his plan.
James hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, stripped it off,
and threw it near the tree where he'd been sitting.
Jacob looked away uncomfortably. James lifted his legs
and removed his shoes. Then he unbuckled his belt,
unzipped his trousers, shoved them to the ground,
stepped out of them, and then kicked them toward his
shirt. His nakedness in front of Jacob made him feel
nervous and embarrassed.
His body was slender and in decent shape, certainly
nothing to be ashamed of, but James felt insecure about
his blindingly pale skin and lack of defined muscles
he'd admired on other men his age and younger. His legs
were covered in a thin layer of dark curly hair, but
his upper body was completely smooth with the exception
of a few dark chest hairs.
His ass was rounder and fleshier than most white men's,
but still scrawny and flat compared to buttocks of
African ancestry. A tangled patch of dark brown pubic
hair sprouted above his dick. His medium-size balls
hung in two pink sacks, covered lightly in wiry brown
hair.
Jacob didn't want to look, but still caught glimpses of
his Master's naked body in spite of himself. Other than
Master Walt, James's was the only white man's body
Jacob had ever seen naked. Even the overseers that
raped his mother and sister had only bothered to pull
their dicks out of their flies.
James looked thinner and younger than Master Walt, but
with the same pasty-white skin. Jacob wanted to laugh
when he caught a glimpse of Master James's shriveled,
pinkish dick. Superior race my ass, he thought with
cynical amusement.
James walked over to the creek and dipped his toes in
the water. It was cold but not freezing - the perfect
temperature for relief from the heat of the day. He
waded out into the middle, where the water only barely
reached his waist. With a sudden plunge, James forced
his whole body underwater, then stood back up, laughing
and shouting.
"Damn, that was cold!" James said, smiling over at
Jacob. "It sure does feel good, though!" He crouched
into a sitting position beneath the rushing water, so
that only his shoulders and head showed above the water
line.
"Don't be such a spoiled sport!" James teased. "The
rest of the drive will sure feel a lot better after a
nice swim!"
Jacob hoped James couldn't see him roll his eyes. Why
couldn't Master James leave him the fuck alone?!? Damn,
just because he's a slave doesn't mean he has to be the
cracker's best friend. He'd listened to the whiny,
fake-friendly voice all through lunch, and now it
wouldn't let him catch some shut-eye in peace. He
wanted to shout, "Shut the fuck up, you annoying,
corny-ass motherfucker!" but instead he just shook his
head and said, "No, thanks, Massuh James, I'se content
right under this here tree."
"Jacob," James said, his voice growing tense with
frustration. "I'm no longer asking you to join me. I'm
TELLING you to join me."
Jacob flinched in surprise. For a fleeting second, his
eyes flashed with hostility and his large, wide
nostrils flared in defiance. Why the fuck did the man
want him to swim so badly? Goddamn crackers and their
crazy whims.
Jacob didn't say a word, but reluctantly stood and
slowly began unbuttoning his sweat-soaked shirt.
James's heart raced with excitement, faster and more
breathless with every button freed by Jacob's large,
dark fingers.
Staring blankly in front of him, trying desperately to
hide a scowl, Jacob shrugged the shirt off his
shoulders and let it drop to the ground.
James stared shamelessly at the young man's disrobing,
and gasped at the beauty exposed before him. Jacob's
chest was slender but defined with pectoral muscles
standing slightly out from the rest of his chest. Two
large, nearly pitch-black nipples dotted the rich black
skin of each muscle. The young man's abdomen rippled
with three muscles on each side. The Negro's skin was
covered with a sheen of sweat that made his ebony skin
look even more beautiful. A narrow trail of black,
curly hair moved down from a small, indented belly-
button to the mystery below, still hidden by Jacob's
cotton pants.
Jacob suddenly began to feel a discomfort beyond the
normal annoyance and contempt he felt around white
people. Master James's eagerness for Jacob to swim had
seemed odd just a moment ago, but now it was starting
to make sense. The man stared at his naked chest as if
he was under some conjure woman's spell. Master James
had a sparkle in his eyes that Jacob sometimes saw in
girls when they watched him working shirtless in the
stable, or even worse, when he took off his clothes
before fucking them. It was the same eager look he'd
seen on Nelson's face that night in the stable, and
during all their subsequent encounters.
Motherfucker, Jacob thought to himself. Master James is
a cocksucker just like Nelson!
Fuck me, he thought with rising worry. He'd taken
plenty of shit from Master Walt and the man's overseers
in his young life, but he'd never had to worry about
THAT. He'd heard Nelson's stories. He knew there were
plantations where white men raped boys and men instead
of girls and women, or boys and men IN ADDITION TO
girls and women.
But he'd always thought of that as something that
happened to OTHER niggers... far, far away from
Stampley Plantation. He'd spent plenty of angry,
anxious nights after some drunk overseer dragged Laney
off to the overseer quarters, but he'd never had to
worry that it might be HIM snatched up and gang-raped
in the middle of the night.
