Lance Kyle

Seaward Plantation

Chapters 14-16

Chapter fourteen

Twilight shadows were growing as the men finished their work. Cassius went off to have dinner at the cabin of Priam and Cass 3; and Helen. Troy, Hector, and Athena invited Appleby to sup with them, which he gladly did, holding baby Apple while she slept, surrendering her to her mother's bosom when she awoke crying. He was pleased to see that the household items, paint, curtains, and other homey things had been put to good use and had given a feeling of luxury to his hosts.

Weary from the journey and the heavy work, Appleby returned across the darkened lawn to his own house for the first time since early that morning. Climbing the stairs, he looked through the open door of Cassius's room to find the sixteen year old boy and Helen, the eleven year old girl sitting cross legged on the boy's bed a foot or two apart, chatting comfortably. Appleby greeted Helen warmly; her dark face broke into a broad smile in return. Then he directed an exaggerated wink at Cassius, causing the mulatto boy to blush a dark, dusky red.

His own room was empty. Moving down the hall to the sickroom he found Pan and Bacchus sitting on the bed on either side of Bundit, the three sharing stories of their very different lives. Bacchus was sitting closer to the Siamese man and had his hand on the back of Bundit's neck, his fingers exploring the different texture of the Asian's thick, bushy black hair. Pan had a friendly hand laid on Bundit's sheet-covered knee. In the chair by the bed was Portia, who flashed a smile of welcome at her master. His arrival recalled her to her nursing duties, however, for she rose, announcing "It is time for our new friend to rest."

"And how has our new friend been today?" Appleby said, smiling at Bundit. The Siamese grinned back and said, "Much better, thank you. My lungs and stomach are well, my muscles are a little sore but a day of rest has done me much good. I 3; I had a good massage with liniment oil this morning." With this last statement he looked directly at Appleby and smiled again – in thanks? as an invitation?

Pan and Bacchus scooted off to the room they shared with Appleby to prepare for the night. Appleby stepped to the bed and gently squeezed Bundit's hand, which returned the pressure, and the two smiled at one another. Then Portia took the white man by the elbow and firmly walked him to the chamber door. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then said, "I shall prepare him for the night, then I am returning to my own cabin. He can be alone tonight. But Master," and here she looked at him with authority, "He needs his rest tonight. Tomorrow is another day." She arched one eyebrow at him; were there no secrets on Seaward?! Appleby nodded meekly, then walked down the hall to his own room, noting on the way that the door to Cassius's room was now firmly closed.

Appleby began disrobing to prepare for bed. The twins eagerly began assisting him. Both of them were already naked, slim brown penises bobbing as they removed their master's clothes. Naked, he kissed them both and hugged them affectionately, but suggested that they only cuddle for the night, as he was tired from the day's activities. The three climbed into bed together and, snuggling up close to each other, with gentle kissings, nuzzlings, and rubs, they tumbled down into sleep with each other.

A night of dreamless sleep was broken by the twins sitting up in bed. "Wha 3;?" said Appleby, pushing up on one elbow. Pan and Bacchus were sitting close to him in the morning light, listening. There was the soft but carrying sound of something metallic clattering and rolling from down the hall. The naked boys were out of bed and out the door in a flash. Appleby took but a moment more to fling his legs over the side and rub the sleep from his eyes and follow them into the hallway. He padded into the room where Bundit had been sleeping to find three sets of bottoms, one cinnamon colored and two a rich caramel brown, waving in the air as the bodies attached to them searched for something under the bed. Out from under the foot of the bed Bacchus pulled the clean, empty chamber pot.

Rising, Bundit smiled sheepishly at Appleby. "I reached for it and it rolled away," he said. Bacchus brought the pot around and held it down low in front of the Siamese youth – man, really, but his small size belied his twenty years. Unashamedly, Bundit pointed his penis at the pot, grunted a little, and a stream of urine began flowing. Pan and Bacchus exchanged a quick look, then both followed Bundit's example, Pan helping to hold the pot. The boys shot a smile of invitation toward their master, who decided to relieve himself as well.

All four penises showed a healthy morning erection. Light yellow streams crossed as they shot into the brass bowl from the multi-colored cocks: deep brown, pink and light tan, reddish gold. Bundit and Appleby gently shook the last drops from their cocks. Then 3; it was Bundit's fault, really. Was he being helpful or was it desire? He reached out with both hands and gently shook the cocks of the two boys, whose hands were occupied with holding the pot. Both boys gasped in surprise, then pushed their groins forward a little to receive this service, the last drops of their urine falling into the bowl. Their morning erections shot up into full blown rigidity. Bacchus took the full pot away, covering it with a cloth and carefully placed it back under the bed. Bundit had never relinquished his grasp of Pan's organ, but was now simply holding it loosely in his hand. Bacchus resumed his stance next to the Asian youth, who grasped the black boy's penis once again.

Eager to be part of the unfolding scene, Appleby pushed forward a little into the group. His motions prompted the twins to action: Pan grasped his master's cock, lightly sliding his brown hand up and down the rigid red shaft. Bacchus placed his hand around Bundit's shorter light copper colored shaft and pumped lightly, rubbing the head of the dick with his fingers as they slid over the top. Appleby draped his free hands around the shoulders of the boys and pulled the group in together. All four stood there in that way, their breaths coming faster now, lips parted, each mesmerized by the interplay of colors as brown slid over persimmon and over pink, and gold and tan slid over brown. Hips began moving back and forth ever so slightly, pelvises cocked up and down to thrust rampant cocks into waiting hands.

Pan and Bacchus took turns leaning into the older males between them to offer kisses with their out-turned, trumpet shaped lips. Appleby thrust his tongue through the full flowered lips of one boy, playing tongue against tongue, creating a gentle suction, breathing a shared breath through noses, while Bundit's rosebud mouth was mashed against the trumpet flower of the other boy, pink on purple brown, kneading and sucking. Then Bundit simply stepped back and tumbled into bed, pulling the boys with him who in their turn brought their master down on top of the tangle.

It was a gentle, squirming mass that could be seen on that bed – in part out of consideration for any soreness that Bundit might still feel, although he betrayed none – in part a dance of exploration as the twins explored the new colors, shapes, and textures of the Asian body while they also showed their love for the familiar contours of their master's flesh. Appleby stroked now here, now there, burying his face and lips now in crisp peppercorn curls and now in a full bush of jet black wings. Torsos became slick with spit and precum. Groins began pressing into groins and up against bottoms. A moment of crisis was nearing.

"Lubrication," whispered Appleby from between slick, glistening lips. Pan leaped off the bed to run down the hall, his erection rising nearly flat up against his belly, and returned with the necessary ointment. The four took their positions in stages, with no directed plan but simply falling into place as opportunities presented themselves. Appleby lay flat on his back and pulled Bundit on top of him but facing in the other direction. The white man sucked the Asian nutsack gently into his mouth, eliciting a soft cry of pleasure, then turned to the rampant copper colored cock, swallowing it whole. Bundit was licking the white man's rigid pink cock and was about to swallow it, but Pan had other plans. Lubricating and stretching his own anus with one hand, he gently lifted Bundit's face up off the white man's penis. Smearing the slick lubricant on Appleby's cock, Pan swung into place, lowering himself onto it. He grimaced as the cockhead pressed against his anus, then his sphincter relaxed and he slid down to rest on Appleby's groin with one long motion. Now Pan's dark brown shaft instead of Appleby's reddish cock waved in front of Bundit's face. The Asian youth smiled up at the black boy and then took the organ fully into his own mouth, sucking it, nibbling around the long, hooded dickhead with his lips. Then the Asian youth gasped, but did not lose his mouth's grip on Pan. For Bacchus had slid two well greased fingers into the Siamese asshole. Bacchus moved his fingers in small circles until the wrinkled anus of the Asian youth had relaxed, then greased his own rigid brown dick and pushed it slowly, smoothly in.

His mouth enveloping Bundit's stiff penis, Appleby could look up a few inches and see Bacchus's greasy brown dick sliding in and out of the Asian ass. Pan and Bacchus looked across the field of Bundit's heaving back to lock eyes, one with his dick in the Siamese youth's ass and one in his mouth, joined together through the weld of Asian flesh. Bundit's view was the tight peppercorn curls of Pan's pubic hair as he sucked and nibbled furiously on the boy's brown penis. All four were in motion, balancing the demands of desire with the logistics of not coming unplugged from the mouth or bottom into which they had plunged their dicks. The bed shook with the pulsing mass. Pan bobbed steadily up and down on his master's dick, beating a staccato rhythm against his belly and thighs. Bacchus pistoned his hips back and forth, sliding his dick in and out of the Asian's firm bottom. Bundit's hips bobbed up and down to pump his penis in and out of the white man's mouth, while his head kept a symmetrical rhythm as it sucked on Pan's organ.

They did not come at the same time – their entanglement was so complicated they could not have told you who went first and who went last. Mindful of the need to keep physical connection, there was no thrashing or rolling. First one and then another heaved a groin forward, or up, or down, thrusting into the waiting orifice that held it. Those who could, cried out softly, those whose mouths were full moaned and breathed noisily through noses. Pan and Bacchus held eye contact the whole time, each seeing deeply into the ecstasy of his double. So tight did the four hold each other as one and then another came that not a drop of semen was spilled. White juice was passed from one body to another, the electricity of sexual passion jolted from white to black to golden bodies. As the round of ecstasy cycled through flesh, ragged breathing slowed. Bundit broke the chain, sliding off of Appleby to the side, pulling away from Pan's penis in his mouth and Bacchus's cock in his ass. Appleby gasped in the fresh air as the twin black boys rolled forward, flopping their sweaty bodies down onto his and Bundit's. But 3; did Appleby see a flash of dark chocolate brown skin move away from the open door? And 3; was it his imagination or did he hear a girlish giggle going down the hall and the sound of Cassius's bedroom door being closed once again? He might have, but he was so caught up in the loving mass of bodies around him that he merely wished Helen well and hoped that the sight of their coupling might inspire her again in Cassius's bed.

The four lay there pleasantly floating in the aftershocks of passion, touching and caressing. Rising up on an arm, Appleby found Bundit's face in the tangles of flesh and asked, "How do you feel this morning?" The Asian's face crinkled up in a smile: "Wonderful" was all he said. Eventually the black twins rose up first, followed by the older males, and all four went running naked down the hallway, past the closed door to Cassius room – and what were the sounds coming from within? – down to the bath room where they cleaned themselves and tenderly ministered to one another. Trooping back upstairs past the now silent door of Cassius's bedroom, they returned to their own chambers and dressed for the day.

The four went over to the kitchen building for breakfast, which Mama Juno was preparing. Munching companionably around a rough wooden table, Appleby broached a subject that Bundit needed to consider.

"Bundit – it appears as if you are recovering, for which we are grateful. If you wish to be taken into Charleston, we would be happy to do so. I will give you some money to tide you over until you can find work on another ship. But 3;" and here he glanced at his companions, who smiled their encouragement as he went along " 3;if you wish to stay here at Seaward, I think we could find room for you, and your experience as a seaman might be useful to us. It is very isolated here, though, you see how we live. I just want you to know," and here he reached over and squeezed the youth's hand, "that you are welcome to stay."

A serious look came over Bundit's face. "I. I have never really belonged anyplace," he said, slowly. "My parents died early, my sisters and brothers have scattered. I have mainly known the sea." He looked away, into his memories, into scenes that only he could see. "But I think I see what you have here at Seaward. And I," and his voice suddenly became fierce with intensity, "I would give anything to have that, too. Would I be useful to you?! Seaward would be useful to me – oh, you cannot know! Thank you, Mark. Or, may I call you – Master Mark?"

Appleby raised a hand and shook his head, but Bundit continued, "Oh yes, I think I will. We all know that 'master' is a term of respect here, not a term of slavery. Yes, I think I will call you that. And thank you again." He and Appleby joined hands again, squeezing tightly. The circle of Seaward rolled outward once more and added one more ring.

Suddenly, the sound of a ship's bell and then a steam whistle sounded over the island from the western side. All who could dropped what they were doing to go down and meet it – whether friend or threat they would soon find out, although increasingly they were coming to think about all strangers as threats to the island. Appleby, the twins, and Bundit found Priam already on the pier when they arrived, with others close behind them. Half a mile off the pier rode a squat steam vessel, sort of a tug and sort of a barge, of very shallow draft with stern paddles. It was pushing a large wooden raft, on which was piled high an assortment of lumber.

"Ahoy ashore!" cried a man from the vessel as it came nearer to the pier, "it's your order of lumber from Hoffmann's." The wooden boards for building that Appleby had ordered when last in Charleston had at last arrived. The vessel pushed the raft with skill alongside the pier. Troy and Hector leaped aboard it and seizing some long planks from the pile they poled the raft up against the pier, where it was secured by others. Appleby hailed the vessel by waving his hat and called out a thanks. Returning the greeting, it reversed its paddles and pulled away, to the relief of everyone ashore.

Much of that day was spent in unloading the raft and carrying the lumber up to store it in a dry barn. It was quite a large pile, weighing the raft heavily, and many of the planks near the bottom were wet with sea water, but they would dry out in time. The raft itself would also be dismantled and the timbers saved for building. Many hands helped in this task, and everyone was happy to see that Bundit had recovered much of his strength. Those who had not visited yet with him took the opportunity of that day's work to do so, and by the end of the day he felt that he could call 'friend' everyone on the island.

After some discussion the people of Seaward agreed to expand the storage capacity of the barns first, then to build another cabin. Appleby repeated his offer for people to move into rooms in his house, but in truth that was happening anyway and some felt the need for more separate spaces. With plans in place and a common resolve, the community set to work.

Weeks of hard work in the sun and air passed. Bundit fully recovered from his misadventure, and his resolve to remain on the island grew stronger. Appleby's body grew stronger, more muscled as he joined in every sort of labor. Good health blossomed as everyone plunged into a wider variety of tasks than they had been used to. Even Athena, largely recovered from her delivery, began venturing out to help with more of the projects on the island, and the whole community shared in the care of baby Apple.

Appleby also brought his friends into the nature of his plans for protecting Seaward. It was clear from the newspapers that came to the island in the mail boat, although they may have been days or weeks old by the time they arrived, that storms were gathering over the nation at large, storms having to do with issues that went to the heart of Seaward: slavery, race, and military power. Appleby explained his plan to keep the mainland at bay by pretending as much as possible to be allied with them, a strategy that depending on keeping observers away from Seaward. It also depended on preparations for defense of the island, as much as possible. So on stormy days and nights, when the crack of gunfire would not be noticed by passing ships or by observers ashore, Appleby mustered his few troops for practice with the few firearms they had, to accustom the people to their use if nothing else. The project of self defense had been greatly assisted by a new arrival on the island during this building period.

