Chapter 1
Eastern Shore of Maryland: Sex Along the Choptank

Billy was excited as he poked through a layer of decaying asphalt shingles with his digging tool. Could it really be possible that he was the first person to have found this salvage site?

It was one of those beautiful early-autumn days when the sky was a rich blue, the air was pleasantly warm, and the humidity was low. Billy wore only a pair of over-sized pants, cut off at mid-calf and held up by a rope belt. He had tossed aside his rough home-spun shirt when he started working.

His digging site, well-hidden by undergrowth, was 200 feet [60 m] from a prominent mound that had long ago been thoroughly played-out. That mound was reputed to be the remains of a huge and elaborate home… a salvage site that had offered up to previous generations of diggers a host of relics from the fabled Golden Age. Billy's digging place, in contrast, had probably been nothing more than a small storage shed back in the ancient times, 200 years ago.

The first discovery under the shingles was a contraption that had one of those fascinating (but utterly worthless) mechanical power sources. Few folks these days would know it had been called a '2-cycle gasoline engine' back in the Golden Age, and nobody had a clue anymore of how to make it function. With considerable effort, Billy managed to pry from the contraption a thick steel cutting blade, sharpened in a peculiar manner on opposite edges at each end. And then he found some stainless steel implements that might fetch a decent price… if anyone could figure out what they might be used for.

Pa had impressed upon Billy the need to find more salvage to sell at the Autumn Trade Fair that was coming up in a few days. The corn crop had been dismal this year, and earnings from sale of salvage at the Trade Fair would be essential to pay the annual taxes and buy the supplies they needed for the upcoming winter.

The burlap sack that held Billy's collection of salvage was getting heavy, but he made one last scan, carefully pulling aside some thin twisted strips of tan-colored aluminum siding.

They caught his eye immediately – three identical medium-sized locks, still packaged together beneath clear plastic shrinkwrap, atop a disintegrating piece of cardboard. If Billy had been able to read, he could have made out the words '1½ inch [4 cm] solid brass padlocks with case-hardened steel shackle', and a price tag of $12.99. All Billy cared about was that they were valuable antiques that looked brand new. He tried the keys, and the locks worked so smoothly that it was almost magic. Now THIS was great salvage!

Billy stood there admiring the locks, feeling the exhilaration of a successful hunt, before tossing them into the burlap bag and heading out of the undergrowth. As he walked over to grab his shirt, Billy was amused to realize that his penis was standing up totally hard inside his pants, and he rubbed it a few times with his hand. This stiffening was happening to him more and more frequently… when he woke in the morning, when he was excited (like now), and sometimes when he was just walking along and his trousers were brushing against his dick. He looked down at his sweaty bare torso, taking a deep breath to puff up his chest. Not bad for a 12-year-old, he thought. His slender physique was finally starting to fill out a bit… his shoulders broadening. He could detect the very beginnings of some adolescent muscles… no longer a little boy, though still a very long way from maturity. The summer sun had tanned his pale skin a bit too, but it wasn't nearly as dark as a normal person's complexion, of course.

His hands wandered languidly over his chest as he stretched and flexed like a cat. Ah, the sun felt good! His hands slid farther down along his belly. Then lower still…

There was that peculiar feeling again. That tingling pressure in his private parts… that indescribable feeling of warmth that radiated from his rigid penis. Billy rubbed the front of his pants again… mmmmm… nice! After looking around quickly to be completely sure he was still alone, he untied his belt, and the too-big trousers fell to the ground. He stepped out of them and stood completely naked in the warm breeze.

It was a fascinating toy, this plump 4-inch [10 cm] rod of warm, rigid flesh. It pointed straight up, and the short foreskin pulled back enough to reveal half of his purple glans. Billy pulled the shaft forward with his thumb and let go… then repeated it twice more. He giggled with a sense of joyful discovery each time the erection slapped against the soft hairless skin of his lower belly. Standing there in the Autumn sun, not another soul anywhere around, Billy began playing and experimenting with his stiff organ. Stroking his fingertips along the shaft felt delicious. Squeezing it in his hand made the sensations feel even better. And pulling down the foreskin to fully reveal the exquisitely sensitive head… then pushing it back up and sliding it down again… caused an intense shiver of pleasure to run through his body. The feeling increased yet again when the fingers of his other hand tickled his loose ball-sack. As he played with his balls it seemed that the orbs were fatter, and their satin-smooth pouch hung a bit lower, than the last time he'd taken notice. Wow! He was growing up!

But as his fingers continued to caress and stimulate his boyish genitals, the sensations became almost unpleasant in their intensity, and Billy stopped his explorations. The feeling was too strange… the pressure in his groin too strong. Was it a signal that he shouldn't be doing these things? Perhaps he could ask Pete. Billy suspected that his 17-year-old brother sometimes played with his dick under the covers. They slept next to each other on the floor of the family's small shack, and Billy sometimes observed the older boy's hand moving beneath the blanket… right where his cock was… though Pete always stopped immediately when he saw that Billy was looking.

Pete had never been all that friendly with Billy, but maybe he would answer some of the boy's questions.

Billy pulled up his trousers and slipped his shirt over his head. He gave his still-erect cock one last rub through the material before slinging the sack over his shoulder and setting off for home, 5 miles [8 km] distant on the shore of Solitude Creek, a small tributary of the Chesapeake Bay. Maybe he would detour to the stream than ran through this area. There was a natural swimming hole where he could bathe in clean fresh water, and wash away the weeks of sweat and dirt that had accumulated since he last bathed. (The creek in front of his home was brackish, and stinging jellyfish made swimming an unpleasant experience.)

He was a shy boy, almost painfully so, and if there were any other kids at the swimming hole, he'd probably just keep moving. He knew he shouldn't be so sensitive about their teasing… the laughing taunts about his white skin and blond hair… his slender nose and blue eyes… but he couldn't help it. His sister always tried to assure him that there was no shame in being a whitey. She reminded him that their great-uncle, who had lived up on the Miles River, had the same unusual features as Billy, and the uncle had led a fairly normal life. And Billy treasured the time Sister had told him: "I don't care what the others say; I think you're very handsome!"

Billy had no idea that in this area, a place once known as the Eastern Shore of Maryland, over half the population had been white during the Golden Age. But there were no history books that recounted how the incredibly contagious terrorist virus had very nearly wiped out the entire human race. It had additionally wiped out the technology-based civilization that had existed before. By 2004 – in the aftermath of the great Global Plague – only 1% of people with pure European ancestry survived the catastrophic depopulation. For some reason, persons of color had proven somewhat more resistant to the genetically-engineered virus. Here on the Eastern Shore, generations of racial assimilation had eliminated what had once been called the 'white race', save for an occasional child – like Billy – who was born with the features of a white ancestor.

Though Billy didn't know any of this history, he was acutely aware that everyone on the river had bronze skin, dark wavy hair, and brown eyes… everyone except him and Martin. Martin was also 12 years old, and his dark black skin and kinked hair made him almost as much of an oddity as Billy. He lived across the wide Choptank River, almost an hour's sail in Pa's small skiff. Though they were totally different in appearance, and saw each other only infrequently, Billy and Martin shared a special bond of friendship.

As he neared the swimming hole, Billy crept silently, a skill he had perfected hunting small game. He heard two voices but continued forward, keeping himself hidden in the underbrush. Peeking through the bushes, he recognized two farm boys who lived nearby. The tall and sturdy 15-year-old was named Jamal. The other was a boy of 13 named Maurice, who always went by the nickname "Shorty". Shorty was even smaller than Billy and looked especially young standing next to Jamal.

Billy knew that Jamal was the leader of an informal gang of boys in this area who preyed on weaker kids and committed petty thefts, and he wanted no part of them. But he couldn't take his eyes away from the scene playing out before him. The two boys were naked, standing a foot apart, face-to-face on the stream bank. Each had his right hand wrapped around the other's stiff cock… their left hands rested on each other's shoulders.

Billy crept even closer, moving through the undergrowth without a sound, until he lay flat on his belly on the top of the creek bank, a mere 20 feet [6 m] from the two boys. He stared breathlessly at their erections. Jamal's was HUGE to Billy's eyes – fully 7 inches [18 cm] and thick, with a mat of black curly hair above and full, low-hanging balls beneath. But Shorty's was just as much of a shock – the bronze-skinned lad's cock stood up more than 5 inches [12½ cm]… surprising on such a scrawny, boyish body… and a collection of dark hairs sprouted at its base. As the two farm boys masturbated each other slowly, murmurs of pleasure rose above the sound of the wild in the trees and the buzzing of insects. Jamal had a look of hungry lust in his eyes, and when he let go of Shorty's cock he put both his hands on the lad's shoulders.

"Get down and gimme a blow job, Shorty… take my cock all the way in your throat, just like last time." His voice was friendly, but firm.

Shorty dropped to his knees, slid his fingers around the engorged cock, and smiled up at the older boy. Then his mouth came down, and the fat cock-head disappeared into the boy's small mouth.

Billy could hardly breath as he watched. He had never seen anything like this… never known that two people could do such things. He was utterly entranced… and totally aroused. Billy's penis was again throbbing in a persistent erection, but he dared not move to fondle it and risk giving himself away. He continued to watch, motionless, as the sex scene grew ever more intense.

Shorty's head bobbed up and down on the man-size phallus that glided between his thick lips. His tongue swirled around the pole, and his mouth kept advancing farther down the shaft of cock-meat on the down-strokes, taking in 3 inches [7½ cm] for a time… then 4 [10]… then 5 [12½].

"Oh, yeah! Do it!… Now take it all!… Suck that cock all the way down!… Mmmmm, yeah! You're a great cocksucker, Shorty! Take it all!" Jamal's fingers entwined through the boy's wavy dark hair, and he pulled down on Shorty's head, forcing it further onto the thick brown erection. Only when Shorty gagged did Jamal let him up for a breath and a moment's respite.

"You can do it… Just like yesterday… Come on, cocksucker. Do it!" And Jamal's hands again guided the younger boy's head and mouth.

To Billy's amazement, this time the whole 7 inches [18 cm] slid all the way into Shorty's throat, and the boy's lips pressed against the dense mat of public hair. His lips rose half-way up the shaft, only to be forced down again by Jamal's strong hands. Billy couldn't really tell whether Shorty was enjoying this activity, but he was clearly trying his best to comply with his older friend's demands. Again and again the thick erection fucked into the boy's mouth, as Jamal thrust his hips forward and grunted with lust.

"Alright… that's enough," gasped Jamal after several minutes of vigorous face-fucking, and he pulled away from Shorty's sucking mouth. "You know what I want now, don't you… I'm gonna fuck your ass, and you're gonna love it… ain't you Shorty?"

The younger boy was breathing heavily from the exertion of the deep-throat blow job. Saliva drooled down the side of his mouth and snot from his nose until he wiped it with the back of his hand. Still kneeling at Jamal's feet, he looked up with a sad puppy-dog look on his face.

"Gee, I dunno, Jamal," he whined. "Don't ya wanna cum in my mouth?… I'll get you off really good… I promise I'll swallow every drop of your cum… OK, Jamal?"

"No way, Shorty. I'm training you to be my fuckboy. You ended up liking it both those other times. Now get down in position for me. Do it now, fuckboy. I can kick you out of the gang just as easily as I let you in. You don't want that, do you?"

As Billy watched in amazement, Shorty silently obeyed, turning away from Jamal and resting his forearms on the grassy embankment. As he lifted his slender ass up submissively, he rested his forehead on his clenched fists and closed his eyes. Jamal knelt between Shorty's splayed legs and positioned his cockhead at the entrance of the boy's anus. As Jamal eagerly jabbed forward with his hips, a suppressed note of pain issued from Shorty's throat.

"Come on, Shorty. Stop fighting me. You know you gotta do this if you want to be in the gang. I'm gonna fuck you regardless, so you might as well loosen up your damn hole. It's gonna hurt like hell if I have to force my way in." As he said this, Jamal was applying an additional coating of spit to his cock.

"OK, Jamal. I think I can do it now," said Shorty with a timid voice.

And sure enough, when Jamal again positioned his erection and thrust his hips, the fat dark cock-head slipped through the ring of muscle. Two grunts reached Billy's ears at the same moment. One trumpeted Jamal's surging lust. The other, barely muffled, evidenced the stab of pain in Shorty's tight ass. Jamal wasn't being gentle, but at least he was taking it slowly. He kept pushing forward gradually with his rigid prick until he was all the way in, deep inside Shorty's rectum.

"Ahh… yeah!… Alright fuckboy, here we go!" said Jamal, as he began to slide his cock back and forth past the boy's tight anus, slowly at first, holding him by the hip-bones. Before long, he was thrusting in long smooth strokes that filled Shorty's rectum completely. Jamal's dangling ball-sack swung like a pendulum with each thrust.

Billy was transfixed by the sight of the man-sized erection sliding in and out of Shorty's small round ass. But when he glanced again at Shorty's face, he was surprised to see a different expression from the earlier pained grimace. The boy seemed to be enjoying it! His head was now raised up and his mouth hung open. And when high-pitched, boyish pleasure noises emerged from Shorty's throat, harmonizing with the tenor grunts from the 15-year-old, it was clear that Shorty was now a totally willing participant in this erotic act.

"Oooo!… Oh!…Oh yeah, Jamal… Fuck me… Fuck me good," he crooned.

"Alright, Shorty! I KNEW you loved getting fucked!" crowed Jamal. "Take that cock, boy. Tell me what you are! Come on; tell me!"

"I'm your… ugh… I'm your fuckboy, Jamal… I'm your cocksuckin' fuckboy punk… Agh!… Yeah!… Do me, Jamal!"

"That's it… Yeah!… Take it, boy… Oh God, here it comes… I'm gonna fill up that tight cunt of yours with my juice."

And as Jamal's flexing hips went into high-gear, rutting with a desperate urgency for release, Shorty pushed his ass up and back to meet each thrust. A look of total lust was on each boy's face, and Billy stared and listened in utter amazement. With a shout of orgasmic pleasure that accompanied his cock's eruption, Jamal wrapped his arms around Shorty's torso and pulled the boy upright against his strong chest.

With his cock still humping into the 13-year-old's bowels and spewing hot cum, Jamal reached down and took hold of Shorty's half-hard penis. Breathing heavily against the boy's neck, Jamal began masturbating Shorty's 5-inch [12½] boner with one hand, while running his other hand over the younger boy's tight belly and skinny, hairless chest.

"Come on, baby… Shoot your spunk for me."

"Oh, Jamal! Yessss!… That's so good!… Oh God, YES!" whimpered Shorty. And he craned his neck around so he could look into the older boy's face. Their eyes locked, and in a moment their lips did as well. Sloppy tongue-wrestling lust accompanied the hurried jack-off, as Jamal hugged the boy tightly from behind… his cock still throbbing in Shorty's ass.

Billy watched it all from his close-up viewpoint, with wonder and arousal, hardly able to take a breath, as Shorty's body suddenly arched back and a moan of supreme pleasure filled the air. A string of thick white fluid shot from his 5-inch [12½ cm] erection, pumped out by Jamal's fast-moving fist. It was followed by several more smaller spurts, and then a flow than coated Jamal's fingers. Shorty was almost having convulsions as Jamal continued manipulating his cum-coated glans. Jamal played out the boy's orgasm to an agonizingly intense duration… slowing his hand to a near-stop, then giving a few more quick strokes, then slowing again. He even induced a delayed spurt of cum… almost a minute after the first eruption. All the while his tongue explored the inside of Shorty's mouth and his left hand pinched the boy's tiny hard nipples.

Finally, they collapsed onto the soft grassy stream bank, and lay on their sides, Jamal's body spooning tightly along Shorty's back, his strong arms wrapped around the younger boy's chest. Jamal's cock was still lodged inside Shorty's ass, still stiff, massaged by the anal spasms that accompanied the younger boy's orgasm. Shorty murmured words of loyalty and submission as Jamal gently nuzzled against the lad's neck and began moving his hips again in a thrusting motion.

Billy realized he needed to make his escape and slipped away from the stream as silently as he had arrived. His penis was as stiff as he had ever felt it, and the pressure in his groin was distinctly uncomfortable. But he made his way home quickly, without pausing again along the way.

By the time he arrived at the shack on Solitude Creek, it was dusk. The cooking fire sent a welcoming plume of smoke from the crude brick chimney, and Billy's stomach rumbled in anticipation of what Sister might have prepared for the family's supper. The pretty, dark-skinned 14-year-old girl had always tried her best to be the 'woman of the house', and Billy only vaguely remembered his mother, who had died when he was so young.

Pa admired the padlocks that Billy had found, though he was coldly dismissive of the value of the other tools, whose utility was lost in the forgotten Golden Age. Sister had made a big pot of crab soup, with tomatoes and beans and okra that she had put up from their garden, and it was delicious. Billy himself had caught the crabs that morning, running a trot-line with the skiff. Soon after dinner, as the house darkened with the night, Billy laid his corn-husk mattress on the floor and pulled the blanket over himself. Pete went out to talk and laugh with his buddies, while Sister lit a candle and cleaned up, talking quietly with Pa.

Pete's usual place for sleeping was on the floor next to Billy, but Sister slept with Pa on the feather bed, up in the sleeping loft. Back a couple years ago, Pete had been the one who slept with Pa, and Sister had been with Billy down on the floor. Billy never really understood why Pete stopped being Pa's favorite. All he knew was that HE had never been liked well enough by Pa to be invited to share the feather bed. As Billy drifted off to sleep, he heard Pa and Sister laughing quietly as Pa refilled their glasses with whiskey from the jug.

Later that night…

Billy was dreaming. It was an intensely erotic dream that dredged up the memories of Jamal and Shorty from the previous day. In the swirling unreality of his subconscious, Billy was imagining himself in the middle of a boy-orgy… being fondled, being sucked, being fucked… and in turn fondling, sucking and fucking. The words were echoing in his ears: "oh yes… fuck me!… give it to me hard… I'm gonna… oh, yeah; I'm gonna cum!…"

His eyes popped open and he was awake (a rare event this time of night, as Billy almost always slept soundly until dawn). The voice was still there, a moaning that sounded almost like someone in pain. It was Sister's voice! And Pa was grunting too. Billy nudged Pete, who lay next to him and hissed: "Brother! Wake up! Do you hear that?!"

"Mfrumf… Wha?… Huh?" mumbled Pete.

"Brother; listen!" whispered Billy.

"Hah! Yeah; they're a lot louder than usual. Sister was pretty drunk when I came in. Musta loosened her tongue. Go back to sleep, Little Brother."

"But… but… What's going on?" pleaded Billy, still in a whisper… though he knew in his heart what was going on up in the sleeping loft. The noises had reached a crescendo of grunting and huffing… accompanied by the rhythmic creaking of the loft's floorboards.

"Are you as dumb as you are ugly? They're fucking, of course… Just like they do 'bout every night, after they think everyone's asleep. Just a lot louder this time."

"Fucking? You mean Pa's putting his thing in Sister's poop-hole?"

"God! You ARE stupid. He's plowin' her cunt… you know, the girl-slit between her legs… Course, I guess he COULD be taking her up the ass, now that you mention it… He fucked MY ass so many nights up in that damned loft that I… Shit; you're just a little kid. You're too young to know about this stuff. Go back to sleep." Suddenly the noise from the loft quieted to just an occasional sigh.

"Am NOT too young! I'm 12 years old!" whispered Billy, after a long pause of listening and thinking.

"Years-old don't make no difference. Can you shoot cum yet?" asked Pete, his voice barely audible.

"Huh?" was Billy only reply.

"Pull back your blanket and show me your cock. Jeez; why am I even bothering?" hissed Pete.

After a moment's hesitation, Billy threw back the cover, untied his belt, and pushed his trousers down. His cock was a plump 4-inch [10 cm] hard-on, the red shaft highlighted against his white skin in the moonlight shining through the window.

"Not bad, Little Brother," whispered Pete in an approving tone. "You sure you don't cum when you have jack-off sessions with your little boyfriends?"

"I don't… I mean… I never…" mumbled Billy.

"Oh, that's right. You don't HAVE any friends. Guess it's up to me to teach ya."

Billy felt his face heat-up with the anger and shame of acknowledging his total lack of friends… except for Martin, way off across the river. But his heart start to beat fast and hard at the thought of Pete teaching him about these sexual secrets. Pete kicked his own blanket off, and slid his own trousers down to his knees. He grabbed his soft cock and gave it a few jerks.

"Watch, and do what I do," murmured Pete as his nut-brown penis quickly filled out to a mature 6-inch [15 cm] erection.

Billy recognized the masturbatory stroke as being the same that Jamal had used on Shorty, not long before Billy had left the scene the previous afternoon. As his eyes focused on Pete's hand jacking his cock, Billy's own hand rode the skin of his straining 12-year-old penis, up and down, sending jolts of strange sensation throughout his body. He was already primed… on the edge of a wet dream when he was awaked by the noise in the loft.

"Oh!… Oh!… It's so… I feel like I'm gonna…"

"Keep doing it, just like that," encouraged Pete, as he speeded up his own jack-off stroke for a quick orgasm.

Billy felt his whole body tense. It felt like he needed to pee… was that what had shot from Shorty's penis? His heart was beating like crazy, but he couldn't breathe. He just kept pumping with his fist, his body straining every muscle. And then…

"AHHHH!!"

A spurt of thin, clear semen erupted from Billy's straining cock… with so much velocity that the first drops landed on his chin. His hand continued to jerk in quick non-rhythmic strokes, as his mind gave up trying to rationally analyze what was happening to his body. Only after the incredible spasms of his very first orgasm finally subsided did Billy's mind come back to earth. He looked over at Pete. The older boy had just finished licking his hands and was now wiping them on his blanket.

"Good one, Little Brother!" he whispered. "NOW go back to sleep." And he grinned at Billy with an affection that he had rarely shown before.

Bill really wanted to stay up and talk, but he just said: "Thanks, Big Brother… Goodnight."

The shack was silent once more… save only for the sound of Pa's snoring up in the loft.

In the following days, Billy continued his search for salvage. He also used his time alone in the woods to practice his new-found hobby… jacking off. He did it so frequently that his penis became sore, and he sometimes worried he'd permanently injured it.

He tried talking to his older brother about sex… especially about the revelation that Pa had used Pete sexually during the years that Pete had shared his bed… just as Pa was now using Sister. But Pete would barely discuss any of it, and Billy wasn't about to ask Pa or Sister. (Sexual taboos had essentially disappeared after the Great Plague, but even Billy knew instinctively that a sexual relationship between a father and his child was not a matter to be openly discussed.) So Billy turned the ideas over in his brain, trying to come up with the truth. Ma had died when Billy was 4. That meant Pete would have been 9 and Sister 6. Had Pete first started sleeping in the loft bed right away? Billy couldn't remember.

"Why had Pa never wanted to fuck me?" Billy thought to himself. "It's because I'm so ugly… a goddamn whitey. That must be it."

The morning of the Autumn Fair was clear and cool, the steady breeze perfect for ferrying the goods they were going to sell. It took two trips in the skiff to get the bags of corn, the accumulated salvage, and all four family members down to the town of Cambridge, and Billy sailed the boat for each leg.