Until now. There was his Master, drooling over his
naked chest like a dog waiting for its supper, probably
stroking his puny little dick under the water. Fuck,
fuck, FUCK, Jacob thought angrily. MOTHERFUCKER. What
the fuck do I do now?!?
He wanted to snatch up his shirt, run to the wagon, and
ride until he reached North. But Jacob knew that was a
plan doomed to failure. The first white man to see an
unfamiliar nigger driving a wagon without a white
person in it was sure to start asking questions,
demanding a pass, and Jacob would be busted. Besides,
his heart was deeply entwined with the lives of those
on Stampley Plantation, despite the tragedy he'd
suffered there. He couldn't bear the thought of never
seeing Laney or Solomon again. And he knew Laney would
probably follow in the footsteps of her mother if she
lost her only remaining family member.
Jacob felt choked by the same helpless feeling he'd
felt as a child when the overseers scattered his
marbles and dunked his head in the wash bucket. He
seethed with resentment at his treatment, but was
powerless to do anything to stop it.
Maybe his fears were exaggerated, Jacob thought
hopefully. Maybe the Master smiled out of sincere
friendliness, with no ulterior motives. Maybe Jacob's
all-consuming hatred for white people had led him to
judge a kind, innocent man unfairly.
Jacob bent over to take off his shoes. He unbuckled his
belt, unzipped his pants, and slowly pushed them to the
ground. Now completely nude, Jacob sullenly walked to
join James in the creek.
James could feel his body shaking, partly from the
chill of the creek water, but mostly from the
breathtaking beauty before him. Jacob's legs were
thinner than his more developed upper body, but still
showed firm muscles, the dark skin covered in tiny
curls of crispy black hair.
Most impressive, however, was the appendage dangling
between the young African's legs. It was pitch-black
with a purplish mushroom head, and hung at least seven
inches in its completely soft state. It looked bigger
than Elijah's did when soft, and considerably thicker.
A thick patch of nappy pubic hair, similar to that on
Jacob's head, covered the area above the impressive
creature.
James gasped when he saw Jacob's balls. Enclosed in
smooth, charcoal-black skin, they looked bigger and
heavier than those he'd seen on bulls. Jacob's entire
crotch area glistened with sweat, and James felt an
urge to seize the stable-boy's dick and balls in his
hands and taste their pungent heat before it was too
late.
Uncomfortable with his Master's shameless stares, Jacob
stepped into the creek and sunk his naked body beneath
its waters. The cool water felt good against his hot
skin.
For about fifteen minutes, the two men made tense small
talk, occasionally diving beneath the water for another
refreshing rinse.
James noticed a spider-web of grayish scars across
Jacob's back and shoulders, undoubtedly left by dozens
of severe lashings. The scars looked painful enough;
James could only imagine how they must have looked, raw
and bloody in the immediate aftermath of a whipping.
Jacob felt foolish for his earlier fears. James made no
attempt to touch him, even in playful splashing and
wrestling, and hadn't turned the conversation to
anything sexual.
James was thrilled by the young Negro's nakedness so
close to his. James knew that his old life in Boston
could never in a million years have placed him in such
an exciting scenario. He knew what he wanted to do, but
didn't know how to go about doing it.
Elijah had been so easy in comparison, he thought.
Forcing a sexual encounter with a slave-child in his
own bedroom, knowing Mr. Potter was just down the hall
in case anything went wrong, was very different than
initiating sex on his own, in a strange environment,
with a young man, miles away from Stampley Plantation.
Knowing the power and threat he held over Jacob didn't
make the introduction of the idea any less clumsy or
potentially confrontational.
"We best hit the road if'n we wants to make Columbus
'fore nightfall," Jacob spoke up. He was eager to
resume the journey and confirm the baselessness of his
earlier worries.
"Yeah, you're probably right, I guess we better get on
with the day," James said with disappointment. He was
beginning to panic. He knew he had to say or do
something soon or else he'd always regret losing such a
unique opportunity.
Jacob stepped out of the creek, water sparkling and
dripping from his smooth ebony skin.
James's dick sprang to full instant hardness when he
saw the flawless ass before him. It was ten times more
breathtaking than anything he'd imagined while staring
at its clothed curves earlier that morning. Two rich-
black upturned half-melons sprung out from the small of
his back, their muscles flexing as Jacob walked toward
his clothes. Their beauty was marred only by
crisscrossed grayish scars, similar to those on the
young man's back.
James felt an urgent uncontrollable impulse to rub his
nose up and down the dark crease of Jacob's ass-crack,
to pry them open with his fingers and tongue.
"Stop!" James shouted hoarsely, causing Jacob to turn
his head in surprise just as he was leaning down to
retrieve his pants, which were resting at the foot of
the tree he'd leaned against at lunch.
"Massuh?!?" Jacob asked uncertainly.
The change in his Master's tone of voice was
unmistakable. This is it, Jacob thought to himself. The
Master's going to try to rape me, just like those
bastards raped Mama and Laney. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!
