Patrick

A Slave's Tale

I don't remember my mother's face. All I do remember is her scream as a man had pulled me out of her lap and away. I never saw her again. Maybe it is just illusion because I was very young as it happened. I don't know how long ago it was and I don't exactly know how old I am. I guess I'm about twenty now. I'm sitting here in a cage, waiting for the auction where I'm going to be sold.

I don't mind the cage. I had spent most nights of my life in different crates and cages. I'm not scared about the prospect of being sold. After Master Peter has passed away a couple of days ago I knew it was coming. Mistress Susan had her own slave boy for years and young Master Gerald had turned his attention to a little slave girl, daughter of our cook. God may bless her seven year old soul and give her strength, she will need a lot.

Please forgive my, I didn't tell you my name. But the fact is I don't remember. Right from the beginning my new master had called my only 'slave' or 'boy'. Thankfully he didn't call me the names my young master used to. It was he who made my life so difficult so I don't mind leaving this house whatever my fate will be. I miss my master but there is nothing that could bring him back.

Though I was only little and of course I don't have exact memories I guess it was quite comfortable for me when I was taken to my new home. Master told me sometimes stories of that time where I was kind of a replacement for a son they didn't have. He played with me, I spent evenings and nights cuddled against him. I was a slave, though, and the meaning of that was beaten in my young body and mind thoroughly.

But most of the time I had fun. My master was a gentle bear with a big muscled body and very large hands. He could easily cup my whole bottom with a single hand, what he did often in pleasant ways but sometimes in painful ways too. I always liked it when he caressed my little body and it felt strange but exciting when he played with my little boy parts. I was in heaven when my master carried me around, sitting on his arm.

In the evening he used to lie on the sofa, clad only in his undergarment. I was allowed to crawl on his chest and it was very nice, feeling his skin against mine. I often played with the black forest of hairs on his chest. Sometimes he turned me around and I laughed and shrieked when he sucked my little stick and balls into his mouth where he licked and sucked it with passion and persistence.

It was only when my master wasn't around that the mistress touched me. Sure, she bossed me around and made me doing different chores but body contact was rare. In times she was alone she undressed and sat down with spread legs. First I was startled by the hairy bush she had on her crotch but I had no time to consider what may lie beneath. Knowing it wouldn't be a good idea to resist I approached her as requested.

She quickly bound my wrists together at my back and grabbed my body under my arm pits. She pressed my chest against her groin, pulled and pushed me up and down, my whole body rubbed against her. She moaned more and more. Eventually she pushed my face deep into the hair. I was told to lick deep into the slit I was about to find. I found it disgusting but had no choice as to do what she wanted.

I grew older and though I had to sleep in a small wooden crate I guess it was the best time of life I ever had. Eventually I had found out that my master had a cock too and he liked my administrations. My mouth was way too small to get even the head in but licking and stroking it pleased my master big time. When his man juice erupted the first time I was scared to death, fearing I had damaged it.

I had noticed that the mistress' belly had started to grow but didn't know what that meant. Eventually the day that would change my life with my master entirely has arrived. Proudly master brought home a very small baby, his son. He didn't need a replacement any longer. Almost all the time master was at home he spent now with his baby son; gone were our evening playing with each other.

One day, as master held his crying son tightly on his chest, I stood in the room, looking rather jealously at the scene. Master saw the obvious and without letting his son go he pulled me over his lap and spanked me as he never did before. I screamed my lungs out, trapped between the big man's legs and with my butt on fire. Strangely the little brat had stopped his crying and even seemed to smile.

The days were filled with rather boring chores like sweeping the floor or weeding the garden, all easy things a still little boy slave could do. I was allowed to lick my master's cock once in a while but other while I spend the evenings alone in my crate, often weeping myself into sleep. My mood got sullen and that caused more and more punishment what made me even sadder.

One evening, the toddler wouldn't stop his crying, I was so worked up I snapped a remark to my master. The trashing was disastrous; soon I was horse from screaming. It took a while for my master to realize but as soon as my crying faded he noticed that his son was silent too. Some days later it happened again. Gerald was crying for a while and master took his frustration out on my butt. While my crying started the toddler's ceased.