Nearly everyone who lived in these parts – around 600 people in all – would be at the fairgrounds just outside of town. In addition to the wares of traveling merchants, many of the families came to sell a variety of goods. Like a good many families, Pa rented a selling-stall and began setting up the salvage on its counter. Some folks were selling their goods from a simple blanket spread on the ground. Nearly all would be buying supplies for the winter. This was also the time and place for the garrison of Lord Baltimore's soldiers to collect the year's taxes. If the tax collectors had to go looking for you later on, there would be a penalty… and maybe a brutal beating for their trouble. Pa had no coins when he arrived, and would need 3 whole dollars for the tax. He sold the corn right away for 2 dollars, 1 and 8. There was no use bargaining the price, because it was basically fixed by the various grain merchants. (Pa sold to the merchant who offered two gulps from the whiskey jug to seal the transaction, rather than just one.) With luck, the family would get several more dollars from the salvage.

Coinage was uniform among the three often-squabbling governments along the Chesapeake that had arisen in the old cities of Baltimore, Norfolk, and Washington. It was based on the system from long ago and used a mixture of antique coins and new mintage from the three feudal city-states. The basic coin was the copper, called a 'penny' by some. A silver (also called a 'dime') was slightly smaller in size, but was worth 10 coppers. Ten silvers made a dollar – a large and impressive coin. Five dollars equaled a gold piece, but hardly anyone on the river had ever even seen one of those. Amounts were expressed by coinage, so the money Pa received for the corn – 2 dollars 1 and 8 – would be expressed as '$2.18' in the archaic usage.

After things were set up, Pa went to the whiskey-seller's tent to socialize with old friends and buy a supply of liquor to take home. Sister and Pete went in separate directions, scouting the grounds for youths they knew. Both of Billy's siblings had reached traditional courting age for their respective genders, so both kept an eye out for suitable mates with whom to flirt. Sister was especially anxious to hook a young man, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Pa (or some boy) knocked her up. Pa usually made an effort not to shoot his sperm into her pussy, being careful to pull out and finish off in Sister's mouth, or jack his cum onto her tits. The three teenage boys that Sister had spread her legs for were not always so careful.

That left Billy all alone, standing in front of the counter to sell an assortment of antique items that included window panes, various plastic items, and rusty gardening tools whose wooden handles had long ago disintegrated. He wanted to go looking for Martin, but that would come later. For now, there were potential customers to wait on.

A stranger with an odd look in his eyes seemed to be staring at Billy as much as at his wares. People seeing the boy for the first time typically stared at him with either amusement, pity, or an expression of distaste. This was different… almost like the way Jamal had looked while he fondled Shorty the other day.

"These padlocks… they look like they never been used," the man said at last, picking one up to try the mechanism.

"Yes sir. Found them in an untouched mound, with the see-through still covering them."

"I'll give you 9 coppers for all three of them… or a whole silver if you'll take Norfolk coin."

"Thank you for the offer sir," said Billy in a polite voice that disguised his annoyance at the ridiculously low-ball opening bid. "I'm thinking I'll be able to get 2 silvers for each one," said Billy with a straight face; "but I'll sell the three of 'em for 5 and 7… And begging your pardon, but my Pa insists on Baltimore coin only. The tax collectors don't like Norfolk money."

"Hrumph. And does your Pa need to approve the bargain? If so, I'll just come back when he's here."

"No sir. I can bargain the price and sell it without him."

"So where is your Pa? I hadn't noticed any other whities here."

Billy blushed with embarrassment and some annoyance at having to explain once again. "Pa ain't a whitey," he mumbled. "It's a streak that runs in the family bloodline… But there's my Pa over at the whisky-seller if you want to ask him whether I can bargain with you. He's sitting at the bar, second from the right, wearing the brown coat.

The man studied Pa for a moment, then turned back. "No need. Would you take 2 and 5 for the lot?"

They bargained back and forth quickly, and both seemed to be satisfied with a sale of all the locks at 3 and 8… more than a third of a dollar!

When Pete finally returned to the stall, it was Billy's turn to look around. His primary goal was quickly accomplished, finding Martin across the fairgrounds at the selling-stall where his family had set up. It wasn't all that hard picking him out of the crowd… a black face in a sea of light mocha. It had been two months since their last time together, but their excited chatter picked up as if it had been only a day, as they caught up with events in each other's lives. Martin's parents let him go exploring with Billy, and they set off across the wide fairgrounds.

After wandering for a time, Billy saw the man who had bought the locks… He was a merchant. A SLAVE seller! This was the first time Billy had seen slaves being openly sold at the Fair, though he was aware that there were people on the river and here in Cambridge-town who owned a slave or two. A group of onlookers, mostly men, gathered around listening to the seller hawk his wares. It turned out he had only a motley group of three slaves; low quality merchandise that might not be easy to sell. (If they'd been better quality, they'd be marketed in more prosperous location than this backwater town.)

The merchant was just starting his pitch, having brought from the small tent a middle-aged woman who had a cloth-covered band around her neck. She had an unattractive face, but reasonably full breasts. Her less-than-full set of teeth were snaggled and yellow when she gave a forced smile, and she was ineffective at concealing her hostility.

"Gentlemen! We have here a fine wench of some 35 years. She's got nearly 11 years – yes, you heard me right; 11 years! – left on a criminal indenture. Very obedient; good and strong; an excellent cook. Perfect for a widower with a brood to care for. Naturally, she's expert at night work," this last part said in an arched voice with a knowing wink. Just to emphasize the point, he tugged the front of her blouse down a bit to expose more of her cleavage.

A man standing near Billy and Martin murmured "from the looks of her, and with a criminal indenture that long, she probably murdered her husband."

As the woman stepped over to the side, the seller brought out a man with so little expression on his face that he was nearly catatonic. A deep gash of a scar ran from his hairline at the temple down to his mouth, disfiguring his face horribly. A stainless steel metal band with a sturdy hasp circled his neck. But the most significant thing about him at least in Billy's eyes was that he was a whitey!

"Here's an unusual find for you. A strong buck slave… and he's a pure-blood whitey," he said, looking right at Billy; "captured from the western mountains at the headwaters of the Potomac River. He comes with a certificate of perpetual servitude from the Washington government, with the proper endorsement stamp from the Baltimore authorities."

A woman in the group commented to her husband "A western barbarian, here on the Shore! What's this world coming to?"

The slave merchant continued: "An excellent field worker, ready to do your nastiest jobs all day, every day, without a complaint."

"Show us his back!" called out a savvy onlooker.

The seller mumbled to the man, who slowly took off his shirt to reveal a cross-hatch of horrific whip scars. "As you can see, he's received some corrective discipline. I'm told he had a tendency to run off when he was first captured, but that was some years ago and I assure you he's long since been broke-in. Just let him know who's boss and he won't give you a bit of trouble. You folks may have heard that whitey slaves are in high demand in the cities these days. All the best people have at least one."

As the male slave shuffled over to join the woman, the seller brought out a boy who was smaller than Billy and clearly suffering the effects of long-term malnourishment, with crusty sores on his scrawny arms, sunken cheeks and eyes, and bowed legs that made his gait awkward. The narrow metal band on his neck had bruised the sensitive skin.

"This is too creepy; let's go," said Martin.

"No; I want to stay for a while."

"Come on, Billy…"

"You go ahead; I'll catch up with you… I promise."

Billy's gaze kept switching back and forth between the scary-looking white man and the small, sad, brown-skinned boy.

"And now we have this bright young lad," said the hopeful merchant. "He just got sold into indentured servitude by his parents two weeks ago, and the lucky buyer will own him until…" (the man looked down at a piece of paper) "… June 7, 2211. That's almost 8 good years of labor and loyal service. He may not look like much right now, but I've found him to be talented and quite eager to please. Give him a decent meal every day, and he'll be a brawny youth before you know it. And in the meantime, he'll keep a discriminating man well-pleased during the night-time hours." Once again, the knowing tone of voice made it crystal clear what the man was talking about.

"Alright, gentlemen, if you have some money in your pocket and are truly interested, you can come into the tent to… uh… examine the merchandise more closely.

Nobody stepped forward at first, and the seller continued to talk up the mostly-imaginary qualities of his products. Then a young man – a shy bachelor that Billy knew slightly – came up and spoke softly to the merchant and gestured toward the boy. He jingled the money pouch at his belt, and the merchant directed the man and boy into the tent. The merchant followed in a few moments… but only after securing chains to the neck bands of the man slave and woman slave… locked with the very padlocks that Billy had sold several hours before!

As the merchant pulled back the tent flap to enter, Billy caught a clear glimpse of the boy standing with his trousers pulled down and his shirt hiked up. The customer had one hand on the lad's little-boy penis, which had risen to a small erection. His other hand was caressing the boy's skinny ass cheeks, his fingers sliding into the cleft. The tent flap closed for several minutes, and then it flipped open again as the merchant exited. For a few seconds, through the open flap, Billy could now see the boy on his knees in front of the customer. The lad had pulled his pants back up, but the customer was opening the front of his own trousers. The merchant engaged in more hopeful puffing of his wares, reminding the crowd (with a glance toward the tent) that serious shoppers would have an opportunity to privately examine the product before buying. Finally the customer emerged from the tent, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and had an enigmatic look on his face.

"He'll do… It's a deal," said the young man, and dug some coins from his pouch and handed them to the slave-seller. The boy looked up at him and smiled broadly, and the man gave a slightly embarrassed smile in return. A minute's worth of paperwork sealed the bargain.

Billy felt almost light-headed as he contemplated this scene. The boy was entering a life of servitude… and Billy's growing awareness of sexuality told him that the lad would be kept busy providing service in his master's bed. (The words that Jamal had spoken – 'fuckboy' and 'cocksucker' – flashed through his thoughts.) For some reason, Billy was totally aroused… he felt the now-familiar warmth and pressure in his loins. Maybe it was the boy's smile as he went off into sexual slavery… Billy wandered away as the slave-trader tried to generate interest in the wench and the buck-slave.

When he found Martin, Billy didn't mention what he had spied through the tent flaps. Instead he immediately returned to the warm comradery that he always felt with his only friend. The two unusual-looking boys – one very black and the other unusually white – continued to explore with an arm clasped over each other's shoulders.

As the sun drew low in the sky, the selling-stalls began closing down and the social activities began in earnest. But each family with a rented stall left someone to guard the goods that were stored there, lest they be stolen. That duty fell to Billy, but Martin stayed to keep him company. Pa dragged Sister along (to her displeasure) for his return visit to the whiskey-seller's tent, while Pete wandered around with his buddies, hoping to get lucky with a girl.

The whiskey-seller spotted Pa and came over to his table, asking if he wanted to try something special – a free sample. Pa was curious and nodded his head, following the man to a screened off area at the edge of the big tent, with Sister in tow. But instead of a beverage served from a jug, the merchant took out a strange glass implement – a pipe of some sort – and small glass jar with a tight lid. From the jar he removed three tiny white crystals that looked like rock salt, and placed them at the bottom of the pipe. Instructing Pa to hold the pipe over the lamp flame and inhale deeply of the ensuing smoke as the crystals heated up, the whiskey-seller described the potent energizing properties of the drug… 'smoking crystals' he called it. He hinted that the intoxication greatly enhanced one's sexual pleasure and stamina when consumed before and during love-making.

Pa's eyes lit up as he slowly exhaled, and he stared of in a daze for a minute. Then he immediately laid out coins to buy two more portions, one for himself and one for Sister. At a cost of one silver per dose, the drug was frighteningly expensive, costing as much as a whole jug of whiskey. A strange hungry look came into Pa's eyes, as he suddenly poured out the contents of his money pouch onto the table and counted. There was 3 dollars, 2, and 5… still plenty for taxes. And even if he dipped into the tax money, he thought, there'd be more money from selling the rest of their salvage tomorrow. Taxes weren't due until mid-afternoon when the fair started closing down.

Later that evening, after buying and smoking considerably more of the crystals, Pa sent Sister off to tell Billy that she and Pa would be renting one of the flop-house rooms in town, rather than sleeping on the ground at the selling-stall. Billy knew from past experience that Pete would be out carousing until very late, so it would be just him guarding the supplies they'd bought and the salvage still left to sell. But Martin ran to ask his parents if he could stay the night with Billy, and the two boys were overjoyed when the parents agreed.

They talked for a while in the relative privacy of the stall, which was closed on three sides, had a high counter along the front, and a flat slanted roof overhead. Both boys mused about their dreams for the future, and both agreed that they'd move away from the Choptank River when they came of age. They'd make their fortunes in a one of the cities – probably Baltimore – where the real opportunities were. They had both heard that the cities were home to small communities of whities and blacks, and it would be such a relief not to stand out so much for a change. As they lay side-by-side on the ground and talked, Billy felt that his bond of friendship with Martin was stronger than ever. Finally, they pulled a big thick blanket over themselves and settled down for the night, as a nearly-full moon shined cold light into the stall.

They lay in silence for several minutes, but Billy's mind was swirling. Each boy lay on his side, facing the other, and Billy studied his friend's nappy black hair and the impossibly rich color of his face, glowing in the moonlight… skin so dark that tones of blue and maroon lay hidden in it. He had always thought Martin was fascinatingly handsome, though he knew most others considered dark-blacks to be almost as homely as whities.

Martin seemed to be asleep… but how could he have fallen asleep so quickly? Billy was wishing he could snuggle against Martin… hold his friend close as they drifted off to sleep. But thoughts of snuggling quickly degenerated into horny thoughts of hard cocks and hot spurting cum. He longed to ask if Martin was interested in sex. But what if Martin thought those things were bad? What if even asking it ruined their friendship?

As these thoughts coursed through Billy's mind, he felt Martin's bare foot softly touch his own. The warm foot moved back and forth a few times, and then retreated. Billy's heart skipped, and then started beating faster. His penis stiffened in an instant, but he dared not play with it. He looked over at his friend's face, but Martin's eyes were still closed. His face betrayed nothing, but he seemed to be breathing more deeply. Billy slid his own foot over and duplicated the brief caress, staying a bit longer and sliding up Martin's ankle… then withdrew.

His heart was now racing, and his mind was pleading: Please do it again! Please touch me, Martin. Please!

His silent prayer was answered… this time by his best friend's hand, reaching over to stroke Billy's arm lightly. Billy's wordless reply was to rest his own hand on Martin's hip and scoot closer toward him. When Martin did the same, their clothed bodies were now pressed tightly together… their faces so close they could feel each other's warm breath.

"Martin?" whispered Billy.

"Yeah, Billy?"

"This feels good!"

"Yeah!… Would you like to…?" Martin's voice trailed off.

"What?"

"Nothing, Billy. It was a stupid idea."

But Billy was now positive that his friend was feeling the same intensely sexual urges. "Martin… have you ever done sex stuff?"

A pause. "M-maybe… How 'bout you?"

"I just learned how to make my cum shoot out," said Billy in an excited whisper. "And I spied on these two guys and watched them doing all kinds of sexy things… and I was thinking…"

"Yeah?" breathed Martin, as his hand slid down to Billy's crotch and pressed against the erection through the thick material of his pants.

"And I was… sort of… wondering if you'd like it if we took off all our clothes?"

"YEAH!" giggled Martin, and after a quick flailing of arms and legs they returned to the same embrace, but this time both were completely naked. Now their hands went right to each other's stiff cocks, fondling and exploring. Martin's was a bit longer than Billy's – maybe 4½ inches [11 cm] – but more slender. And like Billy's, his crotch was hairless.

"You never really answered my question, Martin… Have you ever done sex stuff?"

"Shit, YEAH!" gushed the boy, though still in hushed tones. "Around the middle of the summer I figured how to jack off, and then these three guys who live near me said they had a secret sex club and that I could join. They taught me all the stuff!"

"Everything? Like sucking?" asked Billy.

"Uh huh."

"And fucking?"

"Yep. When I joined the club, they said I had to suck each guy's boner and then let him fuck me. While I was doing three in a row like that, I was wondering whether it was worth it. But after the last one was done fucking me, they all three started sucking my boner and my ball-sack and stuff all at once! And I put my dick into each guy's hole, one after the other, and the last one, this older kid named Kwame, told me to keep fucking him until I shot my cum inside him!"

"WOW!!" said Billy in supreme admiration. "Could you… like… teach me those things?"

"Sure! Let's do it right now… But ya gotta be quiet, OK? What do you want to do first?"

"Well… this may sound weird… but have you ever heard of two guys kissing?"

The answer was immediate, as Martin's lips gently touched Billy's. The blond-haired boy was dizzy with emotion as his lips pressed back and his arms hugged Martin ferociously… pressing chest-to-chest and crotch-to-crotch.

"Oh, Martin! I'm so glad you're my friend!" whispered Billy at last. His throat felt so tight with emotion that he could barely speak.

Martin rolled his body so he was on top of Billy, lying between his friend's spread legs. He said "I'm really glad too, Billy!" But other words filled his brain… words he wasn't yet ready to speak aloud. But he tried to send the message to his friend, just by thinking it: 'I LOVE you, Billy! I've loved you for the longest time!"

And it almost seemed as though Billy heard the telepathic message, as their mouths crushed together, tongues entwining. Martin humped his hard boyish erection against Billy's warm body, and the blond boy wrapped his legs around the backs of his friend's sleek thighs.

"Teach me everything, Martin. Show me how I can make you feel good… I want to do EVERYTHING with you!"

"Wanna suck each other… at the same time?"

"Yes! But how?"

Martin spun around and maneuvered their two bodies so they lay on their sides… their faces only inches from each other's stiff cocks.

"Just do what I do; OK, Billy?"

Martin's tongue flicked against Billy's cock-head, which was half-shrouded by foreskin. In an instant, Martin's own penis felt the wet warmth of Billy's tongue. Martin's hand reached for Billy's soft, hairless ball-sack, and a heartbeat later Billy was fondling Martin's balls. The black boy's fingers migrated to the cock shaft and gently pulled down on the skin, fully exposing the bright-red cock-head. Martin's mouth enveloped his friend's plump erection and began to pleasure it with all his recently-acquired skills. Martin felt Billy's body tense and he heard a long moan… and then he felt his own rigid penis being devoured by Billy's hot mouth.

It was as if the two boys had merged together as a single entity… a sucking machine that operated without the need for conscious thought… giving and receiving pleasure in equal portions. Sucking, licking, nibbling, and fondling with wild abandon.

Billy was in heaven! He had discovered sexuality only days before, and this FAR surpassed anything he had previously experienced. He slurped at the slender black rod with a passion that overwhelmed his senses. He inhaled deeply of the rich earthy musk of Martin's crotch… marveled at the softness of the skin that held Martin's half-grown balls… used his fingers and lips and tongue to worship the foreskin that slid so freely up and down the slender glans.

And just when he thought the physical sensations couldn't get any more intense, Billy felt a finger sliding along the nerve-packed skin at the entrance of his anus… and then push right into the hole! His whole body shuddered and his anal muscle clamped down on the digit. For several long moments, Billy was paralyzed. He couldn't think or move… all he could do was feel. The exquisite pleasure of his erection being sucked was boosted immeasurably by the slender forefinger that slid back and forth, an inch inside this secret place… this place he had never before explored on his own. The feelings were so intense, so new, that Billy let Martin's cock slip from his mouth. When he realized he wasn't keeping up his part, Billy renewed his oral pleasuring with renewed vigor. And he brought his own finger between Martin's ass cheeks and touched the boy's warm trembling pleasure-spot.

"Get some spit on your finger first, Billy," gasped Matin, removing his mouth briefly from his friend's boner. "It makes it slide in better."

Licking his index finger and loading on an extra glob of spit, Billy rubbed it around the puckered circle of flesh, just as Martin had done to him. Then he pressed his fingertip against the hole. But instead of clamping tight, Martin's anus flexed open… letting the finger slip all the way into the hot orifice. Only when the digit was buried to the hilt did Martin's ass muscle clamp around it, practically sucking on the finger as Billy slowly moved it in and out.

Billy tried to exert the same muscle control… to make his anus open to Martin's erotic probing. When he quickly mastered it, the feeling was incredible! Then Martin's finger popped out, and Billy almost complained and begged for its return. But then he felt something different at his bottom-hole. Now there were two slippery fingers rubbing and gently pushing. Billy wanted it desperately… wanted those two fingers to enter him… and he wanted to produce those same feeling for Martin. Lubing his forefinger and middle finger with saliva, Billy slid them against Martin's ass, and then slowly pushed. He heard a muffled "Mmmmmmm" from Martin's cock-filled mouth as both fingers eased in. The hum transmitted a vibration to Billy's penis that made him shiver. And he prepared himself to get the same ass-stretching treatment.

As Martin pressed both fingers slowly against the puckered circle, Billy tightened the muscles in his abdomen and pressed down. The slippery fingers entered, with a twisting cork-screw turn. Billy felt an electric current run through his body. He cried aloud… not in pain, but in exquisite pleasure.

As both boys finger-fucked each other, they each forgot about sucking and concentrated instead on the waves of addictive erotic sensations that radiating from their bottoms.

"Oh, Billy! Let's fuck each other. I want to do it so bad!"

"Fuck each other at the same time?"

"No, silly!" said Martin, giggling at the impossible concept. "I'll fuck your bottom and then you do mine. How do you want to be when we do it?"

"I don't… uh, I never… You do it how you like, Martin. Teach me how; OK?"

"OK! When I'm doing the fucking, I like face-to-face. And when I'm getting it, I like it from behind… Hey; do you have any lard or grease or something like that? It's better than spit when you're fucking."

"We bought a jug of cooking oil today. That OK?"

"Perfect! Go get it."

Billy hopped up and went over to the collection of staples that Pa and Sister had purchased earlier. Martin's eyes were glued to his friend's beautifully slender 12-year-old body, lit by the moonlight, and especially to the 4-inch [10 cm] penis that stood up so rigidly it almost touched his belly. Martin couldn't wait to make love to him.

When Billy had found the jug, he pulled the stopper and handed it over. Martin directed Billy to lie on his back, and he knelt between Billy's spread legs. Then Martin poured some oil in his palm, slathered it all over his own cock and Billy's, giving both a couple exciting jack-off strokes. He applied a liberal coating around and inside Billy's ass, starting with one finger probing into the hole, then two fingers. He wiped his hand on the blanket and looked lovingly at his friend.

Martin leaned down and kissed Billy on the mouth, and their bodies merged together in an embrace. The two oiled erections rubbed together in a dance of pleasure that quickly had both boys humping their hips almost convulsively.

"I'm gonna do it now, Billy," he whispered. Martin rose up to a kneeling position and pushed Billy's legs back to expose his ass. "Remember to push out as I enter you, OK?… I'll try to be gentle, but if it hurts, tell me and I'll stop."

"OK. I trust you."

Billy held his legs back as Martin aimed his throbbing penis with his hand and pushed forward. The dark-skinned boy had a slender cock-head, and it entered without resistence. As Martin pushed again, Billy's anus opened fully to him, and the boy-boner slid in to the hilt, riding the slippery oil and entering much faster and deeper than Martin had intended.

"Ohhhh, God, yesss!" gasped Billy. "It's so… It feels like I… oh, Martin… it's wonderful!"

