WannabeWhitman

The Adventures of Stampley Plantation

Chapters 8-9

Chapter 8
The Plantation Puppeteer

Elijah and Thad stumbled out of the Big House like newborn calves struggling to stand on wobbling legs. Neither boy spoke a word as they walked toward the slave cabins. They were stunned and shamed by what they'd just suffered at the hands of their new Master, and their youth and innocence left them tragically unprepared to process such troubling emotions. The peace and quiet of a normal sunny afternoon presented a sharp contrast to the dark depravities they'd just endured, and the cheerful sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the wind seemed to mock their disturbed states of mind.

Elijah had left the Big House with a heavy heart on many afternoons, but today his shame and sadness was far more severe than usual. Before today, he'd always felt dirty and disgusted on his hikes back to the slave cabins after being molested by Master James. But at least on those days he could find comfort in the fact that his shame was solitary, something private and detached that he could suffer alone, separate from his ordinary life in the slave quarters.

But Master James had spoiled all that by dragging Elijah's little brother into one of their encounters. Elijah winced as he recalled his helplessness and humiliation while Master James groped, fingered, and raped him in front of the horrified Thad. He fought back tears as he realized that his role as the strong, perfect, admired older brother had probably been forever ruined in Thad's mind by the image of Elijah on all fours, having a white man's dick shoved in his shit-hole while he called himself the degrading names he knew Master James wanted to hear.

But that had been only half of the morning's nightmare. Elijah's most intense shame came from the fact that he'd cooperated in Thad's corruption, obeying the Master's orders to kiss, grope, finger, and fuck his own innocent little brother. Not only that, but something deep down inside had caused him to take pleasure in raping his younger brother, bucking into Thad like a wild horse and shooting his juices deep into his brother's bony little butt.

Elijah cringed as the memories of Thad's tears and screams echoed in his mind. He knew his brother's screams were only partly due to the pain caused by having his asshole ripped open for the very first time; they were also screams of disillusionment and betrayal. Thad had looked to him for leadership and protection. Thad had probably hoped Elijah would spit in the mean Master's face and rescue him from such a horrible fate, running far, far away from the evils of Stampley Plantation. When Elijah failed to do that, Thad had at least trusted Elijah's promises to be gentle and caring, and surrendered for the sake of earning a reunion with a father he could probably barely remember. But possessed by some demon of desire, Elijah had enjoyed Thad's body as enthusiastically and selfishly as Master James had enjoyed Elijah's own body so many nights before.

Elijah's shame could no longer be solitary. It would now overshadow every look, every conversation, every memory between he and Thad, standing as a constant source of tension, distrust, and distance between them. Even if Thad could forgive him, things would never be the same again.

As the two boys stumbled their way in a gloomy daze toward the slave quarters, Elijah glanced nervously at Thad. The younger boy stared sullenly at the ground. Elijah noticed there were still tearstains on Thad's toffee-colored cheeks, and some of Master James's dried spunk still caked in his hair. Instead of skipping playfully across the grass, Thad dragged his feet sluggishly and aimlessly forward, like a drunken man seeking solitude and shelter. In the place of his usual beaming smile, there was a look of troubled seriousness far beyond his ten years of age.

"You 3; you alright, Thad?" Elijah asked gently.

Thad's head jerked up, startled by his brother's voice. He mumbled something Elijah couldn't understand.

"You wanna use the outhouse?" Elijah asked kindly, thinking of the urge he usually felt to get rid of the Master's spunk after his ordeals in the Big House. Only this time, Elijah thought guiltily, the juices Thad needed to expel were Elijah's own.

Thad looked embarrassed and irritated, but nodded in assent. As soon as they reached the outhouses on the southern edge of the slave cabins, Thad dashed into the nearest shack.

Elijah leaned against a nearby tree while he waited for Thad to finish. Now that he was back in the familiar environment of his everyday life, and aware of the stench coming from the nearby outhouses, he felt disbelief and disgust that he'd found his little brother's bottom even remotely tempting in a sexual way. In broad daylight, away from Master James's oppressive presence, Elijah found the idea of putting his fingers and dick in Thad's shit-hole to be gross and unnatural.

Maybe the new Master was some kind of white conjure-man who'd put a spell on him. How else could Elijah explain that morning's sudden desire to mount his little brother's ass the way he'd seen Jacob mounting Sophy that afternoon in the barn?

Several minutes later, Thad exited the outhouse, avoiding eye contact with his older brother.

"Follow me, Thad," Elijah said. "I'll show you the secret spot where I always wash up after 3; after bein' with Massuh James."

He led his little brother through the woods until they reached the spot in the creek where none of the other slave children ever swam or fished.

"This be the best place to wash up without nobody disturbin' you," Elijah explained.

Thad nodded listlessly, like a boy in the midst of sleepwalking. He stood staring blankly at the creek in front of him, hesitating to remove his clothes.

"Well, hurry up, now!" Elijah urged impatiently, hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. "We ain't got all day, Thad. We gotta be back 'fore Mama get home."

Thad shot his older brother a suspicious look, then slowly unbuttoned his tattered shirt. Elijah hated the palpable new tension between them. He and Thad had been naked around each other hundreds of times before, but this was the first time it had ever felt awkward or unnatural.

"It hurtin' real bad, ain't it?" Elijah asked sympathetically. Stripped completely naked, he stepped into the creek and sank into its cool, soothing embrace.

Thad's face stiffened in response to Elijah's question.

"Yeah, it hurts somethin' awful," Thad mumbled, still looking away from his older brother. "It feel like somethin' on fire down there."