As it worked on two more occasions my fate was sealed. Every time the boy wouldn't calm my butt was on fire. Master didn't even look for an excuse; he just pulled me on his lap and the trashing began. Once I tried to fake my screaming but the little devil couldn't be fooled. The only silver lining in the situation was that master held me in his arms to calm me down before making me sucking his cock.

Gerald and I became older but my hope to escape the trashing was in vain. I was assigned to care about the boy, carry him around and play with him as best as I could. I never did him any harm but every now and then the boy would simply start crying without any reason, pointing on me when one of his parents arrived. You can guess what happened next. Once the boy was crying I would do the same a few minutes later.

I never possessed any piece of clothing. The first thing the baby was heading to as soon he could crawl was my groin. He grabbed my minute penis immediately and pulled. He kept this habit while he grew older there was not a single day he didn't pull, twist or hit my boy parts. I don't know whether it was just a toy for him to play or he did enjoy the pain he inflicted to me, but he always made me crying.

I had tried to stop him hurting me once but the result was a crying boy and subsequently a very sore bottom of mine. And though it hurts it was much more preferable than a trashing from master. It took a time to realize but eventually I noticed the big grin the boy had in his face every time my bottom was tanned. That night I cried hard in my crate, knowing it would become even worse when the boy grew up.

I did complain to master. Of course I got another severe trashing and this time he shoved his cock as far as he could into my throat, left me almost choking. There was no love in that action, not even lust, just pure brute. It really hurt my throat as well as my soul and I cried more than any spanking from my master had ever caused me to do. The knowledge I didn't have any protection from the little runt made me sick.

Our life continued. It somehow went easier since the boy didn't need diapers anymore. I hated changing them since he cried almost every time as I touched his parts, no matter how gently I did. Fortunately mistress didn't buy that from him after watching me a while. Eventually the boy stopped his whining but still gave me a hard time. It was a small victory and I knew I'd have to pay a price for but nevertheless I won.

Washing the diaper cloths was disgusting but even more disgusting was what followed after once young Gerald had seen my sucking his father's cock. He demanded I'd do the same to him. Licking his knob sized pecker was not a problem per se but the little devil always started to pee in my mouth. You know what happened when I spit it out the first time. Again I found it easier to swallow the few sips then getting spanked.

One night after the boy's fifth birthday master was really annoyed by the boy's crying so he decided to teach me a lesson I won't forget. By the time I was fully responsible for him so if he was annoying his father it had to be my fault. I was kneeling on the boy's bed, desperately trying to calm him down or cheer him up. Maybe master had already some drinks or something but he wasn't himself.

He burst into the room, brandishing a large paddle, and started immediately to blister my butt. Of course I was yelling and crying but he didn't care. When my ass was burning he dropped his shorts and pressed his hard cock between my cheeks. I was shocked and didn't know what happened. He pushed forward and I thought he was tearing me apart. I had never felt such a pain and screamed my lungs out.

I don't remember anything afterwards because I passed out. I awoke while being stuffed into my too small crate. Blood and cum dripped out of my hole and as soon I remembered what had happened I started to cry again. The lid of my crate wasn't lifted for a long time and I just lay there in my cramped position, changing from crying to fitful slumbers and vice versa. I only felt shame and despair.

I didn't know why my master had hurt me so much or what I had done to deserve this. All I knew was that I must have let down my master really bad so he had to do such a revolting act as sticking his penis into my shit hole. Sure he had to force himself to do that, I thought. I felt even worse and continued to cry until I had no more tears. I was so ashamed by myself I just wanted to lie there until I die.

A beam of light stroked my eyes and I awoke. I was lifted out of the crate by our cook. She took me into her kitchen where I was laid prone on the table with my groin on a pillow. Without a word she spread my buttocks and inspected my anus. I didn't care about what she did, my mind was numb. I felt some pain as she drove a needle through the torn flesh but as far as I remember I didn't even flinch.

I was given something to drink. The next thing I can remember is waking up lying on the kitchen floor beside the tiled stove, curled into a ball. My body felt better and I was hungry. One thing I should have been more grateful for at that time was that my master had always fed me proper food, not only leftovers or even that awful slave chow other slaveholders gave to their live stock.