The sturdy black youngster needed no further encouragement. He was so primed that he began humping into Billy's asshole in eager thrusts, filling the white boy's bottom with luscious sensations of fullness and intense stimulation. Billy wrapped his legs around Martin hips, submitting totally to being fucked.

Billy's pleasure was absolute, and he greeted each hard cock stroke with a whimpering words of gratitude. "Oh… yes… oh… do it… yes… yes…"

Martin looked into Billy's face and was overjoyed to see the intense pleasure it exuded… eyes closed, mouth open and gasping. As he felt his climax approaching, Martin leaned down and embraced his best friend and planted his mouth firmly on Billy's lips… their tongues groping hungrily in each other's mouths.

Billy wrapped his arms tightly around Martin's back, overwhelmed by how wonderful this lustful merger of bodies actually felt. Billy's legs encircled Martin's hips, and he flexed them to pull Martin's cock even deeper with each thrust. With only a few more pounding fuck-strokes, Martin gasped as if in pain. The thrill of orgasm surged through his entire being, and he planted his seed deep within Billy's rectum. Then Martin collapsed onto Billy's chest… utterly satisfied.

Martin's exhaustion was extremely short-lived, as he rolled off of Billy and said "Your turn now! Get the oil and lube up your dick some more, and spread it inside my ass like I did to you."

Martin reached for two folded blankets that lay close at hand. He positioned them under his crotch as he lay face-down on the ground. His legs were spread apart, knees pressing down a bit to raise his ass into position. This was the way he liked to be when he was fucked by one of the boys back home.

Billy was so excited that his hands shook as he probed two fingers into the crack of his young friend's perfect young ass. The feel of oiled flesh-on-flesh was so erotic… and when he had lubed his rigid penis and was rubbing it against the slippery hole, his whole body was literally shaking.

"Do it, Billy!… Fuck me good and hard!… Oh please, Billy; fuck me!" murmured the handsome black boy.

Billy's erection pushed against the entrance and was instantly granted admission. As he slid in to the hilt, gliding through the tight greased opening, every nerve in his cock shot pleasure messages to his brain. And although this was his first time, Billy's body knew exactly what to do as he began to fuck… pumping his hips, rhythmically thrusting. His single-minded goal was to reach his cum-shooting climax as quickly as possible, and every instinct urged him to keep thrusting faster… harder.

Martin enjoyed being on the receiving end of his best friend's first fuck, even though he liked it better to get fucked more slowly. But Billy's excitement was contagious, and Martin urged him on, knowing it would be quick. Martin clamped his anal muscle down hard on Billy's stiff penis as it thrust aggressively in and out.

"Yeah, Billy!… Do it!… Fuck my ass hard!… Oh, yes! Do it!"

And it was indeed quick, as Billy's semen pulsed into Martin's clenching ass, and he dropped onto his friend's back… tired, but ecstatic.

Sleep came almost instantly for the two exhausted boys, who now lay face-to-face, arms and legs entwined. But before he drifted off, Billy whispered in Martin's ear: "You know how we're gonna move away from here when we get older? Let's do it together, OK? Let's stay together ALWAYS!"

Martin answered wordlessly, with a long, soft, loving kiss.

Billy's eyes popped open, and it was momentarily disorienting to find himself somewhere other than the floor of his home. A gentle voice was saying "Wake up, sleepyhead. The sun's already started to rise." Billy instantly knew that it was Martin, lying behind him and snuggling up against his back. Martin's arm was draped over Billy's body, and his hand lightly brushed the white-boy's smooth slender chest. Billy took hold of his friend's hand and moved it down… down to his morning erection that throbbed insistently.

"I'd like to play some more, Billy, but I gotta go. My family's going home early. And besides, it would be kind of embarrassing to have your brother see us."

Billy suddenly noticed Pete, sleeping soundly beneath a blanket only a few feet away. God knows how late he came back from partying!

As both boys dressed, they talked quietly. The fairgrounds were beginning to come alive with the rising sun, and people would be shopping soon for the things Billy's family wanted to sell.

"I hope we an get together again REAL soon, Martin. I'll try to get Pa to let me borrow the skiff so I can come visit; OK?"

"That would be great! And Billy?… Bring some of that oil with you when you come!" Both boys giggled and gave each other a discrete kiss, kneeling down behind the counter.

"I'll miss you, Martin… I… I like you so much!" He almost told Martin that he loved him! But that wouldn't be proper for a boy to tell another boy… Would it?

Billy set up the display of items that remained to be sold, not waking his brother. As he looked over the inventory, he figured there might be more than a dollar to be made. And as the morning wore on, Pete continued to sleep inside the stall, while Billy stood in front and did his best to sell the tools and the panes of clear window-glass. As the hours went by, he wondered when he'd see Pa and Sister. He had no doubt that they were sleeping off a late-night drunk. But as it got to be mid-afternoon, and Pete had long since awakened, Billy became increasingly concerned. The Trade Fair was finishing up, and most people had already left. He and Pete sold the last of the salvage at bargain prices. When they counted the earnings, it came to 8 and 8… not the dollar he'd hoped for, but when added to what they earned yesterday it was plenty to pay the taxes.

As Billy and Pete started loading the skiff, Sister finally showed up… without Pa. She was disheveled and one of her eyes was swollen and bruised purple.

"What the…" exclaimed Pete.

"Don't ask!… Don't even ask," said Sister, almost in tears. But then the tearful words began to flow as she started to explain… how she and Pa had smoked the wonderfully intoxicating little white crystals long into the evening… how they had rented a flophouse room but had gone back to the whiskey-seller's tent to buy more crystals and a pipe to smoke them in… how Pa had invited two men he barely knew to come back to the room and smoke from his drug stash. And how Pa had then invited the men to…

"Pa let them… have their way with me…" She choked up for a moment, but then continued. "He told them they could do me any way they wanted. And the worst part is… when I was smoking the crystals, I… (sob)… I actually enjoyed it! Even when they were… they both did me at the same time… while Pa watched! And when they were gone and Pa was talking about buying more crystals, I found out he had spent almost all the tax money! I screamed at him and told him how stupid he was, and he…" She brought her hand up to her blackened eye and broke into pitiful sobs.

Just then, Pa strode up, with a look in his eyes that Billy could not read… part crazy, part confused, part angry.

"Listen up!" he said in a stern voice. "I got somethin' important to tell ya. And I don't want no back-talk, 'cause I've made up my mind… Billy; you're gonna… uh, I had to… what I mean to say is…" Pa's deep shame overwhelmed the veneer of gruffness, and he struggled for words to explain what he was about to do.

A few minutes later…

The big tent was still set up, serving the last customers, and Pa sat at a table with the whiskey seller and an Army officer. Pa wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so he could smoke more crystals. He needed to drown the feelings of guilt. And he wanted to repeat the ecstatic rush of intoxication that washed through his body and brain as soon as the smoke hit his lungs. And he wanted to be back in the loft, caressing Sister's firm young breasts and fucking between her legs all night long.

"The law requires that you fully understand this indenture before you make your mark," said the Commander in a bored tone. "Answer these questions, yes or no. Do you swear that you are the father of Billy Mfume, date of birth March 21, 2191, a resident of Solitude Creek on the Choptank River?"

"Yes," said Pa quietly.

"Do you affirm your intent to sell, for good and sufficient consideration, the absolute custody and control of Billy Mfume from this date until he comes of age on March 21, 2209?"

"Yeah."

"And do you swear that you will not interfere with the ownership rights of the buyer or any subsequent purchaser?"

"Yeah; I swear it," mumbled Pa, as he felt the shame building up in his gut, making him nauseous.

"Make your mark here, and I'll certify the indenture."

The whiskey-seller had already placed 2 silver dollars and 25 portions of crack cocaine on the table. Pa snatched up the package of smoking crystals and stuffed it inside his coat. Then, as he reached for the coins, the army commander caught hold of Pa's wrist. Without a word, the officer picked up the two big silver coins and put them in his pocket. Then he rubbed his fingertips together, motioning for Pa to pay up the final dollar of his tax. When Pa dug into his money pouch and counted out 8 silvers and 20 coppers, there was hardly anything left. The commander took from his coat a small book and made a note. Then he fished out a scrap of paper with the words 'receipt for taxes paid' printed on it, and he signed and dated the paper.

"There," he said gruffly. "Be glad we didn't have to come looking for you for the tax money… Now, if you you'll excuse me…" And he stood up and walked away, taking with him a jug of whiskey that was a tip from the merchant for certifying the indenture.

"Remember," said Pa to the merchant. "You promised you'll treat the boy well and not abuse him. And you'll teach him the selling trade… right?

"Sure, sure! He'll be my little helper in the business. And he'll be a lot happier movin' out of this backwater too. He'll have the adventure of a lifetime. We're headed up Baltimore-way on the schooner this evening, soon as we break down the tent and load up. Your son will do just fine under my protection."

Sister and Pete stood with Billy outside the tent. All three were still crying and hugging each other as Pa came out.

"Someday, Billy, you'll understand that I did this for your own good," lied Pa. He gave his son a quick embrace and then hurried his daughter and older son away to the shoreline, where the skiff was packed and ready to head home.

Billy was nearly cried-out and trembling with fear as the whiskey-seller brought him into the tent. The man clamped a rusty metal slave-collar around his neck and chained him to the main tent pole.

"Don't you want to put him to work, boss?" asked a serving wench, who wore a cloth-covered collar on her own neck.

"Nah. He's not staying. I'm turning him around for a quick profit. Feel free to smack him if he mouths off or cries too loud. We'll keep him here until his family is gone."

The man then strolled across the fairgrounds to the slave merchant's location. The slaver was shouting curses at the slow-moving whitey slave, who was packing up the small tent. Sturdy shackles on the slave's ankles made his movements awkward and even slower.

"Well, did you get him?" asked the slaver hopefully when he saw the whiskey-seller approaching.

"Yup," he said and held up indenture papers. "Do we still have our deal?"

"One gold piece for one golden-haired slave boy, just like I said. Now let's get those papers signed over." And the slave merchant pulled a solid gold coin from his vest pocket and tossed it to the other man. The transfer of indenture papers didn't need government certification, and the transaction was completed in a minute.

"Pretty good business for a trade fair in the middle of nowhere," said the slave merchant. "I sell two low-grade dregs for a decent price, and bring in a 12-year-old Grade-A Prime, perfect for the Norfolk brothel market." He rubbed his hands together greedily. "Now bring my new purchase over here prompt-like. I still need to test out the lad's night skills… if you know what I mean. There's a fancy boy-brothel in Norfolk – right on the Palace Square, if you're familiar with it – that pays top dollar for young whities who have a knack for that kind of work. I hear tell the Duke his self patronizes the place and prefers a lad with straw-colored hair and those strange blue-colored eyes."

"Never saw the appeal of whities myself," said the whiskey-seller. "Whenever I see one, all I can think about is the thieving, murderous barbarians out to the West. But city folk have their fashions, and there's no disputing that the whitey girls and lads fetch a premium at the whorehouses. There's this place in Washington City where all the gals have such big…"

As the whiskey-seller rambled on, the slaver's thoughts turned inward… to his splendid new purchase. This had always been the merchant's favorite part of his line of work – breaking in a newly-bought boy-slave. His mind's eye pictured himself and the young whitey in the tiny ship's cabin where they'd soon be. First I'll take off his shirt, he thought to himself. Then I'll tell him to clasp his hands behind his neck, and I'll run my his hands over the his smooth shoulders and chest and arms… suck on his tiny nipples and make them stand out stiff… then I'll slowly lower the lad's trousers… inch then down ever so slowly and gauge the look in his eyes as his parts are exposed… ah, then I'll fondle his boyish cock, feeling it rise up beneath my fingers… oh, yes!… I love how every boy is so wonderfully different; so unique in his pleasure parts… and I DO hope he's hairless… then I'll pull the naked lad face-down across my lap, feeling his little boner pressing against my thigh… hold him firmly, feel him squirm on my lap as I run my hand over the soft flesh of his round bottom… and then raise my hand up high over that little up-raised ass and…

"Ahem…" said the whiskey-seller with a little throat-clearing cough. "I suppose I'll go get the boy now."

The slaver retreated from his fantasy in an instant. He blushed and gave an embarrassed laugh as he adjusted the stiff erection inside his trousers.

"Yes… of course… bring him at once." He watched the whiskey-seller walk off.

The slaver went over to a wooden trunk and looked through the assortment of metal collars of different sizes and designs. He pulled out a small one that was covered in fine cloth of a dark blue. The perfect look for a brothel boy! And then he picked up one of his new brass padlocks. Looking down at the lock, the man gave a little chuckle. Then he laughed out loud at the wonderful irony.

Chapter 2
En Route to Norfolk: Breaking in Billy

With eyes downcast, Billy walked slowly up the gangplank of a big two-masted Bay schooner. His thoughts were a swirling muddle of fear and sadness and uncertainty. A tug on the cloth-covered brass collar around his neck reminded him to keep up with the slave in front of him, to whom Billy was attached by a 4-foot length of chain. Billy's eyes focused on the neck of the whitey slave, encircled by a thick bare-metal collar, to which the chain was attached by a new-looking padlock. An identical lock chafed at the front of Billy's neck.

The boy tried to avoid looking at the gruesome cross-hatching of whip scars on the man's bare back. Whenever he did, a chill ran through his body, and he thought he might begin to cry again.

"Hurry it up, you damned whities," grumbled one of the longshoremen behind them, who was carrying a wooden trunk on his shoulder. Like everyone else on the ship and in the harbor, the longshoreman had brown skin, wavy black hair, and a broad nose. The pale complexions and straight blond hair on Billy and his fellow slave were rarely seen in these parts.

The massive depopulation and societal collapse brought about by the Global Plague of 2003 had radically changed the racial mix of the entire population in this area… a place once known as the Eastern Shore of Maryland. For reasons little understood then, and completely forgotten now, the genetically-engineered plague struck people of European descent much harder than those of other races. Over the past 200 years, the so-called white race had been homogenized out of existence. Pockets of pure-blood whites were still found out in the Appalachian Mountains, to the west of the civilized region. And sometimes a genetic throw-back – like Billy – would be born to brown parents, but with the characteristics of a white ancestor.

Supervising the procession up the gangplank was the slave-seller who had just purchased Billy's indenture… the document that bound him to servitude until his 18th birthday. Billy and the other slave were directed to a room down in the ship's hold where there were crude wooden benches along each wall, with sets of open shackles chained to the floor every few feet and metal rings bolted to the wall at neck level. Billy scanned the room and figured that 30 slaves could be held in the room, but there were just the two of them on this voyage. The merchant directed the two slaves to click shackles onto their ankles. Then he put a key in the padlock on Billy's slave-collar, removed the chain, and ran it through a ring on the wall. Then he doubled the chain up on the buck-slave's collar, tethering him to the wall on a 2-foot [60 cm] leash.

"Don't get too comfortable, boy," he said to Billy; "I'm bringing you up to my cabin as soon as we're under way."

When the merchant had left, Billy sat in silence, looking occasionally at the silent man beside him. Finally, he could suppress his curiosity no longer. "What's your name, mister? Where you from?"

The man stared at the boy with a blank, lifeless expression for long moments, making Billy feel even more hopeless and scared. A fearsome scar ran from his hairline to his chin. Finally his face creased into a slight smile, and life came into his eyes. Then he spoke, in a low tone and in a voice that was accented unlike any that Billy had ever heard.

"Best keep our talk low. Master don't take kindly to slaves talking amongst theyselves. But I'll answer your questions best I can… til Master comes back. They call me Cicero; it's a danged slave-name that my first owner gave me. Afore then, I was Jeremiah Hatfield. But that was a long time ago, afore the raiding party took me."

"My name's Billy Mfume. Do you think, Mr. Cic… uh, I mean Mr. Hatfield… you think they'll give ME a new name too?"

"Naw, young'un. You're what they call an indentured slave. Heard Master talkin' to the merchant that sold you. They don't generally rename your type. Life-term slaves like me though…"

"I saw you at the fairgrounds… We look kinda the same, don't we."

"Aye, lad. You're as white as any of my people from the western mountains."

"You say they captured you?" said Billy with an expression of wonder. Then sadness passed over his face as he added "My Pa… he… he sold me for money to pay the taxes." Billy was still trying to comprehend how Pa could have squandered the family's money, and then gone and sold his younger son into servitude.

"Aye; captured. I made the mistake of arrogance and carelessness, Billy. I was fool enough to think that a whitey like me could farm the bottom-land along the Potomac River and be left alone by the brown folk from the East. Well, I was wrong. Shoulda stayed up in the mountain hollows with my own people. The raiders caught me while I planting… gave me this here cut across my face in the fight… and took my wife and daughter too. They said we was illegal squatters on land owned by the guv'ment of Washington. If'n you don't know it already, whenever a whitey gets caught up with the Brown Man's law, seems like the penalty's always a lifetime with one of these collars around his neck. You ask me, it's just a way for the guv'ment to make money from the slave auctions… and for the brown aristocrats to get more bodies to work their plantation fields, and slave-women for their beds.

"So anyhow, ain't seen my wife or child since the sale at the Washington City slave auction. My little girl was only 5 then, and we was all sold separate. I been tryin' to escape off and on for… oh round about six years. And you can see from the stripes on my back what it's gotten me."

"Gosh," muttered the boy in a low voice. "That's terrible…"

The man put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let me give you some advice, Billy… Just because your folks sold you, that don't mean its right. Slavery's an unnatural condition for the human soul. But for now, you best do what you're told. You'll be a free man eventually, so just go along with this evil as best you can. Don't be stupid and get yourself whipped for nothing. But don't never let yourself start thinking it's proper, what they's doing to you. Hear? You keep your pride, even if you have to hide it down deep inside you. But if'n they mistreat you bad… or you can't no longer tolerate the things the Brown Man makes you do… then you think up a good plan, and when the time's right, you skedaddle. Head for the western mountains, where white folks can live in freedom. Try to get north, to the banks of the Potomac River, and follow it all the way up til it's a bitty stream. There's good folk in the mountains – whities just like you and me – who'll take you in. Understand?"

"But Mr. Hatfield, should I…"

Footsteps sounded on the steps down to the hold, and the conversation stopped immediately. The slave merchant came in, carrying the brass key ring that hung outside the door and unlocked the shackles holding Billy's ankles. The youngster followed the man up to the deck and saw that the ship had pulled away from the harbor and entered the broad Choptank River, its sails catching the light breeze of the late afternoon. Across the deck, down another set of steep steps, and along a narrow corridor, they came to the merchant's tiny cabin. When they were both inside, the man pushed the lock closed and sat on the narrow bunk, as Billy stood in front of him.

"Alright, boy; lesson number one," he said in a gruff business-like voice. "You're a slave. For the next five years and however many months, you are owned by your master. Right now, that's me. Soon it'll be someone else. Regardless who it is, you address that man as 'Master' every single time. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Billy timidly.

The man's open hand slapped the boy hard across the side of his head, almost knocking him over.

"Not too bright, are you, boy. Not 'yes, sir.' The response is 'yes, MASTER'. Understand?"

"Y-yes, m-m-master," stammered Billy, struggling to keep from crying.

"That's better. As I was saying, your master owns you… totally. He owns your mind, body, and soul. Anything he orders you to do… ANYTHING… you do without hesitation. If you displease your master, you get punished. Simple as that. Don't go thinking that because the ownership papers say 'indentured servant' on them that you'll any less a slave than a life-term buck like that Cicero fella down in the hold. Until you serve out your contract, you're no different."

The man reached into his big wooden truck and pulled out a leather riding crop.

"See this, boy? Hold out your left hand, palm up."

"Y-yes, Master," said Billy, staring at the 18-inch [45 cm] crop. Feelings of apprehension threatened to overwhelm him.

SLAP! The tip of the riding crop whipped down on his open palm. It felt like a hornet-sting to Billy, and tears immediately formed in his eyes, though he kept his hand extended.

"You can put your hand down. This-here tool is for when I'm a little displeased with a slave… like when I think he's not trying hard enough. A few dozen swats with this thing on your bare backside might make you more attentive to what I'm trying to teach you, don't you think, boy?"

"Oh, YES, Master!" said Billy, trying to emphasize his willingness to please, even as he wiped away the tears from his cheeks.

The man set the riding crop down and again reached into the trunk. He pulled out a whip of braided black leather, 4 feet [1.2 m] long. When the slaver flicked his arm quickly, the whip made a loud snapping sound. The tip struck an unlit candle in a nearby wall-sconce, and a chunk of wax flew across the room.

"You know the scars on the back of that dim-witted Cicero?"

Billy could hardly make his voice work, but he croaked out the words "Yes… Master."

"I'd use this-here whip on a slave's back when I'm truly angry. You'd NEVER make me angry at you… would you, boy?"

"Oh, NO, Master! Never!"

"Just wanted to let you know where you stand, boy. Now, let's see what you look like under those filthy clothes of yours… and see how obedient you are. Put your hands above your head."

"Yes, Master," said the boy, almost eagerly, as he saw the whip go back into the trunk and the riding crop onto a bed-side shelf. He held his arms up straight as the man walked over to him.

The merchant pulled Billy's rough canvas shirt off over his head with one tug and sat down on the bunk. Billy could almost feel the man's gaze exploring his body.

"Clasp you hands together behind your neck, boy."

"Yes, Master," he repeated automatically as he instantly obeyed, entwining his fingers and spreading his elbows to the sides.

The man pulled the boy up close to him and let his hands wander over Billy's torso… shoulders, chest, arms, back. He smiled as his fingertips teased the barely-visible tan nipples into tiny nubs. Then he leaned forward and licked at each nipple as the boy stood at attention. Looking up into Billy's eyes, the man saw a degree of embarrassment, but the lad showed no sign of resisting. That was a good start. He ran his fingers along the soft hairless skin of Billy's exposed armpit… then brought his nose close to inhale the scent… then licked at the salty dried boy-sweat. Billy sought unsuccessfully to suppress a ticklish giggle. The slaver was so intoxicated by the subtle richness of the boy's musk that he moved over to the silky skin beneath the other arm and repeated the actions.

The merchant's hands then went to the boy's belt – a length of sturdy rope – and loosened the knot. With his hands holding up the over-sized trousers on each side of Billy's waist, he gradually lowered them, uncovering the boy's lower belly, then his hairless pubic region, then the base of the flaccid penis. The man loved to draw out this part of his ritual… uncovering a boy's pleasure parts ever-so-slowly. It was a demonstration of the slave's submission… and it was so damned-much fun besides. He glanced again into the 12-year-old's face and saw Billy's cheeks blushing a rosy red. But the man could tell there would be no resistence… no crying.

He let the trousers drop to the floor, exposing a penis of very pleasing proportions and a short foreskin that allowed the tip of the boy's cock-head to peek out. Billy's maturing balls were bigger than the man had anticipated, and hung down in a sack that was neither boyishly compact nor particularly low-hanging. The overall package made a splendid appearance indeed!

The merchant was increasingly optimistic about an easy and profitable sale at auction when they pulled into the port city the next day. The lad would likely be bought by one of the fancier boy-brothels… though it was possible that a wealthy man might be looking for a pretty young white boy as his concubine.