James walked out of the creek like a ghost from a
swamp. His body was trembling with nervousness and
excitement.
Jacob cringed when he saw that his Master's dick was
now a rock-hard seven inches, jerking toward the sky.
It looked red and angry.
"Do as I say, and don't cause me any trouble, Jacob,"
James instructed, hoping he sounded more intimidating
than he felt. "I know this might sound strange, but I
happen to find you... remarkably handsome. And as your
new Master, it's my right to take pleasure from your
handsomeness however I see fit."
Jacob stared at him with a look of undisguised hatred.
James shuddered, seeing laid bare the animosity he'd
earlier guessed was beneath the surface of the boy's
jokes and obsequiousness.
Suddenly James realized the almost laughably absurd
danger of the situation he was in. Here he was, a soft,
skinny white man with no whip, knife, or gun, trying to
rape a strapping young buck at least five times
stronger than him, miles from any white people who
could come to his rescue if Jacob took it in his mind
to resist his rape with violence.
But wasn't that precisely the perverse brilliance of
Southern slavery?!? In many regions of the South,
Negroes outnumbered whites twenty to one, so what
stopped them from banding together to slaughter their
Masters and claim the land for themselves?
FEAR. Fear and ignorance. Ignorance that kept most
slaves from knowing anything of the world beyond their
own plantation. Ignorance from hearing over and over
and over again that niggers are stupid, passive, weak,
and helpless - intellectually inferior to the smarter,
stronger, and more powerful white race. Messages of
degradation and impotence repeated so often that some
slaves end up believing they really ARE nothing more
than dumb, cowardly niggers.
Ignorance is the fertile breeding ground for fear. Fear
of the whip. Fear of having one's limbs or genitals
amputated. Fear of physical torture. Fear of death.
But more powerful even then self-interested fear, James
knew, was the fear driven by love. Fear of seeing one's
wife, husband, parents, or children whipped, raped,
sold, or killed. Fear of being separated from one's
family and childhood friends, from the only life one
had ever known.
And this fear, James recognized, was the very thing
that would allow him to abuse and enjoy Jacob's body
without fear of resistance or danger. Fear was the
thing that permitted him the exquisite pleasure of
dominating someone so clearly his physical superior.
"Face forward with your back toward me!" James ordered
sternly, stroking his dick in his right hand. "Place
both hands against the tree, spread your legs, and bend
over!"
"Massuh James, I don't understand..." Jacob said,
shaking his head. "I thought we was goin' to hit the
road, Massuh James."
"This won't take long," James said, thinking in the
back of his mind that HOURS wouldn't be long enough for
him to enjoy this handsome buck in every way he wanted.
"You heard what I said, Jacob. Spread your legs and
bend over with your hands against the tree! NOW!"
Jacob saw the older white man stroking his hard, veiny
dick, and knew it could only mean one thing. The image
of Nelson sprawled across the wooden stool that night
in the stable flashed through his mind.
HELL NO! Jacob swore to himself. There was no fucking
way he was going to let ANY man, especially a goddamn
sissy cracker, fuck him like a bitch. It was one thing
to get his dick sucked by another nigger friend of his,
and to fuck him in the ass. That really wasn't all that
different from fucking pussy, and there sure as hell
wasn't anything bitch-like about that. Solomon and
Charlie had done it too, and they for goddamn sure
weren't bitches. But there was no way in hell he was
going to let a white man's dick fuck his asshole just
like it was pussy. No man, not even Nelson or Solomon,
was ever going to use his ass that way.
James saw the angry panic in Jacob's eyes, and quickly
tried to steer clear of a confrontation.
"Didn't you tell me you have a little sister?" James
asked threateningly. "I'm not going to hurt you, but if
you refuse to cooperate I'll have no choice but to hurt
you AND the person closest to you."
Jacob's eyes flickered with impotent rage. He was
ashamed that he'd thought for even a second that James
might actually be kind and sincere. Goddamn cocksucking
bastard ain't no different than the rest of 'em, he
thought.
"I'm sure you wouldn't want anything to happen to your
little sister, would you?" James continued, his
desperation to experience the delights of Jacob's flesh
making him resort to these cruel threats. "Like being
whipped........or SOLD?"
Jacob knew his options were limited. He clenched his
muscles in masculine resistance, but slowly spread his
legs and leaned forward with his hands pressed against
the tree. He felt shamefully feminine in that position.
James could hardly believe this was happening. Just a
few stern threats and a proud, manly slave like Jacob
was bent over in complete submission. Jacob's dark
upturned mounds were a temptation he could no longer
resist. A temptation he no longer had any REASON to
resist.
He walked forward, dropped to his knees, and grabbed
Jacob's firm, fleshy ass-cheeks in both hands. Streams
of water still trickled down the slave's smooth, ebony
skin. James clutched, groped, and smacked the black
buttocks like a child who's just opened a long-
requested Christmas toy.
Jacob shut his eyes tightly in hatred and
embarrassment.