"Yeah, it felt like that for me too, the first time," Elijah explained. "Sittin' in the water helps cool it off, though."

Thad threw his shirt to the ground, yanked his pants to his ankles, and hurriedly jumped into the creek to hide his nudity. He gasped in pain as the cool water made contact with his torn, burning asshole. He bit his bottom lip to keep from crying in front of his big brother, but despite his best efforts, salty tears began streaming down his cheeks.

"C'mon, Thad," Elijah said reassuringly. "Things gonna be alright, you'll see."

He moved forward to hug his weeping brother, but Thad recoiled from Elijah's approach.

"I'se sorry, Thad, I promise I'se real sorry," Elijah said desperately. "You know I love you and ain't wanna let him hurt you like that. But we slaves, Thad, meanin' we ain't got no choice 'cept to do what Massuh say."

The tears flowed furiously down Thad's cheeks. Thad jerked his head up from its sullen scowl, shot his brother an angry look, and blurted out, "Yeah, but you ain't have to like it!"

Elijah flinched, painfully aware of the truth in his brother's accusation.

"No, it ain't like that, Thad," he stuttered.

"Why was you pantin' and moanin', then, huh, 'Lij?" Thad shot back. "And why was your thing all hard, just like dogs when they be in heat? And don't think I ain't feel you shoot that nasty stuff inside me, just like Massuh did on my back! Looked to me like you was likin' it just the same as him, and he nothin' but an ugly, mean white man!"

Thad's tirade trailed off into angry sobs.

Elijah felt like he was trapped in a nightmare. It was devastating to hear Thad so angry with him, because up to that point he'd never expressed anything but affection and admiration for Elijah.

"Naw, it ain't like that, Thad, you gotta believe me!" Elijah pleaded, feeling even worse knowing it was partly a lie. "I was puttin' on a show for Massuh James, that's all, hopin' he'd like it and help us get Daddy back. I ain't wanna hurt you, but you wanna see Daddy again, don't you?"

"Yeah," Thad mumbled, sniffling and wiping his nose with his hand.

"I know what Massuh made us do was nasty," Elijah continued. "But for some reason he likes doin' gross things with boys like us, and I was just givin' him what he wanted. Everything gonna be alright when Daddy get back, you'll see."

"You tellin' the truth, 'Lij?" Thad asked, his young voice eager to trust his older brother again. "You ain't enjoy puttin' your thing inside me?"

"I swear on Mama and Daddy," Elijah declared, sensing that he was winning Thad over, at least for the moment.

Thad looked skeptical, but shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "I just hope Massuh don't make us do none of that nasty stuff ever again. That man give me the creeps. And my butt hurt so bad I can't hardly walk."

The two boys slipped into silence as they scrubbed their bodies and washed their hair. As they put their dirty clothes back on, Elijah turned to Thad, and in a grave tone of voice warned, "Don't tell Mama, Thad. It be bad enough she know about me, but if she find out Massuh been hurtin' you too, it'll prolly kill her."

The attempted deceptions of two young boys are no match for a mother's intuition, and Phoebe had been home no more than an hour that evening before noticing a difference in the appearance and behavior of her youngest child.

She first sensed something was wrong when Thad failed to greet her with his usual smile and energetic hug when she returned from working in the fields. Instead, she came home to both boys sound asleep.

Her uneasiness grew when Thad spoke no more than four words over supper, a sharp contrast to the lively stories of his day's adventures that usually entertained her each night. At first she thought he might be sick, but he didn't have a fever, or seem to be in any physical pain 3; except that he walked sort of slowly and stiffly.

Sort of the way Elijah had moved after his first night in the Big House.

At first she pushed the possibility from her mind. Certainly the new Master couldn't be vile enough to take pleasure from the body of a boy as young and undeveloped as Thad! And even if his perversions did involve such extremes, what was the likelihood that out of all the slave boys on Stampley Plantation, he'd choose both of her sons for his evil purposes?

Phoebe tried to stifle her rising panic when both Elijah and Thad refused her friendly invitation to join her in a game of checkers. She was used to such moody refusals from Elijah, especially since his regular visits to the Big House. But she couldn't remember a single time Thad had responded to such an offer with anything but beaming grins and celebratory acrobatics around the kitchen table.

"What's the matter, baby?" Phoebe asked, pulling Thad into her arms and stroking his crispy hair with her hands. She tried not to let her voice betray the hysteria rising within her chest.

"Nothin'," Thad mumbled, staring at the ground.

Phoebe had never known her son to be evasive or avoid eye contact.

"You get in a fight today, baby?" she asked, desperately hoping the answer was "yes."

Thad shook his head 'no.' His body was stiff beneath her touch, and Phoebe noticed a rogue tear running down his cheek.

That was all she needed to confirm her darkest fears. She released Thad from her embrace, and staggered up from her seat. The room was spinning around her. She clutched the back of a chair and shot a quizzical look in Elijah's direction. Elijah pretended to play with a centipede crawling across the cabin's dirt floor.

"That bastard fetched Thad up to the Big House, didn't he?!?" Phoebe could barely choke out the question.

Elijah looked up with an expression that revealed everything.

What happened next was a nightmarish blur in Elijah's memory. His mother let out the most heartbreaking shriek he'd ever heard in his life, then collapsed to the floor in convulsive sobs.

"Not my baby boy 3;" she wailed over and over. "Not my little Thad, not my baby boy!"