The slaver thought it unlikely he'd be sold to one of the workingmen's brothels… where he'd spend his days and nights in a dank room the size of this ship-cabin, serving customers who had paid a dime for a quick round of suck-and-fuck. That was the kind of place where a busy night might find a line of rowdy, drunken men congregating outside the boy's room, waiting their turn for a fuck… where some extra money paid to the proprietor allowed a customer to get as rough as he wanted with a boy-whore. But these places – the kind of whorehouse the slaver had patronized numerous times – didn't usually bid the kind of money that the merchant was hoping to get for Billy.

Of course, in order to fetch a top price the lad would need to display some talent for sex-work. A brothel-owner or a wealthy aristocrat would certainly want to check him out before bidding lavishly. But there was all night… and the morning too… to teach the lad some basics. And the slaver had always thoroughly enjoyed this sort of instruction.

Billy flinched slightly as the merchant's fingertips came up beneath his balls, lifting them as if gauging their weight, teasing the soft skin and feeling each testicle. His fingers moved up to fondle the soft penis, and for a long moment the boy seemed incapable of pulling air into his lungs. Billy looked down to watch as his foreskin was slid back and forth across the reddish glans, as the man's other hand reached around to caress the boy's baby-smooth ass.

Billy was deeply embarrassed, and his cheeks burned with a hot glow. He didn't want the man to think that he was enjoying this… but at the same time, he couldn't suppress the stirrings of pleasure in his crotch. It seemed humiliating for his body proclaim that this stranger's touch was so arousing, he knew that a worse fate awaited if he were to resist. Billy's brain attempted to keep his penis from going stiff, but within few moments the man's masturbating strokes had brought Billy's cock to a rigid 4-inch [10 cm] boner… and his face blushed an even deeper shade of crimson.

"Hmmm… excellent! Nice and plump for a young one," murmured the man to himself. Then to Billy: "Turn around and let me see your back."

"Yes, sir… I mean, MASTER!" said the boy as he turned, hands still behind his head.

"Ever been whipped or caned?" asked the slaver, as his right hand explored every square inch of the boy's back and buttocks. (His left hand was curled around Billy's slender waist as he continued fondling the boy's erection).

"No, Master!" He didn't mention that Pa had spanked him bare-handed whenever he got caught doing something naughty.

"Good… Lay across my lap, boy. Face-down."

Billy allowed himself to be positioned with his legs straddling the merchant's right thigh… his torso extending diagonally back onto the bunk to the man's left. A strong arm held the boy securely, and Billy's right leg was trapped between the man's closed thighs. Billy trembled slightly and his body tensed. This was similar to the position in which Pa spanked him.

The slaver took a deep breath… aroused as always by this part of the breaking-in… a ritual that he performed on every young slave-boy he acquired. His right hand gently explored the slender rounded ass that rose up so invitingly as he lifted his knee slightly. And he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of Billy's erection pressed firmly against his thigh.

"A slaveboy with your looks can have an easy life… if you play it right and do everything I tell you. I imagine the farmers and watermen round where you grew up told you that whitey boys are ugly… but I'll tell truthfully that city folks these days find your type to be right sexy. You're going to sell for a good price, boy, and your new master will likely treat you well. But you need to do whatever it takes to please your master… being a sexy little slut for him. Your job will be to pleasure a man completely… to satisfy him in ways he's never even though of." Billy heard the man spit and then felt a wet finger touch his clenched anal opening. The digit slowly pushed in. Billy's mind swirled with emotions and feelings… fear, tension… and, yes, the pleasure from his stiff cock as it rocked on the man's leg. And he thought about the previous night, when Martin's finger had been in the same secret place as the man's was now.

"You ever been fucked, boy?"

Billy's throat was totally incapable of emitting a words. How could he talk about how he and Martin had made love the previous night?

"Boy?" the man repeated, after a moment of silence.

"I… I… I…"

The finger popped out of Billy's ass, and then…

WACK! WACK! WACK!…

The man's right hand came down quickly with ten wicked spanks that were harder than anything Billy had ever received across Pa's lap.

"OUCH! OUCH! I'm sorry, Master! OUCH! Oh, please, Master… OUCH!!… Yes, Master, I been fucked!" Billy was struggling to talk through his choking tears, even as the blows rained down. "Last night… my friend… my first time… the fairgrounds… we…"

"Never been fucked by a man?" said the merchant, as the spanking stopped, replaced by soft caresses of his hand on the red skin of Billy's ass cheeks.

"No, Master… I swear it! Please don't whip me, Master! PLEASE! I'll do whatever you want… I'll do everything you tell me!"

The slave-seller had no intention of bruising his merchandise. That would make a bad impression when he was selling the lad the next day in Norfolk Town. But he knew the value of fear in training a slave. It fostered a strong motivation… a readiness to obey instantly. But he also knew that he needed to treat this boy differently than he would a buck-slave field laborer. There was a need to balance the fear with a good dose of gentleness, and even some kindness, in order to break-in the boy just right.

"Just been fucked by a playmate, eh? Well, you've still got a nice tight hole, boy. That pleases me. But after your lessons tonight, I'll have you ready to take a man's cock. And I think you're starting to understand what it means to be a slave-boy… I think you've learned about the need to obey instantly. You're a smart lad, with imagination and initiative. I don't imagine you'll ever give me reason to spank you again, boy. Now sit up on my lap facing me, boy, and we'll get started with your training."

The man positioned Billy astride his lap… the boy's legs extending onto the bunk, to either side of the man's hips. Billy's hot, stinging butt rested on the man's thighs, and his penis was still as rigid as before the spanking. The merchant had a gentle expression as he looked into the slave-boy's teary eyes. He wrapped his arms around Billy's back and leaned forward to kiss the wet trails running down the boy's cheeks.

"First thing you'll learn is how to stoke a man's desire. Wrap your legs around behind my waist, and your arms around my neck. Agh… your expression! Your face looks so sad! Make your mouth and eyes sexy and seductive, like a ripe young teenage girl who's flirting with her beau. Yes; that's good! Now kiss me in a manner that will arouse my lust… You DO know what I'm talking about, right?" He smiled when Billy bobbed his head energetically in the affirmative. "Good. I like the feel of a boy's tongue in my mouth, so don't be shy about using it. Let's see if you can kiss me with enough spirit to make my cock stiffen inside my trousers."

The man rubbed his hands along Billy's back, drawing the naked boy close to him in a gentle hug. Billy's lips pressed against the man's in a tender kiss, and his tongue flicked into the merchant's mouth. The boy was determined to do his best to make Master happy… He'd do whatever it took.

Ten hours later…

Billy awoke with the early light of day dimly illuminating the inside of the small ship's-cabin. The sun had risen, but the cabin faced west, so it wasn't yet bright. The boy lay on the wood floor, with a woolen blanket covering him. Up on the narrow bunk, the slave merchant snored in a manner that reminded Billy of his Pa. The sound caused the boy's first waking thoughts to flood with memories of everything he had left behind… his home, his family. And Martin, his only boyhood friend, with whom he had experienced the first stirrings of young adolescent love only two nights ago. But as Billy began to sit up, the discomforts in his body pulled his consciousness to memories of what had occurred here in the cabin last night.

His jaw ached only a little from accommodating the girth of Master's erection for such an extended time, but his throat was sore whenever he swallowed… bruised by the repeated deep intrusions of a fat cock-head. He reached back and touched the inflamed flesh around his bottom-hole. Master had said he'd get accustomed to a man's cock penetrating him back there… and that before long he'd even accept a fucking with pleasure. Billy certainly hoped that it was true! But for now, his bottom felt very tender and his insides felt battered.

He had done everything that Master demanded, trying his utmost to memorize Master's numerous instructions for how to serve a man sexually. Billy understood that the slave-merchant was being very patient through it all. Master's temper had threatened to flare only once – when the lad had balked at licking a place where he never even imagined placing his tongue. Without saying a word, Master had grabbed the riding crop… not moving from his position on the bunk… lying his back with his legs pulled back and his upper body propped up by a thick cushion. Billy knelt on the bunk, sitting back on his haunches, and cringed in anticipation of a whipping. But Master merely reached out and used the riding crop to guide Billy's head down. "Lick me there… NOW," he said in a low but ominous voice. Given this second chance, Billy sought to redeem himself, using his tongue on that hairy, musky place with energy and determination. As his tongue-tip corkscrewed into the orifice, the whip-end of the riding crop lightly caressed the boy's head and stroked along his back and buttocks.

The man was pleased at how well boy used his tongue, and during the course of the training he instructed Billy in using his mouth literally everywhere on the man's body … sucking fingers and toes and nipples, licking his ears and feet and inner thighs.

Naturally, Master had instructed him exhaustively on the techniques of cocksucking. He had not rushed the process of teaching Billy to overcome his gag reflex… coaching him with patience, but leaving no doubt that the skill must be mastered. And he showed Billy little tricks that would serve to enhance the lust of any man for whom the boy would be required to provide oral service.

When Master had demonstrated those techniques, taking Billy's boyish erection into his mouth, the lad's pleasure had been indescribable. Master was an accomplished cocksucker in his own right, having begun at a young age turning tricks on the streets of Baltimore Town. And though it was unmanly in this culture for a free adult to suck another man, he was free to indulge his oral cravings on the cocks of young whores and of the slave-boys he bought and sold. More rarely, and much more discretely, he would get on his knees to take a man's erection into his mouth.

When Billy's stiff penis responded to the slaver's expert sucking by spitting a few pulses of thin, sweet boy-cum into the man's mouth, he had smacked his lips and complimented the boy.

And then there was the fucking… As Billy thought back to it, it seemed as if had lasted for hours (though it was probably only 40 minutes out of the two-hour lesson). They had changed positions a half-dozen times before the man finally shot his hot fluid deep inside Billy's ass. Thank God he had used oil, thought Billy, and had first used his fingers to loosen the clenched anal muscle.

Master had posed Billy in various postures, trying to determine his most alluring 'ready position'… the position of a boy showing a man his willingness and readiness to be fucked. He had Billy lie on his side, with his left leg straight back and his head resting on his left forearm. The right leg was pulled up, and Billy was told how to run his free hand along his chest and butt and thigh… with special emphasis on caressing his buttocks seductively. And Master stressed the importance of Billy's facial expression, teaching him the kind of look that would arouse a man's lust, using terms such as 'pouting lips' and 'bedroom eyes'. And when he told the boy to run the tip of his tongue sensuously around the outside of his mouth, the man was delighted with the total effect.

Master lubed his thick, virile cock and slowly entered Billy's ass from behind. While instructing the boy how to open his anal muscle, Master eased in slowly and steadily. When he finally began fucking with long, smooth strokes of an erection that seemed to be made of iron, Billy was relieved to find that his body was actually adapting to the uncomfortable intrusion.

Every so often they changed position, as Master demonstrated seemingly-endless variations. And through it all, Billy was reminded that his face and voice must exhibit pleasure while he was being fucked… even when he felt no such thing, and he had to play-act the emotion. So he moaned with counterfeit ecstacy, even though his anus burned uncomfortably, as he straddled the man's supine body and slammed himself down repeatedly on the big cock. And as Billy lay on his back with his legs pulled back to his shoulders, he sounded utterly convincing as his high treble voice begged for the man to fuck him harder and faster.

Finally, it had ended, and Billy was proud to receive his master's generous praise. With gentle kisses, the man covered the exhausted slave-boy with a blanket and bade him good-night.

It was morning now, and Billy had slept soundly. He finally stood up and looked out the porthole. The shore was several miles away, across dark water rippled by the breeze. They'd been sailing all night… How far was he now from his home on the Choptank River? Billy tried not to think of home, because it was making tears come to his eyes. If he started crying, Master might get angry. So to distract himself, he began fondling his penis. Billy found that no matter what his emotional state, his dick could instantly rise to erection, eager for play. Youthful adolescent lust could overcome even the saddest thoughts.

Billy's hand began to move in the now-familiar motion of masturbation, and he closed his eyes as his brain drifted on the waves of growing pleasure. All too soon he felt the rising pressure of impending orgasm, and with considerable effort he managed to slow himself down and make it last. Billy's left hand cupped his balls and massaged them gently. His fantasies drifted to Martin… how he had kissed his friend's lips and licked at his tongue as they lay in each other's embrace… discovering the pleasure of sucking the black-skinned boy's cock… remembering the special feeling of Martin's slender cock penetrating him, sliding back and forth in Billy's bottom-hole. Billy felt his seed begin to rise up again. There was no holding back now… just a few more quick strokes…

"BOY!!"

The angry voice made Billy jump, and his hands flew away from his genitals.

"Listen here, slave. You NEVER shoot your cum without the consent of your master. Maybe I didn't tell you last night, so you'll not get punishment for the infraction this time. I KNOW I told you last night that your body belongs to your master. And I thought I made clear that a slave-boy of your age and with your looks is valued foremost for sex-work. You don't go takin' matters into your own hands unless your master wants you to. Master might tell you to stroke off if it pleases him to watch. Or he want to jack you himself… or taste your boy-juice like I did last night. Otherwise, you save it up. A horny cock gets hard quicker, and a slave-boy needs to get his cock stiff anytime Master tells him to strip naked. If you jack off, all by your lonesome, you're cheating your master… you're stealing what belongs to him. And stealing from your master is a VERY serious offense. Understand?

"Yes, Master… I'm SO sorry."

"Good… You go up for auction today, and I want your cock to be stiff as an oak branch whenever a customer so much as glances at you. I expect to make a tidy profit off you, boy. I'm gonna have what they call a reserve on your price. If the bidding doesn't make it to 12 dollars, you don't sell. That's twice what I paid for you, plus the auction commission. If I don't sell you tomorrow, and YOU screwed up the sale in some way…" The man's voice drifted off, but Billy followed the man's eyes to the trunk that held the riding crop and whip.

"Master, I PROMISE I'll do EVERYTHING just the way you want!"

The merchant kept the stern expression on his face, but inside he was amused. Yes; the best motivator of slaves has always been fear of physical punishment. The lad seemed to respond quite well to it. All it had taken was a few open-hand spanks on his butt to fully break him last night! But the man again reminded himself that getting top dollar at auction would depend on the lad having an extra spark of enthusiasm that fear alone couldn't bring out. Using some kindness to mellow the underlying fear served to perk a boy up with gratitude, and it showed through on the auction block.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine, lad. I've grown to like you. You're bright enough, and you're as pretty a lad as I've ever owned. And you've got a talent for sex-work that'll serve you well. You might even get bought up by a rich aristocrat and live in his fine mansion. Whoever buys you won't waste you with hard labor. No plantation field work for you… no, sir. Or you might go to one of the high-class boy-houses in Norfolk or Williamsburg, where there'll be other pretty lads to play with, and you'll be fed and clothed like you was a rich-man's son.

Billy marveled at these descriptions… so different from his upbringing is a one-room shack, where food got scarce at times. And he was delighted to hear once again that he was 'pretty', having been teased all his life about the homeliness of his pale skin, his sharp nose, and other whitey features. His face was radiant with a big smile, and the man playfully tousled his hair.

"Now, I need to teach you how to move and act when you're being seen by bidders… when they check you out before the auction starts, and when you get up on the auction block. To get top dollar, you need to be sexy and confident. Do you understand me?"

"I understand, Master. Sexy and confident." Billy wasn't really sure how to be sexy and confident, but he didn't want to sound stupid.

"Good boy! Alright; let me explain how it will be at the auction…"

The merchant proceeded to describe the big weekly slave auction held at Norfolk City… how potential bidders examined the merchandise beforehand in a holding area behind the auctioneer's arena. He reminded the boy that a slave had no claim to modesty… if the master wished for other men to see a slave naked, he instantly stripped and displayed his body… if Master allowed men to fondle him or use him sexually, he must serve the men the same as he were serving the master.

The merchant explained how most of the slaves at auction would be adults – field-worker bucks or wenches destined for drudge-work. They were mostly convicts sentenced to a term of servitude (including some who were life-term slaves like Cicero). But they might even include men or women who had signed their own contracts of servitude to pay off debts or get money that would keep their families from starving. The younger ones would likely be subject to indenture contracts sold by their families.

The last slaves sold, at the end of the auction, were the ones that attracted the most audience interest, even among those not bidding. These were the sexiest girls and young wenches and the prettiest adolescent boys. Typically, the auction house paid for musicians to play during this part of the sale… allowing these slaves to show their physical attributes and allure in a manner appropriate to their likely future duties. Billy's master was confident of getting his slave-boy scheduled in this group.

"I'll need to put you in better clothing than your home-spun," said the merchant, and he dug around his trunk. He pulled out a shirt of good white cotton that buttoned down the front, and a pair of trousers that were clean and fairly new (unlike Billy's dirty and patched clothes). Both were the man's personal clothing and were way too big for the boy. But with the pants-legs rolled, the shirt-bottom tucked into the trousers, and the sleeves rolled up, he looked remarkably appealing.

"Here's what I want you to do to show yourself to the bidders… and to get those rich men to bid on you. Remember that sultry expression I showed you last night?…"

The man instructed the boy, and even performed the movements himself. It was amusing to see the burly merchant pretending to be a sexy boy, but Billy knew better than to giggle. After getting Billy to run through the routine a few times, the man was satisfied that he had it down.

"Now put on those clothes again, boy, and we'll go up on deck."

Billy and the merchant made their way outside and found the big schooner sailing nicely under a favorable northwesterly breeze. The half-dozen crew members didn't have much to do but stand ready to trim the sails if the captain ordered it. A number of passengers stood on deck as well, enjoying the pleasant weather and talking among themselves. Most were merchants, like Billy's master, and all were men. Not at all surprisingly, Billy was the only white-skinned person on deck.

Billy walked past a cabin-boy who stood at the edge of the deck, hands draped around some rigging, almost as if he were posing. The boy was about Billy's age and bare-chested, and he regarded Billy with a look that expressed a touch of arrogant superiority. Though Billy was still very dubious of his own attractiveness (despite Master's assertion that he was pretty) there was no doubt that the cabin boy fit the description of 'pretty'. Slightly taller than Billy, he had tawny skin the shade of coffee into which a dollop of milk had been added. His dark, wavy hair arranged itself in natural ringlets that framed a delicate face and button nose. His dark brown eyes were set off by remarkably long lashes that gave an almost-feminine look to the slender youth.

"Stay here, boy, while I talk to the Captain," the slave-merchant told Billy.

The slave-boy watched as his master strode to the aft-deck and greeted the gruff-looking captain of the ship. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the merchant pointed to Billy during the conversation, and the captain studied the boy for a minute and nodded his head. When the merchant returned to his slave-boy, he was smiling.

"Captain says we'll be in Norfolk Town in plenty of time for the auction. And he said I could run you through your paces here on deck. Need to get you accustomed to a live audience, boy."

Billy had been fine with showing himself to his master down in the cabin, but now his natural shyness returned in a big way. His heart was beating fast, and he could feel his face blushing furiously.

"Don't make me disappointed in you, boy," said Master, seeing the distress on his slave's face. His eyes and stern expression made it unnecessary for him to elaborate. Then Master's face brightened, and he added: "If you do me proud, I'll have the ship's cook fix you up a good breakfast of bacon and eggs and sausage and fried potatoes when we get back to the cabin."

It was an easy choice – either a whipping or a breakfast to fill his empty stomach. Billy swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and stepped up onto a big hatch-cover, with a look of confidence and sensuality, just the way he'd been instructed.

"Gentlemen!… Gather round!" called out the slaver in a booming voice. "Fellow merchants!… Crew members! The good Captain has consented to my giving you a preview of one of the prime commodities that will be available at this afternoon's big auction in Norfolk Town. This lad you see here is a country-boy, but he's as prime a whitey slave-boy as you're likely to run across. Gather round and see for yourself!"

There was genial conversation and laughter about this unexpected diversion, and the men – and the cabin boy – gathered around the hatch-cover, which was a raised area of the deck about eight feet square [¾ m²].

Just as Billy began to move in the dance he had been taught, the captain of the schooner called down from the aft-deck to one of the deck-hands. "LaMarr… how about some of your fiddle music so the slave-boy can show his stuff proper-like."

"Aye-aye, Capt'n."

Instead of going to get the instrument himself, the sailor sent the cabin boy, whose name was Juwan, scurrying below decks to get it. In a few moments, the man was tuning up his fiddle.

"Have you a song request, sir?" he asked the slave-merchant.

"Do you know the tune called 'The Saucy Wench'?"

"Aye! I know it well. It's one of the favorites when our young cabin boy entertains us in the evening hours." And he started playing the mid-tempo tune.

In a slow strip-tease dance, Billy began to move his body. He barely shifted his feet, but his hips moved in a seductive grinding motion, and his hands slid over his clothed body. His moves were naive and a bit awkward, but an undeniable sensuality shone through, and the onlookers murmured their approval. It was quite common for sailors and traveling men in this culture to avail themselves of the sexual charms of boys, and the men were attracted by what they saw in Billy's attempts to arouse their lust.

When Billy's fingers unbuckled his borrowed belt, the over-sized trousers fell in a heap at his feet. He stepped out of then and kicked them away. The large shirt came down to mid-thigh, and as he continued to dance in time to the music, he teased the audience by raising it up to give glimpses of his penis and his smooth, rounded ass cheeks.

Now the approving comments became more vocal, and Billy was becoming ever more comfortable. Though his movements still were not polished, he moved his hips with increasing self-assurance. 'Sexy and confident' were the words Master had used, and he now fully understood their meaning.

Undoing the shirt buttons slowly, while making eye-contact with a succession of on-lookers, he seemed to have the instincts of professional stripper. When Billy started rubbing his cock, still covered by the shirt, and pantomiming sexual pleasure, the crowd started calling out bawdy comments.

"The little whitey slave is HOT!"

"Take off that shirt, boy… Let's see you nekkid!"

"Come on down to crew's quarters when the watch ends! We know how to treat a boy right… ain't that so, Juwan."

The pretty cabin boy seemed not at all offended by the remark, and struck a sexy pose of his own.

"Yeah, whitey; take it off! Let's see if you've got as pretty a boy-cock as our Juwan!" The sailor grabbed the cabin boy, and groped at Juwan's crotch, but the dusky-skinned lad just laughed and slithered away from the man.

Billy ignored the comments and concentrated instead on his dance. When he had shed his shirt and tossed it aside, he stood totally naked, except for the cloth-covered collar around his neck. His penis stood up in a plump 4-inch [10 cm] erection, crowned with a bright red cock-head, pointing straight up toward his belly. To shouts of approval, Billy's hands caressed his body – from his chest to his inner thighs – with increasing lewdness. He bent over to display his butt… fingers gliding around his ass cheeks and pulling them apart… then stood up straight, hands behind his head, and thrust his crotch forward… exhibiting his delightful penis and making his balls sway from side to side. Billy found, to his surprise, that this sort of obscene exhibitionism excited and energized him. Far from feeling shy and embarrassed, he actually enjoyed displaying himself as a shameless sex-object.

"Hey Juwan!" said a sailor. "You gonna let this whitey show you up like that? You always tell us how you's the sexiest boy on the Chesapeake Bay, right?"

"Yeah, Juwan," said another crew-member. "Show these gents what we get a piece of at night." As with cabin boys throughout history for as long as men have gone out on sailing ships, one of Juwan's functions on the schooner was to be the crew's whore. He was unashamed of his role as a boy-slut and proud of his considerable sex-appeal.