About two weeks after Bundit's arrival, as the group was working hard at constructing new lofts in the storage barn, they were startled to hear the sound of a cannon shot from the western side of the island. Conflicting fears were shared among them as they ran down to the pier on that side: surely it could not be another shipwreck in this good weather? could it be an attack on the island? some unexpected visitor? Arriving at the pier, they could see a large merchantman standing off the island to the west, unloading a large, bulky object from its side with a crane. Appleby instantly knew what it was, and asked for the Hesperus to be prepared immediately to sail out to the vessel.

Taking Priam, Troy, Hector, Cassius, and Bundit with him, Appleby directed the boat toward the waiting merchantman. Upon approaching her, it became clearer what the large object, now bobbing alongside the merchantman, was: a small steam powered launch, specially ordered to be brought down from shipyards in the North. It appeared to have two or three times the cargo space of the Hesperus, but was of very shallow draft so as to be able to negotiate the approach to Seaward. Three sailors from the merchantman were firing up the boilers of the launch from a supply of coal on board.

Appleby hailed the master of the vessel and concluded the necessary negotiations to take delivery of the launch. Even before he finished, Bundit was tugging excitedly on his arm. "I know this kind of boat, this kind of boiler," he said. "Like the Duchess of Kent, only smaller." The sailor in him had returned, and his eyes shone as he looked at the craft in anticipation. He was the first to leap from the Hesperus to the boat, where he began going over the fine points of the mechanism with the seamen from the ship. "Yes, yes, yes," he kept repeating, familiar with the basic operation of the steam boilers. An innovation with which he was unfamiliar was explained to him: the craft was propelled by screws, like fans, underwater in the rear – not by paddles. He quickly mastered the principle, and surveyed the craft with anticipation.

Appleby left Priam and Hector to take the Hesperus back to the pier. He and the rest of the group boarded the steam launch, casting off from the merchantman which pulled away in the direction of Charleston, sailors waving hats in farewell from her railings. Bundit assumed a natural command of the vessel and gave a quick primer to the group on her workings. She was designed to run on coal or wood; a small supply of coal was on board, but wood might end up being the more natural fuel on the island. On board were also large crates and canvas-covered piles of other, mysterious cargo.

Bringing the boilers up to a moderate pressure, Bundit engaged the screws and the craft began to move through the water, slowly and with a sort of plodding gait. It was clear it would not have the graceful dancer's legs of the Hesperus, but as Appleby explained to everyone, the group would need a second craft in case some misadventure came to the Hesperus, and at any rate he had another surprise waiting amidst the covered cargo. The group made their plodding way back to the dock, but everyone on shore and on the launch cheered and waved as if some mighty titan of the sea were arriving.

Securing the launch to the pier, Appleby leaped onto a crate and announced that the first order of business was to name her. Many names were suggested, many discarded, but in the end they could agree on one name that bespoke the spirit of Seaward: Harmony, and so she was named. Now came the task of unloading her, and Appleby could no longer conceal the surprise. The donkey cart was called for, and the first of the crates were carried off by many hands and opened up. It contained gunpowder and round, twelve pound [5 kg] metal balls. The group wondered at it, but Appleby smiled and asked that these stores be taken to the stone armory nearest the pier. More crates revealed similar supplies, which were likewise stored, although the powder and ball in one crate were stored on board. A few of the other crates contained more domestic supplies, which were gleefully received and carted off to the cabins.

They were down to the last of the cargo, shrouded in canvas on the deck. Removing it, they beheld something they had not seen at Seaward before, and faces became serious as they understood the need for it. "I 3; I know this!" said Bundit. "There have been some just like this on some ships I have sailed on. I know how to use this!"

What was revealed was a cannon, or carronade, not terribly large but clearly designed to shoot the twelve pound [5 kg] balls that came with the launch. It sat on a wooden carriage mounted on a carousel, or rotating disk, set into the deck of the Harmony. Seaward now had a navy. Although it would be laughably inadequate to repel a determined force from the mainland, should such a catastrophe arrive, it might give pause to unfriendly neighbors or even to local police forces trying to effect a landing.

Over the next week, the people of Seaward waited for just the right weather. It eventually came: thunder but with reasonably calm seas, during daylight. Bundit was in his glory. Although they had taken the Harmony out to sea several times so that the men might learn how to operate her, this was the first time to fire the cannon. The Harmony chugged away slowly to the eastern side of the island, away from the mainland. Bundit coached his charges carefully in the operations of the cannon. He handed out long cloth strips which he bade them tie around their ears and heads so as not to damage their hearing from the deafening noise. First loading half charges of powder and no ball, then working his way up to a full charge, Bundit trained his crew in a first session of using the cannon. Her thunderous booms were interspersed with the thunder itself, and at every discharge a small knot of women on the cemetery outlook at Seaward waved their hats and bonnets. It would not be the last of regular practice sessions. Nor the last of deliveries of powder and shot, for every few months the Harmony would steam out to a passing merchantman and receive new crates of those supplies.

If the people of Seaward worked hard during this period, they did not work too hard to take find joy and pleasure at night and throughout the day. Helen could increasingly be found in Cassius's room on the second floor, but that arrangement was no more exclusive than any other on Seaward; one evening Appleby even heard cries of ecstasy coming from the twins as well as Cassius and Helen behind the closed door to that room. Bundit began exploring the many joys of Seaward as well, moving on to Cassius (and naturally, Helen), but even enjoying bouts with Troy, Hector and Portia as well. Appleby of course sampled widely, enjoying the feast that was both physical and spiritual laid out for him at Seaward.

A few weeks after Bundit's recovery, as the community worked on their many new projects, Appleby consulted the calendar and realized that he must go to Charleston for the next meeting of the South Carolina Militia, at which he was to receive his commission as lieutenant. Discussing the matter with Troy and Bundit, it was decided to keep the Harmony stationed around the island as much as possible (and to disguise her cannon at all times it was not in use). On the morning of the meeting, Troy and Priam prepared the Hesperus for the voyage into town, one on which Appleby was now able to help with the sailing, having learned some useful skills in that way. They made the trip uneventfully, securing the Hesperus at the usual pier. Troy and Priam were assigned to several errands, bearing notes from Appleby, for the purchase of staple goods and building supplies. Appleby first walked with them to a nearby gunsmith to supervise the ordering of half a dozen muskets with rifled barrels, powder and shot – such an order coming from two slaves alone would have raised local alarms. As Troy and Priam brought that delivery to the Hesperus, Appleby bade them farewell and walked down two piers to see if the Swan could be seen at its berth, thinking that the Ashley father and son would likely be in town for the meeting. It was, secured to its usual place at the pier.

As Appleby approached the vessel, he could see no sign of Carter and Robert, but there were three male slaves lounging on the deck. As Appleby walked up to the boat's railing, the three rose up, bowing their heads. It appeared to be the same three who had manned the boat before, and one of them was, again, Rodney.

"Are your masters here?" Appleby asked.

"Naw, suh, dey is in town fo' shoppin' and de meetin'," said Rodney. He and Appleby exchanged covert smiles; each thought it was good to see the other again, and recent memories began to stir in each. "Won' be back 'till aftah the meetin', masta," said Rodney. He appeared to calculate for a moment, then said, "Jes' a moment, masta," and turned to his two fellows. After some hushed discussion, the two stepped off the boat, nodding respectfully to Appleby but careful to avoid any eye contact. "Yes suh, mastas lef' somethin' fo' you, if you wants to come abo'd, suh," said Rodney, in the hearing of his two companions who were walking away towards the shore end of the pier. What plausible lie had Rodney told them to move them on their way?!

Appleby stepped on board. Looking left and right, he whispered "Aaron?"

Rodney whispered back, "Lef' back at Ashley, suh, dis time."

Appleby and Rodney looked around, finding no spies or onlookers, then at each other again. Broad smiles broke out, and an understanding was wordlessly achieved. Ushering the white man ahead of him into the cabin beneath the deck, Rodney followed, pulling the hatch behind him. Appleby could think of no story to give the Ashley's if they returned, but his mind was caught up in the moment and he gave it no further thought. Coming down the stairs, Rodney smiled at the white man, then lowered his head and stood, waiting.

Appleby stepped up to the tall man and held the lean, hourglass-shaped face in his hand, running his hair through the short forest of tufts, whorls, and knots that covered his scalp. Rodney's full, pillowed lips parted and he lifted his dark eyes to look into Appleby's light brown ones. Their lips came together in a kiss that was no less passionate for being slow and deliberate, tongues slipping alongside each other on their way to the other mouth, lips kneading lips, sucking gently. The men grasped each other around the shoulders and embraced with a bone crunching passion. Then breaking apart each began tearing his own clothes off and casting them on the cabin floor.

For a moment Appleby drank in the beauty of the coal black man's shield shaped chest, the prune nipples, smooth shiny skin, the ridges of the hips following the slim, rippled abdomen down into the groin where a thick bush of kinky hair surrounded an enormous penis above ponderous balls. And Rodney saw a tanned body with muscles developed by recent hard work outside, smooth skin except for a small nest of hair in the center of the chest and a line running down to the groin. He ran his long, strong black fingers through the long, light brown hair of the white man, then brought his head forward to be kissed again. Their rigid penises crossed swords between the two men, pointing down to the floor this time, long, thin strings of shiny precum dribbling from each to the deck. Four hands reached around to grasp four butt cheeks, kneading, pulling inward, fingers scratching and probing black and brown assholes.

Appleby broke off and led Rodney by the hand to the bed at the end of the cabin. He swooped by the cabinet where Robert kept the lubricant, finding it still there. Appleby wanted to have Rodney, to give himself to Rodney, to take Rodney for himself, in a new combination of ways. Throwing himself on his back, he drew his legs up and, reaching down between them, began lubricating his own asshole, working his fingers in to relax the sphincter with one hand while with his other hand he beckoned Rodney forward. His eyes wide, not daring to imagine what was being offered, the black slave knelt on the bed in front of the white man's upraised bottom and observed the preparations with lips parted, breathing heavily. His breathing increased when Appleby rocked forward to slick up his heavy, purple black snake. It was when Appleby rocked back, legs up and parted, and beckoned him forward that Rodney's training broke loose.

"Naw, suh, naw, it ain't right 3; I can't do dat to a white man, suh!"

"Rodney 3; Rodney, don't do it to a 'white man.' Do it to me," said Appleby, and smiled at Rodney with such a look of acceptance and naked desire that the black man let himself be led on. Placing the head of his rigid penis at Appleby's anus, he pushed ever so slightly, not wanting to hurt his new friend while taking this liberty. Appleby gasped, and pushed out with his anus as Rodney pushed in. The head of the massive dick popped in. Rodney waited until Appleby beckoned again, then pushed in a couple of inches, waited, then a couple of inches more, and was soon completely inside the white man's love canal.

Rodney was poised over Appleby, his greater height allowing their eyes to be almost on a level. They looked deep into each other, into the depths of each other's soul. "O! masta!" whispered Rodney hoarsely, with tremendous longing. Then slowly he began swinging, back and forth, in and out, while Appleby crossed his legs behind the man's muscular back. Appleby likewise clasped his hands loosely around the neck of the black man, lightly rubbing the mat of kinky hair. Faster and stronger, faster and stronger, Rodney picked up speed and power like a locomotive heading for a cliff. He began keeping time to his rhythm with incoherent utterances: "unh, unh, unh, oh masta, oh masta, aw! law!, oh yeah, oh masta" and then a animal grunting took over. Rodney lowered himself onto the white man, his face buried in Appleby's neck and shoulder, moving his hands to grasp the master's shoulders, holding that position while his rhythm increased in speed and power – and when he came he simply slammed forward once and held himself there, clutching the shoulders hard, quivering, pushing, clenching his ass muscles, squeezing shot after shot of white come out of his throbbing penis.

The crisis passed but Rodney kept that position, shuddering, his shoulders shaking softly. Then a soft, high pitched keening coming from deep in his chest gave Appleby to know that the black slave was weeping, treasuring a moment of acceptance and equality he was not likely to find elsewhere. Appleby held him tight with legs and arms, lightly rubbing and patting his back, whispering "alright, alright" into the black ear as Rodney recovered himself. When he had, the black man briefly raised his head from Appleby's shoulder to look into his eyes, his shiny black cheeks streaked with tears; it was a look beyond thanks, beyond words. Then Rodney slipped down toward the end of the bed, his penis sliding out of Appleby's rear, down until his head was over the white man's groin.

Wrapping his black fingers around the purple tinged organ, Rodney pumped it a few times, bringing moans of pleasure from Appleby. Then he took it entirely into his mouth. Rodney was not having sex with the white man's penis, he was making love to it. Each suck, each slide up and down, was a caress. When he nibbled on the thick, unhooded glans with his full, pillowed lips, it was an embrace. Appleby put his hands down to caress the kinky head of his lover, and when he came it was not with wild flailing passion but with a smooth, powerful upflowing of love in return, calling out "Rodney!" over and over.

The black man climbed back up alongside the white man, and the two embraced, breathing heavily. Rodney pulled away then, Appleby unwilling and tugging at him to come back, but the black man said, "Suh, don' miss yo' meetin'." Appleby sighed, nodded agreement, and rose. The two cleaned themselves and dressed. Rodney took extra care with Appleby's appearance, making sure he looked suitable for the event to which he was headed. Appleby put his hand to the side of the slave's face and reminded him: "Rodney, remember: if you want out of Ashley, get word to me." Then the two embraced once more, kissing lightly. "Next time," said Appleby, smiling. "Yas, suh," returned Rodney, and then the white man was up the steps, through the hatch, and onto the pier.

Appleby found he still had plenty of time for his meeting. He arrived at the meeting hall to find Robert and Carter Ashley already there. He shook hands warmly with Carter. Turning to Robert, he found a shy smile peeking through the formal facade, and his handshake was held for a bit longer than civility dictated. He sat down next to Robert for the meeting, and again found a slight pressure against his leg from the boy's own thigh. As Carter Ashley was speaking to someone on his other side, Appleby leaned over and whispered into Robert's pink ear, "Is Aaron at the boat?" knowing well the answer. Robert stiffened a little bit, and his tone was carefully neutral when he answered. "No, not this time. I thought it best that he not come this time." Then he looked Appleby square in the eye. Was it a look of reproach? Accusation? Yet, unmistakably, a look of yearning as well. The meeting was gaveled to order, distracting Appleby's musings on the matter.

The usual drone of business and committee reports led to introductions of guests and visitors. Appleby was beginning to see that there would always be a few new men to introduce. It was also becoming clear that these meetings brought together the elite of Charleston society as a sort of officers' corps, preparing to command thousands of ordinary soldiers who would be drawn from lower, working classes.