The sobbing was followed by more hysterical screaming. Phoebe had survived years of sexual abuse at the hands of smelly, violent overseers. She'd endured the sale of her husband to another plantation. She'd even stayed strong when her 14-year-old son had been snatched away to be the sexual plaything of the new Master, standing helplessly by while his innocence and zest for life was slowly snuffed out before her very eyes. She'd told herself there was nothing the white devils could do to spoil the joy she felt because of her two sons, short of selling Elijah and Thad away from her. But her imagination was no match for the white folks' perversions, and Phoebe hadn't considered the possibility of them snatching away Thad's innocence, at least not for several more years.

This was too much, she thought to herself. This was it, her breaking point. She'd rather be raped a dozen times a day for the rest of her life, if it meant she would spare her little boy his suffering at the hands of the lecherous new Master. The thought of the white man raping her young and helpless son broke her heart and filled her with a desperate, wild rage.

"Not my little boy 3;" she muttered over and over, only now it took on a more threatening tone.

All rationality completely fled her mind. She stood up and looked frantically around the room, seeking out any object she could use to inflict pain, and hopefully death, on the new Master. If she ran fast enough, she could grab the poking stick from the fire, storm the Big House, and burn out the new Master's eyes while he ate supper. Then she would set the entire plantation-house ablaze. If she was lucky, she could run away with Thad and Elijah before any of the house slaves or overseers discovered her crime.

She continued exhaling explosive screams, venting her rage as she yanked the poking-stick from the fire.

"Calm down, Mama!" Elijah pleaded. This was a side of his mother he'd never seen, and it scared him. He could hear Thad crying in the background. "Massuh James gonna help us get Daddy back! But he axed to meet Thad first 3; so we had to do it, Mama, to help get Daddy back!"

Phoebe whirled around, still holding the flaming poking-stick. A brief, intense look of compassion passed across her face. Then she burst into cackling, maniacal laughter, which then morphed into mournful wailing.

"Oh baby, my poor baby," she moaned. "White folks ain't nothin' but thieves and liars, 'Lij. White men'll promise you gold and heaven if they think it'll help 'em have they way with you. Your Daddy ain't never comin' back, baby."

Elijah collapsed on his bed in stunned defeat, next to the sobbing Thad.

Phoebe took a deep breath and wiped her nose with her free hand.

"But the new Massuh's 'bout to be one white man who gonna pay for his sins."

Still holding the fiery poking-stick, Phoebe stormed out the front door and proceeded to march down the center lane between the slave cabins, toward the Big House.

By this time, people were coming out of their cabins to see what all the screams were about. Penny – Lil Rooster's mother, who lived with her husband in the cabin next door to Phoebe's – was one of the first to see Phoebe rushing toward the Big House, and she knew something terrible was about to happen. Not wanting to see her friend whipped or hanged, Penny ran after Phoebe, and tackled her to the ground. The tussle to the ground extinguished the poking-stick's flame, and Phoebe eventually surrendered into Penny's sympathetic arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

Penny took Phoebe into Penny's own cabin, where she fixed the distraught woman a hot drink made with local healing herbs. She later informed Elijah that his mother had taken on a serious fever, and that it would be best if she spent the next several nights in Penny's cabin, where she'd be under constant supervision and prevented from doing anything dangerous or suicidal.

To make room for Phoebe in Penny's cabin, her two sons, Lil Rooster and Spider, would need to stay with Elijah and Thad.

When Penny escorted her two sons into Elijah's cabin later that night, kissing them goodnight and instructing them to behave, Lil Rooster responded with a quiet, obedient "Yes, Mama." But the instant the cabin door shut behind her, he turned immediately back into his typically loud, cocky, obnoxious self.

"So I guess the rumors be true, about you bein' the new Massuh's pussy-boy and all," he said matter-of-factly, grinning and straddling backwards one of the kitchen chairs.

Spider, a skinny little boy about Thad's age, with the same piercing blue eyes, high cheekbones, 'good' raven-black hair, and high-yellow skin as his older brother, sat quietly on the bed next to the sniffling Thad. He wasn't sure what to say to comfort his friend.

Thad shot Lil Rooster an angry scowl, thinking about their recent fight.

"Damn, 'Lij," Lil Rooster continued, shifting his chair to face Elijah, who sat sullenly on Phoebe's bed in the corner of the cabin. "They told me the new Massuh like nigger-boys 'stead of pussy, but I ain't wanna believe it. I see now it ain't no lie. Yo' Mama done lost her damn mind, and seem to me there's only but one reason for it."

"Shut your ugly yellow mouth 'bout my Mama!" Elijah blurted out, standing up as if to fight. Elijah was used to Lil Rooster always running his mouth, but somehow they'd managed to remain friends. But now Lil Rooster was taking things too far.

"Calm down, 'Lij, calm down," Lil Rooster said, laughing and flashing a wide mouth full of pretty white teeth. "Damn, boy, I see the new Massuh already done turned you into a little bitch, whinin' and cryin' like you ain't got no balls 'tween yo' legs."

Elijah slumped back down on the bed with a scowl on his face.

Lil Rooster's words hit a nerve, partly because he and the other slave boys always felt embarrassed next to Lil Rooster when they'd swim together naked in the creek, their own dicks looking like tiny worms compared to Lil Rooster's gigantic gorilla. But his words also struck a nerve because they articulated Elijah's own sense that Master James had somehow stolen a part of his manhood that first night his asshole was forced open by the white man's dick, and had continued destroying his masculine pride and confidence with every degrading act he'd been subjected to since then.

"So what it like, bein' a pussy-boy for the new Massuh?" Lil Rooster asked.