Impatient to see the prize protected beneath both
muscular mounds, James spread Jacob's ass-cheeks with
his fingers. There, clenched tightly and deeply within
the boy's ass-crack, was Jacob's virgin asshole. The
slit was slightly longer than Elijah's, but sealed just
as tightly. The tiny wrinkled hole was a lighter
purplish color that stood out against the rest of
Jacob's black skin, and it was surrounded by several
curly wisps of Negro hair. The hair trailed up and down
the insides of Jacob's ass-crack. James thought to
himself that the asshole looked angry and defiant, just
like the young man to whom it belonged.
Desperate for intimacy with Jacob's most prized and
protected body part, James buried his face between the
firm mounds of the young man's ass. He smashed his nose
against the wrinkled opening and inhaled deeply. It had
a strong, musky smell, a combination of skin, sweat,
shit, and creek-water. Not as clean as Elijah's, but
strangely more enticing.
James knew most men would find what he was doing
repugnant, but he didn't care. The aroma and closeness
to the young man's body was intoxicating. He shot out
his tongue and licked up and down the outer edges of
Jacob's crack. Urged on by the salty taste of the boy's
sweat, James circled his tongue around Jacob's anus,
then lapped hungrily across its surface.
Jacob's body tensed in surprise and discomfort. This
wasn't part of the horrors he'd imagined. Never in his
life had anyone licked his ass like it was pussy. Not
even Nelson, who tended to be more sexually adventurous
than most of the girls he fucked around with. And while
Jacob had licked pussy plenty of times, he'd never even
CONSIDERED the possibility of licking a girl's asshole.
Why the hell would any man with even half a dick want
to lick another man's shitter? Filthy pervert cracker
motherfuckers, Jacob thought with disgust. What the
fuck will they come up with next?!?
James forced Jacob's cheeks apart with both hands,
holding the ass firmly in place while he feasted on it
like it was the last meal he'd have for days. He poked
and swirled his tongue around Jacob's purple pucker,
savoring its tangy, forbidden flavor. He spit a big
glob of saliva right on the clenched little hole, then
spread the wetness around with his tongue. He hoped the
warmth and lubrication of his spit would loosen the
stubbornly sealed gateway to Jacob's insides. He longed
to push his tongue deeper into the boy's tunnel, to
fuck him with his tongue the way he planned on later
fucking him with his dick.
Jacob lurched his body forward in an attempt to escape
these strange new sensations, but Master James had his
butt firmly in his hands. His initial disgust quickly
turned to surprised and reluctant pleasure. No tongues,
fingers, or dicks had ever come within a foot of his
asshole, so he'd never known being touched where his
shit comes out could feel so... good?
He moaned in spite of himself at the pleasure the man's
warm slurping was giving his tensed-shut asshole. He
hated to admit it, but it almost felt as good as
getting his dick sucked. It didn't make his dick get
hard, but it still felt amazing. He felt guilty for
feeling anything from a white man's touch other than
disgust and hatred.
Jacob dismissed his guilt and realized that the REAL
thrill came from seeing a white man in such a degraded
position, performing such a filthy act. And not just
that, but doing something so nasty and humiliating to a
NIGGER'S asshole! He felt a little uncomfortable bent
over like a bitch about to get fucked, but other than
that what he was doing wasn't any worse than letting
Nelson suck his prick.
He liked seeing his Master worship his sweaty asshole
like it was some kind of sacred shrine. His dick began
to rise when he thought of his Master down on his
knees, slurping greedily away at the very hole through
which he'd taken a shit in the outhouse earlier that
morning. This made him push his ass against the white
man's face, and relax his asshole to let his Master's
tongue sink deeper into him.
James was encouraged when he noticed Jacob thrusting
his ass eagerly backward, allowing James to bury his
tongue even deeper into the slave-boy's tight opening.
The deeper his tongue reached, the hotter and tangier
the boy's ass tasted. James shuddered with excitement
when he imagined how good it was going to feel to
plunge his hard seven inches into the stable-boy's
obviously virgin hole. But he knew he had to pace
himself... there were other parts of the boy's body he
wanted to enjoy first.
James pulled his face out of Jacob's ass and took a
breath of fresh air. He could still smell the boy's ass
on his nose, lips, and chin. James jerked Jacob's body
around to face him, pushed him into a standing
position, and leaned him back against the tree.
James smiled and winked at Jacob when he noticed that
the slave's thick purplish cock was now half-hard and
still waking up. Jacob looked away and shut his eyes,
annoyed and embarrassed.
Still on his knees, James wasted no time grabbing
Jacob's shaft with his left hand and swallowing half of
it into his mouth. Like Elijah's, Jacob's dick was
circumcised. But that was where the similarities ended.
To James, the 18-year-old's cock felt and tasted
completely different from the younger slave-boy's.
While it wasn't as long, it was considerably thicker,
and had the distinct weight, girth, and power of a
full-grown African's.
It also had a thick musky smell... or perhaps that was
still the boy's ass he was smelling. No, it was a
different smell this time, something potent and nutty
emanating from Jacob's gigantic, heavy-hanging balls.