The time came for Appleby's induction into the group. He was called to come forward. Appleby found it interesting that he was asked to swear allegiance to both the national flag and to the South Carolina flag, but after that the ritual focused on the state. He was asked to recite various principles of states' rights, local sovereignty, nullification, and of course, the sanctity of slavery and slave ownership. To every proposition he gave his firm assent, even if it meant lying to protect the interests of Seaward. At the end, the group rose and with one voice agreed, in response to Colonel Gillam's question, to accept Appleby into the South Carolina Militia, with the rank of lieutenant. Gillam promptly assigned Appleby to his command: the island of Seaward Plantation! Appleby accepted, a serious military air on his features but smiling inwardly as his plans continued to develop apace.

One more item of business was to announce a weekend of field exercises in a month's time, to be held on a large section of wilderness farther up the Charleston peninsula. Directing his remarks to Appleby, Colonel Gillam explained what his role would be.

"Now, sir, as commander of Seaward you will have no troops under you at this exercise, but it would be well to come meet the men of the militia, to learn of our military procedures and orders, and of course to contribute any ideas of marshall tactics that you yourself may have." Appleby could think of nothing he'd hate doing more than camping out for two nights in a mosquito infested field, but he readily agreed to come. Gillam added, "Oh, you will need to bring your own tenting accommodations, field kits and so forth – and any servants you may wish to bring to attend to your needs, of course." Appleby agreed again, a glimmer of hope arising with the prospect that he might at least have someone from Seaward there with him.

The meeting adjourned and the group arose, talking in clusters and knots. Turning to Robert, Appleby asked, "Now, Master Robert, when will you be joining the militia?" with a smile on his face. Refusing the condescension, Robert drew himself up and said, "When I am eighteen, sir. I shall join the militia as a naval commander – we need more of them in the South, sir." Appleby was about to steer the conversation into more personal topics when other men began coming up to him to welcome and congratulate him. By the time he was through with these civilities, there were but a few left in the room. Robert was standing alone nearby, and Carter Ashley was speaking to a small cluster of gentlemen.

"Oh Robert," he said, turning to his son, "don't run off. We return to the boat when I am finished here." Robert returned a courteous acknowledgment, then looked directly at Appleby. His eyes flicked to his left, his head gave a barely perceptible beckon, and the boy walked off down a nearby corridor. Looking around to see that they were not closely watched, Appleby followed a moment later. Halfway down the corridor a door stood ajar. Entering it, Appleby found a small study with a curtained window that opened out onto the street and comfortable chairs placed here and there. Robert stood just inside the door. Sliding behind the older man, the boy pushed the door shut and placed a chair in front of it.

"We have very little time," he said in a low voice – then hesitated – then moved quickly into Appleby, his thin, boyish frame slamming up against the older man. The boy's arms went around Appleby's back and the hard lump of his groin ground up against the man's own growing erection. Appleby grasped the boy by the shoulders to return the embrace, then caressed his golden haired head and, tipping it up, kissed the boy's bee-stung lips. Robert returned the kiss, the lack of time available to them contributing to a sense of urgency, of compressing pleasure into the fleeting present.

Appleby spun around and sat down in the chair. Pulling Robert up to him, he began undoing the boy's trousers and then his undergarment which simply fell and remained bunched around his booted ankles. Robert undid his own cravat, tossed away his jacket, and pulled his shirt off unbuttoned in one long motion. The boy's strawberries and cream complexion on flawless, nearly hairless skin was powerfully moving once again to Appleby. Leaning forward he tongued the pink nipples in the boy's thin, muscular chest, biting them until Robert winced and whispered, "Don't!" Tonguing quickly down the lean, muscled abdomen, pushing his tongue briefly into the navel, Appleby came to the blonde brown patch of pubic hair and the now-rigid pink and red penis. Pulling back the foreskin Appleby revealed a glistening, pale dickhead with a flow of precum oozing out and down the underside of the penis.

Appleby cupped the boy's balls, now drawn up tight in a hairless ballsack, gently rolling the testicles and pinching the skin. His mouth enveloped the boy's penis, bringing a gasp of delight to the boy. With his other hand he reached around to grasp and then crush the boy's muscular buttocks, working the firm globes of flesh with his strong fingers, pressing the first knuckle of his middle finger into the boy's anus. Robert squirmed with delight, and began slowly rocking back and forth, sliding his penis in and out of Appleby's mouth. The man timed his own head movements to Robert's hips, bobbing his head up and down in rhythm as his tongue slid around the head and shaft of the engorged dick. A surge of pleasure and sexual energy washed over Robert, and he shifted into a double-time staccato beat, drumming his hips in and out, in and out, in and out until an orgasm snuck up on him and walloped him in the belly. The boy heaved and bucked, clutching at Appleby's long hair with his fingers, strangling a cry, his breath heavy and ragged. He pushed his groin forward into Appleby's face and held it there while the man sucked the boy dry, pulling off of the penis to squeeze out the last of his cum with his hand, then licking that off, repeating the procedure as Robert shuddered and gasped in the aftershocks of ecstasy.

The two held that position for one long moment, and then the spell was broken. "Robert! Robert?!" came a distant cry. A look of fear washed over the boy's face as he sprang into action, clothing himself quickly with as much help as Appleby could give. Carter Ashley's voice came nearer and it sounded as if he had turned down the hallway to the room. Robert, now hastily clothed, sprang to the window. Appleby whisked the chair out of the way and hastened to stand next to Robert, as he checked to make sure that no leakage showed on his trousers and that his own face was clean. Appleby just reached the window when the door opened and Carter entered.

"Ah, there you are! With Lieutenant Appleby, I see!" he cried, beaming at the two.

"Yes, father, we were – I was showing Mr. Appleby the view from this window. Don't you think it is appealing, sir?" he asked Appleby. Looking out at an alleyway behind a butcher's shop in which stood a fly-infested slopwagon, Appleby said, "Yes, a wonderful prospect; Charleston is a beautiful city, sir." Then the two moved away and toward the door, each taking Carter by an arm to lead him down the hall and into the street.

Reaching the pier, the Ashley's and Appleby made their formal goodbyes to one another and went their separate ways, but Robert looked back as he and his father walked away to smile at Appleby – who waved in response. Appleby walked back up the pier to find Troy and Priam in the Hesperus, supplies secured to the deck, and waiting for the return trip home. The boat was pushed away from the pier and caught a breeze which moved it gently into the harbor.

"Well, Master Mark, any news?" asked Priam.

"Yes, some news. First, I am now not only your master but your general!" he replied, laughing. Troy and Priam looked at him in good natured consternation. "And second – I believe I have to go camping in a few weeks!" Now the black men looked at their master and each other with genuine puzzlement and amusement. "I'll explain it all to you on the way," Appleby said, settling down in the stern beside Troy. "Let's go home."

Chapter fifteen

"Aye, aye, general!"

"[Sigh] Yes Hector, as you were."

For the tenth time that day, Mark Appleby grinned ruefully and returned a salute. He hoped fervently that the good people of Seaward would give it up soon. Ever since the night before, when he announced that he was a lieutenant in the South Carolina Militia and had been appointed commander of the island, he had been a source of ongoing amusement to his friends. Every salute came with a snicker and a smile – he could only hope the joke would run its course!

Today, as much of the group worked on the construction of extra lofts in the storage barn under the direction of Cassius, they discussed Appleby's upcoming weekend, a month or more distant, of field exercises on the peninsula above Charleston. Officers were invited to bring servants; indeed, it seemed as if it was an expectation, and the last thing Appleby wanted to do was to appear to be different (even though he was). But who to send, and who was willing to go? The blacks of Seaward were so different from those of the mainland – their speech gave them away if nothing else. Those who ventured to the mainland had to monitor their behavior constantly so as not to arouse any suspicion that they were not the craven slaves that the system of bondage so prized. And Seaward was such a haven, such a place to be free and unconstrained, that many of the people of the island feared going ashore, with good reason.

In the end it was decided that Bundit, the new Siamese arrival, would accompany Appleby. His Asian appearance would set him apart, which was against his going. But on the other hand, it was widely known that he was there, as Appleby had reported the wreck of his ship on the rocks east of the island. Thus, it would not come as a surprise to people in town to see him about, or accompanying Appleby. Bundit could go in the role of a 'servant,' but not a slave. Having never been in bondage, he was less likely to be snared by any legal tricks while on the mainland, and his race would protect him somewhat from being kidnapped and sold into slavery – as sometimes happened to free blacks.

Officers were expected to bring their own tents and field equipment. An order was placed for such gear and taken into Charleston the next time the Hesperus made a trip. Troy brought back a spacious, two room tent with bedding and simple collapsible furniture. Bundit practiced setting the tent up and taking it down, and the younger people – Hector, Pan, Bacchus, and Helen – enjoyed the new experience of 'camping out' in it, insisting on spending one night beneath the canvas roof out on the lawn of Seaward house. What they did in there at night is a matter left to speculation.

With arrangements made for the field exercise, the matter was set aside and everyone's attention focused on the many projects underway: building, tending to crops and livestock, practice sailing the Harmony, and when it thundered practice with the Harmony's cannon and with firearms. The community began experimenting with some fishing nets brought from Charleston by Appleby soon after he arrived, and with some practice found that they could bring in enough fish to feed everyone with ease. Buoys were also anchored on the dangerous reefs and rocks that lined the approaches to the island from the east. Weeks rolled around and the time for the field exercise was at hand.

The Hesperus sailed past Charleston, farther up the peninsula, to dock at a rough pier that had been constructed at a staging ground carved out of swamp and forest. Quite a large group of bearded patriarchs, young men, and boys milled around, black and white. Bundit's appearance drew stares and whispered conversations from the start, but Appleby made a point of referring to him as "my servant, recently cast ashore on Seaward from the wreck of the Duchess of Kent," and as that explanation circulated Bundit's presence was accepted. The South Carolinians seemed to take it as natural that anybody who was not white would, upon washing up on the shore of a white man, instantly become his servant, so it all seemed perfectly reasonable to them. Nevertheless, throughout the weekend the younger white men and boys, and all of the black slaves, found excuses to brush their hands against his hair, to touch his skin, and to look closely at the folds of skin that shaped his eyes. Accustomed to being a stranger in a strange land, Bundit took it all in stride.

Upon first landing, however, Appleby and Bundit confronted a scene of organized chaos. They found a horse-drawn cart with room in it and stowed their gear there; Appleby had to be careful to let Bundit do most of the work so as not to maintain the master-servant ruse. There appeared to be about five hundred men and boys present, with perhaps a hundred more servants and attendants. All wore rough clothing, as no uniform had yet been devised, but officers were given insignia to affix to their hats and shoulders as indications of their rank, and it appeared as if there were no more than thirty of that class.

Appleby was pleased to see the Robert and Carter Ashley in the group, whom he greeted warmly. The passage of time and Appleby's attentions to Robert seemed to have made the boy forgive the man for having allowed himself to be fucked by Aaron, for Appleby noted with pleasure that the leopard-faced slave boy was attending his young master. An adult slave whom Appleby did not recognize followed Carter Ashley around. Unobserved, Appleby flashed a surreptitious smile and a wink at Aaron, bowing slightly. Aaron ducked his head quickly to hide a huge smile that broke out involuntarily at receiving that attention, and he continued to flick glances at Appleby whenever he could.

Colonel Gillam mounted a wagon with a voice trumpet, or megaphone, and began organizing the milling crowd. Ordinary soldiers, most of them small farmers, wage earners in Charleston, or hired hands – few or none of them large land or slave owners – began to fall into ranks, heavy packs on their backs, muskets in hand. The Colonel assigned Appleby to assist Carter Ashley in his command, much to the delight of both. Appleby hung back to observe, helping Carter when he could but taking mental notes as to military procedures and protocol the whole time. Ashley appeared to have a small troop of about twenty men at his command. As they assembled, Appleby walked among their ranks, shaking hands and introducing himself.

Some of these militiamen seemed no older than boys. Shaking the hand of one soldier, Appleby inquired as to his age.

"Eighteen, sir," came the reply, and then a proud grin: "Jes' last week!" Appleby nodded, but in truth the youth looked no older than sixteen, if that. His rough clothing hung on a rail-thin, wiry frame about five and a half feet [1.65 m] tall. His hair was brown, clean but shaggy and had evidently been cut the last time by placing a bowl over his head and shearing away the hair that escaped below.

"Well, soldier, I am Mark Appleby."

"Silas, sir, Silas Hornsby." Appleby smiled into the thin, tanned face of the youth. He had good, honest features, not homely but not strikingly handsome, with earnest brown eyes and a turned up nose. But – did Silas grasp his hand to shake for a trifle longer than necessary? Attuned to such matters now, did Appleby sense something different in the frank appraisal that each made of the other? Appleby reminded himself that he must not rush to conclusions, and that expectations and practices ashore would be very different from what he enjoyed at Seaward. At that moment their grip was broken by a bugle signal and the calling out of orders to march.

Appleby was grateful that the fall was approaching, for otherwise the heat and humidity would have made the trek unbearable. The group marched along a rough thoroughfare just wide enough to let the carts pass. Carter Ashley led the twenty men assigned to him, while Appleby marched on one side and Robert on the other. Two hours of steady tramping brought the group to a wide field or pasture surrounded by woods. A stream ran through the trees to one side of the clearing and another meandered through the field itself. The area had evidently been used before, for a rough roof on timber uprights constituted a large field kitchen, while two or three rickety wooden outhouses were distributed around the perimeter of the field for those who did not care simply to relieve themselves in the woods. There followed another hour of setting up camp, the tents and carts being arrayed in about one third of the field, leaving the rest for the weekend's exercises. The ordinary soldiers pitched pup tents which they occupied alone or with one companion. Appleby's tent was pitched next to Carter's and Robert's tent, which was somewhat larger. The servants helped each other to hoist the canvas dwellings over wooden poles, and in time a small city grew on the field.

The group was given a quick lunch of bread and cheese, and then called to assemble on the field. Orders for the weekend were reviewed as each company sat together in their appointed places. That afternoon there were field drills, marching in formation, and the like. Troops practiced correct responses to bugle calls, and as the afternoon progressed some semblance of military order began forming in these amateur soldiers. Appleby observed everything carefully, assisting when requested to, memorizing the drills and orders. Throughout the afternoon, he imagined that he caught the eye of young Silas Hornsby gazing at him from beneath the lowered brim of a hat.

The approach of evening signaled an end to the exercises. Men and officers alike washed up in the streams, some leaping in naked to bathe, and the smell of good cooked food began rising from the field kitchen. Appleby found that Bundit had prepared the tent comfortably, one pallet prepared in each room for appearances' sake, regardless of the reality of who slept where. "How has it been for you today?" Appleby asked.