Even though Lil Rooster was grinning from ear to ear, Elijah thought he detected a hint of anxiety behind the question.

"Ain't none of your business!" Thad blurted out angrily.

"What you gonna do, fight me again?" Lil Rooster asked, laughing.

Spider shifted nervously on the bed, torn between defending his friend and laughing along with his older brother.

"You a feisty little nigger, Thad, and I can respect that," Lil Rooster continued. "Too bad the new Massuh's gotta go and make a little girl outta you."

"I ain't no girl!" Thad shouted defiantly. But the memory of being forced to all fours while Elijah mounted him from behind taunted him far worse than anything Lil Rooster could have said.

"If you suck dick and take it up your booty-hole, you a little bitch to my mind," Lil Rooster declared. "'Specially if it be a white man's dick. Hell, ain't no cracker dick comin' anywhere close to this nigger!"

Elijah chuckled dryly to himself.

"Somethin' funny about that, pussy-boy?" Lil Rooster asked.

"Yeah, you'se funny," Elijah explained, shaking his head. "You be talkin' all 'white man' this, and 'cracker' that, when you'se nearly a white boy yo'self!"

Lil Rooster's bullying grin turned into a surprised frown. Even though he and Elijah were the same age, he always behaved like the older of the two, and he didn't like having the roles reversed.

"Just look at yo'self," Elijah continued, sensing he had the upper hand, at least for the moment. "You nearly just as white as Mistuh Snopes. You think you some full-blooded African just cuz you got a big ol' dick 'tween yo' legs? Ain't nobody come from Africa lookin' yellow as you is! You lucky Massuh James only likes hisself some real niggers, cuz you sho ain't that."

For a second, Lil Rooster was speechless. He was used to his blue eyes, high-yellow skin, and silky dark hair being admired and envied by dark-skinned niggers. His light complexion meant he was a superior nigger; he didn't like to think it might mean he was somehow less than other niggers 3; or even worse, white.

"FUCK you!" was the first thing Lil Rooster could think to say in response, his nostrils flaring in defensive anger. "At least I ain't some nappy-headed, monkey-lookin', cocksuckin', dick-takin', pussy-boy nigger like you is!"

Elijah sensed things were spiraling out of control. He and Lil Rooster had put each other through plenty of good-natured ribbing before, but this felt different. There was a rising hostility in the exchange that made him feel sad and regretful, like he was losing his best friend.

"Take it easy, Roost," Elijah said nervously. "I ain't mean nothin' by it. 'Sides, you the one started it."

But Lil Rooster was too hotheaded to calm down after having his good looks insulted.

"'Take it easy, take it easy,'" he said, mocking Elijah's peace-making with an obnoxious lisp. "Just listen to you, backin' off from a fight like a little sissy. Hell, your little brother more a man than you is! I guess that's cuz you used to bein' on yo' knees suckin' Massuh's dick all day long!"

"Shut up," Elijah mumbled, wanting this nightmare of a day to be over with.

"Maybe I do got some white in me," Lil Rooster persisted. "But at least I ain't never had no dick in me! Never sucked no dick, and sho as hell never will. And my booty-hole ain't but for one thing, and it sho ain't bein' used like pussy. Hell, if that cracker even thinks of touchin' on me, he best be ready to lose an eye first! Cuz I damn sho ain't no pussy-boy like you or that nigger Nelson. You know Nelson?"

Elijah nodded. He only knew what Nelson looked like, but he'd never noticed anything weird or bad about him.

"They say Nelson was a pussy-boy too," Lil Rooster continued. "'Fore Massuh Walt bought him. And I heard some other niggers talkin' 'bout how he still like doin' that nasty shit. They say he be offerin' to suck niggers' dicks, like the white folks done turned him into a dick-suckin' zombie or some shit like that. Is that what you is?"

Elijah blushed a deep purple. "It 3; it ain't like that," he struggled to explain.

He felt a sudden need to prove to his friend, and perhaps to himself, that he had no choice but to cooperate with Master James's demands.

"It ain't that easy. You got no idea what the new Massuh be like, Roost. The first night he 3; the first night we was together 3; he told me he was gonna whip Mama and Thad and sell 'em away from me 'less I did what I was told."

Elijah's eyes welled up with tears as he recalled the confusion and trauma of that first night in Master James's bedroom.

"He just be sayin' that shit to scare you into givin' it up," Lil Rooster scoffed, ignoring Elijah's tears. "Ain't nobody can put they dick in yo' mouth or ass 'less you let 'em. So all's I can figure is that you like that nasty shit. That true, 'Lij? You like dick 'stead of pussy?"

"No," Elijah mumbled, still trying to fight back the tears building up in response to the day's tragic events – the ordeal in Master James's bedroom, the new and awful distance between he and Thad, his mother's nervous breakdown, and now the realization that his best friend had turned on him.

"Huh?" Lil Rooster taunted, standing up from the chair he'd been straddling. "I can't hear you. I axed if you like dick 'stead of pussy, nigger."

"Leave him alone!" Thad shouted, feeling sorry for his older brother.

"Yeah, leave him be, Roost," Spider's high-pitched voice chimed in.

But these interruptions only encouraged Lil Rooster to take his verbal assault even further.

"Now see, me 3; I likes the taste of pussy," Lil Rooster boasted. "But sounds to me like you likes the taste of big, sweaty dick. Hell, you prolly droolin' over mine right now!"

Lil Rooster smiled the smile that had seduced dozens of slave girls and women, grabbed his crotch with his right hand, and shoved it forward with a playful, cocky thrust.