"Capt'n?… That OK with you?" he asked. The ship's captain smiled and nodded his head.

Juwan wore only a pair of bell-bottom trousers… tight at the hips and flaring wide below the knees. And when he stepped up onto the hatch-cover and began to move to the music, it was clear that he was far more experienced at such a show than Billy. As the slave-merchant watched with a big smile spreading across his face, his whitey slave-boy got an expert lesson in the art of sensuality. The merchant doubted that any dancing-girl in any port city on the Bay could raise a man's passions any hotter than this boy Juwan was doing. If Billy could do half as well as Juwan at the auction, there was no telling how much he'd sell for.

Billy watched with excitement too, and he tried to imitate Juwan's moves… with surprising success. Juwan slowly peeled down his trousers to reveal a stiff adolescent cock of exquisite proportions and appearance. It stood up 5 inches [12½ cm] and had the very beginnings of a pubic bush – a few dozen long hairs sprouting at the base of the penis.

With both boys naked and dancing, Juwan turned the temperature up another notch as he moved close to Billy and thrust his crotch forward, rubbing his boner against Billy's slightly smaller cock. Billy grinned as Juwan reached out… his hands wandering sensuously along the sides of the white boy's slender torso and hips. The two boys stared into each other's faces, and Billy's soul was captured by the dark beauty of Juwan's eyes. When Juwan stuck out his tongue and flicked it like a snake, Billy did likewise… and the boys playfully rubbed the tips of their extended tongues together, much to the pleasure of the crowd of men.

"Suck him off, Juwan!" called out a big sailor. "You're the best cocksucker EVER!"

The cabin boy's head whipped around, and he looked at the sailor with haughty scorn. "You want a free man like me suck a slave? And a whitey besides? Ha! Why don't YOU blow him, Shaquille?" A round of laughter rose from the group. "Or how 'bout HIM sucking ME off, instead?"

All eyes, including Billy's, flashed over to the slave-merchant. The man considered for a moment, then nodded his head. "Suck him, boy. Show these gents what you can do." The merchant knew that it was good practice… that bidders would be wanting to try out the boy's oral skills before the auction.

Billy wanted very much to please Master. His stomach had been growling, and the prospect of that big breakfast (and the avoidance of a whipping) would have been motivation enough. But he was also undeniably aroused by Juwan's beauty and incredible eroticism. And he was caught up in the excitement of how the crowd of men were reacting to him. The fact that these men would be watching as he fellated the cabin boy didn't even concern him. Since he'd boarded the ship, he'd done an incredible variety of things he'd never have imagined himself doing… and he'd gotten considerable praise in return. It looked as if this kind of unabashed sexuality was destined to be a major element of his new life… so if it was exciting and pleasurable besides, he might as well make the most of it.

With Juwan's hands pressing down on his shoulders, Billy knelt down… his face only inches from the brown-skinned boy's beautiful young-adolescent genitals. Billy's hand cupped the soft hairless ball-sack. His lips slid onto the cock-head, which was slightly-flared and stood out enticingly above the roll of foreskin. Billy's tongue swirled around the hot, silky glans and piss-slit as his lips pushed further down. Juwan's fingers entwined through Billy's fine blond hair and pulled his mouth onto the rigid shaft.

Billy was captivated… totally absorbed in the excitement of sucking Juwan's handsome cock. As if from far off, he heard the boisterous voices of the men who surrounded him, urging him on, but his mind didn't assimilate their words. He concentrated instead on the cabin boy's stiff penis. It was a much better fit in his mouth than Master's long, thick cock had been last night. With Master, oral service had been a job… difficult to perform, but rewarding to accomplish successfully. But with Juwan, it was pure sensual pleasure. This was only the third penis he had ever sucked, and it was much like his first time… with his friend Martin.

Not only did he enjoy sucking Juwan's cock, he knew intuitively that he was doing it well. He was remembering all of Master's instruction and using the techniques. Blocking out the men's voices around him, he listened only to Juwan's moans of pleasure. His hand on the cabin boy's flank could feel the muscles flex with the tension of building lust.

Though it had been to take Master's cock into his throat last night, Billy swallowed Juwan's adolescent erection with ease. With his lips pressing against the wisps of pubic hair, Billy twisted his head from side to side, intensely stimulating the cock-head that was lodged at the entrance to his throat. Then Billy began to move his lips and tongue quickly along the entire shaft, from head to base, over and over, letting the cock fuck his mouth. Juwan's hips bucked urgently, and he groaned out his lust, loudly announcing his impending orgasm.

Billy grasped the lower part of the shaft in his fist, and his mouth concentrated on the top 2 inches [5 cm] of the Juwan's cock, moving with incredible speed. In less than a minute, the dark-skinned boy orgasmed with a shout of total lust. Spurts of salty boy-cum erupted from Juwan's spasming cock, while Billy swallowed and kept on sucking up and down, driving the cabin boy wild with pleasure. Finally, Juwan could take no more and pushed Billy's head away.

"Agh!! My GOD but that was a good cum. Damn, white-boy… you're quite the cocksucker. Don't think I could do better myself… DAMN!!"

Some of the men were thinking they could use some of what Billy had, and when the slave-boy looked around, he saw the trousers of several sailors and passengers being opened and stiff man-cocks coming out of them. Billy wondered if he'd be giving blow jobs to all of these men. But his master squelched the idea instantly, grabbing Billy by the elbow, pulling him to his feet, and handing the boy his clothing.

"My slave-boy will be at auction this afternoon. If you've the money, you may be the lucky gent who takes him home."

The ship's captain re-enforced the idea. "Alright; all hands back to your stations. Fun's over." And with a slight grin, he added "Cabin boy… you're out of uniform. Move it!"

"Aye-aye, Capt'n," came the reply, in a boyish voice that wobbled on the edge of it's impending change from treble to tenor.

Later…

The schooner had docked at the Norfolk wharf before noon, and the slave-merchant's meager belongings had been unloaded – a wooden trunk, a small canvass tent, and two whitey slaves, both of whom would be up for sale at the auction that began in three hours time. Billy still wore the slaver's big white shirt and baggy trousers. He carried his own clothes tied in a bundle. Cicero was dressed only in rough and oft-patched trousers.

The auction building was quite near the harbor. The inside was well-lit by sky-lights and oil lamps, and the merchant knew his way around. The selling-room had a platform on which the a slave would stand as the bidding progressed, and the room could hold 50 bidders without over-crowding. Behind the selling-room were several rooms that served as waiting areas, where bidders could wander around to examine the merchandise more closely. These rooms contained numerous small cubicles, each measuring about 5 feet by 5 feet [1½ x 1½ m], each with a metal ring and chain that could secure a slave.

Cicero was padlocked and chained by his neck collar in a cubicle. Billy, however, stood at Master's side, like an obedient pet, while the man walked around greeting acquaintances.

"That's a prime whitey-boy you've got," said a fellow slave-trader. "He a lifer or an indentured slave?"

"Indentured, with five and half years to go. Broke him in completely without having to get rough, and he's got amazing potential in the personal services. Nice, eh?"

"Hmmm… Wouldn't mind trying out some of his services myself. But you really ought to get him bathed and dress him better if you want top dollar. Got any boy-clothes for him?"

"Afraid not… You have any I could borrow?"

"Not me. I deal in wenches pretty much exclusive." The man looked at Billy and grinned. "I've seen boy-whores dressed up as girls, but I don't think you want to show him that way at auction… Say; there's a clothing shop right down there on Mariner Street. And a bath house is only a couple doors up from it. You've got plenty of time before the bidders start showing up. Take the lad on down, and I'll keep an eye on that whitey buck you got chained-up over there."

"That's mighty nice of you, TayShawn. Thanks!"

Twenty minutes later, Billy walked out of the bath house feeling cleaner than any other time in his life. Not only had there been hot water, but a bar of sweet smelling soap made the accumulated grime on his body seem to melt away. His skin was whiter than ever, which made him cringe at first, but he made up his mind that he didn't care. The bath attendant was an old woman who scrubbed him with a rough cloth and with her hands, cackling with amusement when she slathered soap on his crotch and made his penis stiffen. Only after Master warned her sternly not to make the boy cum did she desist from her fondling.

Billy and the merchant walked only a short distance before they came to a small shop, with a sign above the door said Orenthal's Fine Clothing. Smaller letters on the sign read Specializing in Fine Antique and Reproduction Attire. A small paper in the window said 'auction rentals available'.

A bell tinkled as the slaver opened the door.

"Good day, sir. How may I serve you?" The store clerk's eyes went immediately to Billy, assessing his beauty and noting the slave-collar around his neck.

"I'd like to suit the boy up for this afternoon's sale. Figure I'll get higher bids if he's gussied up."

"Have you considered, sir, how you will be marketing him? You'll want a different look, I think, depending on who will be the likely buyer. You want one kind of clothing if you think he'll go as a concubine for an aristocrat… quite another appearance if he'll be staff in one of the houses." ('House' being a polite euphemism for a brothel.)

"I'm not rightly sure… I've never sold one of his quality here in Norfolk," said the slaver. "What kind of clothing would you recommend to appeal to an aristocrat?"

"Well, this time of year, the owners of the big plantations are moving to their winter houses here in the City or in Williamsburg. I've some good customers among that class of gentlemen. When they have a pretty concubine such as your lad here, they like to dress him up in the classic boy-styles of the Golden Age. I think I've got JUST the outfit to show the boy!" The clerk scurried around behind the counter, collecting articles of clothing. He arranged on the counter a white long-sleeve button-down shirt (somewhat like the one Billy was wearing, but in a boy's size), short trousers (VERY short!) of grey wool flannel with attached suspenders of the same material, a blue tie, black knee-socks, and a pair of leather shoes.

"What's the blue sash for?" asked the slave-merchant.

"It's a decorative item that the ancients wore, called a 'tie', and it goes around the neck with a special knot. See how it matches your boy's slave-collar? Let's get the lad dressed, and I'll affix it properly."

"Uh… how much for all of this?" asked the slaver.

"Let's see…" said the clerk as he jotted numbers on a scrap of paper. "They're all reproductions, of course, but very well-made, as you can plainly see. And the shoes are especially fine. It comes to 7 dollars, 5 and 2."

"Seven and a half dollars!!! For clothing? You think I'm made of money?… The sign outside said 'rentals'. How much to rent the outfit for the auction?"

"Rental… hmmm, yes… Well these items are unused, sir, so the cost of first rental will be rather dear. It would be… hmmm… 3 dollars even. And I'd need the full sales price as a deposit. If any item becomes stained with… uh, you know… it's not returnable." (The clerk knew that slave-boys were sometimes splashed with semen when they were checked out by the potential bidders.)

The slave-merchant didn't even bother to haggle the price. It would be too high for him regardless. "Show me your recommendation for appealing to the buyer for a boy-house."

"Of course, sir. As you can imagine, something much more revealing would be in order. Last week I got in a rare find. Two packages of antique garments, bearing pictures and words, tightly sealed in real see-through!" (The technology to make plastic was non-existent in the year 2203, and clear plastic packaging seemed magical.) The clerk brought out a package of late-20th century underpants. "I sold one of the packages just yesterday… to the buying agent for a fine boy-house in Williamsburg. This second package was opened for his examination, but otherwise the garments are untouched since ancient times."

The packaging bore a photograph of two boys, around age 10. Each of the pictured lads wore the same small, tight garment around his loins. One boy faced forward and wore an undershirt that he was pulling up at the side to reveal a swath of skin. The second lad was shirtless and faced away, showing his barely-covered rear-end, with his head turned to the side, smiling at his friend. The package referred to the garments as Fruit of the Loom… 3 Boys' Briefs.

The slave-merchant examined the packaging and then examined a garment that the clerk had removed. It had a bright red waist-band and matching red piping around the tight leg holes. Two paintings of strange creatures decorated the front, which also had an ingenious slotted opening sewn into the soft white cloth. The back had a big word in garish lettering.

"What are these peculiar animals? And the word 'Pokemon'… What does it mean? I know the words 'Fruit of the Loom', of course, but the phrase makes no sense," said the slaver.

"I've heard that small trousers bearing such pictures were often worn by boys in the later years of the Golden Age. They are rather skimpy, so I think that they were not generally worn outdoors. The pictured animals are of course mythical… probably some sort of religious idols. I've no idea what 'Pokemon' or 'Fruit of the Loom' mean. The set that I sold yesterday contained the words 'Star Wars: Episode 1' and bore the picture of a robed, long-haired man holding a glowing scepter. My guess is that such garments might have been worn by an altar boy in one of the religions practiced by the ancients. They say that some of the sects that flourished during the Golden Age kept a cadre of young boys to serve the sexual needs of the high priests. But for your purposes, sir, such a unique and distinctive piece of antique clothing is guaranteed to catch the eye of every observer, and it shows a handsome boy's assets to the maximum degree… Try it on the lad."

The slave-merchant directed Billy to strip and put on the underpants, right in the middle of the shop. They were rather tight on him (size 8), and his genitals pressed firmly against the front, framed by pictures of Pikachu and Charmander, while the word 'Pokemon' stretched across his butt as if it were painted on his skin. They did indeed look very sexy on the boy, although the slaver wasn't sure he cared for the eccentric design.

"How much for the garment? Just one; not three."

"Well, seeing as how it's an antique in pristine condition… and with the unusual picture… and you're breaking up the set, I'd need 2 dollars if you buy or 1 dollar to rent."

The slaver winced. "For this little scrap of cloth? Have you a similar garment that's been used a few times? Perhaps one that lacks the excessive decoration?"

"Yes, sir, I believe I do." The clerk reached behind the counter and pulled out boys' bikini underpants with thin alternating horizontal strips of grey and black, size 12. There was no opening in the front, but they felt much softer than the Pokeman briefs. "They are antique as well, and still in good condition. One dollar to buy; 3 silvers to rent."

When Billy tried them on, they fit perfectly and were wondrously comfortable besides. The look pleased the slaver, and the rental price of 3 dimes was certainly manageable.

"I'll give you 2 and 5 for the rental."

"Two and 7."

"Deal… How late are you open for me to return it?"

Later… back at the auction building…

A length of chain attached to the cubicle was padlocked to Billy's collar. The slave-boy stood passively, wearing only the bikini briefs, as potential bidders ran their hands over his body and engaged him in superficial conversations to test his intelligence and social skills. Nearly all of the customers pulled down his underpants to examine his sexual charms. He lost count of how many men fondled his penis to erection… how many told him to bend over and spread apart his ass-cheeks so they could probe a finger into his hole.

Nearly all of the men asked the slave-merchant if they could have a sampling of Billy's oral skills, but not all were granted such favors. Master had been in the business for over 10 years, and he was experienced at reading a man's potential as a buyer… from the way he was dressed, the questions he asked, the look in his eye. Billy got on his knees to pleasure at least a dozen… he didn't keep count. He knew what master expected, and he gave each customer his best effort. After the sixth or seventh cock in his mouth, the series of techniques that he was showing off had become almost routine and automatic. His jaw and tongue were tired, and his throat sore, but Billy did his best not to let it affect his performance or his show of enthusiasm.

Sometimes the customer pulled out after a brief period of sucking, not wanting to cum before he had tested the skills of other slaves that were up for auction. Other times, Master stepped in and said "I think that's enough… don't want to tire him out." With two men, however, both well-dressed, and each VERY interested in Billy, Master had allowed their sessions to continue until they spurted cum into Billy's mouth. Both times, after the customer had fastened his trousers and left, the slaver quietly praised Billy for how well he had performed.

At last, Billy's number was called out. He and his master moved into the selling-room and stood unobtrusively at the side, in the shadows, as the auction just prior to his was finishing up. He had waited in his cubicle for two hours during which the other slaves had been similarly brought out one-by-one to be sold. Cicero had gone an hour previously… to whom or where, Billy didn't know.

As Billy now watched from the side, a young woman of perhaps 17 years was being auctioned. A trio of musicians played… fiddle, guitar, and hand-drum… as the pretty girl moved her body in the timeless manner of one whose goal is to sexually arouse a man. A thin robe had been tossed in a heap at the edge of the block, and the girl danced naked. The auctioneer cajoled higher bids from the 30 or so men who stood in the semi-circle of progressively-stepped risers.

As Billy and his master stood together, Master gave some last minute instructions, making sure that Billy understood exactly what was required. He also fondled Billy's penis the entire time, so he would be hard from the first moment he stepped out. When the girl's auction ended and Billy's number was called out, he walked briskly from the shadows and stepped up onto the block… a raised platform of 5 feet [1½ m] square. Wearing only his striped briefs, his slave-collar, and a courageous smile, he began to move his body to the music as the auctioneer started his pitch.

"From the Choptank River, up the Bay on the Eastern Shore, comes this remarkably pretty young whitey. Only 12 years old. With 5 years, 6 months, and 17 days on his indenture. Would you believe, folks, that his indenture papers were issued only yesterday? Talk about a fresh young slave-boy! Bidding begins at 10 dollars, gents. Who'll give me 10? This isn't some barbarian whitey from the West, folks. This lad grew up in civilization, and he's eager to please. Do I hear 10? Yes! 10! Thank-you, sir… there in the first row. Do I hear 11?… Who bids 11 for this sexy boy… look at how he moves, gents! He's getting me hot just standing here next to him! The gentleman on the left side bids 11! Thank-you, sir. Who'll give me 12? Gentlemen, I was in back before the auction started and I got a sample of the lad's skills… that rosebud mouth of his is just remarkable!"

When Billy heard the bidding go over 12 dollars – Master's minimum sale price – adrenalin surged through him and all apprehension vanished. He was determined to make Master proud by getting the highest bid he possibly could. And as he gyrated on the platform, fingertips delicately caressing his body, everything seemed to come to him naturally. The movements of his body and hands served to highlight the beauty of his perfect boyish ass, which he wiggled at the audience as he bent over, and his appealingly androgynous torso. His hard little cock pushed out against the snug material of the skimpy underpants, and when he teasingly pulled them down in front – tucking the waistband behind his balls – murmurs of approval could be heard in the audience.

"I've got 15 over here. Do I hear 16 for this little charmer? Look at what he's got down there… have you ever seen a cuter body on a boy? Who'll give me 16?"

Sliding the briefs down to mid-thigh, Billy kept up his erotic movements… letting his 4-inch [10 cm] boner sway as he moved. When he glanced over at Master, still in the shadows, he saw that the man was smiling and making a signal with his hand. Billy understood. He stepped out of the underpants and artfully glided his body down onto the floor… getting into the 'ready position' in which he was first fucked by Master… looking back over his shoulder at the bidders, his tongue moving languidly across his lips, his fingers spreading his ass-cheek to display his delicate pink anus.

"I've got 17… and 18 over here… and 19 dollars? Thank you, sir! We've got 19… how about 20? Who'll bid 20 dollars for the sexiest white boy you've ever seen?"

Billy kept an ear to the numbers, and when the bidding got above 20, he knew that Master wanted him to stand up and begin masturbating… to stroke his foreskin up and down with his thumb and first two fingers… thrusting his hips forward… pinching his hard little nipples with this left hand… turning his body every so often so that he could be viewed at different angles by all in the audience… scrunching his face in a look of sexual pleasure while his tongue continued licking sexily around his lips.

Actually, the expression on Billy's face took no acting skill, as the lust that was pent-up in his body took control of his senses.

"There's 23… who'll bid 24?"

Billy's hand jacked up and down, fast and with a jerky cadence, and moans rolled up from his throat and escaped his lips. His left hand reached behind him, and his fingers tickled his asshole. As the wave of pleasure rose up within him, Billy lost all awareness of where he was and who was watching him. When the wave of pleasure crested and crashed down in a surge of orgasmic spasms, his high-pitched voice whimpered in ecstacy.

"Going once… twice… SOLD to the gentleman from Williamsburg for 28 dollars!… Thank you all for the very spirited bidding on the whitey lad."

The auctioneer directed an assistant to wipe up the drops of cum from the auction block. Billy's master… Billy's FORMER master… hugged and kissed the slave-boy, then led him to the room where the transactions were formalized by the signing-over of papers.

From the shadows at the edge of the room – where Billy had previously stood – a girl stumbled toward the auction block as if she'd been shoved. Her tan skin was rather light for a brown person, and straight brown hair hung half-way down her back. She was a young adolescent… tall and rail-thin, but bordering on elegant in her lean stature and the beautiful shape of her face. She was naked, but for her collar, and she held her hands in front of her crotch. Puffy dark nipples pushed up from a nearly-flat chest.

"Now we have lot number 56, a very pretty girl 'bout the same age as that whitey boy we just sold. And she's naked as the day she was born, just the way you gents like to see 'em… Looks a bit shy, don't she… Come on up, darlin'… She's just beginning an indenture that has 5 years, 2 months, and 23 days to run. Comes from good farm-family stock on the Rappahannock River, so she probably knows all about cooking and cleaning and such. But ain't she a beauty, gentlemen! Come night-time, she'll show off her REAL talents. Let's start the bidding at 15 dollars for this light-skinned beauty. Do I hear 15? Anyone want to start us out? Come on, gentlemen… have you ever seen a finer looking young girl?"

[Whispered: "Take your hands away from your front, girl… and smile, damn you… Shit! This slave ain't been broke in at all!"]

"Who'll bid 15? Do I hear 15? Ok. Let's start at 12 dollars. Do we have 12? Anyone? Yes! There in the back… thank you, sir! Do I hear 13? She may be a shy one, men, but that means you can break her in just exactly how you like. She's fresh off the farm… Wouldn't surprise me if she's a virgin… or nearly so."

[Whispered: "Oh, for God's sake; don't start crying! Damnation! How can I sell you if you're bawlin' like that? OK; darlin'; settle down. Face away from the gents, and get down on your knees and elbows. Raise your ass up high, and wiggle it around. Show them what you've got down there."]

"Look at THAT, gentlemen! This girl is just beginning to blossom… think about how tight she is… and how much you'd like to have this slender beauty in your bed tonight. She's 12 years old, and she'll just keep getting more luscious as she ripens! Who'll bid 13 dollars?"

Chapter 3
Norfolk: Sold to the Blue Boy Brothel

The burly dark-skinned merchant signed over the indenture papers and slipped $26 – five gold coins and a silver dollar – into the pocket of his vest. Without saying a word, he turned to leave. Before he reached the door, however, the man turned around and looked back at the slave he had just sold.

"Boy…"

"Yes, Master?"

"No, boy. I'm no longer your master, so you needn't address me such. But I wanted to say… you did well. And for that, I give you my thanks." His eyes scanned quickly down the body of the slender 12-year-old, naked save for the narrow slave collar around his neck. The lad's physical attributes and intuitive grasp of sensuality had just earned the man a quick 400% profit at the Norfolk City slave auction. He again thought to himself that this was the prettiest white boy he'd ever seen. Almost as alluring as the best of the young brown-skinned boys he'd bought and sold over the years.

"Well, good luck to you, Billy." It was the first time the merchant had referred to the boy by name. Billy smiled, and felt a surge of pride, but said nothing as the slave-trader turned again and walked through the door.