"Alright, Master Mark. I draw a lot of attention, but I am used to it," replied Bundit, a sweet smile crinkling up his features. "I 3; I met Aaron, Master Robert's servant," he continued, a smile remaining on his face. "He is very nice," he said, pointedly.

"Yes," said Appleby, looking directly at Bundit, an unspoken understanding passing between them, "He is. And so is Master Robert." Bundit's eyebrows flew up in surprise, but he merely nodded, accepting this information.

The whites gathered for dinner in the field kitchen; their servants picked up their food there and carried it away to eat in the woods or back in the tents. Dinner over, the company broke up into smaller groups, folding chairs being set up or blankets spread around campfires. Some men had brought musical instruments, which were now produced. A few of the blacks were called forth to sing or dance, which made Appleby uncomfortable. He felt a pang of homesickness for Seaward, where people sang and danced but from joy, not command. Smells of wood and tobacco smoke drifted through the air.

A plaintive bugle call signaled the end of the day. Men gathered up their belongings and made for their tents. Appleby arranged it so that he and Robert were walking back to their tents together, Carter some feet in front of them and engrossed in conversation with a friend.

"Well, Robert 3; what are your plans for the evening?" asked Appleby, ironically. A blush spread over the freckled face of the boy, who ducked his head, then looked back up at the older man. "Your slave, sir 3; the Chinaman 3;"

"Not my slave, Robert, my servant. He is a castaway, and serves me for wages," replied Appleby. Robert looked thoughtful at the answer, seeming to calculate something behind his ice blue eyes. "He will be in my tent, no doubt, but 3; I think you would enjoy meeting him, sir," said Appleby. "Perhaps a new experience for you? And he and I would enjoy meeting Aaron again, too." Robert looked away, appearing to think hard about the matter, weighing reservations against desire. Finally, he nodded decisively, flashed a smile at Appleby, mouthed "later" to him, and moved next to his father as they came to their tents. Carter bade Appleby a good evening, vowing to sleep soundly after the day's efforts, and each went into their own tents.

Bundit had a good supply of soap, water, and towels ready for Appleby, who gratefully washed up before bed. Bundit himself had bathed earlier, having plunged naked into the stream, the sight of his persimmon body a spectacle for all who beheld it – quite a welcome spectacle for some who kept that feeling hidden within themselves. Stripped to his undergarments, Appleby washed himself. As his master finished, Bundit stepped up lightly to embrace him. Appleby returned the hug affectionately, his groin stirring, but whispered into Bundit's ear, "Let us wait; we may have visitors. Visitors you will welcome, I think." Bundit looked mystified but pleased, and controlled his passion for the moment.

Quiet settled over the camp. The sound of night birds and insects rose in the air. Appleby and Bundit lay together on the same bed, wearing only undergarments, holding hands lightly, playing with one another's fingers, and waiting. An oil lamp was trimmed as low as it would go, a faint light welling up in the tent. From the direction of the Ashley tent came the slightest sound of movement – a light flapping of canvas – a rustling sound in the grass – then the lightest scratching sound at the door of the tent. Bundit leaped up to answer it but Appleby raised his hand and stepped in front of him. He peered out, then stepped back and ushered two figures into the tent: Robert and Aaron. Appleby smiled a welcome at both, squeezing the shoulder of Aaron who followed his master in.

There was bound to be some awkwardness: everyone knew where this little gathering was headed, but only Appleby was familiar, in more senses than one, with everyone there. He kept his hand on Aaron's shoulder and in fact moved the boy right in front of him. As Bundit and Robert watched, he slid his arms around Aaron in the front, hugging the boy back toward himself, burying his face in the slave's straight, black hair. His hands lightly rubbed the boy's chest and belly through the rough cloth of his shirt. Robert watched all this slack jawed, casting sideways glances at Bundit, but he was too shy in these unaccustomed circumstances to initiate anything and too proud to ask.

Sensing Robert's awkwardness and his need to command, to be served, Bundit broke the logjam. He took a step and gracefully dropped to his knees before the white youth and began unbuckling his belt and trousers. Robert gasped, looked quickly from Bundit to Appleby to Aaron and back, then tentatively touched Bundit's bushy black waves of hair with his hands. The white youth's trousers dropped, then his undergarments. Going for the bold stroke first, Bundit gently seized Robert's bobbing pink penis and took it entirely into his mouth, smiling up at the youth as he did so. Robert gasped and threw his golden head back, then looked back down at the Asian youth on his knees before him. One hand remained enmeshed in Bundit's hair, the other hand came around to lightly stroke his face, to trace the lines of the folds that shaped his eyes. They held that position for a moment, Bundit lightly moving his head back and forth. Then Robert wriggled out of his shirt and stepped back, kicking his pants and shoes to the side. Bundit rose, a silver thread of precum on his chin, and dropped his undergarment. Seizing the moment, Appleby pulled Aaron's shirt up over his head and off, while the black slave boy undid his own pants and dropped them and loincloth to the ground over his bare feet, shoving them aside. The last to go was Appleby's undergarment. All four stared at one another in the dim lamplight for a moment, Appleby partially hidden behind the black boy whose naked chest and belly he now fondled.

Again it was Bundit who set developments in motion. He approached Robert and gently grasped the boy's rigid, pink penis, slowly manipulating it with his fist. With his other hand he rubbed the side of Robert's hip, but kept his own eyes downcast. On Robert's beautiful face, now blushing rosy with sexual excitement, a parade of emotions were visible. Strong desire was chief among them – then wariness and reserve at the offer of intimacy initiated by a person whose skin was of a different color – then a surrender to his natural urges. As Bundit had correctly surmised, it helped that the twenty year old Asian looked to be as young as the fourteen year old white boy.

Appleby and Aaron – Robert and Bundit – the two couples watched each other even as they engaged their partners. Appleby, standing behind Aaron, rubbed the black slave boy's chest and belly, tweaking his nipples. The boy craned his head around to receive Appleby's kisses as the white man pulled himself into the slave, pressing his rigid dick into the narrow divide between the boy's firm, rounded buttocks. Aaron reached his hands up to entwine his fingers in Appleby's shoulder length hair as Appleby reached forward to fondle the boy's balls and short but thick penis, slowly manipulating it, thumbing the head which was slick with precum. But they kept their gaze three feet [90 cm] away, where 3;

Robert and Bundit toyed with each other's rigid dicks, slowly jacking them, rubbing fingers over the flared hoods of each penis. An Asian rosebud pair of lips met the white boy's bee-stung lips, while arms moved to grasp slim muscular shoulders. Rampant cocks batted each other between their slim abdomens as they pushed and squirmed against each other, feet dug into the ground, grinding and pushing their groins against each other – and keeping their surveillance of Appleby and Aaron, where 3;

The white man, unable to delay his conquest of the boy any longer, pushed him to his hands and knees. He quickly retrieved some lubricant he had brought along just for the purpose and slicked up his own rampant, red penis. Then he inserted one, and two, and finally three fingers into the black boy's anus, cries and gasps coming with each new invasion, greasing and oiling the entry to his love hole, both of them looking three feet [90 cm] away, where 3;

Bundit sank to the ground, pulling Robert with him. The two rolled around, now this one on top and now that one, humping furiously, grinding groins together. Bundit, now on top, likewise reached for the lubricant and raised Robert's legs. There was a moment of resistance; Robert's old, inbred distaste rising up. But Bundit was not black, not a slave 3; and he was beautiful. Robert's lovely features twisted for a moment as the two held a pose – then the blonde boy drew his own legs up, turned his head to the side and shut his eyes. Bundit inserted lubricated fingers into the white boy's anus, making small circles. Robert gasped and looked directly at Bundit; he raised his hands toward the Asian youth's chest, just as Bundit quickly put his dickhead to the boy's pink anus and pushed. It happened too quickly then for Robert to prevent. Bundit was fully inside the boy, arched out over him, Robert's legs pulled up alongside the Siamese youth's flanks. Robert's palms flattened against the hairless, gold-and-tan chest of the Asian, both pushing and supporting, both accepting and repelling. Bundit began pumping in and out, his hairless ballsack swaying back and forth and slapping against the white boy's bottom. Robert began writhing and moaning in ecstasy and discomfort equally balanced. Both looked to the side, to see 3;

Appleby placing his rigid red penis at the wrinkled black-red anus of the boy on his hands and knees in front of him. They were positioned perpendicular to Robert and Bundit. Appleby pushed his rigid shaft inside in one smooth motion, Aaron gasping and writhing but accepting the intrusion. Appleby began moving in and out, back and forth, increasing speed, slamming his groin with a smacking sound into Aaron while both looked straight ahead to see 3;

Bundit begin pumping wildly into Robert's ass. The white boy now grasped the Asian's muscular shoulders, squeezed, held on as his persimmon body pistoned in and out, in and out. Suddenly Bundit slammed forward, strangling a cry to avoid attracting notice outside, rasping breath and whispered, frantic words in a foreign language escaping his lips and clenched teeth, squeezing his hips to push all his semen into the white boy, even as 3;

Appleby bucked three times, hard, then pushed Aaron flat to the ground as his orgasm overcame them both, stretching out over the flattened slave boy and grinding his groin down into the waiting bottom below him, hissing and groaning softly, squeezing, then shuddering, then collapsing on top of the twelve year old beneath him.

The chirping of the crickets filled the quiet air as Appleby and Bundit struggled for breath. As soon as they could, Bundit rolled off of Robert and Appleby off of Aaron. Aaron rolled over onto his back, and Robert instantly swung over, squatting on knees and toes above Aaron's shoulders and forcibly inserting his rigid penis into the black boy's mouth. Robert slammed his hips back and forth violently, his hands making fists which flailed uncontrollably in the air, his head shaking side to side, face-fucking his black slave. Aaron hardly noticed his master's frenzy, however, for Appleby had rolled over and taken the twelve year old slave's rigid penis in his mouth after brushing off the particles of grass that stuck to it. Enveloping the rigid, purple black, thick organ in his mouth, Appleby bobbed up and down quickly, maintaining a suction on the stiff, thick penis. Aaron's hips began jacking up and down in time to the rhythm of Robert's face-fucking. Both came at the same time, Robert's breath seething and ragged, slamming forward into the slave boy, while Aaron's groin pushed up and into Appleby's mouth, holding it there while his penis shot its small load of cum into the white man. Each held his dick against the face of his lover for a moment, then collapsed, breathing heavily, Robert rolling off of the slave boy to lie on the ground beside Bundit. Appleby rolled to Aaron's other side and all four lay there, exhausted, recovering breath.

No sounds came from outside beyond those of nature. They had not been discovered. After a few moments Robert heaved a heavy sigh and rose, dressing. Aaron followed his master's example, while Bundit and Appleby stood to help their guests. Light kisses, hugs, pats, squeezes were exchanged all around. Robert peeked out the tent flap, then slipped out. Aaron flashed a brilliant smile back at Appleby, then followed his master. Exhausted, Appleby and Bundit piled back together onto the single pallet and slipped into a heavy sleep.

The bugle call came much too soon in the morning, a brass rooster to rouse the troops. Appleby shaved and washed at the basin, then clothed himself and slipped out of the tent into the dewy morning. Condensation was everywhere, a heavy damp smell of late summer morning pervading the camp. The smell of wood smoke and cooking odors wafted around the field from the kitchen. In small groups or singly, men and officers drifted over for a simple breakfast, clutching metalware mugs of boiled coffee to ward off the morning chill.

That morning brought practice with muskets: drills for loading with precise coordination so that a company could maintain a more or less constant barrage of lead balls raining down on an enemy – target practice with painted bulls'-eyes on wooden planks – care and cleaning of the weapons so that the corrosive powder residue would not eat away at the metal. The sun rose and began beating down on the men as volley after volley was fired and dense clouds from the exploding black powder rolled across the field. Appleby again assisted Carter Ashley, as did Robert; the two exchanged friendly, meaningful glances often throughout the morning, unobserved by others – or so they thought, at any rate.

Toward noontime, a halt was called in the practice, weapons were cleaned, and men were released to wash up and prepare for lunch. Everyone was grimy with soot from the firing, and most men gathered at the streams that ran near and through the field, sharing chunks of soap as they scrubbed away the grime. Kneeling by the stream that ran through the nearby woods, Appleby found himself next to Silas Hornsby – or had Silas sought out Appleby? Smiling at the youth, Appleby offered a piece of soap as he was rinsing away his grime. Silas gratefully accepted and washed, bashfully glancing at Appleby repeatedly, smiling, spitting out powder residue, sniffing loudly through his nose. Their ablutions completed, Appleby and Silas walked together back up the short path that led out of the woods, past the outhouse, and toward the field kitchen.

"So, Silas, tell me – why are you in the militia?" asked Appleby as they went along.

"Well, I dunno 3; I reckon, to whup the Yankees if they come, sir!" returned Silas.

"But why would the Yankees want to come? What's all the fuss about?" continued Appleby.

"I dunno, sir, but Colonel Gillam and them 3; they say the Yankees are gonna come, want to come make us give up our way of life." Silas spoke the last four words as if they were a holy mantra.

"But, Silas," persisted Appleby, "what way of life is that? Do you own slaves?" he asked.

Silas grinned and shook his head. "Law, sir, I cain't afford none o' that! Naw, it's jes' 3;" and here he raised his chin and looked into the middle distance, "it's jes' our way of life."

Appleby let the matter drop, mystified. It seemed clear to him that the increasing difficulties between the States had slavery at their root; so why should this poor, ordinary, white laborer take up arms to defend a system that largely benefited a relatively few Southerners? He sighed; it was the way of the world. Should war come, uneducated mill workers in the North would enlist just as quickly in defense of an abstraction that hid the interests of moneyed power. Rather than argue, he put his arm companionably around the shoulder of the youth, feeling the bony flesh, until the two emerged from the woods. Did Silas edge a trifle closer as they walked, or was that an accident of the uneven path? Emerging into the clearing, Silas touched the tip of his battered hat, smiled a wide, snaggle-toothed grin at Appleby, and trotted off to join his company for lunch. But he looked back more than once at Appleby, who waved in return.

The officers congregated together in a knot near the field kitchen, eating their lunch, gossiping about the exercises, the men, other officers who were not present. Appleby was included sociably in the group, and he tried to express ideas which he thought fit with the general public opinion. Then Colonel Gillam climbed back on a cart and declared two hours' rest. Men and officers dispersed here and there, many to seek their tents for a nap. Appleby concluded a conversation with the owner of a plantation across the harbor from Ashley, then bade him a good afternoon. The lunch and the day's exercise were combining in a call of nature that Appleby could not ignore, so he sought the outhouse he had passed on the way up the path.