Elijah looked away, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Awwww, c'mon now, baby, don't be shy," Lil Rooster teased. "You know you been wantin' a taste."

Lil Rooster yanked down the front of his tattered cotton pants, and pulled out his notoriously large dick. Even though all three boys had seen Lil Rooster's penis plenty of times before, they stared in wide-eyed awe and envy. Beneath a curly patch of coal-black pubic hair, hung a dick that rivaled the length and girth of most horses. It was a rich, golden hue, darker than the rest of Lil Rooster's skin, and circumcised.

Lil Rooster laughed at Elijah's blatant staring. "Look at you, droolin' over my dick like it's Christmas dinner! You really is a cocksucker! Now let's see just how good a little cocksucker you is."

He stepped forward and jiggled his huge appendage just inches from Elijah's face. Elijah squeezed his eyes and lips shut in resistance and embarrassment. Lil Rooster moved even closer, and rubbed his soft, sweaty dick against Elijah's thick purple lips.

"You like that, bitch?" Lil Rooster taunted. "You like lickin' balls too? Or just lickin' ass?"

Both Thad and Spider scrunched up their noses in disgust. Ass-licking was an activity from which Thad had thankfully been spared that morning, and he couldn't imagine anybody, even Master James, wanting to do something that gross.

"I just loves havin' my balls and booty-hole licked," Lil Rooster continued his obnoxious performance. "I betcha the new Massuh done trained you to lick balls and booty-holes REAL good, huh?"

"Leave me alone!" Elijah blurted out, ducking away from Lil Rooster's dick. He exploded into loud, wrenching sobs. He flopped onto his stomach and buried his face in his mother's blanket, shaking with uncontrollable tears.

Lil Rooster pulled up his pants in an arrogant gesture of victory.

"Damn, boy, I was just playin' witchu." He laughed nervously and looked over at Thad and Spider. Thad glared at him resentfully, and Spider looked awkwardly at the ground.

"That right there, boys," Lil Rooster said, pointing at Elijah's body, now curled into the fetal position and still heaving with sobs, "is what they calls a pussy-boy."

Elijah cried himself to sleep that night. It was a restless night's sleep, thanks to the fact that he had to share his mother's bed with Lil Rooster, whose lanky legs kept kicking him throughout the night. He also had to suffer through the sounds of the snoring Spider, who took Elijah's usual spot in the bed with Thad.

Both Elijah and Thad spent the majority of the next day in bed, while Lil Rooster and Spider joined the other slave children in their normal outdoor games. Thad and Elijah felt sapped of all motivation to do anything beyond sleeping, eating, and using the outhouse.

At several points throughout the day, Elijah ventured sleepily over to the cabin next door to check on his mother, who was being nursed by one of the elderly slave women while Penny and her husband worked in the fields. But every time, he was shooed away by the nurse because his mother was sound asleep.

Elijah felt like his life was spinning out of control. All the comforts of family, home, and friendship had been snatched away, replaced by instability and sorrow. Every time someone passed by his cabin's door, Elijah's body grew tense with anxiety, wondering if it would be an overseer fetching him or Thad back to the Big House. When night approached and there was still no word from Master James, Elijah breathed a sigh of relief and hoped it was a sign that the white man was keeping his promise to find their father, despite what his mother had screamed about such promises being empty lies.

Lil Rooster didn't return to the cabin until well past midnight. He reeked of whiskey and bragged about how he'd just fucked Laney in her cabin while her brother Jacob was with the new Master on an overnight trip to Columbus.

Elijah winced with jealousy at the mention of Laney's name, wishing it had been him enjoying the pretty girl instead of a cocky jerk like Lil Rooster. But petty jealousy was quickly forgotten when he heard the news that Master James was taking an out-of-town trip. Elijah's heart skipped a beat when he realized this meant that perhaps Master James was keeping his promise after all. Perhaps he'd return with Daddy, Elijah thought excitedly, and everything would return to normal.

Hopeful daydreams kept Elijah awake for several hours, but eventually he fell into a deep but troubled sleep. He dreamed of flashbacks to the previous morning: Thad was naked and on all fours, screaming and crying while Elijah thrust his dick into his little brother's butt. Despite Thad's cries of pain, Elijah was enjoying a pleasure more intense than any he'd ever experienced. He wished he could enjoy the warm, squishy ecstasy of Thad's tight little ass for hours on end 3;

Elijah jerked awake, and felt guiltily disappointed that he'd only been dreaming. His rock-hard dick tented against his cotton pants. He knew such behavior was wrong and repulsive; but to his dick, it was an addictive pleasure he was eager to experience again.

What the hell's wrong with me? Elijah thought to himself, sleepily rubbing his eyes. What kind of person dreams about fucking his little brother? Still, he couldn't deny it had felt good, far better than jerking himself off had ever felt. Part of him, way deep down, almost hoped Master James would order him to do it again. The idea of never enjoying Thad's ass again was disturbingly depressing. Was Master James's desire for boys some kind of contagious sickness that he'd passed on to Elijah? Two days ago, the idea of putting his dick in Thad's shit-hole would have been nauseating. But now he was wide awake in the middle of the night, craving that very same thing. Maybe Lil Rooster was right, and he really was turning into a 'pussy-boy.'

Elijah looked over to see if Lil Rooster was still asleep. The moonlight coming through the cabin windows illuminated the body of the shirtless teenage boy. Lil Rooster was lying flat on his stomach, his head turned away from Elijah, snoring in a drunken slumber. Elijah noticed that at some point during the night, Lil Rooster's pants had been pushed partway down, so that the upper slopes of the boy's round ass-cheeks, and the top inches of his ass-crack, were exposed.