Billy Mfume was now alone with the man who had just purchased his indenture – the contract that bound the boy to servitude until his 18th birthday. The indenture had been drawn up just the day before, and already it had been transferred twice to new owners.

"So, lad; you're fresh off the farm, eh," said the gentle-voiced young man, as he ran a hand through Billy's soft, straw-colored hair. The new master was handsome, with tawny brown skin and a hint of effeminacy in his manner and speech. Billy thought him surprisingly young to have spent so much money on a slave.

"Not a farm, Master; my people are watermen. Up along the Choptank River." Billy had lived his entire life on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay, catching crabs and fish and oysters to help feed his family… until he was sold into indentured slavery by his Pa, to pay the taxes.

"Ah! I stand corrected… a waterman, then," said the man with a friendly wink. "I should tell you from the start that I'm not your new owner. That would be Mr. Nkomo, the proprietor of the Blue Boy Club in Williamsburg. My name is Spinks… Cleavon Spinks. I'm Mr. Nkomo's… mmm… his assistant. You'll refer to me as 'master', though, just as you as you will any free man who has authority over you, including your customers at the Club. Perhaps, after a time, you'll earn the right to call me 'Cleavon'. I take care of the training and discipline of Mr. Nkomo's boys, and I'll assure you I know how to deal with a slave who disobeys. If you conduct yourself right, though, everything will be just fine."

With an arm around Billy's shoulder, he looked down at Billy's hairless genitals. He found them quite attractive in soft repose. The flaccid penis was relatively plump in girth and, at about 3 inches [7½ cm], was the length of the man's finger. It pointed downward, with a short foreskin that revealed the very tip of the pink cock-head. His balls were nicely filled out for a 12-year-old, hanging just a bit lower than the end of the penis. Cleavon reached down and began to fondle the penis, sliding the foreskin back to reveal the slightly-flared glans. Billy didn't flinch at this intimate touch. In fact, his face instantly displayed a mask of utter lust… eyes closed, mouth open, tongue flicking across his lips, moaning with exaggerated eroticism as his penis stiffened to a perfectly formed 4-inch [10 cm] erection.

Cleavon laughed out loud. "Well aren't YOU the sexy little slut! I'd swear you were about to cum the moment I touched you! You'll need to forgot some of what you learned up Eastern Shore way, selling services to the country bumpkins. At a high-class bordello like the Blue Boy Club, you'll need to be more subtle when the man first caresses you… more reserved. Usually a hint of shyness from a lad your age is pleasing to the customer." Then Cleavon smiled and kissed Billy's cheek. "But your intentions and your spirit are good, Billy. VERY good. We'll just have to work on your presentation."

Billy blushed in embarrassment that Cleavon had found his efforts so transparently counterfeit, but smiled at the man's words of approval.

"So… how many years have you worked at pleasuring men? Was it the older lads who taught you how to suck so skillfully? Did your family have you whoring in some crossroads tavern before you got sold?" Cleavon had been among the prospective bidders who had sampled Billy's oral talents prior to the auction. He'd been well-impressed, though it had lasted less than a minute before the slave-seller had ended the demonstration.

"Begging your pardon, Master, but I'd never been with any man… in the way you mean, that is… until last night with the master who just sold me. Nor with another boy until night before that. But I promise I'll try my best to please."

Cleavon raised his eyebrows in surprise. "New at pleasuring, eh? You've got natural talent, then. Mr. Nkomo should indeed be pleased with how I've spent his money." Still holding Billy in a light embrace, he leaned down to kiss the boy, flicking his tongue at the Billy's lips and receiving the lad's tongue into his mouth in return. Cleavon continued to gently fondle the barely-adolescent erection and ball-sack, feeling his own cock starting to swell.

"Mmmm… I've a feeling you'll be one of my favorites, Billy," said Cleavon, as he broke the long, wet kiss.

The boy looked up into the man's friendly face and beamed with pride. Billy decided immediately that he liked the man… his new owner's handsome 'assistant' (whatever that meant). And when Cleavon hugged Billy closer and kissed him again, the boy wrapped his arms around the brown-skinned man's neck, and returned the kiss with affection that didn't require play-acting. Their tongues merged as Cleavon's hands roamed over Billy's ass cheeks and back, drawing the naked youngster even tighter.

"You'll need some clothing, my sweet," he said at last. "I'll not have you wearing those filthy rags." Billy's homespun trousers and shirt – his only possessions from home – were in a bundle on the floor. "I made some purchases yesterday for the Club's stock of work clothes… sexy little garments to display a boy properly… genuine antiques they are! Let's see how they look on you." He opened a large leather satchel that sat on the floor and pulled out a pair of boy's underpants, still inside plastic packaging that said on the label "Star Wars: Episode 1". He took them from the wrapping and handed them to the boy. As Billy pulled them on, they were quite snug, showing the outline of his erection as a prominent ridge and clinging tightly to his slender rounded ass. The briefs were bright white cotton. They had a dark blue waistband and piping of the same color around the legs and on either side of a cleverly-sewn flap in the front. Cleavon stood back to admire the image and clapped his hands together.

"Excellent! Turn around, Billy… Let me see your ass."

After turning his back to the man, Billy teasingly bent over and wiggled his butt and giggled. Cleavon reflected that this garment must surely have been made for just such a purpose in ancient times… to show the charms of boys who served as whores or concubines. The picture that spread tightly across the ass of the tiny garment showed a man holding some sort of glowing sword, pointing upward from his crotch. And the sword was rounded and distinctly phallic, like a massive dildo poised to enter Billy's tight asshole.

"Do I look sexy, Master?" asked Billy with a sly smile as he turned back around to face the man. Trying hard to achieve an erotic look in his eyes, he ran his hands teasingly from his chest down across his belly, rubbing sensuously at his crotch and then caressing his inner thighs… and then ran his fingers back to his slender butt.

"You look beautiful, my love! Just how I knew you would," said Cleavon, speaking with a slight lisp. "How pleased your new owner will be to see you thus!"

Cleavon marveled at how Billy embodied every element that could be desired in a brothel-boy. His slender, unmuscled build… his perfect, round butt… his beautiful face… his exquisite cock, right at the dawn of adolescent and able to spurt seed (as Billy had demonstrated during the auction). And it was capped off by his smooth white skin and silky blond hair, so rare in this land whose inhabitants came in a variety of shades of brown, but rarely white. As a feudal culture had gradually replaced the anarchy of the past, many in the ruling class of brown-skinned aristocrats had developed a near-fetish for taking their sexual pleasure with whores and concubines (whether boys or young wenches) who were whities.

As Cleavon gazed at Billy with growing arousal, he murmured almost to himself, "So beautiful… So desirable… I could just…"

Instead of finishing the thought with words, he finished with action, dropping to his knees in front of Billy. His fingers maneuvered the boy's half-hard penis through the flap in the soft cotton briefs and brought his mouth down onto it. The erection stiffened fully as Cleavon ran his tongue over the immature head, toying with the foreskin. Drawing back the skin completely, his lips and tongue savored the glowing red acorn of aroused flesh. The boy's hips lurched forward as his soprano voice cooed with pleasure, and his hands delicately caressed the man's thick brown hair.

Yes! This was good, thought Cleavon… the ultimate thrill for a man who appreciated the allure of a boy at the earliest budding of adolescence. Cleavon's lips rode up and down the full length of the 4-inch [10 cm] boner as his hands wandered over Billy's underpants-covered butt. The man knew he must stop soon or the boy would shoot his spunk. Mr. Nkomo had always made it clear that he wanted the first taste of each young slave he bought, with a full a load of boy-cum if the lad was of age.

Reluctantly, Cleavon rose to his feet. Although the boss would have the lad in his bed tonight, Cleavon would begin training him tomorrow morning… providing numerous opportunities to fully savor the boy's charms. He kissed Billy gently and said "Now let's see what we can find for a shirt."

Cleavon reached into the old leather satchel again and pulled out a sleeveless shirt of white material with red lettering. "Put it on," he directed. When Billy slipped the polyester garment over his head, it clung tightly to his taut stomach and unmuscled chest. The armholes and neck plunged low, exposing Billy's armpits and upper chest. But the jersey was made for a smaller boy, and its bottom didn't even meet the waistband of the underpants. Across the front were the words Clear Creek Elementary School Basketball. Neither Billy nor Cleavon could read, but even if they were literate, the words would be meaningless. Schools hadn't existed for 200 years (save for the private tutoring that the sons of aristocrats received), and the words 'basket' and 'ball' would not have made sense linked together. Organized sports were long-extinct in the culture that now existed in the year 2203.

"The shirt goes quite nicely with the pants, Billy! So there you are… your first costume for working at the Club. Do that dance you performed during your auction… Yes! Like that! Ah, the customers at the Club will fall all over themselves to pay for your services. Now we'll head for the docks. We've still got plenty of time to catch a boat upriver to Williamsburg."

The man draped his arm around the boy and led him out into the street, holding the satchel in one hand and leaving Billy's old clothing behind. It was late afternoon on a pleasant day in October, and the sun still warmed the air. Billy wondered what the townspeople passing by thought as they glanced at him, dressed only in these revealing garments. What the people perceived, no doubt, was exactly what he was… a slave-boy who had been purchased at the weekly auction, destined for sex work. The slave collar around his neck (a narrow band of cloth-covered metal, with a hasp to which a lock and chain could be attached) advertised his servitude, and the tight cotton briefs that emphasized his ass and genitals was a give-away that he was destined for work in a boy-brothel. (An aristocrat's concubine boy would not be so blatantly displayed on the street.)

They walked several blocks to the wooden piers at the edge of the James River. Although Norfolk City seemed enormous to Billy's eyes, it contained a population of less than 3,000 who dwelt and worked among crumbling ruins left from the Golden Age. Although civilization had disintegrated 200 years before, when the Global Plague nearly brought an end to the human race, this place seemed to hold an inexhaustible supply of salvage from which to fashion the relatively modest material needs of present-day city dwellers.

There was no scheduled ferry service to Williamsburg – the other major population center of the city-state ruled by the Duke of Norfolk – so Cleavon walked along the wharf until he came to a small coastal schooner of the kind that typically made the run.

"How much to take us up to Williamsburg today?"

"Not interested… What breeze there be is from the Nor'west. It would be on the nose all the way up. If you want to make the run tonight, you'll need oars instead of sail. There's a Navy galley down the wharf a ways… see the masts? I'll wager they'd break out the longboat to row you up there for the right price."

"Thank you kindly, Captain. Come along, Billy."

Around a bend, they came upon the sleek fighting ship, over 100 feet [30 m] in length, with eight cannon mounted on the deck. Two masts would provide plenty of sail, and a ten stout oars that could extend from the sides supplied propulsion when the wind was unfavorable or too light. The Duke's Navy saw relatively little action these days… there having been peace among the three city-states of the Chesapeake region for over two years. But pirates and privateers from outside the Bay – from the nation called Philly to the north or the little-know but powerful country of York farther up the coast – sometimes raided shipping and coastline areas in these parts.

At the foot of the gang-plank stood a sailor, dressed in a slovenly semblance of a uniform, to whom Cleavon described his needs. The man disappeared onto the boat and returned with the captain. He too was dressed in a casual approximation of official garb and smoked a black cigar.

"A run to Williamsburg, eh? Any cargo besides your slave and satchel?" he grumbled, ogling Billy as he spoke. "Let's see… a long-boat, four rowers, and my bosun's mate. About 3 hours to get there, a bit less back with the breeze at the stern and two fewer bodies in the boat. I'll need a dollar and 5 silvers for the trouble." (The amount would be stated $1.50 by the ancient reckoning.)

The asking price was too high, and Cleavon knew it would all go into the captain's pocket. There was no cost to him in freeing up a longboat and five idle crew-members for the evening, and a few minutes of canny bargaining resulted in a price of 7 silvers, and 5 coppers (75 cents). The captain took the money, and in a few minutes the 22-foot longboat was slicing through the dark green water into the channel of the James River… oars moving in well-disciplined unison.

Cleavon and Billy sat side-by-side on a bench seat at the bow of the sleek boat, facing backward. The bosun's mate, a handsome man barely out of his teens, sat at the stern holding the tiller. To Billy's eyes, the sailor looked as handsome as Cleavon, but more masculine. A short leather whip and a stout bludgeon lay beside the young man in case he had any trouble from the rowers.

Four buck slaves manned the four oars. A length of medium-weight chain was attached to the bare metal band around each man's neck, running down their backs and secured to the benches on which they sat. The chain permitted free movement to row, but the slaves would be unable to stand up or move from their benches. All four wore only tattered and grimy trousers. Their bare backs showed scars from years of whippings, as well as a few fresher scabs and welts.

Billy shivered slightly… a reaction to both the gruesome sight of the slaves' backs and to the cool breeze blowing across the open water. Cleavon reached into his satchel and pulled out a long cloak of dark cloth, putting it around his shoulders. Then he shifted back on the seat and beaconed Billy to sit between his spread legs. As Cleavon wrapped the cloak around the boy, he wrapped his arms around Billy as well. He leaned forwards to kiss the back of the boy's neck, inhaling the clean scent of Billy's freshly-washed body. When he glanced up, Cleavon caught the stare of the bosun's mate, and he immediately recognized the look of barely suppressed lust. But there was also a twinkle in the sailor's eyes, and a sly half-smile on his mouth as his gaze locked onto Cleavon's.

Cleavon had always had an erotic fixation on sailors. He knew from a number of intimate encounters with sea-faring men that they were largely immune to society's informal taboo against sexual relations between two adult men. This sailor was especially sexy in Cleavon's eyes, and he pondered whether he might be able to convince the bosun's mate to stay long enough in Williamsburg for a tumble in bed. Cleavon had free access to the boy-whores at the Club, but getting his ass fucked by a strong and handsome young sailor… now THAT would be a special treat! He decided to play with the man's libido, using Billy's sexual charms as a tool.

He opened the front of the cloak a bit to reveal his hands caressing the boy's barely-clothed body. His fingers slid back and forth across the crotch of Billy's underpants, making the boy's penis quickly rise to erection. Though his eyes remained fixed on the sailor, Cleavon's lips returned to the boy's neck… and then explored Billy's ear… then his jaw-line… then the incredible softness of his silky blond hair. The sailor smiled broadly and shifted in his seat to adjust the prominent bulge in his tight trousers.

For his part, Billy had snaked his right hand back to gently rub the hardness at Cleavon's crotch. And he craned his neck around to offer his mouth to Cleavon's kisses… an offer that was accepted at once.

When two oars knocked together, disrupting the rowing, Billy noticed that one of the slaves was glancing back at him with a look of almost-pained desire. In a moment, the whip was in the sailor's hand, and it cracked as its tip caught the buck-slave on the shoulder.

"You pay no never-mind to the private business of a free man, or you'll feel a dozen of my best on your back. Now row, you dogs, and keep your eyes looking down."

Billy winced at the reminder of his own condition of servitude… of how close he'd always be to receiving a whipping. Even as he willingly exchanged affection with Cleavon, he knew that any reluctance to do so could be punished severely. Billy resolved that he would never provide an excuse to be whipped… he'd do whatever was within his power to please his masters. So even as his thoughts were clouded by apprehension, Billy's tongue was snaking inside Cleavon's mouth, his hand pressing tighter against the erection inside Cleavon's trousers, and little moans of lust were emanating from the boy's throat.

"Nice one, ain't he," said Cleavon to the sailor in a knowing voice, after he broke the kiss. He parted the cloak all the way to display Billy's body more fully.

"Aye… that he is, sir… for a fact."

"What's your name sailor?"

"Jenkins, sir… DeWan Jenkins, Bosun's Mate on the Duke's frigate 'Devastator'… at your service."

"Mine's Cleavon Spinks. I help run a gentlemen's sporting club up in Williamsburg, featuring boy-whores of the finest quality. Bringing this young beauty up to join the stable of lads. Any chance you'd want to over-night in Williamsburg before heading back to Norfolk? I'm sure I could talk my employer into giving you a complementary session with one of our boys… we've got an even-dozen to choose from, if you include Billy here. And we can secure your rowers for the night in the barn."

The sailor thought for a few moments, with an agonized expression on his face. "Wish I could say yes… but Captain would skin me it I didn't come right back. Probably think these here slaves skedaddled and left me floating belly-down." (If the four rowers were listening to that comment, they made no overt sign of it.) "But I thank you kindly for the offer."

"If you ever come up our way and have some time, look for me at the Blue Boy Club, right on Gloucester Street near the Duke's Winter Palace. I'll show you some proper hospitality." Although the words were courteous, his face and tone of voice conveyed the intended innuendo. And if Cleavon couldn't lure DeWan to spend the night, he could at least give him a show to keep him thinking about a return trip next time he was on leave.

Cleavon's playful caresses of Billy with hands and lips resumed, evolving gradually into more of a passionate clutch. Then he directed Billy to stand. As the boy stood passively, Cleavon raised the basketball jersey up. Tight as a sausage-casing, it stayed up, bunched above the small tan nipples on his slender chest. And then Cleavon's fingers slid beneath the elastic waistband of the briefs, just in front of Billy's hip-bones, and slowly eased the underpants down, exposing the pretty 4-inch [10 cm] erection and young-adolescent balls that were half-way pulled up in reaction to the cool evening air.

Billy knew full-well that Cleavon wished to arouse the sailor. He didn't know exactly why this was so… only that it was his duty as a slave to anticipate and fulfill his master's wishes. Billy's gaze met the sailor's, and he imagined that he was trying to seduce the man, just as he had been taught last night by his previous owner. The boy's eyes burned with shameless desire and wanton sensuality. He mimed a kiss, in the manner of a coquette, and left his lips slightly parted.

All the while, Cleavon was gently masturbating Billy's cock and peeping around the boy's torso to watch DeWan's reaction. Predictably, the sailor was at the cross-roads of agony and bliss… drinking in the utterly pornographic vision, while painfully aware of the throbbing hardness at his crotch, craving relief.

"Just because you can't come by the Club, doesn't mean you can't have a little pleasure… eh, DeWan? Can I offer you the services of my slave to pass the time on our trip upriver to Williamsburg?" asked Cleavon, his words tinged with devilish humor. "He's got a fine way with his mouth."

"I swear by the God of the Sea that I'd enjoy that mightily," said the sailor. "Would it be to much to ask you to trade places with me and take the helm for a time?" Cleavon grinned and nodded his assent. Then DeWan hefted the whip that rested on the seat beside him, and said "You'll need to use this if any of these bucks slows the pace… You OK with that?"

"Oh, sure… I've used a slave-whip before. I'll have no hesitation to lay on some stripes to keep up the pace." Cleavon knew that would be unnecessary. This was merely a ritual to let the rowers know he was capable of it.

"Er… and not to abuse your hospitality or nothin', but would it be alright for me to pet the boy a bit before he sucks me off?"

"Enjoy him all you like, but I'll not have you fuck his ass and he's not to shoot his seed." And then addressing Billy: "You hear that last part, lad? You save up your cum 'til we get to Williamsburg, and Mr. Nkomo has the chance to try you out."

"Yes, Master. I understand."

Cleavon put the cloak around Billy's shoulders and threaded his way down the length of the boat between the four rowers until he got to the stern. As he sat at the other side of the stern from DeWan, he placed his fingers lightly on top of the sailor's hand on the tiller. For his part, DeWan brought his free hand to Cleavon's knee and stroked his thigh lightly. As they looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, Cleavon was confident they had an informal bargain, with repayment to be made in Williamsburg… sometime in the future… in Cleavon's bed.

"Go on and take your pleasure with the boy. I'll be fine here. Take your time," said Cleavon.

The sailor skittered toward the bow and sat next to Billy. He silently guided the slave-boy to stand, facing him. Without a word, he removed the cloak and pulled the shirt over the boy's head. The underpants were already around Billy's knees, and DeWan pulled them the rest of the way off.

"Sit on my lap, boy. You look light as a feather," he said, patting his thighs.

"Yes, Master," said the boy, glancing back to Cleavon and receiving the slight nod that affirmed he was indeed to call the young sailor 'master' for the present.

Billy sat sideways across DeWan's strong thighs and wrapped his arms affectionately around the man's neck. With no hesitation or prompting, Billy kissed the sailor and opened his mouth to DeWan's probing tongue. The man stroked and fondled the pretty boy's body, his hands wandering freely. His breathing became ragged with sexual energy as he toyed with the young-adolescent erection and satin-smooth balls. Then his fingers slipped farther down to stroke Billy's anal flesh, and the muscle flexed open slightly at his touch (unlike most young boys he'd bedded, whose initial reaction was usually to clamp shut). DeWan felt such a strong surge of desire as his finger worked its way into the warm orifice that his whole body trembled slightly.

"Hop off for a second, lad, whilst I remove my britches. You've got me hotter than an iron cook-stove!"

Billy knelt passively on the floor-planks at DeWan's feet as the sailor stood up and pulled his trousers down and off. Cleavon's eyes were trained on DeWan's crotch… a fact fully noted by the sailor. Pulling his shirt up, he gave Cleavon a full view of his 7-inch [18 cm] erection and gave it a few easy strokes. Like the sailor himself, the phallus was handsomely masculine… slender, yet powerful… a sturdy spear rather than a club. When the two men's gazes met, they each smiled. Cleavon winked an eye… a gesture that was answered by an even bigger smile from the bosun's mate. Yes; they understood each other perfectly.

"Sit back down, boy… facing me with your legs astride my waist," said DeWan as he pulled Billy to his feet. "Don't worry; I won't fuck you… I just want to feel up your body and taste those lips of yours for a while more."

Billy positioned himself on the sailor's lap, his arms wrapped around the man's neck and his knees resting on the seat on either side of DeWan's hips. The boy's cock pressed against the man's erection and slid back and forth against it as Billy rocked his hips. DeWan's hands caressed the smooth warm skin of the boy's shoulders and back… and then cradled Billy's slender butt cheeks, pushing the round globes together, then pulling them apart and running his fingers along the crack. Their lips and tongues tasted and nibbled and slurped… in a leisurely manner at first, but with gradually increasing hunger and urgency.

Finally DeWan whispered in Billy's ear "By the gods, you're as sexy as any boy or wench I've ever bedded! Get down on your knees, and give me good suck. Nice and slow, now. Let's see what a fancy boy-whore can do."

"Yes, Master."

Billy slithered his way down the front of DeWan's chest, kissing and gently nipping at the young man's neck and chest and belly as he went. When he came to the sailor's rigid cock, he held it lightly in his fingers and ran the tip of his tongue up and down along the smooth shaft. The scent of manly musk stirred Billy's excitement, as he took the elegant cock-head between his lips. His flicking tongue and nibbling lips teased the sensitive flesh of the foreskin and glans, as Billy's fingers toyed with full balls that dangled below.

"Ahhh… That's good, lad," DeWan hissed in a near-whisper.

Billy sucked with hungry lips and tongue up and down along the top of the sailor's hot cock as his hand pulled the skin of the shaft back and forth in the same rhythm. DeWan's fingers entwined through Billy's silken hair, taking control of the pace and applying downward pressure. As he pushed more of his cock into Billy's mouth, he purred: "Do it, boy… take me in deep… take it all!"