Finding the two-holer empty, Appleby settled down to business. The afternoon was still as the tired men rested in shade or tent. You could hear the birds, the rustling of forest creatures, the – but wait. That was hardly a forest creature. The boards of the ramshackle outhouse left many a gap. In his peripheral vision, Appleby saw what he had assumed was the shadow of a tree move. The shadow appeared near another gap in the planks, and a tiny gleam could be seen about four or four and a half feet [1.35 m] up. A twig on the other side of the plank wall snapped, once. Not betraying his awareness of this phenomenon, Appleby finished his business and cleaned himself, then rose slowly. Ever so slowly he pulled up his trousers, but left his penis dangling outside. The shadow remained frozen where it was. Slowly, Appleby completely finished dressing, except for his penis. Then in a flash he stuffed the organ inside his pants as he broke through the door and cut a hard right around to the side and back of the outhouse.

A tremendous rustling broke out in the underbrush just behind the outhouse, then three or four thumps, a low, desperate wail of "O! Law!" and the sound of scrambling, and then – Appleby was on him: Silas Hornsby. Looking around quickly, Appleby saw that this drama had not been observed. Amazed and annoyed, he hauled the youth up by his collar.

"What's the meaning of this, Silas?" he asked. The boy was trembling, his limbs nearly in spasms, beet red from running and from embarrassment, knees buckling so that Appleby was obliged to keep hold of his collar.

"Oh, cap'n, please don't tell, Oh, it ain't what it seemed like, Oh really cap'n 3;"

"Nonsense, Silas, it was exactly what it seemed like: You were spying on me in the outhouse!"

Unable to deny it, the youth really did sink down now, sobbing, tears streaming down his face which he turned up to Appleby with a look of desperation: "Oh, don't tell anyone, please cap'n, please don't, don't beat me, don't beat me 3;"

"Silas," Appleby spoke, more softly, but still with a note of serious annoyance, "Silas, nobody will beat you. And 3; and I won't tell anybody."

"Oh Law!, guv'nor, Oh thank you 3; Oh, I'll do anythin', I will, jes' please don't 3;"

"Silas!" barked Appleby, hauling the trembling youth back up to his feet. "You must pull yourself together. Now," he continued, as Silas nodded frantically, still gasping for breath as he tried to compose himself, "Now, you were looking at me in the outhouse. Don't you think I deserve an explanation?" The youth nodded but could only bow his head as his face puckered up and tears streamed down once more. Calming himself, it came to Appleby that the plainest, most obvious answer must be – and he was very glad in that moment that it was he, and not Carter Ashley or Colonel Gillam, who had caught Silas in the act.

"Silas 3; do you like looking at men? Is that it?" Silas sobbed; unable to deny it, he nodded once and hung his head again, whispering once, "Don' tell nobody." The youth seemed utterly desperate and forlorn.

"Silas 3; Silas," and here Appleby put his arm around the youth's bony shoulder. Silas gasped, shuddered, snorted noisily, looked at Appleby's hand on his shoulder and then looked at Appleby. "Silas," continued Appleby, "so do I." He let that fact fall into the space between them like a stone down the well, making a mighty splash when it finally registered in Silas's consciousness. The youth looked at him open-mouthed. "So do I, Silas," he repeated, "but I don't go spying on strangers in outhouses. It is terribly risky, as you well know." Silas nodded, snuffling and snorting loudly, breathing through his mouth.

"Come," said Appleby, and led the youth back down the path to the stream bank where they had washed before. It was deserted, but nevertheless Appleby walked off the path a little ways to a grassy spot beyond some bushes. He bade Silas clean and compose himself, and the youth did so by splashing water on his face and blowing his nose onto the mud. Then the two settled back on the grassy bank, sitting quietly together, watching the stream sparkle as it meandered through the woods.

"Mr 3; Mr. Appleby 3;. Do ya' really?" Silas asked in a small voice.

"Yes, Silas. Lots of men do, whether every now and then or all the time or somewhere in between. I'm sure some of the men here," Appleby said, nodding back towards camp, "share your feelings."

Silas shook his head vigorously, snuffling loudly. "Naw, cap'n, they ain't nobody I can find." Appleby protested softly but the youth continued, "It ain't like it is for you, mebbe. You got all them slaves, they has to do what you ask 'em to do. Ain't like that for me."

A knife twisted slowly in Appleby's gut. Pan and Bacchus on that first night 3; Hector, then Troy 3; did they share their bodies, their love, with him because he was their white master? Are they doing it for that reason now, even in part? How could he ever answer that question of whether they wanted him for himself, since 'himself' was the only white man on Seaward and their owner? He wanted Troy and the others to want him regardless of color. But then he recalled his time in McGillicuddy's slave market, where it was precisely his white skin and the ability to control the slaves who were presented to him that was so powerfully compelling – the memory of that wallow in the exploitation of human bondage made his penis stiffen even now. Appleby sank in a pool of gloom for a moment, then rose back out, cursing the system of slavery that made such doubts and contradictions unavoidable. He told himself sternly that he had found, and given, real love on Seaward and that he must put these questions behind him. And yet 3;.

"Silas, you will find 3;"

"Naw, cap'n, I won' 3; I won' 3;" and the youth teared up again. Appleby looked with pity on Silas; he had felt some small measure of this despair back in Boston from time to time, although nothing like this. With pity came the idea to do something 3; not so much from desire for the skinny youth, but to help.

"Silas, you will. Here and there, from time to time, and then some day somebody special will come into your life. It's not so terribly different for those who like women, you know," he said, and Silas smiled dismally through his tears. "Silas 3; maybe you have found such a moment now." Silas's head swung around to look at Appleby in disbelief. "Would you 3; would you like to lie back against the grass?"

The youth did not comply, out of disbelief in the offer, until Appleby gently placed his hand on the thin chest and pushed him back. Appleby swung around and began tugging on the rough trousers, held up with a piece of rope. Silas, now caught up in a wave of hope and desire, lifted his hips and assisted the process. His pants and undergarment slid down to bunch around his boots. Sitting up briefly, he slithered out of his shirt, and then lay back naked in the dappled sunlight.

Silas's body was thin but not gaunt, the muscles taught and wiry yet not well developed. Appleby wondered whether he had perhaps not enjoyed a diet that would support that kind of physique. Thin pads of muscles on his rounded chest lay above his skinny tube of an abdomen where his ribs might be counted. He had no hair on his torso, but a small patch of brown pubic hair above a penis of average size that had popped up into a full blown erection. He sported a 'farmer's tan,' brown arms, neck and face but lighter white-pink legs and torso. Appleby quickly kissed the youth, then tongued and bit the skin on his chest and abdomen, nibbling his nipples which were erect and pointed now, linking his way down the belly. He slid down to the stiff penis which, although clean, emitted a musty odor. He could hear Silas panting heavily now, and the youth was grasping at Appleby's shoulders and hair.

Appleby took the head of the penis in his mouth and nibbled it with his lips and tongued over the top of the hood while Silas writhed and moaned softly. The youth began bouncing his hips, greedy for this pleasure he had feared was denied to him. Appleby sank his mouth down over the rigid cock and, maintaining a suction, began sliding up and down the shaft, swallowing the steady flow of precum the youth was producing. It did not last long, for Silas, inexperienced and keyed to a fever pitch of excitement, soon gasped, arched his head and neck, and bucked his hips up three times into Appleby's face, holding his groin there to pump his semen out in a long, copious flow. Then he collapsed back down, shaking and quivering, breathing raggedly.

Appleby lay on the grass near the youth, rubbing slow circles on his belly, as the crisis subsided. "Thank you, oh! thank you 3; you cain't know 3; how fine it was 3; thank you" Silas said, over and over. Peace descended on the pair and Appleby rose to his knees, helping the youth to pull his pants back up, as Silas wriggled back into his shirt. Bending over, Appleby kissed him quickly again, then said, "Wait here ten minutes before returning," and was off up the path that led back to the field.

The afternoon was physically active, with mock infantry charges practiced using unloaded weapons. It was a chance to put together the skills developed in drills and in target shooting over the weekend. Appleby found this rather enjoyable. It was similar to 'playing war' as a boy, although with deadly serious consequences this time, of course. Appleby snuck a smile at Silas when he could, and the youth grinned back appreciatively. He seemed to be trying extra hard to carry out his duties this afternoon.

A halt was called at the end of the day, and once more the men dispersed to clean themselves before dinner. Appleby walked back to the stream with soap and towel to strip off his clothing quickly and bathe. A little ways away he could see that Silas was part of a group of naked men splashing in a deeper hole in the stream, and he hoped that the youth's evident enjoyment of the moment might lead to further discoveries. Clothing himself, he nodded at Silas, but was unsure if the youth saw the gesture. Appleby returned up the path and joined the other officers in the field kitchen for dinner.

Eating the simple fare with a strong appetite, Appleby sat near Colonel Gillam and Carter Ashley. Both shook his hand and solemnly declared their complete satisfaction with his participation in the exercise. Appleby thanked them, and then he began putting down the next layer of his preparations for Seaward. He suggested that he would personally think about some minor fortification of the island, lying as it did in the sea approaches to Charleston. Gillam, Ashley, and some of the other officers nodded with approval, and some suggestions were offered up for the fortification and defense of Seaward against any possible Yankee threat. Appleby received them gratefully – but not with a view toward defending against the Yankees.

Some of the men began athletic contests on the field, others sat around smoking, talking, drinking furtively from flasks, and enjoying the air which carried the first hints of fall. Appleby was among the latter group. Robert Ashley was also there, having sat quietly throughout dinner. There were only a couple of other boys his age in the company, so he had little opportunity to socialize over the weekend. Night moved over the camp and the bugle played the signal to retire. Robert, Carter, and Appleby walked back to their neighboring tents together this evening, so that Appleby had only the opportunity to mouth "tonight" to Robert, with a wink, before entering his own tent.

Appleby and Bundit embraced warmly, glad to see one another after the long day. Bundit had been learning some useful information from the other servants about the social, financial, and political affairs of their masters. Appleby stored this information away for future use. He expressed real appreciation to Bundit for keeping their tent home in as spotless a condition as possible. Bundit's face broke into a smile when Appleby told him there was a possibility that last night's guests would come again. Completely disrobing this time, the two stretched out on a pallet and awaited developments.

Distant voices, the clatter of metal, faraway footsteps, all soon faded beneath the cover of night sounds. Then the soft, barely perceptible sounds of movement from the tent nearby could be heard. Not waiting for admission, Robert lifted the tent flap and entered, followed by Aaron. Appleby and Bundit, lying on the pallet in the low lamplight, presented an inviting feast, and the two boys smiled as they hurriedly removed their clothing. The white man and Asian youth on the floor simply lay there, smiling, letting their guests begin the night's festivities.

Robert hesitated for a moment, torn between the two bodies on the pallet. Then, for the sake of a change from the night before, he gleefully slid down and onto Appleby, stretching himself out on the man's muscular body, his pink penis grinding down into the larger, rigid tube beneath him. Appleby hugged the boy to his chest, his face buried in the muscular pectorals where the boy sucked each red nipple hungrily. The man's fingers dug into the boy's blonde hair, then slid down his back to grasp the rounded butt, squeezing and needing the globes of firm flesh as Robert writhed and humped. Then the boy scooted up along Appleby's rippled abdomen and the two locked lips, kissing passionately, tongues caressing tongues. Robert kneaded Appleby's shoulders while the man worked the boy's bottom with his fingers, lubricating them with the precum from his own rampant dick and inserting the slick fingers into the blonde boy's anus.

Meanwhile, Aaron lowered himself with a giggle onto Bundit. He delighted in playing with the Asian youth's thick bush of black hair, as close to hair like his own as he had ever seen. Aaron's puckered lips were planted onto Bundit's rosebud lips and the black slave and Asian youth sucked and tongued, pulling lips into mouths where they were gently bitten, sharing the same breath. The black boy's stiff, thick penis rode up and down on Bundit's abdomen as he moved his groin, while Bundit's own rigid reddish gold cock curved up between Aaron's legs and arched up over the black boy's ass and ballsack, dribbling precum onto the dark skin below. Aaron closed his thighs around Bundit's organ and began humping up and down, bringing exquisite pleasure to the Asian youth.

Now Appleby took command, an idea forming in his mind for how to arrange matters. Remaining on his back, he reached for the lubricant he had at hand and slicked up his rampant cock; Robert was already well lubricated with his precum. Pushing the blonde boy up, Appleby slid him backward onto his rigid penis, impaling him as the boy gasped. Then Appleby called for Bundit, with urgency. Seeing what was required, the Asian youth lubricated his own anus quickly, then spread the oily stuff over Robert's dick which stuck out, arching over Appleby's belly. Bundit slid down onto Robert's dick. Two were now impaled, sitting on Appleby, facing him, each quivering with anticipation and a desire to begin pumping, but the white man was not finished. Finally motioning Aaron over, he oiled Bundit's rigid cock and Aaron's anus, then pushed the black boy down onto the Asian dick. It was more painful for Aaron than for the others, and his breath seethed through clenched teeth, but soon the crisis passed and he was well seated on the stiff penis of the Asian youth. By now, Aaron was so far forward that his fat cock slipped easily into Appleby's mouth.

The white man was like a boat carrying a cargo of black, Asian, and white beauty; he pushed up with his groin, shoving his dick up against Robert's butt. The blonde boy pushed back, then shoved forward into Bundit as Appleby receded a bit, and Bundit in his turn ground his firm bottom into Robert's groin. As Robert pulled back to receive Appleby's thrust, Bundit pushed forward into Aaron, who thrust backward, almost pulling his penis back out of Appleby's mouth, who leaned forward hungrily to keep it enveloped with his lips. Like a locomotive of flesh, the four picked up the rhythm set by Appleby's hips, nobody swinging very far in or out so as not to break the connection, nobody going very fast so as to maintain perfect coordination.

The arrangement prolonged their pleasure, which was intense. Faces pressed forward into thick black hair. Hands grasped shoulders or reached around to scratch at chests and to pinch nipples. Appleby's hands ran up and down the multi-colored array of flesh above him, all now slick with perspiration. Mindful of the need for quiet, their overwhelming pleasure was expressed in ragged breaths and exclamations softly whispered.