During the next days I avoided any eye contact. Master was away but mistress and even Gerald treated me quite good, the boy didn't even try to get me into a spanking. I did my best to please my betters but all the time I felt so bad I didn't say a word. When there was nothing to do I just sat in a corner, my knees drawn to my chest. I often cried silently until I heard Gerald or his mother calling me.

Master returned and I managed to hide under the stairs before he could see me. I was too ashamed of myself to bother him with my sight. Later that day I heard mistress argue with master. As I heard the word slave I knew I was in big trouble again. I tried to run but the cook grabbed me at my neck and dragged me into my master's study. I was scared to death. The few times little Gerald got trashed it was in that room.

Tears ran over my cheeks as I stood there, my whole body shaking, focusing the floor in front of my feet. I don't know how long I stood there in front of my master who didn't say a word, but as he cleared his throat I simply broke down. I lay in front of his feet, bawling and begging him for forgiveness. I told him I knew I was bad and that I was not worth living in the same house with my betters.

The words just poured out right from my heart, I couldn't stop. I told him that I was sorry he had to trash me so often and that I was so ashamed for what he had to do. He didn't interrupt me; all the time I sobbed my heart out he did nothing. I went further back to when I was young and I told him I would do everything just for being held and stroked once again by him like he did then before I would be happy to die.

Eventually my sobbing faded into a faint weeping. As I regained my sensed I suddenly realized there was another one crying in the room. I was lifted from the floor and I felt my master's arms around my boyish chest. I pressed me against him and as I opened my eyes I saw tears in his face. It was as if someone had hit me into my stomach. I felt even worse: I had made my master crying.

I will never forget the following night. Master carried me into a spare bedroom, tossed me onto a bed and shed his own clothes. Though I don't know everything what he did to me anymore I know I was the happiest slave on earth afterwards. He made my body feel so wonderful I never thought anything could feel. We were both totally exhausted and for the first time in years I slept beside my master.

That night changed my life again. At least once a week I spent a night with my master. He taught me new ways to pleasure him and I'm proud to say I did well. Of course I was shocked as he lined his cock up against my sphincter for the first time after that day but after he told me that he would be pleased I knew it was alright. It hurt like hell but this time I knew it was for him so I wasn't ashamed anymore.

Master didn't need to spank me anymore to please little Gerald. The boy simply did it himself. He knew for long he had total power over me so he just ordered me to bend over and I had to obey. His favourite implement was a long wooden ruler his father had made him as he started school. Although his was still quite a little boy he knew how to make me crying, especially by taking care my balls didn't escape the trashing.

Master Gerald was always very demanding, some would say he was a spoiled brat. I had to do everything for him but the best I could expect from him was not to be trashed. The time he had broken his legs was the worst. He was frustrated about not being able to run around he vented his feelings on me. There were very few days I didn't cry myself into sleep and that were the days I spent with my master.

Growing older he became more and more interested in sexual actions. I spent hours pleasing him without a chance for relief for myself. He let me feel every minute that he was the master and I was a slave. The boy was so different to his father, who tried to please me as much as I pleased him. While we had sex master almost treated me as an equal as far as a man could with a boy.

Gerald slowly became a teen and I a young man. Master had long ago stopped sleeping with his wife and had bought her a castrated boy for her pleasure. I spent more time in my master's bedroom then in the cage that had replaced the crate I slept in as boy although Gerald liked to lock me away after he had fucked me, mostly quite brutal. He was a sadist, right from his birth, and I was his favourite victim.

I couldn't count all the canings, whippings and floggings I got from my young master. I took them as best I could. He never stopped torturing my cock and balls, especially when he knows I was to join his father's bed. Master was unable to control his son but tried to comfort me the best he could until he passed away. It was me who held his hand and closed his eyes after he said his last goodbye.

The best thing of my time with my young master was that he taught my how to read, write and do some math so I could do his homework. These skills allow me to write this short story of my life, now that it is going to change entirely. Rumours say someone will come to free all slaves. I don't know whether this is true or not, all I want is a fair master to please with all my heart; someone who doesn't care I'm black.

The End