Elijah stared as if hypnotized by the sight. Before tonight, he'd never given a second's thought to his friend's ass. But tonight it suddenly fascinated him as a thing of great beauty, an irresistible temptation.

Transfixed, Elijah turned on his side to take a longer, closer look at his best friend's ass. It was definitely fuller and more muscular than Thad's bony little butt. A sheen of sweat spread across Lil Rooster's back, glistening in the moonlight and continuing into the crevice of the teenage boy's ass-crack.

The sweat suggested warmth and moisture, and for a brief moment Elijah wondered what it would feel like to bury his dick between Lil Rooster's firm, sweaty mounds. Perhaps pushing even deeper, into the tiny clenched circle hidden between, shoving into the boy's hot, forbidden insides. Elijah's dick hardened as he wondered if Lil Rooster's ass would feel as good as Thad's 3; perhaps even better?

What the hell am I thinking? Elijah reflected with shame and confusion. Lil Rooster's ass was probably filthy and smelly, certainly not something worth staring at or getting a hard-on about. He should be dreaming about Laney's soft, pert breasts, or the mysterious area between her legs, not salivating over his best friend's ass.

Elijah felt an intense hatred for Master James, who'd poisoned his innocent mind with such disgusting ideas. But like it or not, the ideas were there, and hard as he tried, he couldn't shake them out of his head long enough to fall back asleep.

In fact, Elijah felt a sudden, irresistible urge to reach out and touch Lil Rooster's butt. He was suddenly possessed with the curiosity to feel the shape, skin, and firmness of the half-naked ass just inches away. Maybe he could do it gently and quietly enough that the sleeping boy would never know. Thad and Spider were sound asleep on the other side of the room, and Lil Rooster had been so drunk that even awake he probably wouldn't know what was happening.

Elijah's dick twitched with excitement at the idea of cupping Lil Rooster's half-bare ass in his hand. The room seemed eerily quiet, and Elijah feared that even the slightest sigh would stir Lil Rooster or one of the younger boys from their sleep. But his aroused dick chased all caution from his mind, and he knew it was a risk he'd have to take.

Elijah's heart pounded in his chest as he reached slowly across Lil Rooster's sleeping body and placed his hand gently on the boy's left butt-cheek, resting it there before proceeding any further. Elijah froze as Lil Rooster mumbled something in his sleep, shifting his sprawling legs before settling back into a deep sleep.

Elijah laid his hand there like that for what seemed like hours, not daring to make another move until confident he wouldn't be caught. He shivered with a strange thrill at the firm, fleshy feel of the ass-cheek beneath his hand, and grew eager to continue his forbidden exploration.

Holding his breath, Elijah cautiously lifted his hand, then placed it down on Lil Rooster's right butt-cheek. Its taut, muscular fleshiness felt about the same as the other one he'd just touched. Instinctively, Elijah reached his free hand beneath the waistband of his own pants, and played with his own dick as he savored the taboo thrill of fondling Lil Rooster in his sleep.

Emboldened by his success so far, Elijah began to stroke and massage both of Lil Rooster's buttocks – gently, breathlessly at first, then with lustful urgency. He knew that what he was doing was weird and gross, but he was caught up in a frenzy of inexplicable curiosity and desire. The mounds of Lil Rooster's ass seemed perfectly shaped, and he enjoyed the feeling of their flesh kneaded beneath his palm and fingers.

Elijah's breathing grew heavier, and he stroked his own dick with increased vigor. Occasionally, Lil Rooster shifted and moaned in his sleep, causing Elijah to snatch his hand away in panic. Only when Elijah could hear his friend's drunken snoring resume would he continue his clumsy, eager groping.

When massaging through the boy's pants grew tiresome, Elijah boldly slipped his hand under the waistband of Lil Rooster's pants, grasping at the naked, fleshy mounds beneath. The touch of his friend's smooth, sweaty skin was oddly exciting, and Elijah yanked on his own dick all the more furiously.

Working himself into an almost feverish frenzy, he pressed his middle finger into the tight, moist crevice of Lil Rooster's ass-crack. But Elijah didn't dare push deep enough to touch the boy's asshole, for fear that sudden contact with such a sensitive body part would almost certainly wake his friend and be met with the most unpleasant of reactions.

Stroking his own dick faster and harder, Elijah closed his eyes and savored the strangely stimulating touch of his friend's muscled teenage ass. Running his fingers up and down the boy's tightly clenched ass-crack, Elijah fantasized about prying it open with his own throbbing dick. He imagined plunging his hungry cock into the private, tiny hole hidden between the two mounds of bronze flesh, just as he'd done to his little brother that morning.

Lil Rooster's macho pride and obnoxious bullying made the idea of fucking him all the more appealing. Elijah pictured Lil Rooster's cocky grin giving way to gasps of pain and cries for mercy as Elijah ripped open his previously unexplored asshole. The image of Lil Rooster on all fours, his body heaving forward with every forceful thrust, was enough to push Elijah over the edge of orgasm. Realizing what was about to happen, Elijah pulled his hand away from Lil Rooster's ass, laid on his back, grabbed his dick in his right hand, and shot three long ropes of creamy cum onto his hairless, chocolate-colored stomach, stifling a cry of concentrated euphoric pleasure.

He lay like that for several minutes, his bony adolescent ribcage heaving up and down from one of the strangest orgasms of his young life. Afraid that Lil Rooster might wake up to see the puddle of cum on Elijah's stomach, he hurriedly mopped it up with his shirt, which had been lying on the floor beside the bed.