Robert came first, slamming into Bundit, supported by Appleby's upward push with his groin. He seized the Asian youth around the middle and pulled in tight, his semen flowing in a steady stream. Then Bundit came, his hips jerking in and out of Aaron which at the same time excited Robert's captive penis even more. Now it was Appleby's turn to pump his groin up and down and then up, pushing his white juice into the blonde boy's round butt. And finally the twelve year old Aaron reached his climax, slamming his groin forward into Appleby's face with a whispered "Oh!" and in the process pulling off of Bundit's throbbing dick entirely. The Asian boy rolled off to one side of Appleby trailing a line of semen, Robert rolled off to the other side, and both lay panting as Aaron finished quivering and shaking in his passion. Then the black boy simply slid back down Appleby's torso and lay there, panting.

The moon rolled slowly through the sky as breath returned to normal, hands played with other hands or with hair or simply rubbed the nearest chest or abdomen. Not wanting to be missed should his father wake, Robert rose first, gesturing to Aaron. Both boys dressed quickly. The four came together in a loose hug, kisses were lightly planted all around, and then they slipped out. Appleby and Bundit embraced warmly and then lay back down together for sleep.

The next day the bugle blew early again. It was time to close up camp and return. The men straggled over to the field kitchen in the dewy damp for one more breakfast. Each commander walked among his men, commending them for their efforts. Appleby followed Carter Ashley, alongside Robert, and winked surreptitiously at Silas as the youth was being thanked, causing poor Silas to blush furiously, which he covered with a feigned coughing fit. The men were dismissed to pack up their own belongings. As Appleby and his friends returned to their tents they found that their servants had already collapsed them and were in the process of stowing their belongings neatly away.

The sun dispersed the clouds and dew, and the men had a pleasant hike back to the landing area. Appleby walked with this group and then with that, conversing on general topics. Hanging back to walk with the baggage, he managed to slip alongside Aaron, who smiled up at the white man.

"Aaron 3; you know Rodney, at Ashley Plantation, do you not?" Aaron assured him that he did. "Very well 3; I once told Rodney that if he should ever wish to leave Ashley, he should get word to me. I am saying the same to you now. You would be welcome at Seaward, under whatever circumstances would bring you there." The boy looked thoughtful, then nodded, a brilliant white smile splitting his dark face. Appleby rumpled his hair playfully, then moved off.

The group reached the landing area. Some would leave from there by horse, some had boats waiting for them at the long pier, some simply continued walking on the road toward Charleston; Silas was one of these, and Appleby waved to him, receiving a smile in return. Seeing the Hesperus with Troy and Hector aboard, Bundit quickly began moving the camping equipment and other baggage from the cart to the boat. As he was occupied in this task, Robert took Appleby by the arm and tugged him a step or two to the side of the group.

"Appleby," he began. "Your slave, the Chinaman 3; have you ever thought of selling him? I would give you a very fair price." Appleby stared at the boy, certain that he had simply misunderstood the information he had been given two days ago.

"Bundit is my servant, he is not a slave. I cannot sell him," said Appleby.

Robert made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Well, of course you could. Just bring him to Ashley on some pretense and we would take him from there. We could soon 3; accustom him to that life. He's a Chinaman," he said with some annoyance, "what could he possibly do about it?"

Appleby simply stared into the boy's crystal blue eyes, lovely as Lucifer's on the morning he fell from heaven. He knew later that it was a saving moment for him, for the memory of the boy's statements kept at bay what might have become a passionate love in Appleby's heart. In the boy's eyes he saw calculation, and greed, and a hunger for dominance, and 3; emptiness. With a great struggle, Appleby forced a smile and said, "He is not for sale." Then, pleading the press of business at Seaward, he shook Robert's hand, remembering to make it a warm handshake. Likewise he found Carter Ashley and Colonel Gillam and bade them farewell, then with as much haste as was seemly he walked down the pier to the Hesperus and bade his friends cast off.

Appleby sat silently next to Troy at the tiller as the Hesperus caught a breeze and slipped past Charleston and out into the harbor. "Is anything wrong, master?" asked Troy, smiling.

"It's an evil world, Troy," said Appleby. Troy nodded, waiting, as the two sat for a few minutes more. "Troy," Appleby began, "I want to say this again. You are not my slave. You do not have to do anything I tell you to do. Oh," he added, "and I love you very much." Tears began trickling down his cheeks. Hector and Bundit paused in their tasks farther toward the bow, worried and concerned.

Troy sat looking at Appleby, thinking for a moment. Then he scooped the white man toward him with his big brown hand and mashed him into his side. "Something happened back there, didn't it, master?" Appleby could only nod, overcome with the emotions of the weekend and the injustice of humankind. "Tell me about it," said Troy, gently working the white man's shoulder. And they sat like that, talking, as the Hesperus moved away from the world toward home.

Chapter sixteen

There had been no more field exercises of the South Carolina Militia during this period of harvest, when most of the men would be occupied in fields they owned, rented, or labored in for others. That would resume in late winter or early spring. During one of his regular trips into Charleston for supplies, Appleby met Silas Hornsby on the street and passed a pleasant hour with him in a tavern. Freed by Appleby's prediction of love, and by their own encounter that had set a spark to Silas's sense of possibilities, the youth had indeed met a fellow laborer, living on the outskirts of Charleston, with whom he could find passion. The youth positively glowed in telling Appleby, in a lowered voice, of this new chapter in his life, and Appleby was glad for him.

Meetings of the officers of the militia had likewise been reduced, although there had been one since the field exercises. Appleby felt mixed emotions when Carter Ashley told him that Robert had remained home with a slight cold in the head. He still felt a physical attraction for the boy, but it was balanced with a horror of the lad's quickness to use people who were not white as objects for his own purposes. Appleby accompanied Carter back to their boat at the end of the meeting to see him off, and had a chance to nod hello to Rodney – but no more than that.

The weeks had slipped by quickly as good, healthful, productive work filled the hours on Seaward, and now everyone agreed that the labor of building was completed. Portia was still hanging curtains and arranging furniture in her cabin, but it would be a comfortable home within days – and in the meantime, there was no shortage of beds on Seaward where she was welcome. One morning the people of Seaward worked until shortly before noon, and then it dawned on them: there was nothing left to do, outside of Portia's domestic puttering. The whole company of the island stood in a knot on the grass in front of the storage and hay barns, hands on shoulders, arms around waists, and looked up at their handiwork.

"It needs something else," said Appleby.

Groans and exclamations filled the air.

"What else could it need, master?" rumbled Priam.

Appleby's tanned face broke into a huge smile: "It needs a party!"

Cheers and laughter erupted, as everyone agreed with him. The rest of the afternoon was spent preparing a loft of the storage barn for a party, hanging lanterns, bringing up blankets to spread over crates and sacks, bringing up wine from the Seaward cellar, cooking and baking. Everyone worked to finish the day's chores in preparation for a celebration. Evening came on, as it seemed to sooner every day now, and the night turned comfortably cool and crisp. The loft of the barn was pleasantly lit by oil lamps, and open windows let in the fresh night air.

Long plank tables were set up on the ground floor of the barn, and a sumptuous feast was set out. Talk, laughter, food, drink, and friendship abounded. Little Apple, a crawler if not yet a toddler, squirmed in every lap, taking soft, mashed food from every hand – to the delight of her mother who had been glad to wean her despite her strong maternal instincts. The feast completed, everyone worked to clear away the leftovers and tables, and then the party moved upstairs to the loft on which they had labored so hard.

Priam brought his banjo and played many a tune. People danced singly, in groups, in every conceivable combination. Wine flowed, making friendship friendlier, happiness happier. Apple was stowed in a bundle of blankets in the corner, where she slept soundly despite of – or because of – the music. The night danced on. Heaving a sigh of satisfaction, Priam announced his intention to retire for the night, seconded by Cass and Juno. As nobody could play his instrument, he took it with them as they climbed down the ladder, waving. The rest of the party settled back comfortably on blankets against sacks and crates or stretched out on the floor, humming tunes together, passing bottles around.

It was Bundit's doing, really. Somebody asked him what songs they had in Siam, and whether they were different, and what dances they did. His head buzzing pleasantly, Bundit began humming to himself softly – then louder – then rose, swaying, taking a few steps tentatively, then more assertively. Soon he was singing and dancing in a Siamese style, his eyes closed, his thoughts floating far away to his native land. He bobbed and floated in the middle of the loft, like a hovering fairy. People clapped to keep time, nodding heads and tapping feet. Heated from the efforts, Bundit pulled his shirt off in one movement and tossed it aside, then continued dancing. Hard, lean muscles on a small frame moved beneath his persimmon colored skin that now had a light sheen of sweat. His beautiful almond eyes remained closed, his rosebud lips were parted, his thick bush of black, winged hair bobbed and swirled as he moved. He was a magician, and his beauty was casting a spell over the whole, tipsy company. Clapping died away, but every eye was on the dancing boy, twirling, singing to himself.

Appleby was lost in the Asian youth's swirling, twirling movements, the soft glow of the lamplight on his lovely skin. Then a pressure on his own body brought him pleasantly back to his surroundings. He was sitting next to Hector; indeed, very close to Hector, his arm around the neck of the fourteen year old black boy – and somehow, his hand had found its way into the collar and front gap of the boy's shirt. Appleby had been lightly rubbing the boy's padded, hairless chest, then tweaking his prune nipples. It was as Hector leaned into the white man, his arm around his master's lower back, his other hand rubbing up and down the man's thigh, that Appleby floated back to the here and now. He pulled Hector closer to him, kissing and nuzzling the boy's black, kinky skullcap of hair, and the boy responded by moving his hand to Appleby's crotch, gently manipulating the erection that was evident through the fabric of his trousers. Appleby looked up quickly to see who might be observing this, and he beheld a wonderful sight.

To his left sat Troy on a low crate, his eyes watching Bundit's every move. In front of him, between his legs, on the floor of the loft sat Athena. Troy's strong brown hands were down the loosened front of her blouse, gently massaging her firm breasts. Athena had her head to one side, eyes half-closed, also watching Bundit 3; but leaning up against her, between her legs, was Cassius. Athena had one hand running through the mulatto boy's thick, loose black curls, while her other hand was lodged down the loosened front of his trousers, slowly kneading. Cassius had both of his hands underneath Athena's thighs, slowly slipping up and down, and he, too was looking at Bundit, breathing through half-opened lips. Across from this grouping and to Appleby's right 3;

Pan and Bacchus sat on some blanket covered grain sacks, side by side. On Pan's lap sat Helen, her head leaning against Pan's chest, his chin and trumpet lips in her tufted hair. His left hand was slowly sliding along the girl's lean, dark brown thigh from her knee to the rounded curve of her hip and bottom, visible now that her simple dress was hitched up to her waist. Pan's right arm was around his brother' shoulder. Between Bacchus's spread legs was Portia, her head leaning back against the boy's crotch while he ran the fingers of one hand through her frizzy brown hair and slid the other hand down the front of her blouse to cup a pert, taut breast.

Appleby pulled off his shirt as Hector squirmed out of his own. The black fourteen year old boy swiveled around onto his knees between Appleby's legs, facing the white man, and the two embraced. Appleby pushed forward and slid to the floor, now knee to knee with Hector, bare torsos clutched together. Their lips met and locked in a long, slow dance, tongues sliding on lips, lips sucking tongues. Hector broke away with a gasp of surprise and looked behind him. Bundit had returned from the fairyland in which he was dancing to see the array of coupling bodies he had created, and he was joining the fray. The Asian youth was naked, having shed his trousers as well as his shirt, and was tugging down Hector's pants. Hector rose to assist the process and soon stood naked before Appleby with Bundit's arms reaching around him, gold and tan on deep chocolate skin, his rigid cock sliding in Hector's ass crack. Hector's large, purple black penis stuck straight out at Appleby. The white man tugged Hector and Bundit forward, then engulfed the organ in his mouth and began nibbling at the head with his lips, tugging the top of the hood down with his upper lip as Hector sighed and writhed with pleasure. Bundit's hands slid over the black boy's hairless chest and belly, tugging at his prune nipples until they stood out in erect points. The Asian youth gently bit the black boy's neck and shoulders and nuzzled in his short, crinkly black hair. Surrounded by pleasure, Hector pumped his hips back and forth, sliding his penis in and out of his master's mouth, running his fingers through his long, light brown hair and holding the white man's head – until a wave of ecstasy overtook him. Pushing into Appleby's mouth, his body felt as if it were merging with his master. Not an assault, it was a coupling. Appleby sucked and bobbed his head until the wave of pleasure and love had flowed over and through Hector and his quivering body relaxed. He brought his lips down to Appleby's ears as the white man was sucking the penis clean and whispered words of love and thanks. Then he rolled to the floor and away in the direction of the Pan and Bacchus grouping.

Appleby rose and quickly tossed aside his remaining clothes, but then a realization came to him – especially as he saw that the other groupings had similarly progressed. Surely someone would want lubrication, but who could tear themselves away to go get some? He looked around desperately, and then saw it among the stored goods nearby. Leaping quickly to his side, he tore open a crate and pulled out – udder balm! "This will do," he said half to himself, and brought out three or four cans, rolling some in the direction of the other groupings, keeping one for himself. Back to Bundit as quick as a wink, he and the Asian boy ground together still standing, his arms around Bundit's back, the Asian's fingers clutching the white man's firm butt, grinding cocks together. Bundit slowly slid to the floor, licking, kissing, biting nipples, tonguing the navel as he went, and ended up on his knees before Appleby, his hands still clutching the man's butt. Appleby's rampant erection slid into the rosebud lips in a flash, and the youth's mane of thick, bushy black hair bobbed back and forth as his head rose and fell furiously. Clutching the youth's shoulders, now his hair, Appleby moaned and seethed with pleasure, then threw his head back and howled, pumping furiously into the Asian's mouth, shooting ropes of sperm which Bundit greedily swallowed.

Spent, Appleby dropped to the floor, kissed Bundit, then took up the udder balm and anointed the youth's reddish gold, rampant cock with it. Smearing some in his own anus, Appleby turned around onto his hands and knees. Bundit positioned himself behind Appleby's ass and pushed first the head and then the whole shaft of his dick in. Appleby gasped, but heedless of the discomfort he immediately began pushing his ass back into the youth, hungering for the feel of that reddish gold penis moving inside of him. As Bundit began moving in and out of Appleby's ass very quickly, almost fluttering his hips, Hector moved around behind Bundit to enclose the Asian youth's boxy chest in his dark chocolate arms. Caressed from behind and fucking in front, Bundit began crying out and moaning in some unintelligible language, his body frantically pistoning back and forth, then slammed forward into Appleby so hard he pushed the strong man to the floor, following him down with bucking hips, pulling Hector down behind him. Sandwiched between the two, Bundit quivered and shook as the last of his semen drained down into the white man beneath him.