James eagerly tried to fit as much of Jacob's manhood
into his mouth as possible, but its thickness stretched
his lips painfully and made it impossible to slide much
more than two-thirds of the dick in his throat. He made
a valiant effort, however, sucking and moaning and
licking Jacob's shaft just as enthusiastically as he
liked to have his own dick sucked by Elijah.
Jacob was aroused by much more than the pleasurable
sensations of having warm wet lips wrapped around his
prick. That was a feeling as familiar to him as taking
a piss. Dozens if not hundreds of girls had sucked him
off, and that wasn't even counting Nelson. As far as
blowjobs went, Master James's was average, somewhere
between a virgin's clumsy biting and Nelson's expert
deep-throating.
But Jacob had never been sucked off by a white person,
male or female, and it turned him on immensely to watch
his Master groveling and gagging on his knees like a
nigger bitch. Jacob had been forced his entire life to
place white folk's pleasure before his own.
He knew that legally he was considered the equal of the
horses he cared for, a piece of livestock whose sole
purpose in life was to make white folk's lives easy and
pleasurable. But here was a white man devoted to HIS
pleasure, sucking a nigger's dick like it was the most
natural thing in the world. And he seemed to be
ENJOYING it, just like the nigger women enjoyed it, and
just like Nelson always enjoyed it.
That was the only thing disrupting Jacob's pleasure. He
didn't WANT James to enjoy it. Where was the fun in
degrading a white man if the sissy cracker LIKED being
degraded?!? Jacob was intoxicated with this newly-
discovered power, and he wanted to test its boundaries.
He wanted to cause his Master pain and suffering and
TRUE humiliation.
No longer thinking rationally or cautiously, Jacob
reached out and grabbed a handful of hair on the back
of James's head. It felt soft and thin in his hand, so
different from the thick nappy tangles on most niggers.
He reached out with his other hand and snatched another
handful. Tightening his grip on both clutches of hair,
Jacob yanked James's head toward him, forcing the older
white man's mouth to take more of his dick.
James's eyes shot open in surprise, but he didn't put
up a fight. Jacob held James's head in place and began
forcing his dick deeper into the man's throat.
He shoved until all eight inches were stuffed into the
back of Master James's throat, causing him to gag and
try to pull off for air. The sound of his Master's
gagging turned Jacob on all the more. He'd always liked
to hear the same sounds coming from Nelson and the
nigger girls he messed around with, but this was even
more intense because it was a WHITE MAN gurgling and
choking like a helpless slave.
Holding James's head firmly in place, Jacob thrust in
and out of the man's throat like it was a tight wet
pussy. He stood up from leaning against the tree,
allowing himself the freedom to pump with all his
might.
James began to panic.
At first he'd felt an unexpected thrill when Jacob
grabbed the back of his head. He got chills at the
first sense of powerlessness, the knowledge that things
were suddenly out of his control. He enjoyed the sound
of the young man's masculine grunts, and the aggressive
thrusts that shoved the thick African manhood further
down his throat than Elijah's had ever been. He savored
the sweet taste of the boy's sweat, skin, and pre-cum,
and was surprised to find that he LIKED the feeling of
another man's penis filling his mouth.
He'd enjoyed sucking Elijah's dick, but this was even
better. Was it because he'd surrendered the power of
the act to Jacob, as he'd never done with Elijah? James
got no real PHYSICAL pleasure from the act, and his
dick had even softened since switching his attentions
from Jacob's ass to the boy's dick. In fact, the hard,
meaty appendage stabbing the sides of his mouth and
back of his throat was uncomfortable at best, painful
at worst.
But he had to admit, there was something unexpectedly
thrilling about having his mouth used as a Negro boy's
pussy. He imagined all the girls Jacob had probably
fucked in the same exact way he was now fucking the
face of his older white Master. James's dick twitched
at the thought of being the receptacle for the pent-up
seed stored in the big balls slapping against his chin
with every thrust.
But the motions of Jacob's hips had become more
aggressive, more demanding, and James was growing
frightened. Several times he started to throw up his
lunch, quickly swallowing it back down before the next
violent thrust. He worried that perhaps this intensity
wasn't typical of the stable-boy's manly fucking
motions, that the power dynamic established earlier had
been forgotten or abandoned.
James screamed through his forced sucking, and pushed
against Jacob's naked muscled legs. As James had
feared, the stable-boy was too strong for him and his
resistance was futile. Jacob's legs stood immovable,
and his large hands continued to force James's mouth
down on his dick.
Jacob was caught up in a frenzy of lust and sexual
power unlike any he'd ever experienced. His white
Master's screams only intensified his furious pounding.
He looked down with angry, open eyes at the sight of
his thick, soot-black dick slamming in and out of
Master James's thin, red lips and pasty-white face. It
was the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed.