The next morning, Elijah could barely look Lil Rooster in the eye.

In the post-orgasmic glare of broad daylight, he felt shame over what he'd done the night before. To Elijah's great relief, Lil Rooster spoke of nothing but his horrible hangover, and seemed barely able to remember his sexual romp with Laney, let alone any unusual occurrences while he slept.

Elijah was eager to rinse away the memories of the previous night's compulsive behavior, and needed to clean his shirt which was crunchy with dried cum, so Elijah spent an hour or so that morning washing his body and clothes in the creek.

Refreshed by his bath and encouraged by the news that Master James was taking a trip to Columbus, Elijah decided to enjoy an afternoon of fishing, something he hadn't done since being subjected to the demanding schedule of a sexual slave.

When he returned to the cabin after his wash, Elijah found Thad still in bed, curled into the fetal position and staring sadly at the wall, just as Elijah had done after his first encounter with Master James. Elijah asked his little brother to join him on his fishing trip, knowing the fresh air and comfort of a familiar routine would do the boy some good, but Thad shook his head in solemn refusal. It pained Elijah to see Thad so uncharacteristically sad and sedate, especially since he knew he was partly to blame. At least Elijah gained some comfort in his growing confidence that their father would be home soon, and everything would be back to normal.

These hopes were encouraged later that night. Lil Rooster burst through the front door, breathless and wild-eyed, and announced that he had some juicy gossip to share. According to word spreading throughout the slave quarters, the new Master had just returned to Stampley Plantation, bloody and dirty after being beaten and robbed by Jacob the stable-boy, who ran away and was now the prey for one of Mr. Potter's notorious nigger-hunts. But the strangest part of all was that Master James showed up with a mysterious new slave, whose age, identity, and appearance none of the slave quarter gossips could agree on.

Elijah's heart pounded in his chest when he heard the news. He looked excitedly over at Thad, whose tired, sad eyes lit up with their first flares of hope in over two days. Certainly it couldn't be mere coincidence that two days after promising to find their father, Master James returned to Stampley Plantation with a 'new' male slave.

After everyone had gone to bed, Elijah still couldn't fall asleep. His mind raced in anticipation of the reunion to come, imagining the joy and protection it would restore to his life. He pictured his mother breaking out of her illness to greet her long-lost husband in a warm embrace. He envisioned Thad, laughing and playing like a normal kid again. He looked forward to a future when Master James would leave their family to live in peace – father, mother, and sons – while he used some other boy to satisfy his cravings. Maybe Elijah and Lil Rooster could even become regular friends again. If anybody could make everything right again, it was Daddy.

Elijah's excited mind expected a knock on the door at any minute. He imagined throwing the door open and jumping into his father's arms. If this didn't happen by the next morning, he told himself, he'd run up to the Big House to find his father and thank Master James. Surely Master James wouldn't disapprove of such an uninvited visit, not after going through such trouble to bring his father back.

Yes, that's what he'd do, Elijah decided as he finally drifted off into sleep. Tomorrow he'd visit the Big House, and bring his father back.

James was enjoying his best night's sleep since arriving at Stampley Plantation.

This was partly due to the fact that his battered body desperately needed rest after the ordeals of the past two days. But it was also largely thanks to the presence of the mulatto slave sleeping in the bed beside him, naked and snuggled against his body in a way Elijah had never done when sharing his bed.

After rinsing off with a second bath the night before, James had dried Abel off and led the nervous, naked houseboy upstairs, where he instructed Abel to spend the night with him. The warmth of the houseboy's smooth skin pressed against his own, combined with the rhythm of Abel's deep breathing, easily lulled James into a peaceful night of pleasant dreams.

The sound of soft knocking startled James from his slumber. He blinked open his eyes and glanced toward the bedroom windows. The faint sunlight peeking through suggested it was early morning.

His body froze in sudden panic, fearing it might be Becky knocking on his bedroom door, wondering why her son hadn't slept in his own bed that night. He dreaded her reaction upon discovering that her only son had been stolen away to be James's sexual plaything for the night. Becky had treated him with nothing but respect and affection since his arrival at Stampley Plantation, and James felt a pang of guilt for betraying her na‹ve but endearing trust.

James looked anxiously over at Abel, and was relieved to see the boy still sound asleep. He scrambled out of bed, wrapped a blanket around his nude body, and walked toward the bedroom door.

"Who's there?" James whispered nervously.

"It's me, Massuh James," replied a familiar voice. "Elijah."

James's brain reeled to pair the voice and name with an actual person in his life. So much had happened in just three days – the attack and rape by Jacob, his rescue by Frank Turner and Lucky, seducing Abel the night before – and the memories of the slave-boy Elijah now seemed like scenes from another lifetime. This initial murkiness quickly gave way to a rush of relief and recognition, and James felt the tingle of butterflies in his stomach. After all, it was less than a week since James had convinced himself he was falling hopelessly in love with the cute and adorable Elijah.

James opened the door and eagerly ushered Elijah inside, closing the door behind him. Elijah stood there, panting to catch his breath. The boy's eyes glowed with a happiness and excitement that had never before accompanied Elijah's visits to James's bedroom.

James smiled at the sight of the handsome slave-boy, and his stomach leapt into wild acrobatics. Seeing the scrawny, wooly-haired slave-boy standing in tattered rags before him, James realized how much he'd missed Elijah. Elijah's looks could never compare with the golden Adonis lying in James's bed, but still there was something surprisingly seductive about Elijah's disheveled, dirty appearance – something vulnerable and innocent – that Abel's groomed, light-skinned perfection could never match. James felt a sudden urge to seize the teenage boy in a big bear hug.