Billy was a novice cocksucker, but the hours of training he had received the previous night, combined with his innate sense of how to apply those lessons, made it seem as if he had been servicing cocks for years. The boy's lips slid down the rigid stalk, letting the head graze against the ridged roof of his mouth before slipping into the narrow confines of his throat. Just 24 hours before, as the boy was receiving his first instruction from the slave-merchant, it had seemed impossible to take all of a man's hard cock. But with patient training from his master, and Billy's persistent desire to succeed, he had finally mastered the technique. And then, prior to this day's auction, Billy had taken some 20 cocks to the hilt, one after the other as the bidders inspected him and sampled his skills. Though the lad's throat was still a bit sore from that work-out, he knew he could easily accommodate DeWan's handsome erection without gagging. He took the last two inches [5 cm] in a quick plunge, causing DeWan to moan with pleasure.

Then Billy went to work, rising up to take a breath through his nose and driving his mouth down again, pressing his lips against the bush of curly black hair. Bobbing up and down on the impressive cock, the boy's mouth circled in spirals along the length of the shaft… holding the cock-head captive for a few moments as his throat constricted around it… then rising up to lavish his tongue all around the cock-head, burrowing into the slit, as saliva ran down the throbbing pole and onto DeWan's balls.

Billy worked hard at giving his first 'customer' the most energetic blow job he could create, knowing that Cleavon was watching and judging him… knowing that it was a boy-slave's duty to pleasure men to the best of his ability. But when he felt the man's balls pulling up close to his body, Billy eased back on the intensity of the stimulation, remembering DeWan's instruction to make it last. With slow deliberation, he moved his mouth around the cock-head… teased it with his lips and tongue while he caressed the wet shaft with his fingers… and then slid down again, very slowly, until his lips pressed against hair.

The sailor leaned back against the gunnel and splayed his legs out, closing his eyes and drinking in the sensations flowing from his crotch. Yes… this was a fine way to travel up-river! When his eyes opened again and he looked over at Cleavon, sitting in the stern, he was not at all surprised to see Cleavon's eyes taking in the scene with eager and undisguised lust, his hand rubbing his crotch. DeWan closed his eyes again and sank back into the world of erotic bliss.

Billy was carefully trying out every technique he'd been taught… and even adding a few new ways to use his mouth and fingers. He found that pleasuring a man wasn't a chore; rather it was an exciting challenge.

As he worked his slow but intense magic, Billy heeded his former master's instructions about how to tell when a man was close to shooting his seed… how his balls would draw up tight and the muscles of his legs would quiver and tense. Each time DeWan's orgasm drew near, Billy reduced the level of stimulation. He kept the sailor near the edge, but carefully withheld the prize.

Though he was a mere slave, it seemed to Billy as if he were in complete control of the situation… drawing forth moans of pleasure that sounded almost as if he were torturing the man. And perhaps this was torture… denying the man a quick orgasm through delicious, slow, sexual agony.

On and on it went until finally DeWan could take no more.

"By the gods! Finish me off, boy! I can't take it any longer!" The sailor bucked his hips up with desperate urgency, driving his cock into Billy's mouth. Billy grabbed the throbbing penis in his right hand and fisted it up and down, as his mouth went wild with twisting sucks of his lips and rough licking all around the sailor's cock-head.

In 30 seconds, the dam bust. Billy's mouth filled with spurting cum that he struggled to swallow down, as some of it trickled down his chin. As the pulses of hot fluid waned, the boy sucked and licked at the oozing slit at the end of the engorged phallus.

"Agh! It's too much!" grumbled the sailor at last, pushing Billy's head away. Then he smiled down at the exhausted lad kneeling on the floorboards of the boat and added: "That was a mighty good cum you gave me, boy. You're as good a cocksucker as I've ever had."

As he buttoned his trousers and made his way to the stern of the small boat, DeWan said to Cleavon: "Much obliged for that sir. And if I may be so rude as to ask… how much does your establishment charge for a go-round with a boy like that one?"

"The standard fee for an hour with a lad is 5 silvers. Some of our more desirable boys warrant more… and there are some 'special services' for which extra is charged."

The sailor whistled in a long, low tone. "Half a dollar! That's more than my pay for a week!… And I always thought I was being wastefully extravagant to pay ONE silver in a whore-house." As he sat down on the bench at the stern, on the other side of the tiller from Cleavon, DeWan added in a low voice: "anything I can do for you to repay the favor?"

"Like I said before… you can come up to Williamsburg on your next leave. I've a good soft feather-bed that'll fit the two comfortably." There was a hopeful gleam in Cleavon's eye that was answered by DeWan's amused leer and nod of agreement. "And if you would," continued Cleavon, "how's about a kiss to seal the bargain?"

DeWan glanced over at the four rowing slaves. All were smart enough to have their eyes downcast and clueless expressions on their faces.

"What the hell," DeWan muttered, and he brought his mouth to Cleavon's and the two exchanged a long, sloppy tongue kiss. DeWan's hand slid up Cleavon's inner thigh and lewdly grabbed at the half-hard cock that pressed against the man's tight trousers, gauging its length and girth.

When the kiss broke, there were no further words as Cleavon scooted back to the bow, where Billy still knelt on the floor, naked and shivering a bit.

"Here now, lad. Get your costume back on. And let me get a sweater from my satchel." Cleavon pulled a green wool sweater from his piece of luggage and handed it to the slave-boy. It was many sizes too big, but Billy looked all the more appealing… a combination of innocence and young-adolescent eroticism.

Meanwhile, Cleavon was lowering his trousers and jacking his cock to a handsome medium-thick 6-inch [15 cm] erection that he made sure DeWan could see and admire. Sitting down, he said: "Now, lad; give me the same as you gave the bosun's mate."

Billy's jaw and tongue were tired. His throat was sore. But he knew this was his duty… This was going to be his life for years to come. He positioned himself between Cleavon's spread legs and lowered his mouth onto the straining pole. Hmmmm… It actually felt good to have a cock in his mouth! And as he went to work, he was immediately rewarded with the feedback of pleasure-noises that Cleavon was making.

As the longboat made it's way upriver, the oars pulling and rising in a steady unison, Cleavon leaned back to enjoy a long, drawn-out interlude of pleasure.

… Two and a half hours later…

The boat pulled up to a dock on a small creek off the James River, two miles [3 km] from town of Williamsburg. Only a single oil-lamp shone from the dock. A carriage waited on shore, and its driver climbed down and took the mooring lines of the longboat. He was a lanky 17-year-old, wearing a slave collar around his neck… nearly an adult, with faint beard stubble on his chin and upper lip. Mr. Nkomo usually sold off his boys to be plantation field hands when they got to be 15 or so and no longer as desirable to customers. But this one he kept around, to do chores and to take customers who wanted 'special services', which usually consisted of men who wanted to be physically dominated by a teenager… and men who wanted to get rough on a boy

"Good to see you, Cleavon!" said the youth. "Brought back a pretty package from the city, I see." He reached down as Cleavon transferred the sleeping boy into his arms. "Cute little whitey, he is!"

"Aye, Seth… a cute one. And a natural at using his mouth. I think we may have a replacement for Ganymede. We'll get him trained, and I wager the gents will pay a full dollar for a chance at him."

"That would please the boss mightily, Mr. Cleavon. We ain't had a dollar-boy at the Club since the Duke came in and took that Ganymede to be his concubine. A shame the boss didn't have no choice about selling the lad."

"You don't say no to the Duke of Norfolk. That's for sure," said Cleavon with a sigh.

Cleavon bade farewell to DeWan, slipping an exceedingly generous tip of five silvers into his hand, and hopped into the carriage. He watched as the long-boat pulled briskly away from the dock and into the moon-lit darkness.

"Alright then Seth… On to Williamsburg to show Mr. Nkomo his new boy-whore."

The two horses slowly clomped up the hill away from the river, as Cleavon held the sleeping lad to his chest, breathing in Billy's wonderful boy-scent.

"And starting tomorrow I'll take my time teaching him the skills," murmured Cleavon, almost to himself.

Chapter 4
Williamsburg: Learning to Be a Boy Whore

The night air was increasingly chilly as the horse-drawn carriage approached the town of Williamsburg. Harvest was over, and the town was growing in population as aristocrats moved from their outlying plantations into townhouses for the winter. Even the Duke of Norfolk himself moved up-river from Norfolk Town to take up residence in the Winter Palace at Williamsburg. The social scene became much more lively in the winter season, as did business at the town's only high-class boy-brothel.

Cleavon Spinks held the sleeping 12-year-old slaveboy on his lap, hugging the slender lad close. Cleavon had wrapped his long cloak around the both of them for warmth. The handsome brown-skinned young man exchanged conversation in quiet tones with the lanky 17-year-old youth holding the reins as the two horses clomped toward the edge of town.

"Did you enjoy your stay in the city, Master?" asked the driver.

"That I did, Seth. Stayed the night at a harbor-side tavern in Norfolk Town where the food and ale were first-rate, and the bed was soft. And I managed to entice a burley longshoreman up to my room for some fun… hung like a horse he was," added Cleavon in a sly and slightly effeminate tone. "But I got all my business taken care of too. Bought some sexy new garments for the boys of the Club to use as work costumes. And of course I purchased the new slave-boy here. Paid a hefty price at auction, too. I was bidding against an aristocrat who fancied him for a concubine. But the lad's a beauty and has a natural talent for pleasing men, so I think Mr. Nkomo will be well satisfied at how I spent his money."

"A beauty indeed, Master. Will he be sleeping in the boys' room before long? I've hopes of getting him in my bunk right soon," said Seth in a wishful voice.

"Ha! Not bloody likely for a while. Mr. Nkomo will have him in his own bed the first few nights, like he always does with the new arrivals. And then I expect to take him for a time. He might even get sent out for overnights with special customers. And don't go breaking the rule about sex-play in the daytime before the Club opens for customers."

"No, Master; you know I never break that rule."

"Anyway, don't you get as much night-time fun as you want with the other lads? I hear tell you've been bedding young Cupid pretty much regular."

"Aye, Master. And that scamp Cupid is a cute one, alright. But your new lad there is something special. Makes be horny just looking at his face, and I ain't even seen him awake yet."

"Well don't get too presumptuous… just remember you still have that slave-collar around your neck. I've always liked you, Seth, but you're still just a whitey slave until your indenture ends. You break the rules, and I'll have to lay into your back with the whip."

"Yes, Master. I know," murmured Seth. He had only five months remaining until his 18th birthday, when his contract of indenture terminated and he was free. Seth was rather old for work as a pleasure-slave, but even a tall and maturing 17-year-old was still desirable enough to attract paying customers when he had the light skin and fair hair of a whitey. White boys and young white wenches held considerable erotic appeal among the brown-skinned aristocracy who ruled the city-states of the Chesapeake Bay region. Boy-brothels typically sold off their slaves to a plantation for field work when they reached sexual maturity, but Nkomo had kept Seth on to serve any customers who might fancy an older youth. Seth's specialty was the giving and receiving of rough play… taking a spanking or paddling from a man who found the act an arousing prelude to sex… or delivering erotic discipline to a customer who wanted to live out submissive fantasies.

At last, the carriage came to a stop on the cobble-stone pavement of Gloucester Street, in front of a sizable wood-frame building that had two bright torches at the front door and candles in each window of its three stories. Cleavon woke the boy who slept soundly on his lap.

"Billy?… Wake up, lad. Pull yourself together," said Cleavon in a calm but firm voice. The boy awoke slowly and glanced around him at the historic colonial-era buildings of Williamsburg, many of which were over 400 years old, while others were reproductions made 200 years ago during the Golden Age. Unlike so many of the structures remaining from the long-vanished civilization, those in Williamsburg had proven adaptable to a world that knew nothing of electricity or central heating.

In the light of the torches, Cleavon ran a comb through the Billy's wind-blown blond hair. Then he took a handkerchief from his pocket, wetted it with his tongue, and wiped a crust of dried semen from the boy's chin. Billy's eyes fixed above the building's entrance on the sign that swayed a bit in the breeze. Unable to read, he paid no attention to the words that said Blue Boy Club. But he stared at the painted picture showing a young adolescent lad with honey-brown skin, naked but for a rich blue velvet cape – parted to display his body – and a medieval style hat of the same material. One hand rested saucily on his hip; the other hand was casually positioned to hide his genitals. The imaginary boy on the sign also wore a thin blue slave collar on his neck… the same color and style as the cloth-covered metal band around Billy's own neck.

As Seth took the carriage back around to the barn, Cleavon said "Billy, this is your new home. Be lively, now, and make a good first impression. You've done well so far today, and now's the time to really show your obedience and charms."

As the door to the Club opened, the sounds of conversation, laughter, and music poured out. It was bright inside, lit by numerous candles in chandeliers and in wall sconces. The thick air was warm, heated by iron stoves at each end of the room, and smelled of smoke-weed (harvested from the resinous buds of the hemp plant). Billy's eyes scanned the 15 men and six scantily-clad boys in the room. Another man and boy were coming down a staircase, the boy tucking his fancy white shirt into tight flannel shorts, and the man red-faced as if he had just run a race.

A musical instrument the likes of which Billy had never before seen was played by a handsome youth of 15 years, wearing very short pants and an open vest. The instrument was an upright piano, another relic of the vanished civilization of the Golden Age.

On a small elevated stage at the back of the room was a totally naked 13-year-old boy with black skin and frizzy hair. The slender, small-framed boy was dancing to the music… moving in a grinding motion that made his surprisingly large flaccid penis bob and sway hypnotically. The boy's ebony skin color (as rare in the Chesapeake region as Billy's whiteness) reminded Billy of the friend he had left behind… only two days ago when Pa had sold Billy into indentured servitude… and he felt a pang of homesickness. The dancing boy – whose name was Deon – looked bored, and few of the men in the room were paying him any particular attention. Other boys were circulating about the room, flirting with customers, bringing them tankards of beer, and preparing pipes of smoke-weed for them.

Billy's attention next focused on the youngest boy in the room, a 9-year-old with dark-tan skin who went by the name of Cupid. The lad was perched on the lap of a man who had just drained a tankard. The boy wore a short feminine garment of silky translucent pink material (once known as a 'baby-doll nighty') and was naked from the waist down. He giggled when the customer's fingers slid up his inner thigh and fondled his little-boy erection and compact ball-sack, as the man whispered in the lad's ear. A few moments later, the two were on their feet and walking over to a corner of the tavern room, where a large well-dressed man – the proprietor – sat at a table, a metal strongbox at his elbow. The customer paid the proprietor some coins and was then led up the staircase by the young boy. As the two left the tavern room, the customer's hand was playfully caressing Cupid's naked little butt.

"That's your owner, there at the table," said Cleavon to Billy. "Follow me. Stand back a few paces while I speak to him… and give him your sexiest look whenever he glances your way.

Mr. Nkomo's face brightened when he saw Cleavon approaching, and then brightened even more when he saw the new slave-boy.

"Greetings, Master," said Cleavon, still using the form of address that had become ingrained during his years as one of Nkomo's indentured slaves, and gave the man a discrete kiss on the lips. (Such affection between two grown men was somewhat taboo… quite unlike the commonly accepted practice of men taking pleasure with slave-boys.)

"Welcome home, my love," said the older man in a low voice. Gazing over at Billy, who stood a few paces back trying his best to look alluring, he added "You bought well, Cleavon! Damned if he doesn't look just like…"

"Like Ganymede!" said Cleavon, finishing the man's sentence. "My own thought as well, Master."

"Well, let's hope the Duke doesn't take this one to be his concubine, like he did with Ganymede. He paid a fair price, but I'd have made a lot more from selling Ganymede's services." Then, looking back at Billy, he said "The lad looks reasonably intelligent for a whitey. How are his skills?"

"A very talented mouth, and highly motivated. I was given a short demonstration before the auction, and then got a leisurely suck on the trip up-river from Norfolk Town. His indenture was begun just yesterday, and he says he didn't work at the sex-trade before. Seems to have a natural knack for the work… I've no doubt he'll do well in your bed tonight."

"Does he cum yet?"

"Aye, Master, though I doubt he's been spurting very long… not a single hair down there," said Cleavon. "He jacked himself while up on the block at today's auction. Put on quite a show for the bidders, dancing and stroking. Gave forth a couple of nice little squirts." And lowering his voice even more, he added "I'll wager you'll find his boy-juice tastes as sweet as honey!"

"Excellent!" said the older man, rubbing his hands together. "I've a mind to try him out immediately. Look after the cash box, and close up the Club when you think the time's right."

"Of course, Master. But before you retire for the night, hows about we introduce him to the customers for a few minutes? Get him up there on platform with Deon and see if he can liven the stage show a bit."

"A fine idea, Love," said the older man. "Good business to show the new boy off and generate a demand for his services."

Cleavon turned to Billy and whispered instructions in his ear, gesturing over to where Deon was dancing. Billy nodded his understanding and pulled off the oversized sweater that covered him from neck to knees like a loose cocoon. Underneath was his new working costume – antique clothing consisting of a sleeveless basketball jersey, and underwear briefs so small they stretched tight over his butt and outlined his genitals in front. Both garments had been purchased by Cleavon for a substantial price the previous day.

Billy moved quickly over to the small 4-foot-high [1.2 m] stage and boosted himself up on it.

"Master wants me to dance with you," he whispered to the black-skinned boy and smiled at him warmly. Deon smiled back, instantly enchanted with the pretty newcomer. The older youth at the piano noticed the situation and shifted his playing to a more energetic tune. As the two began to gyrate on stage, the eyes of men and boys all around the room turned to watch.

Billy had danced with another boy in just such a manner the previous day, on the ship that brought him down the Chesapeake Bay to Norfolk Town, and he had a good idea of what to do. Deon was a three-year veteran of the Blue Boy Club, and knew the drill almost instinctively.

Billy and Deon danced apart at first, trading off moves as if in competition to see which could be sexier. Touching themselves suggestively, the two boys let their hands glide along their hips, chests, butts, and crotches. Then, locking fingers behind their necks, they moved their hips with blatantly erotic thrusts. Soon, they were dancing face-to-face, crotches rubbing together, and their hands wandering over each other's bodies. When Deon turned around and began grinding his naked ass against Billy's crotch, Billy responded by reaching around the dark-skinned boy with both hands… one caressing his slender boyish chest, the other fondling his generously proportioned adolescent cock. Though Deon was only 13 years old, and no taller than Billy, his penis rose in a perfectly formed 7-inch [18 cm] erection… incongruously large on a young body and decorated with only a few strands of pubic hair.

They changed places, with Billy facing the audience and Deon hugging him from behind. The dark-skinned lad slowly lifted Billy's under-sized sleeveless shirt, pulling it completely off when Billy raised his arms. Then Deon's hands wandered over Billy's chest and hips and cloth-covered crotch as their hips moved in unison. Lusty comments were shouted out by the customers in the room, some of them calling out to be first for a session upstairs with Billy.

When Deon's fingers slipped inside the waistband of the tight briefs and lowered them slowly, Billy's plump erection was already standing up at its full 4 inches [10 cm] as it came into view. Billy's underpants were half-way down his thighs and Deon's erection was wedged between the younger boy's ass cheeks. As they continued their lewd dance, Deon's nimble fingers slid Billy's foreskin back and forth across his purple cock-head. Then Deon knelt down, and as he pulled the briefs off completely, he ostentatiously licked at the globes of Billy's smooth ass.

Four customers stood at the edge of the small platform, reaching up to fondle Billy. They were elbowing each other in their efforts to get closer to the lad when Mr. Nkomo pushed his way through the crowd.

"Alright gents! Enough for now! The new boy's not available for hire tonight. Come back tomorrow, though… anytime after sundown… and he'll be ready to serve your pleasure. Just to let you know… the cost will be 8 silvers for an hour with him." Nkomo lifted Billy down to the floor, leaving Deon standing on the platform… still sporting an impressive boner. "Meanwhile, who'd like a session with this one?" the owner said as if he were an auctioneer "Five silvers for an hour with the little blacky and his big cock."

As Billy was led, stark naked, up to his new owner's private quarters, he thought about the hours of training he had received from the slave-merchant the previous night. 'Submission to your master must be total' his first master had said. 'And when you provide sexual service to a man, you must anticipate his desires and do whatever you think might give greatest pleasure.'

Entering the bedroom, Nkomo instructed Billy to put a shovelful of coal on the glowing embers in the fireplace, and then use a thin splinter of wood to light the bedside candles.

"You'll do that each time you bring a customer up to a room," said the man. "Now, undress me."

Billy's mind raced with thoughts as to how he might make the undressing of his new master a satisfying sensual experience for the man. As he unbuttoned Nkomo's shirt, Billy's maintained eye contact, trying to have his face display a mixture of shyness and desire. Working the buttons with one hand, his other hand caressed the man's abundant chest hair and toyed gently with his master's prominent nipples. Standing on tiptoes, Billy gently kissed the man's lips, then opened his mouth to accept his master's tongue. As both tongues danced together erotically, Billy's hands worked the shirt off and then moved down to unbuckle the belt. When Nkomo's trousers fell to his knees, Billy reached for the man's cock with one hand and his full ball-sack with the other. The cock was long and thick, rising to full stiffness in his hand.

"Cleavon says you've got a good mouth. Show me what you can do."

Billy knelt down, gave the large cock a couple more strokes, and inclined it slightly toward his mouth, looking up into his master's eyes with an expression of eager lust. And indeed, he did feel excited to be pleasuring the man who would own him for the next 5½ years. But more than that, Billy understood perfectly that he needed to make a good impression. He had been told more than once since being sold into slavery that life as a brothel boy could be good… far better than he had ever known in his previous life of rural poverty… so long as he showed himself to be talented at the sexual arts.

Billy's lips and tongue began to work on the broad helmet-head of the musky cock as he fondled the shaft with his fingers. The erection was thick and a full 8 inches [20 cm] long… hot and pulsing with manly lust, oozing fluid from the slit. Though he had never sucked a man's cock until the previous night, Billy had been thoroughly trained by the slave-merchant – whose cock was of similar stature – and had then given brief demonstrations of his oral talents to some twenty prospective bidders before the slave auction. Though it wasn't easy, he worked Nkomo's fat cock-head past the entrance of his throat. With a few more bobs of his head, Billy's lips were pressing against the nest of thick black pubic hair.

"Yes… that's it, boy… let me feel your throat clenching around it… ahhh, yes!" Nkomo's hands were pressing against the back of Billy's head, keeping him from rising back up the thick 8-inch [20 cm] stalk.

Before long, the boy's lungs began to burn, and he felt light-headed from lack of oxygen. But he didn't resist; rather, he made swallowing movements as he had been taught and twisted his head from side to side. He was determined that he would rather pass out than risk his master's displeasure. With his lungs burning, Billy felt the man's hands pulling his head away. Even as he gasped for breath, however, his mouth sought the stiff cock again, eager to show his readiness to please.

"No, boy; that's enough sucking for now," said the man, lifting Billy to his feet. "Get on the bed, in position to be fucked. Pose for me… make me hungry for you."

Billy had been taught just such a skill by the slave-merchant. Hopping onto the big feather-bed, he positioned himself on his left side, drawing up his right leg to display his ass… his hand gliding along his flank and then parting his ass-cheek to reveal the pink puckered hole, which he tickled with his finger. Looking back over his shoulder at his master, Billy's eyes smouldered with seemingly-real desire. His tongue slid across his upper lip invitingly.