He knew when the Master tried but failed to push him
away, that Jacob then had complete control. His sexual
pleasure and craving for revenge pushed all thoughts of
Laney, Solomon, even his own survival, completely out
of his mind. All he wanted was to savor the most
explosive, ecstatic orgasm of his life while hurting
and humiliating a white man.
Jacob slapped James on the cheeks as he continued
impaling the man's face with his dick. His slaps were
mild at first, but grew harsher until they made loud
smacking noises and left red handprints on the man's
pale skin.
"You like the taste of coon dick, cracker?!?" Jacob
taunted, pulling his dick out of James's mouth and
slapping it across the man's cheeks while he waited for
an answer.
James was scared for his safety, but against his will
felt a sharp pang of excitement at being degraded by
one of his own slaves. He wondered if Elijah had felt
similarly when James had degraded HIM in a similar
fashion.
James gasped for air, but couldn't bring to his throat
the self-degrading words he knew Jacob wanted to hear.
With his left hand, Jacob yanked James's head back by
the hair. With his right hand, he hit the man full and
hard across the face.
"What the fuck did I ask you, you little fairy
cocksucker?!?"
James felt true terror now. He could already feel his
cheek growing swollen and puffy where Jacob had hit
him. He looked at the ground in dread and disbelief at
the violent turn his afternoon plans had suddenly
taken. He looked desperately toward the road and
started screaming for help at the top of his lungs.
Jacob backhanded James with his fist. Now both of
James's cheeks were bruised and swollen.
"Scream like that again and I'll fuckin' DROWN your
Yankee ass in the creek, you hear me?!?"
Jacob shoved his thick pole all the way to the back of
James's throat, then pulled out with deliberate
slowness. "Now answer my fuckin' question... you likes
the taste of nigger dick?!?"
James gulped in shame and looked at the ground. "Yes,"
he mumbled.
"Yes, WHAT, you stupid ofay motherfucker?!?" Jacob was
relishing the performance he'd fantasized about all his
life.
"Yes, I do love nigger dick," James said softly.
"Say it likes you fuckin' mean it!" Jacob ordered. "You
know how lucky you is to get a taste of this dick?!?
You know how many nigger bitches'd kill they own best
friend for one TASTE of this motherfucker?!?" He waved
his thick pole obnoxiously in James's face.
"I LOVE NIGGER DICK!" James yelled angrily. "What the
hell do you want from me?!?" he pleaded helplessly. "I
love the way they look! Their size! Their smell! Their
taste! What else can I say?!?"
Jacob laughed contemptuously and shoved his dick back
in James's mouth.
"Now that be more like it, MASSUH James," Jacob said,
sarcastically exaggerating James's title of authority.
"Now worship that African dick like the white pussy-boy
you is!"
James's eyes welled up with tears when he recalled his
nervous attempts to befriend Jacob earlier that
morning. How long ago that now seemed! And not more
than ten minutes earlier he'd been selfish and foolish
enough to think he was actually going to have HIS way
with the young man's body! How quickly and horribly
circumstances can change, he thought to himself.
James's throat choked and burned with every angry
thrust of the African's massive dick.
Jacob's eyes moved from the older white man's thin
lips, dripping with spit and precum, to his pale ass.
Thoughts of his next pleasure began to form in his
mind. He'd always wanted to rape a white woman as a way
to get back at all the white men who had ever done him
harm. But wouldn't raping an actual white MAN be the
more targeted and satisfying revenge?!? Especially a
white man whose intentions just moments ago had been to
take Jacob's OWN virginity?
Besides, he already knew how good a tight asshole felt
wrapped around his dick, and he could only imagine how
much BETTER the asshole of his helpless Master would
feel. Too bad the sissy's pussy probably already been
fucked a hundred times, Jacob thought.
Jacob yanked James's head off of his dick. "Turn over
so's I can fuck that cracker pussy with this big
African dick!" Jacob ordered.
James's eyes grew wide in terror. In all his years of
lusting after men and imagining the possibilities of
male-male sex, James had never once had the desire to
feel another man's cock fucking his asshole. The idea
of fucking OTHER men's assholes had always been
appealing, and had now become an addiction after
discovering the exquisite pleasures of Elijah's teenage
asshole. But having his OWN ass ravaged the way he
longed to ravage others... HELL NO! He'd always
imagined it would cause excruciating pain, and the
screams he'd witnessed from Elijah and Thad hadn't been
too reassuring.
But now he was staring at Jacob's throbbing black
monster, and the young man was planning on fucking him
with it... violently and without mercy, no doubt!
James jerked out of Jacob's grip and scrambled toward
the creek, hoping he might be able to cross it and run
to safety. Jacob laughed at the skinny white man
stumbling around like a crazed animal.
"Where the fuck you think you gonna go, you stupid-ass
cracker?" Jacob said, laughing unsympathetically.
He pounced on James and pinned him to the ground. James
was sprawled flat against the dusty Earth, paralyzed
beneath the weight and strength of Jacob's muscular
black body laying on top of him.