Floating on a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, mashed beneath two beautiful, panting, warm bodies, Appleby did not exactly doze – and it took but a few minutes in real time – but his thoughts drifted to another moment of sweet afterglow a month or so ago. He was lying on a similar happy cloud following a long session of sexual intimacy, on his back in his bed in the main house. Troy, panting, was lying half on top of him. Troy's dark chocolate skin covered the rolling mounds of muscle in his shoulders and arms, and Appleby ran his palms over that shiny dark skin, squeezing lightly. Appleby's face nuzzled Troy's tight, short, black hair as it lay at the white man's chin level. Troy's cheek lay against Appleby's padded chest, now rising and falling with a more even breath. Troy's right arm was up, his fingers caressing Appleby's hair, while his left hand twined itself in the small patch of hair at the center of the white man's chest, sliding over to tweak his pink nipples.

Troy propped himself up to look closely at the hair on Appleby's chest, twirling and pulling it. Bringing his eyes close to the man's tanned white skin, he brushed it lightly, licked it, then rolled the nipples, again looking closely as pink shifted to red and back as blood came and went in the tissues. Then he scooted up to Appleby's shoulder length, light brown hair and ran strands of it through his fingers, sniffing it, tasting it. A low, throaty chuckled rolled out into the room.

"People sure are different, aren't they, master? All these colors, all these kinds of hair."

Appleby smiled and agreed, then put his own hand to Troy's hair, running his fingers across the crinkly, crisp texture. He moved an index finger to Troy's plum-like lips, the lower one large and glistening.

"Bundit's different, too. I like his skin, kind of like a peach, and his hair, too," said Troy.

Appleby nodded, and then a serious look came over his face. He pushed himself up on an elbow. Troy did the same, the two lying side by side, relaxing penises drooling their last silver lines into a puddle on the sheet between them. Appleby spoke in a soft, troubled voice.

"But Troy 3; would you be here with me if my skin was your color? Would I be with you, would I be at Seaward at all if I weren't white? How can we know?"

Troy smiled and placed a hand on Appleby's cheek. He thought for a moment, considering the matter carefully.

"Well, master 3; I don't know. I love you; you know that. That means I love the things about you that are you. That includes how you look, but it's also how you are inside. This 3; this is about those things you were thinking about when you came back from soldier camp, isn't it?" Appleby nodded, casting his eyes down. Troy flopped onto his back and looked at the ceiling.

"Maybe 3; maybe some people LIKE to do it with others because they HAVE to. Maybe I do sometimes. Every now and then," he said, grinning and turning back toward Appleby, "I get some soft cloth and tie up Athena when we do it. Man, I get so hard when I do that! It's like I can make her do what I want her to do, and 3; ah!" he rolled luxuriantly on the bed, an incipient erection returning to his penis at the very thought. "I don't think she minds. Maybe she likes it. She never said not to. Sometimes 3; sometimes she likes me to swat her butt, too," he said, grinning.

"But that's not like being a master and slave, that's not like really and legally owning someone."

Troy thought for a minute. "No," he said, shaking his head, "no, you're right, it's not."

Appleby groaned. "I wish I'd never come to Seaward 3; as a white master. On the other hand, I never lived until I came to Seaward. And 3; I like being who I am. And now I couldn't live without Seaward." He shook his head in thought. A moment passed, then Troy spoke again.

"Now that I think about it 3; master, I think it's just human nature. We need to give a little pain, we need to get a little pain. It's when things get out of balance that you have trouble." Appleby listened carefully, nodding slowly. "Some of those other plantations, master, I know 3; the white folks give pain all the time and the black folks get it all the time. That's not right. There's no balance."

The two lay side by side some moments longer, processing these thoughts. Troy spoke up again: "The same with color, master. If anybody, black or white, liked somebody only for their color, or their hair 3; or didn't like somebody for the same reasons 3; or that was the only reason they had to be with them, or not to be with them, well that would be bad. You need balance. If someone's color isn't part of what you like about them, that's too bad. Look, master," he said, propping himself up by his elbow, "It's just color and hair and all that, it doesn't matter. But oh! master! it's all this wonderful color and all these kinds of hair, and that sure does matter! Aw, we are who we are, master, and we can't get away from that. We'll never figure this out, master! We just have to find people to love and love them in the ways we can do it."

Appleby looked at Troy for a minute, taking it all in. Then he smiled, and Troy broke out in a huge grin. "Troy," he began,"are you 3; are you always going to call me 'master'? Shouldn't we move away from that?"

"NO!" shouted Troy, grinning ferociously, and then arced over the white man and planted a ringing slap on his bare bottom, "and you can't make me!" Appleby howled in pain and delight, grabbed the squirming chocolate body next to him and 3;. but that scene faded back into memory as Appleby floated into the present and, looking straight ahead, saw what had been developing with Pan and Bacchus's grouping.

All four were naked by now: the caramel chocolate thirteen year old twins, the dark chocolate eleven year old girl, the seventeen year old mulatto girl. Pan was still sitting on some blanket covered sacks of grain, leaning back, his legs now straight out in front of him with his heels dug into the loft floor. Eleven year old Helen straddled his lap facing him, her legs splayed out on both sides of his thighs. Her orange size, pert breasts were at Pan's face level, and he was greedily sucking them, tonguing and biting her round, prune colored nipples. His caramel brown hands were cupped around each dark, round globe of her buttocks. Helen had one hand on Pan's shoulder and the other around the boy's dark chocolate cock. She was moving just the head of his rampant penis up and down in the entrance to her vagina, the slick precum coating the lips and clitoris while she slowly rocked her hips back and forth. Appleby was struck once more by how much she looked like a boy 3; a boy with breasts and a vagina. Her resemblance to her brothers, Troy and Hector, was powerfully attractive at that moment, as if she were a younger, feminine brother to the two. As he watched, Helen lowered herself onto Pan's rigid cock, bringing a gasp to his lips. She began a steady rise and fall as he leaned back at an angle against the stack of grain sacks, his hands now grasping her small breasts and kneading them.

Bacchus, close by, was standing up in front of Portia, who was on her knees in front of him – his hands buried in her cloud of frizzy brown hair, his engorged penis completely swallowed inside her rosebud mouth. He was slowly gyrating his hips, his eyes closed and head back, as Portia bobbed her head up and down. In the boy's mind, was it Portia, or a female at all, who was servicing him in this way? The two held that position for a moment longer, then Bacchus pulled out. His rampant cock bobbing in the air, arching out and up at an angle, he directed the taller, seventeen year old mulatto girl to swivel around onto her elbows and knees. Bacchus quickly slipped behind her, placed his swollen dick at the entrance to her love tunnel, and pushed in. Portia moaned with pleasure, swinging her head from side to side, pushing her hips back greedily to receive him. The two were placed so that, once locked together, they were both facing Appleby. Bacchus began pumping in and out, his hands grasping the girl's hips, but his eyes were communing with Appleby. Portia was swinging her hips back and forth in time to Bacchus's pumping, her head hanging down some of the time, but when she brought it up her eyes locked onto Appleby's.

Appleby's gaze, however, was distracted by a gasp and cry from Helen. In the throes of her own orgasm, she was shuddering, grasping Pan tightly by the neck even as she continued to bob up and down on his rampant dick. As her cries subsided, Pan's began. His fingers tightened painfully on the flesh of the girl's bottom as his hips thrust upward and he howled, head thrown back, breath seething. The long muscles of his thighs popped and flexed beneath caramel skin as he pushed his semen into the dark brown girl.

But then Appleby's eyes were drawn to the other couple, for Bacchus, pistoning his hips rapidly back and forth, sliding his rampant cock in and out of Portia, was crying "Ah! Ah! Ah!" and then his torso curled forward as an orgasm slammed through him and into the mulatto girl, bellowing, grasping her shoulders and pulling himself into her. Her vagina bathed in the thirteen year old's warm, slimy flow, Portia moaned and writhed beneath him, her own orgasm a steady thrumming of passion that matched the boy's wild clenching thrusts. They held that position for a minute longer, quivering and shaking, then rolled together onto the floor at the feet of Pan who still held Helen in his arms, both of them spent, his arms around her as she lay her head on his heaving chest.

Appleby felt as if he had come again, although it was only the stimulation of his imagination. He rolled over onto his back, panting, staring at the pointed arch of the barn roof above. Recovering himself from the sights, sounds, and feel of all that was around him, he saw in his imagination a recent scene play out in the shadows of the roof. It was only two weeks ago, and he had returned to Ashley Plantation for another social weekend of dancing, shooting, and meeting the local gentry. His thoughts drifted back 3;

The visit was much like his earlier experience. Victoria and Virginia continued to ply him with their charms, although his continued masquerade of widowerhood kept them at bay. There was another ball with many of the same gentry in attendance. Mrs. Reynolds, the recent owner of Portia and Cassius, was also there, still her sour self in black weeds. Appleby enjoyed renewing the personal and sexual contacts he had with the slaves of Ashley Plantation, especially the strong, manly Rodney and the exotic Aaron – and of course with Robert 3; The blonde boy still exerted a strong attraction on Appleby, but he understood the youth to be ultimately toxic. In the midst of their most passionate couplings Appleby could keep an emotional distance, knowing the potential for evil within that golden head, behind the crystal blue eyes, beneath the strawberries and cream complexion. Or was it 3; was it that Appleby saw himself hiding within the boy, and feared for what the lad might call out in him if he followed him too closely in his games? One remarkable afternoon from that visit now came flooding back to Appleby as he lay on his back in the loft, listening to the carnal sounds around him.

The company had finished a pleasant lunch and were dispersing for separate pursuits in the afternoon. Some were to take strolls through the well tended gardens of Ashley, others to nap, and some were organizing a card game in the parlor. Appleby had just risen from the table and walked into the hallway, thinking of what he would do, when Robert slid up to him and whispered beneath his breath, "Come with me, sir. I have a duty to perform this afternoon and I think you would like to help me do it."

Mystified, Appleby nodded his agreement, and the two left the house. They took a path away from the house, gardens, and river toward some utility buildings in the distance. Appleby thought he could see a smokehouse and perhaps a hay barn among other structures. Robert kept quiet, smiling to himself, as they walked along. Going past the smokehouse, Robert gave a low whistle. From behind the back of the smokehouse there slipped three black boys – the same three, Appleby now saw, he had seen Robert fucking on the banks of the stream that memorable afternoon some months ago: First came the ten year old boy Appleby had fondled at McGillicuddy's soon after arriving at Seaward. Appleby still did not know his name, but he remembered his muscular build on a small frame, his dark chocolate color with a wide, turned up nose and knots and whorls of black hair on his head. Next came Aaron, the twelve year old leopard faced boy, who smiled a welcome which Appleby returned with feeling. Finally Hammond, the somewhat fleshy, dark-skinned thirteen year old whose trousers hid, Appleby knew, a surprisingly large penis for his age. Hammond likewise recognized Appleby, a wide, white grin splitting his round face, and Appleby nodded and smiled back.

"You know Aaron," said Robert. "This is Hammond," he said, gesturing at the grinning thirteen year old, "and Samuel," indicating the ten year old. Samuel nodded at Appleby and softly said, "Masta," then hung his head. He betrayed no memory of their meeting at McGillicuddy's, for which Appleby was grateful. Appleby smiled all around and then asked Robert, "Well, sir, what duty is this you are to perform?"

"One of the servants was caught stealing a ham. Father asked me to punish him, as I am old enough to learn my duties as the future master of Ashley," said Robert, his chin tilted up.

Appleby's smile vanished in an instant. "I shall not stand by while you whip a servant, sir," he said, "I will not allow it."

Robert looked at him curiously, his head cocked to one side. "Whipping? Hmmm 3; that's an idea. But no, no sir, not whipping. Another kind of penalty. A kind of punishment. Although I do wonder whether they come to enjoy it. We are missing several hams lately." Turning on his heel he led the way to a nearby hay barn. Open mouthed but now intrigued, Appleby followed – if nothing else he could at least attempt to head off the worst of Robert's excesses.

As they approached the hay barn, two adult male slaves rose from where they had been sitting outside the door. "Is everything ready?" asked Robert. The men nodded, mumbling "Yes, masta," eyes averted. "Good. You may go now. We will release him later." The men hurried off, but Appleby detected some curious backward glances from them. Whatever lay within, how many such scenes had they arranged for their young master?

Robert pushed open the barn door and led the way in. It was shaded but not dark, light coming in from open windows in the loft and from between ill-fitting boards in the siding. Stacks of hay bales filled the barn, a sweet aroma baking out of them in the afternoon sun. The group followed Robert around the corner of a tower of bales and found four stacked, rectangular bales covered with an old, dirty, but soft blanket. On top of that blanket was a slave, his feet planted on the ground, his torso stretched out belly-down on the blanketed hay pile, his butt a little lower than waist high and presented for all the world to see. Appleby could see that soft but strong cloths secured his ankles to stakes in the ground – his wrists were likewise tied by soft cloths that looped under a hay bale, keeping him pinned to the stack. His head was turned to see the group as they came in. "Masta," he said softly, "I'se sorry 3; please don' whip me, masta," he said.

"Whipping, what's all this talk of whipping," said Robert, who walked over to the bale and then actually did pick up a short whip that was lying beside the bound black man. "Maybe some day, sir, if you make a habit of this sort of thing. For now," he said, tossing the whip aside, "we have another sort of punishment in mind for you." The man's eyes grew wide in both fear and hope.

Appleby was completely on edge. He was ready to intervene in an instant, determined not to see the man suffer. This spectacle of bondage was repellent to him, and yet 3; his eyes could not help but drink it in. The man was powerfully built and would stand six feet [1.80 m] or more upright. Sculpted muscles on his arms, shoulders, and legs rolled in hills and valleys beneath a dark chocolate skin that shone with a thin layer of sweat. His short, kinky cap of hair had bits of straw in it. Taking a few steps to his side, Appleby could see that the man had been arranged so that his scrotum and penis hung down the front of the stack of hay on which he was trussed, a heavy ballsack dangling down against a large but flaccid penis pressed up against the blanket over the side of the hay. His bottom was the typical muscular black man's butt, and in this position it described almost a sharp angle as it stuck out into the air. His feet were staked widely enough apart so that a dark reddish brown anus could be seen in the ass crack just above the sack of testicles. Appleby's penis stiffened immediately. The pointed hills of the slave's black butt sloped down to long rolls of muscles up both sides of his back. Appleby saw with relief that his skin betrayed no scars or marks of whips. "God help me; God help us all," he thought to himself as desire warred with conscience.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke to Robert. "You 3; you are not hurt him, sir, I won't stand for it." Robert smirked: "Hurt him? Well, no more than he might enjoy – afterward if not at the time. But at any rate, he must learn not to steal, don't you agree?" Then the boy snapped his fingers at the three slave boys who were with him. Grinning, all three immediately dropped their clothing and stepped barefoot away from their bunched trousers. Robert reached between some bales and pulled out a pot of some sort of lubricant, grease or oil, which he had evidently put there for the purpose. This he set on the top of the hay stack right beside the slave's upraised bottom. Looking at the spectacle for a moment, Robert raised his hand and brought it down with a ringing smack on the black skin of the butt, eliciting a gasp and "Ah!" from the slave. Robert did it again, then stepped back and began removing his own clothing. Naked, he leered at Appleby and, nodding at the upturned bottom, said "Join us?" Then he stepped up to the naked, bound slave to begin the "punishment."