"Good… very good," said the man as he stood in the center of the room, slowly stroking his erection. "But you are not yet prepared… unless you prefer to take me dry."

"Master?" asked the puzzled boy, flustered at not understanding what was expected of him.

"There on the table beside you… that dish of oil. Use your fingers to oil your hole. You can't expect me to do it for you. Cleavon will teach you how to do it discretely when he trains you further in the pleasure arts."

Billy dipped his fingers into the viscous fluid and brought them to his anus, rubbing them around the outside and then pushing two digits into the hole. Then he used the cloth on the table to wipe his hand and looked back to his master to seek approval. A smile, and the man's continued slow masturbation, told him he's done it right.

Nkomo eased himself onto the bed and snuggled up against Billy's back and thighs, running his hand along the slender body, kissing the back of Billy's neck and inhaling his boyish essence. Then he reached down to guide his cock-head against the boy's quivering anal flesh and pushed forward. While not at all brutal, neither was the man particularly gentle. He was a man of powerful sexual appetites and usually enjoyed having his first orgasm flow from a fast, vigorous fuck. He would be more interested in a leisurely approach when he had revived for a second cum… or perhaps even a third later into the night.

An involuntary gasp escaped from Billy's mouth as the burning pain emanated from his bottom. Instinct told him to clamp his hole shut, but he knew he must push himself open. As he bit down hard on the bed-covers, the thick cock-head slid past the circle of muscle.

"Ahhh… so nice and tight! And you took it with no crying out," said the man in a panting voice. "You're off to a good start, lad."

And with that, he began pumping his cock into Billy's ass, going deeper with each stroke as his hands continued to explore the slave-boy's body and his mouth licked and nibbled at the flesh of Billy's neck and shoulder and ear.

The worst of the pain was over for Billy, though his bottom continued to burn. The feeling of fullness caused by the large cock churning inside his body was not unpleasant, however, and he reminded himself that he must pretend to enjoy the experience.

"Oh, YES, Master!" he gasped as his fingers dug into the bed. "It feels so good to have you inside me! Your cock is so big… so powerful! Please… fuck me harder!"

Perhaps it was the power of suggestion, but as he received thrust after vigorous thrust, Billy DID begin to feel pleasurable sensations gradually overcoming the pain. The fact that Nkomo began fondling the boy's penis and balls undoubtedly helped matters.

If he had desired to make the fuck-session last, the man could have slowed up and kept going almost indefinitely. There was no great exertion in fucking a boy as they both lay on their sides. But the brothel-owner was hungry for a quick cum, and he increased his pace instead, grunting with pleasure. In only a few minutes, Billy could feel the spasms of the man's orgasm. Pulse after pulse of hot fluid pumped into the Billy's tight ass as he clenched his anal muscle around the throbbing phallus.

They lay quietly for a time, in the afterglow of the master's orgasm, and Billy continued to clench rhythmically on the softening cock.

"Mmmmm… that's good, boy… What's your name again?"

"Billy, Master. And I am gratified that I please you."

"Billy… Hmmm; I'll have to think about whether to change your name. It can be good business for my prettiest boys to have fancy names… Ganymede… Cupid… Pan… Antonius."

The classical references meant nothing to Billy, but he reflexively replied "Yes, Master."

Nkomo slid his soft cock out of the boy's rectum and turned Billy around in his arms so that they could kiss, long and deep. Over the next half-hour, they caressed and licked and sucked each other's bodies until the man's lust was recharged and his cock was again fully hard. Without prompting, Billy lubricated his anus and straddled Nkomo's reclining body to ride his master's cock. The boy enjoyed taking a man's cock in this position, and Nkomo made it all the better by toying with his slave's perky erection throughout the extended fuck.

After the man succumbed to orgasm, he pulled Billy off his cock and positioned the slave to kneel astride his master's head, with Nkomo savoring the 4-inch [10 cm] boy-cock in his mouth. Billy purred and cooed with a pleasure that didn't need to be acted out, and he cried out in pure lust as the man's talented lips and tongue drew forth excited little spurts of boy-cum. Another interlude of kissing and licking and petting ensued, during which Nkomo had Billy serve him a pipeful of smoke-weed… and taught the boy how to inhale the intoxicating fumes as well. Finally, Billy was positioned on his back with his legs drawn up to his shoulders, to be fucked in a vigorous session that seemed to last forever. It ended with Nkomo jacking the boy off… timed so that the anal spasms of Billy's orgasm would enhance the master's powerful climax. Only then did the two fall into exhausted sleep.

***

The sun was well up in the morning sky when Billy awoke beside his sleeping master, beneath a feather-filled comforter. Nkomo's arm was draped around him, and the man's body spooned against Billy's back and ass. The slave boy could feel his master's stiff cock wedged into the cleft of his butt, and the first thought to enter his mind was 'What can I do to please my owner?' Billy pressed back against the man's stout erection and began grinding his ass erotically… at the same time stroking his own boy-cock to stiffness.

"Mmmm… you're a sweet one to wake up to, lad," said the man groggily, reaching down to fondle Billy's 4-inch [10 cm] erection. "I fancy another go-round with you, but I've got to drain my piss first. Stoke up the fire, boy, and then fetch the chamber pot."

Billy did as instructed, rising from the warmth of the bed and shivering as he added some coal and used a small hand-bellows to get the fire glowing. His master stared lustily at the naked boy's youthful boner bobbing as he moved, and felt even more aroused by the boy's beauty. As Billy brought the chamber pot from the corner of the room, the man rose up and stood beside the bed.

Billy stood before his master, positioning the wide-mouthed ceramic receptacle just below the man's crotch. But try as he might, Nkomo couldn't force his cock down to an angle that would allow him to urinate into the pot.

"Put the bowl down, boy, and get on your knees. Wrap your lips around my cock, and drink my water. Your gullet will be my chamber pot this morning."

Billy cringed inwardly at the thought, though he hid the reaction and didn't hesitate to obey. As he slid his lips over the crown of the man's hard penis, the slave-boy closed his eyes and tensed his body. The first spray of warm, slightly-bitter fluid hit the roof of his mouth and swirled onto his tongue in a short burst, and he did his best to swallow it quickly. The stiffness of the erection prevented the urine from flowing freely, so Billy was able to drink almost all of it, with just a bit escaping down his chin. Though the taste was not nearly as bad as he had anticipated, the very concept of performing this degrading act made him queasy. But Billy knew that he must instantly obey every one of his master's commands. Swallowing the shots of hot piss, Billy's mouth instinctively moved with the motions of a baby feeding at his mother's tit. To the delight of his master, the slave-boy was actually trying to suck the fluid out… and causing intense sexual sensations as a result. When the flow finally stopped, Nkomo pulled his penis from Billy's mouth and caressed the boy's silky hair with his fingers.

"Well done. Keep on doing what it takes to earn my favor, and you'll find that I reward slaves who please me. How shall I reward you now? I know… I'll let you keep your name. I had fancied the name 'Adonis', but I think you'd like 'Billy' better. Am I right?"

"Yes, Master," replied the boy respectfully, though the idea of acquiring an exotic name had substantial appeal. But then he remembered the life-term slave he'd spoken with two days before, who had bitterly resented the theft of his birth name.

Billy wiped his chin with the back of his hand and then, of his own accord, brought his hand and mouth back to his master's softening penis. After licking the last drops from the piss-slit, Billy's lips enveloped the broad cock-head and began pleasuring it. As Nkomo's cock firmed up again from the vigorous sucking and licking, the man gently lifted the boy to his feet.

"Back to bed with us, lad. It's too cold to stand around naked, and I fancy a nice double-suck to start the day. Show me how well you do a 69."

The man lay back on the bed and covered himself with the quilt as the slave-boy climbed atop him and burrowed head-first under the covers. Each swallowed the full length of the other's erection and began sucking.

"Ah… that's good, lad," said the man, pausing momentarily from sucking Billy's plump little cock. "Let's see if you can make us cum at the same moment."

(Later…)

Sitting at a large table with the 11 other boys, Billy finished off a hearty breakfast. It was late-morning. Back home at his family's little shack on the Bay, he would already have been at work for several hours by now. Billy found the other boys to be a cheerful and talkative bunch, and they took him in as one of their own immediately. None seemed to be put off by the fact that he was white-skinned. In fact, four of the others were whities as well… more than he had ever seen at one time in his life.

All the lads were dressed in the simple clothing of peasant youths… not the unusual and provocative costumes they had worn the night before. Two of the boys worked at cooking and serving the food; two others at clean-up. The brothel had no servants other than the slave-boys themselves, and each was assigned chores during the day, with some time for leisure as well. At sunset, they would begin again the job of entertaining paying customers. That particular work continued until Nkomo decided to close up for the night… typically around midnight, unless there were still new customers coming in.

Billy wasn't assigned chores this day. Instead he was taken upstairs by Cleavon to one of the bedrooms used to entertain customers. For the next several hours, he received a broad range of training for his work in the brothel. Rules of behavior were emphasized… the various chores were explained… techniques of service were taught in minute detail… and the process of washing himself between customers was demonstrated and practiced.

The Blue Boy Club's workers had to be skilled at the flirtation, entertainment, and conversation carried out in the first-floor tavern, in addition to displaying their talents upstairs in the bedrooms. So Cleavon and Billy role-played the interaction of customer and brothel-boy at length.

Cleavon devoted plenty of time to running through a full repertoire of sexual techniques, satisfying his lust with boy in long, leisurely sessions of sexuality. As a former brothel boy himself, Cleavon had a wealth of knowledge to pass on to the novice: new variations of oral pleasuring, techniques for performing exquisitely-extended masturbation on a customer, new positions in which to be fucked, and new places on a man's body to stimulate with mouth and hands. In addition, Billy learned the best techniques for a young boy to use in fucking a man. Though relatively few customers requested such service in a brothel, some men (like Cleavon himself) appreciated the unique pleasure of being anally penetrated by a boy.

A paramount rule for the boys of the Club was to refrain from ejaculating during the day… either by masturbation or in sex play with another boy. A boy's cum was to be saved up for the paying customers, who might want to suck him off, jack his cock, or watch him masturbate. (Though at night, after the Club had closed and the customers gone home, boys were free to do as they pleased in each other's beds.) Cleavon had intended to abide by the rule throughout the hours of training, but his lust got the better of him as he lay face-down on the bed – his legs splayed, his ass raised up, his hand jacking his own cock – with Billy thrusting his barely-pubescent cock into the man's hole. The effeminate master couldn't stop himself from whimpering with pleasure and pleading for the boy to keep fucking him. As Billy's pent-up seed spurted into Cleavon's bowels, the man reached his own orgasm – his third cum of the afternoon – then rolled over to envelop the boy in his arms.

In the late afternoon, an hour before sunset, Cleavon announced that training was finished for the day, and he instructed Billy to wash up and relax in preparation for the night's work. Wearing an outfit of ordinary clothes, and carrying the work costume of briefs and sleeveless shirt, he climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory space in the fourth-floor attic of the building. It was a windowless room with a low ceiling, holding a dozen beds, with a simple coal stove in the center providing abundant warmth. All of the boys were there… a few napping on their beds, some of them playing cards, another group partaking of a pipe of smoke-weed… and two pairs of boys lying on beds, kissing and hugging with slow, graceful eroticism. Every one of the 11 boys was nude.

"Hey, Billy!" called out Seth, the oldest of the boys, as a cloud of smoke escaped his mouth and floated above his head. "Come on over and share my smoke-weed. First you gotta strip down, though. We always stay naked up here; that's our tradition. Your bed's that one yonder, and there's a box underneath for your stuff."

Billy was no longer shy about being nude in front of others. In recent days he'd been displayed naked to dozens of men who were strangers. With these other boys, it almost felt natural. Pulling off his clothes, he stashed them together with his skimpy costume beneath the bed and joined the others.

Seth had his back to him, and Billy noticed immediately that the 17-year-old's buttocks were bruised and colored a flaming red.

"What happened to you? Why were you whipped?" asked Billy.

"Oh, that's nothing. I had a 'special customer' this afternoon. He paid a premium to warm up my butt before I gave him my services. Mr. Nkomo don't let the 'specials' come in during regular hours, so I got my work done early on. When I take a whippin' like that, I don't have to serve any more customers for the rest of the day, and Master also gives me a good-size portion of smoke-weed. Not a bad trade off for the pain, eh? So come on over and help me smoke up my earnings. I've got enough to satisfy myself and still let each lad get lung-full off the pipe."

Billy took the bowl and inhaled carefully, still not accustomed to taking smoke into his lungs. After he handed the pipe back and was holding the smoke down, little Cupid came up to him and put his face close to Billy's.

"Breath it into my mouth when you let it go, OK? I want to get some more smoke, so's I'll be nice an' high before work starts."

Billy was amused at such words coming from a 9-year-old, and was perfectly willing to comply with the strange request. As he started to exhale the smoke toward the youngster's mouth, Cupid locked onto Billy's lips as if in an open-mouth kiss, inhaling the second-hand marijuana smoke. The little boy also wrapped his arms around Billy's back and snuggled against his body. When he was ready to exhale, Cupid passed what remained of the smoke back to Billy in the same manner as he'd received it.

"Mmmmm… you feel nice!" murmured Cupid as he rubbed against Billy like an affectionate cat. "Wanna go to my bed to kiss for a while?" Without waiting for Billy to reply, he took the 12-year-old's hand and led him back to a bunk. Feeling the effects of the cannabis almost immediately, Billy allowed the younger boy to take the lead as the two of them rolled languidly in each other's arms, tasting each other's tongues, arms and legs entwined. Billy was soon lost in a haze of intoxication and eroticism until Cupid suddenly wiggled free and hopped up.

"That was the bell. Gotta get ready for work. Come on," said the little boy.

As Billy's mind came back to the real world, he noticed that all the others were scurrying about too… washing their bodies with cloths dipped in a bowl of scented water, drying off, and putting on their work costumes. Although he had washed himself only an hour before, Billy went through the ritual again – just as Cleavon had instructed – running the washcloth over his face, his armpits, his feet, and his genitals… and taking particular care to scrub his anus clean. Then he put on his briefs and tight shirt and headed down the steps to the tavern room.

As the new boy in the brothel, Billy was the focus of interest among the regular patrons from the moment the first customer was let in the door at sunset. As prosperous men began congregating in the tavern, drinking ale or smoking pipe-weed, they called out for the pretty 12-year-old to sit on their laps or dance sensuously on the stage. In the course of the evening, he took six customers… more than the usual night's work. But Master knew he had a good money-maker and felt no compunction about working the boy hard.

Although each of the sessions was different, they all started with the same preliminaries: Payment by the customer and the assignment of a vacant room, stoking the fire, lighting the bed-side candles, and turning over the hourglass that would mark the duration of the purchased sexual services.

Billy's training had taught him that he should be guided first by the customers desires, taking the initiative only if the customer seemed ambivalent or passive. And indeed, some men knew exactly what they wanted him to do… an extended suck, kissing and hugging on the bed, and a fuck in their favorite position. Some of the customers desired to suck the young boy, though most did not.

Those who let Billy take the lead were treated to a full hour of sensual delight… lying back on the bed to receive full-body pleasuring from Billy's mouth and hands as the boy snuggled and sucked and slithered atop the man's body. Billy would finish a session with such a customer by straddling the man's hips and lowering his tight, lubricated anus onto the man's cock, riding up and down with the aim of prolonging the session until most of the sand had run through the hour-glass.

Mr. Nkomo made the determination of when the tavern door should be locked for the night… typically around midnight. On Billy's first night of work, the proprietor again took the new boy back to his room for the night. The other boys – those not still serving a customer on the 2nd or 3rd floor – ascended to the 4th floor quarters. Those with the inclination were free to engage in boy/boy play before sinking into well-earned sleep… singly or in the arms of a friend. Cleavon stayed on in the tavern to let the last of the customers out the door as they came back down the steps. He had one of the boys – the 15-year-old piano player, named Jake – stay with him in the tavern to pass the time until then. Afterwards, Jake spent the rest of the night in Cleavon's bed.

When Billy awoke with Nkomo late the next morning, the cycle began again… another round of morning sex with his master, a hearty meal with the other boys, several hours of sex-service training with Cleavon, and a time for leisure before work. A half-hour before sunset, however, a well-dressed military officer arrived at the doors of the brothel and was instantly granted entrance.

"Tell the proprietor that the Duke has arrived from Norfolk Town and will be patronizing your business shortly. He bids you assemble your boys for his inspection."

"Yes, sir. Right away!" said Cleavon as he ran off to quickly rouse the boys from the 4th floor and then tell Mr. Nkomo of the Duke's imminent arrival. Whenever the Duke patronized the Blue Boy Club he arrived early, taking his pick of the boys and settling in upstairs before the first regular customer arrived.

All 12 boys, freshly-washed and dressed in work costumes, finished assembling in the ground-floor tavern just before the Duke's small entourage came through the door. The ample-girthed Duke of Norfolk was dressed in a grandiose uniform of the finest material the current technology could produce. His two bodyguards were in standard military attire. And he was accompanied by two teenagers – his own 14-year-old son, dressed in a fanciful facsimile of a naval uniform and acting rather shy… and the slave-boy Ganymede, wearing the loose-fitting, silky costume of an 18th century Arab sultan's harem-boy. Attached to the purple cloth-covered slave-collar around his neck was a slender leather leash that was held by the Duke as if he were walking a pet. The 13-year-old concubine did indeed resemble Billy to a remarkable degree. And he projected a cool self-assurance that belied his status as a life-term slave.

When the Duke and his party sat at one of the tables, Ganymede knelt beside his master, placidly resting his head on the Duke's lap, facing the man's crotch as the Duke stroked the beautiful boy's shoulder-length blond hair.

"Yesterday my son reached his 14th year," said the Duke. "I've determined he has reached an appropriate age for pursuing the recreation of a pleasure establishment. I had him sample a wench last night at a sporting house in Norfolk Town, and I think he should round out his experience with one of your comely boy-whores. Line up your lads for Jason to choose from. And when he's made his choice, I'll take one of the others up to a room to assist my concubine in serving me."

"It is a very special honor that you have come to my house, Your Highness," said Nkomo in his most obsequious manner; "and, as always, my lads are at your call… and that of your son. Boys! Line up and show our distinguished visitors your charms."

The dozen brothel-boys stood side-by-side, and each began posing in a sexy manner. Most affected a feminine vampish look, tongue slithering across pouting lips. A few of the older boys struck more masculine poses with heavy-lidded erotic eyes. Several boys ran their fingers enticingly across their chests and down to their crotches, rubbing themselves erect. Others put their hands behind their heads to show off already-stiff cocks pressing out against their tight briefs or short pants.

The oldest of the boys – Seth – was dressed in an open shirt and a skimpy garment once known as a 'jockstrap'. He stood with hands on hips, affecting a masculine pose, his face inscrutable.

The Duke, his son, and Mr. Nkomo walked along the line of boys like army officers reviewing their troops. The ruler had no hesitation in fondling several boys who aroused his lust, stroking their hair, touching their bodies, sticking his hand inside their pants for a feel of their erections. His son blushed with embarrassment as he looked at the boys, but his eyes betrayed a hungry desire.

"Have your lads show themselves fully," instructed the Duke.

"Of course, Your Majesty," replied the proprietor and nodded to the boys.

Each of the 12 pulled off his clothing to display himself nude. Most of them executed the move with a practiced gracefulness, borne of innumerable instances of sexy stripping for a customer. Any boy whose penis wasn't already stiff quickly jacked it hard for inspection by the father's and son's lustful staring.

"Which do you fancy, Jason?" prompted the Duke.

"This one, Father," replied the boy, pointing to Billy. He spoke in a quiet voice but without hesitation.

The man sighed. He looked back at Ganymede, who had remained kneeling on the floor. The Duke's thoughts drifted back to the shouting and unpleasantness, less than a month previously, when he had discovered his concubine in bed with his son, and had broken up their secret love affair. The Duke has devised a suitable punishment for the young lovers, and had been assured that such insolence would never recur. But the Duke was not at all surprised that Jason would choose the boy-whore who so closely resembled his beautiful Gany.

"Very well," said the father. "Take him upstairs for some fun." And then, turning to Nkomo, he added "And I'll take the young one here," gesturing to Cupid. "He'll do fine for a threesome with me and Ganymede". Cupid grinned broadly, honored by the selection and excited at the prospect of working a three-way with the beautiful concubine.

No money was paid by the Duke. A gift for Mr. Nkomo would be forthcoming from the royal court if the Duke had been satisfied with the pleasuring, and it would be substantially more valuable than the fee for a boy. Before Billy led his 14-year-old customer upstairs, Cleavon whispered in his ear that there should be no time limit on the session, and that he should be especially attentive to accommodating the young customer's desires.

Billy, who was still stark naked, led the way to a bedroom. There he stoked the coal fire as usual and went to light the candles. But the Duke's son stopped him.

"I wish for the room to remain darkened."

"Of course, master."

"I want you to be…" The teenager faltered, murmuring in an unsure voice. "I want you to pretend you are Gany… that boy who was with my father. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Billy replied, though in fact he didn't.

"First off, don't call me 'master'. I'm Jase, and you're Gany. We're lovers. Come to my arms and kiss me."

"OK… Jase," said Billy in a friendly voice, getting into the game. As he embraced the older boy and flicked his tongue against Jason's mouth, Billy also began to unfasten and remove the youth's clothing. In a short time, the Duke's son was also naked, and the two were hugging and tongue-kissing with building passion, stroking each other's cocks in excited lust.

"Oh, Gany! I still love you with all my heart… I'm so sorry for what happened. I never would have hurt you like that, but what could I do? I hate my father for making me whip you!" And with those words, he sank to his knees. His mouth enveloped Billy's stiff penis, and he began sucking with reverence and passion.

Billy had no idea, of course, what he'd been talking about. He didn't know that Jason had been required to take a leather strap to the concubine's ass… compelled to whip Ganymede viciously for the crime of illicit love. The guilt had burned into Jason's soul; it was he who had seduced his father's slave and had schemed to find times when they could be alone together to make love. The whipping had been harsh, because the Duke had demanded it be so, but Jason's psychic pain in wielding the punishment strap was at least as bad as the physical pain that Ganymede had borne.

"Pay me back, Gany," whispered Jason looking up into Billy's eyes. "Get the belt from my trousers and redden my ass, like I deserve. Then fuck me with your beautiful cock. Fuck me like you did those times before… make it last forever!"

Billy felt his face blush at what he was being told to do, but Cleavon's instructions had been unambiguous. He was to serve the young customer's desires completely.

"You shouldn't have hurt me like that, Jase," Billy ad-libbed, as he pulled the thick leather belt from the boy's pants. "I loved you and you betrayed me," he added, using the clues that his customer had provided. "Bend over with your hands resting on the bed. Raise up your ass and receive your punishment."

Billy could feel his erection throbbing as he grasped the buckle in his palm and wrapped the belt around his hand, looking down at the plump tan ass cheeks of the over-privileged aristocratic youth. He felt a strange exhilaration as he raised the belt up and brought it whistling down.

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