Jacob wasted no time finding his desired target. He had
no desire to dirty his fingers by touching the white
man's asshole, so he hoped the slobber still dripping
off his dick would be enough lubrication to enter
James's body. He arched his hips, pointed the enormous
mushroom head of his midnight-black dick against his
Master's tiny pink pucker, and shoved with all the
strength his 18-year-old body could muster.
James's screams pierced the countryside's peaceful
afternoon air. Jacob watched with delight as his thick
shaft ripped into the white man's pink pussy. Based on
its tightness and the pain of the man's screams, Jacob
guessed with surprise that his Master was a virgin
after all. The knowledge only made the assault all the
more empowering and exhilarating for Jacob.
Without pulling his dick out, Jacob reached back and
grabbed the blue cloth from Becky's lunch basket. He
leaned forward and stuffed it in James's mouth to
muffle the man's blood-curdling screams.
Smashing his body flat against James's, Jacob pumped
his hips slowly up and down. In that position, Jacob's
dick stayed deeply implanted in James's asshole, and
every thrust only pushed the dick deeper, or moved it
around in circular motions.
Jacob stayed in a slow rhythm at first, enjoying the
hot soupy tightness of his white Master's violated
insides. He savored the sound of James's screams of
pain, now choked off by the blue towel. He listened
eagerly to the squishing, slurping, farting noises of
his dick plunging up and down into the white man's
torn-open asshole.
Damn, he's got a tight asshole, Jacob thought.
Definitely tighter than any pussy, and even tighter
than Nelson's!
But an orgasm was only a small part of the satisfaction
Jacob craved. Increasing the speed and intensity of his
thrusts, he leaned his sweaty face next to James's so
that he could whisper in the white man's ear.
"You feel that, motherfucker?!? You feel that nigger
dick up inside your pussy, cracker?!?"
James nodded frantically in pained assent. His eyes
were clenched shut and he bit down on the rag shoved in
his mouth.
"Yeah, you crackers all the same," Jacob continued.
"Always actin' all high and mighty like you the rulers
of the whole goddamn world, treatin' niggers like shit,
when all you cocksuckers really want is a nigger's dick
up yo' ass! You'se all pathetic, if you ask me."
Jacob spit on James's face in disgust and continued
pummeling the ass beneath him with deeper and harsher
strokes.
James had never felt pain so excruciating in his entire
life. He prayed to God he'd pass out and be spared the
rest of his nightmare. It felt like someone was shoving
a fiery torch through his asshole and deep into his
rectum.
After the first five minutes of alarming pain, his ass
grew slightly more accustomed to the invasion. At first
he thought he was going to shit himself, and then he
realized it was just the bizarre feeling of having
Jacob's huge pole, thicker than any shit he'd ever
taken, rubbing against the part of him that gave
pleasure when taking a shit. As much as he hated to
admit it, Jacob's thrusts were actually giving him
pleasure, mixed with the persistent pain of having his
virgin tunnel plunged open.
A twisted, deep-down part of him found a forbidden
thrill in being hit, yelled at, spit on, and anally
raped by a handsome young African like Jacob. And
didn't he deserve such treatment anyway, after the way
he'd abused Elijah and Thad?
James could still smell the lingering scent of Jacob's
ass on his face, mingled with the distinct Negro smell
of Jacob's flaring nostrils, greasy hair, and sweaty
skin leaning against his face as the young man
whispered insults in his ear. Jacob's breath was hot
with the lingering smell of fried chicken. James
thrilled at these smells and the sticky warmth of the
stable-boy's lithe naked body smashed against his own
pale, scrawny build.
God, this is fucked-up, James thought to himself. And
wasn't he largely to blame? Wasn't this exactly what
James had planned on doing to Jacob just a half hour
earlier, only with the positions reversed?!?
Did it really have to be like this? Clearly he derived
at least some pleasure from having his mouth and anus
enjoyed by the Negro slave. And Jacob obviously took
pleasure from the act as well. What if everything
wasn't so fucked-up down here in the South? Maybe under
different circumstances he and Jacob might be doing
this willingly, mutually? Who knows, perhaps they might
be lovers?
James shut his eyes and imagined Jacob's brutal thrusts
as aggressive but tender lovemaking between equals: the
one needing to dominate after a lifetime of submission,
the other thrilled to submit after a lifetime of
unasked-for power? James's heart ached to think that
the pent-up needs on both their parts could only find
expression in a brutal, ugly scene such as the one
playing itself out this afternoon.
Jacob's thoughts were far from dreams of an interracial
utopia. He buried his face in James's soft, sandy-brown
hair and slammed his body into the one beneath him with
ferocious force. His body began transporting him to the
place of hatred and violence he always visited just
before a climax. Only this time he wasn't fucking a
scared little nigger girl incapable of comprehending
his hatred, but fucking the very OBJECT of his hatred,
a white man who symbolized every white man he'd ever
known.