Robert beckoned the ten year old Samuel to come forward. He did, a hungry, expectant look on his features. He (and the other boys?) had evidently joined with their young master in this exercise before. Robert scooped a hunk of goo out of the pot of lubricant and smeared it on the boy's small, stiff erection 3;but not on the waiting anus beside them. Samuel turned to the upraised bottom of the black slave on the hay bale, but he was a little short to reach. Robert stepped around behind him and, grasping him around the chest, lifted the boy up a few inches. Samuel spread the black ass cheeks with one hand and with another placed his stiff little penis at the anus. Robert pushed forward, leaning into the boy, his own hard cock mashed against the boy's thighs, and Samuel's penis slipped right into the waiting butt.

The bound black slave grunted out an exclamation of surprise – "uh?" Samuel's legs hooked around the bound slave's legs and his hands were splayed out on the man's hips, supporting the boy's body. Hanging off the back of the slave, plugged into his butt, Samuel now began a furious fanning of his hips back and forth. His soft, high voice began breathing a rhythm of "unh, unh, unh, unh" as he moved in and out, in and out. Moments passed as the tempo of his pumping increased. The muscles of his young butt flexed rhythmically, then clenched, and he froze, quivering, a high pitched squeal coming from his throat. The boy hung there a moment more in the throes of his dry orgasm, then his head lolled forward. Pushing off the slave's butt with his hands, he bounded back and down four inches [10 cm] to land on the barn floor. Turning, he absolutely strutted away in the direction of the other slave boys, a huge grin on his face, greeted by back slaps and cheers from his fellows.

Robert beckoned twelve year old Aaron to come forward, which he did, his thick shaft bobbing. Greased well by his young white master, Aaron stepped forward, just able to reach his target. With no ceremony he put the head of his rampant black cock to the man's relaxed anus and pushed. The bound slave did gasp this time, and craned his head around to see who was inside of him. Aaron began moving back and forth, in and out, and twice brought his palm down with a hard slap onto the hills of buttocks that rose up in front of him, but the bound slave did not protest. Faster Aaron pumped, and then slammed forward, head back, crying out, clenching into the man's bottom. Then Aaron's knees buckled and he slumped forward, holding himself up with his hands on the man's back. But a moment passed, and he stood, pulling his penis from the black behind in front of him, trailing a thin thread of semen. Like a conquering hero, he also was hailed by his fellows.

Thirteen year old Hammond did not have to be coaxed to come forward. He eagerly stuck out his large, purple black penis to be greased by his master, then stepped up behind the bound black slave and with quick efficiency impaled him with the rigid shaft. The man caught his breath, but by now his anus was well enlarged and lubricated. Hammond put the whole strength of his legs into bucking back and forth, back and forth, also spanking the black bottom in front of him, calling out "Yeah! that'll teach ya! Learn that!" When he came his feet did a brief little drumming dance on the floor and he pushed forward, rocking on the balls of his feet, his torso curling forward and down, pushing his semen into the waiting rectum to join the load that was already there. Panting, he held the position for a moment, then withdrew to walk with a proud look on his face to join the knot of slave boy admirers.

Appleby simply did not know what to do or think during this tableau. Was he witnessing a rape? Certainly the black man, tied down as he was, could not have been a willing participant. Yet not once had he protested, except against what he feared would be a whipping at the start. More amazing still, it was clear that his once flaccid penis, hanging down against the soft blanket in front of the hay, was now fully erect, a thin line of precum hanging to the floor. The man's heavy breathing 3;was it from pain or passion? Or could he tell the difference? Appleby's own rigid cock was painfully erect, straining against his trousers from within.

Young Samuel, smiling at his master, stepped up again to the bound slave, but this time he sat on the ground by one of his tied-down legs. The ten year old put one arm around that leg and with his other hand he grasped the dangling, rigid penis of the bound man and began pumping it, running his fist up and down the hanging shaft. The slave began to groan and, to the extent he could, to move his hips up and down.

Robert now stepped up to this humping butt, his pink, rigid cock bouncing, drooling precum. He made no effort to lubricate it, nor was any needed in truth. The brown black anus was fully relaxed, winking open, a thin stream of mixed semen oozing down onto the back of his ballsack. Robert slapped the upraised bottom once more, hard, then asked in a loud voice, "Will you steal again?" The bound man, panting, gasped and gave the right answer: "Naw, suh, nevah agin'" Did he mean it, Appleby wondered? Was this an experience to avoid or to be courted? Robert nodded, then quickly rammed his rigid cock into the anus. Back and forth he slammed violently, his tight scrotum banging against the ballsack of the black slave. A reddish tinge crept over his strawberries and cream complexion. The dimpled hollow in the flat of each hip flexed as his groin pumped in and out, and then he threw his head back, cried out, and pushed into the slave's buttocks, even as he grasped the man's hips and pulled them back to him. Quivering, shaking, he held that position for a moment, his breath seething and ragged. Then his body slumped, his knees bending slightly. Another moment and he pulled out, this time a larger stream of semen trickling from the anus. But suddenly the anus closed as the bound slave's butt muscles clenched, for Samuel's ministrations had brought him to his own orgasm. Shots and ropes of white semen poured down from his rigid penis with a force that made them splatter on the barn floor.

Robert stood, his organ wilting somewhat, and regarded this discharge with interest. Then he turned to Appleby, smiling triumphantly. "Your turn," he said, pointing to the waiting butt. Appleby was breathing heavily, conflicting emotions warring in his chest. With a tremendous struggle he said, "I think not," wheeled, and marched from the barn. As he slammed the door behind him he heard Robert's peal of raucous laughter. Looking down, he saw that a thin line of precum oozed from the front of his trousers and was swinging as he walked. Embarrassed, furious at himself yet still containing high volts of unreleased sexual energy, he dabbed away the liquid with his handkerchief, shifted his garments, buttoned up his jacket, and walked away from that scene as fast as he could.

Appleby sought the peacefulness of the stream, walking alongside of it, trying to sort out his thoughts and emotions. The fall air, full of woodsmoke, moss, and the sea, helped to calm his thoughts. Walking on a path by the water, he passed one of the many breaks in the undergrowth that had been cut to allow access to the stream. He noticed, looking through this cut that someone was sitting on the banks of the stream. Appleby turned, scrambled down the bank, and found that it was Rodney, fishing. The man welcomed him warmly. Yearning for Rodney's calm centeredness, Appleby asked if he could sit down and watch him fish.

"O' course, masta, sit heah. Wish I had a pole fo' you!"

Appleby gratefully sat next to him, briefly rubbing the black man's shoulder companionably. Moments of quiet peace passed. Then Rodney's wooden bobber ducked once, twice, and disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Quickly he jerked the rod, setting the hook, and soon pulled in a catfish, twisting and jumping on the line. Appleby congratulated him, patting him on the back, then grew thoughtful as Rodney added the fish to a line on which he was keeping his catch.

"Do you think the fish minds, Rodney?" he asked, a smile on his lips.

"Reckon so, masta. Course, the fish, he don' care about the worm that was on that hook neither! So, what goes aroun' comes aroun', masta!"

Appleby nodded. "But Rodney, shouldn't we care? I know you want that fish for your dinner, but is it right to use the fish, to make it suffer, for your pleasure?"

Rodney looked at the white man as if he had landed from the moon. "Why, masta, what did y'all have fo' lunch?"

Appleby laughed and hung his head. "Chicken."

"Well, suh 3; reckon the chicken minded it?" Rodney asked. Appleby laughed again.

"I suppose he did, Rodney, I suppose he did."

A few more thoughtful moments passed, and Rodney spoke again. "I dunno masta, mebbe somehow the fish DID like the fight. Now, when I skins him and fries him, then he'll mind, cuz that's goin' too fa'! But not fo' me. Got to eat. You do too, masta."

Appleby nodded. "How about people, Rodney? Do you think people ever want to be used, want to be hurt? Or, from the other side, is it always bad to use other people if it makes you feel good?"

Rodney looked directly at Appleby. He began slowly. "Well, masta 3; you an' me, we has had some good times together, right?" Appleby smiled and nodded, rubbing Rodney's shoulder again. "Masta, I know you used me sometimes, but I didn't mind, cuz like with the catfish, you didn' skin me! Know what? Sometimes I used you! Beggin' yo' pardon, masta, but I did. I liked the way you looked and felt 3;." his voice trailed off. Then he smiled and continued: "It's jes' 3; some people use people too much. Balance. You gotta have balance."

That word again, 'balance.' Troy had said much the same to him. It was beginning to make sense. All these torments of control, race, power 3; you just try to pick your way through the minefield the best you can. You balance. Appleby nodded at Rodney and smiled at him, then the two sat together companionably, Appleby's hand resting lightly on Rodney's muscular shoulder, for the rest of the afternoon.

In a flash, the vision from Ashley came tumbling down in pieces, and Appleby was on the floor of the loft again. A cry of ecstasy had recalled him to where he was. Turning to his other side, he saw what Troy, Athena, and Cassius had been up to. Cassius lay on his back on the floor; it was he who had just cried out. Troy still sat nearby on a crate, naked, his dark body a symphony of muscled hills and valleys, his chocolate skin shining in the lamplight. His big, erect cock stood straight up out of his lap as he slid his fist up and down it while he surveyed the spectacle on the floor. Athena had just lowered herself onto Cassius's rigid brown dickhead and was slowly describing circles with her hips, tantalizing the panting mulatto boy who lay beneath her. Athena looked to her side and saw Appleby. Her hair stood out in all directions in short, braided tufts, pieces of straw stuck in it here and there. She was breathing through her mouth in her passion. And in her passion she looked straight into Appleby's eyes, smiled, and beckoned with her head.

Appleby crawled the few feet needed to reach the couple on the floor, arriving just as Athena lowered herself entirely onto Cassius's rod, bringing another gasp of pleasure to his lips. There was no mistaking Athena's femininity, but Appleby found her family resemblance to Pan and Bacchus irresistible, as he had with Helen's and Portia's resemblance to their brothers. Her caramel skin shone with a light wash of sweat in the lamplight. Appleby moved around behind her to see Cassius's brown dick buried entirely within her, his tight, wide ballsack just outside her vagina. The white man's penis sprang into life again, powerfully erect. He looked up at Troy, who smiled hungrily back at him, running his brown hand up and down his black dick.

While remaining impaled on Cassius, Athena cocked her hips up and back toward Appleby; it was unmistakably an invitation. Reaching for the nearby pot of lubricant, Appleby smeared his dick with it, then inserted some in Athena's waiting anus. She gasped but held still for the coming onslaught. Two fingers entered her, describing slow circles. Then Appleby positioned his straining cockhead against her anus and pushed. She gasped, but pushed back, and his reddish dick slid all the way in. Scrambling on his knees, the white man pushed his groin all the way into the caramel colored ass in front of him. In that moment, he looked up and saw Troy. The black man was on his knees in front of Athena's face, feeding her his mammoth cock. She took it into her mouth and began bobbing her head up and down. Below, Cassius began pushing his hips up and down in a determined rhythym.

It was an experience that simply took Appleby away to a new level. He and Troy were each on their knees, serviced at two different ends of Athena, but they were looking deep into each other's eyes, lips parted, gasping. All the love and passion the two men felt for each other was channeled through the willing body that joined them. They were fucking her and they were fucking each other, face to face, three feet [90 cm] apart. But at the same time, Appleby could feel Cassius's rigid dick sliding in and out of Athena through the thin layer of flesh that divided rectum and vagina. As Appleby slid in and out his penis was also caressing Cassius's brown dick as it did the same but an inch or so away. Appleby's full ballsack slapped against Cassius's tight, drawn-up nuts as the two lay against each other beneath their sliding dicks. The mulatto boy pushed Athena up with his hands over her full, tight breasts, and he could look up and see Troy's mammoth dick sliding in and out of her mouth, a thin line of drool and precum hanging down from her lips onto the boy's cheek.

The four were so tightly connected it seemed as if they could feel the ecstasy within each others' bodies, knowing the pleasure each other one felt. For as long as they could they held their positions, pumping, sucking, moaning, panting. And then the dam could hold no longer. Athena, her mouth full, moaned loudly with a high pitched keening, quivering and shaking. Her jerking vagina sent Cassius over the edge. He bucked his hips up repeatedly, crying out as he tilted his head back toward Troy's thighs, shooting long ropes of sperm up into Athena. Appleby could feel the mulatto boy's cock swell and stiffen through the wall of Athena's flesh as it pulsed out its seed; it was too much, and he himself now slammed forward, emptying his sperm into the waiting rectum in front of him. But he kept his eyes locked on Troy's eyes – in spirit he was emptying his love into the black man, who knew it – and then Troy's passion came pouring out into Athena as he cried out, pushing forward, sending a wave of ecstasy and love back toward Appleby.

The four held their positions a moment longer, panting, gasping – then first Troy pulled back and collapsed to the floor, Appleby pulled his penis out with a plop, and Athena rolled off of Cassius and to the side. The four entangled themselves, laughing softly, recovering breath. Then they felt more arms, more legs, more gentle caresses: the others in the party, who had witnessed their passion, were piling in with them to share in the joy of their afterglow. Soon there was a mat of intertwined, caressing bodies of many colors comfortably entangled on the floor of the loft. Soft laughter gave way to sighs which gave way to slow, regular breathing. First one and then another fell deeply asleep.

Some time after midnight, rising to urinate, Priam saw the lamps still glowing through the windows of the loft. Climbing quietly up the sturdy ladder, he beheld the wondrous sight. Chuckling softly to himself, he gathered up some folded blankets nearby and tip-toed to the group. Some of them he caressed: softly touching Helen's forehead and hair, gently squeezing Hector's upturned butt, laying his hand as a blessing on Appleby's naked chest as it slowly rose and fell. Last he stopped by Troy, where he gently squeezed his son's flaccid penis and bent down and kissed him lightly on the lips. Rising, Priam covered the group with blankets. Still they slept. Then he extinguished the lamps one by one and returned to his cabin. The peace of the night settled over Seaward.

The End

The continuation of this story, War Clouds, is not (yet?) in this archive. Click here for the chapter on Nifty.