This knowledge worked his mind into a frenzied state of
heightened hostility and rage unlike any he'd ever
known. He clenched his eyes shut and remembered the
smelly overseers dunking his head in the wash-bucket
when he was a little boy, laughing and slapping his
terrified face every time they pulled his head out of
the water. He remembered the looks of horror, then
surrender, on his mother and sister's faces as they
were raped in front of him and his father.
He remembered the look of hollow-eyed grief and defeat
in his father's eyes when the man told Jacob they'd
found his mother's body in the creek. He remembered the
countless whippings ordered by Master Walt out of
petty, spiteful jealousy. He remembered the morning he
woke up to find his father gone, sold without having
the chance to tell his children goodbye.
Jacob concentrated on these memories in a furious,
wild-eyed rage, smashing his body violently into the
man crushed beneath him, over and over and over. Tears
of grief and helplessness flooded his eyes. He'd always
known it in the back of his mind, but now Jacob
realized this would probably be his last fuck on Earth.
His whole body tensed as he unleashed all his hurt,
fury, and powerlessness in one explosive, suicidal
orgasm.
He slammed his hips as deeply into James's body as he
could, spurting stream after stream after stream of
scalding cum into the white man's battered body. All
his memories, all his pain flooded his Master's bowels
in one euphoric, transcendent release.
James's dick was aroused in spite of the pain by the
thrill of being mounted by Jacob, like James was the
buck's favorite piece of nigger pussy. When he felt the
young Negro's hot, thick semen pouring into his guts,
James felt for a second that he was LUCKY to be chosen
as the cum-rag for a beautiful young man like Jacob.
He thought of the hundreds of potential children
swimming in the stable-boy's seed, and felt a sense of
possessive pride knowing they'd be permanently absorbed
into his own flesh and blood. Throbbing involuntarily,
James's dick shot four sticky streams of cum onto the
grass beneath him.
Jacob had only collapsed for a minute or two atop
James's limp body before feeling the rush of defeat and
despair now that his temporary power, seized by force
and violence, was gone from him forever.
He looked around him like a man waking from a deep,
drunken stupor. What the fuck did I just do?!? he
thought with rising hysteria.
His mind, still cluttered from the high it had just
experienced, raced to consider his options.
Returning to Stampley Plantation was out of the
question. Master James would order him raped, tortured,
and hanged, without blinking an eye.
He could murder the white man and dump his body in the
creek, eliminating the only witness to the crime, then
run for freedom up North. No, that would be foolish, he
concluded. His chances of actually escaping were slim
to none, and a slave with the blood of a murdered white
man on his hands was almost certainly doomed to be
lynched, while a runaway might still come out with his
life, minus a foot or finger or balls. Jacob could also
gamble that shame would make James report his
disappearance as a simple runaway, keeping the rape and
assault to himself.
Jacob winced when he thought of Laney. But he had no
choice. He'd been a fool, and now he had to face the
consequences. He knew time was of the essence. The more
miles he put between himself and this place before news
reached the slave-catchers and surrounding communities,
the better his chance at making it out of this alive.
He reached over and pulled the belt out of his pants,
which were still lying where he'd left them when
ordered to swim by the grinning Master James. He yanked
James up by the arms, snatched the gag out of his
mouth, and dragged him over to one of the trees on the
outer edge of the clearing. He could see cum leaking
out of the man's ass and down his leg.
"Please, Jacob, don't kill me!" James begged. He was
still shell-shocked from his rape, but alert enough to
know that the fear of punishment for one crime might
lead a slave like Jacob to commit even worse crimes.
Jacob looked around wild-eyed, like he wasn't sure
where James's voice was coming from.
"Do as I tells you," Jacob instructed distractedly. "Or
I WILL fuckin' kill you. Now put on your clothes." He
wanted to eliminate as much suggestion of rape as
possible. Make it look like an average robbery and
escape.
Jacob stood over James as the trembling man put on his
clothes. Jacob pushed him into a sitting position at
the foot of the tree, then pulled his arms back around
the thick trunk and tied his hands tightly together
with his belt. He then shook out the blue towel, still
wet from James's saliva, and tied it around the man's
head as a gag, stuffed once again in James's mouth.
Jacob knew others occasionally used this spot for
breaks in their travels, but hoped he'd have at least
three or four hours before James was discovered. A
whole day, if he was lucky.
Jacob hurriedly put on his clothes, then stuffed the
chicken and biscuits left over from lunch in his
pockets. He glanced guiltily at James's pleading eyes,
but spit in his direction to show what he still thought
of the cocksucker who'd wanted to rape him.
Jacob ran to the wagon and looked cautiously down to
the road to see if anyone was coming. He frantically
went through James's luggage, where he was thrilled to
find money and a slave pass already signed. Now there's
a stroke of luck, Jacob thought to himself.
He stuffed both the money and pass in his back pocket.
He walked to the front of the wagon and affectionately
petted his horses goodbye. They were the only things
left from his life at Stampley Plantation to which he
could say goodbye.
A tear of sadness, regret, and fear escaped down his
cheek. Jacob brushed it away with his sleeve, and then
took off into the woods.
To be continued?
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.
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 46