"I'se sorry, Massuh James," Elijah gasped, still catching his breath. "I know you said to wait, but I ain't hardly sleep at all last night I'se so happy, so I 'cided to come see you first thing this mornin', hopin' you ain't gonna be mad at me for not waitin', cuz they said you was goin' to Columbus, and then they was sayin' you come back with somebody new, so I was thinkin' it can't be nobody but Daddy, since you promised, and I was just burstin' to see my Daddy again and take him back to Thad and Mama, who's sick real bad from bein' sad and all, so I just couldn't wait no longer, and 3;"

Elijah spoke so quickly that James could barely keep up with him. When James finally realized Elijah's misunderstanding, his heart sank and his amused smile turned into a troubled frown.

"Elijah, I'm afraid you've got it all wrong," James explained softly, knowing he was about to break the young boy's heart. He hated himself for getting Elijah's hopes up in the first place.

"Your 3; your father's not here," James continued, wincing as he watched Elijah's optimism fade into confused disappointment. "I tried to keep my promise, I honestly did. But on my way to Columbus, where I hoped to speak to the people who could help me find him, I was attacked by my driver. The new man I brought back with me is the slave who helped rescue me, not your father."

Elijah staggered backwards, and for a second James thought the boy might faint. His mouth hung open in shock and bewilderment as he struggled to find his voice.

"You mean 3; you mean my Daddy ain't here?" Elijah asked, his raspy voice breaking with disappointment.

"I'm so sorry, Elijah," James said sympathetically. "I truly am. I tried to find your father, and I promise I'll continue trying to find him, but he's not here now, and there's still no guarantee we'll be able to find him."

Elijah was dizzy with shock and grief, like someone had just punched him in the gut. He wanted to dash out of Master James's bedroom, run deep into the woods, and curl up in some hollowed-out tree-trunk where he could cry. Tears burned in his eyes as he thought of his ecstatic hopes from the night before, hopes that now seemed reckless and foolish. Nothing had changed after all: his mother was still sick, Thad was still distant and depressed, and his best friend considered him a 'pussy-boy.' As hard as he tried, he couldn't fight back his tears, and finally burst into explosive sobs.

James rushed forward to comfort Elijah with a compassionate embrace. Elijah pressed his head against the white man's naked chest, while James tried to soothe him by stroking his tangled, wooly hair.

Although James embraced Elijah with the sole intention of comforting the distraught slave-boy, he couldn't deny deriving a selfish pleasure from the intimacy with Elijah's warm, trembling body. As he petted Elijah's head, he breathed in the unique smells of the teenage boy's greasy, nappy hair and sweaty Negro skin. His dick twitched guiltily at the feel of the boy's small body wrapped in his arms.

What the hell's wrong with me? James shuddered with shame and annoyance. This poor, heartbroken boy needed James's sympathy and support, but in a matter of seconds James was selfishly craving the slave-boy's flesh. The sickest part was that James was actually aroused by Elijah's grief and vulnerability. Seeing Elijah's distress and helplessness reminded James of his power over every aspect of the boy's life.

Perhaps it was a mistake to give Elijah's feelings any legitimacy in the first place. James's Northern sensibilities insisted on the equality and humanity of all individuals, regardless of skin color or social class, but perhaps such idealism was unhealthy and impractical in this brave new world of the South. If only he could rid himself of antiquated notions like 'equality' and 'compassion,' and adopt the amoral attitude of a man like Mr. Potter. After all, to men like him Negroes were the equivalent of land and cattle, and one wouldn't worry himself over the 'feelings' of a cow or horse.

But the scared young man, shaking and blubbering in his arms, still seemed all-too-human to James, and wouldn't it demand a sacrifice of his own humanity to ignore Elijah's suffering and pursue his own selfish pleasure?

James was still debating between sending Elijah back to the slave quarters, or throwing him on the bed and taking pleasure from his body despite the boy's tears, when he noticed that Elijah's noisy crying had waken up Abel. The mulatto houseboy was sitting upright in bed, rubbing his eyes and looking sleepily at the odd scene before him.

Elijah noticed for the first time that there was a third person in the room, and he stopped crying. He recognized Abel as the houseboy he'd seen on a couple occasions when sneaking away from Master James's bedroom. Elijah noticed that Abel appeared to be naked, and was surprised to feel a slight pang of jealousy. As much as he despised Master James, Elijah felt strangely hurt to realize that the older white man had abandoned him for another slave's affections so soon. Jealousy was quickly replaced by anger and panic, however, when Elijah realized that James's fickle interests might seriously jeopardize the search for his father. Elijah knew that his sexual appeal in the eyes of Master James was his only leverage on Stampley Plantation. But what if this light-skinned houseboy took that power away from him, sparing Elijah from Master James's unwanted affections, but spoiling all chances of bringing back his father?

James was caught off guard by this unexpected meeting between his two favorite slave-boys.

"Ummmm, I, er, uh 3; Abel, this is Elijah," James stuttered. "Elijah, this is Abel."

Elijah mumbled a greeting but averted his eyes to the floor. Elijah had been raised to believe that House Negroes were smarter, cleaner, and better looking than other Negroes, and almost as powerful as white folks.

Abel nodded shyly in Elijah's direction. It was extremely rare for him to meet other slaves, especially boys around his age.

James was amused by the awkward exchange between the boys. He wondered what each boy thought about the other, and felt a mischievous urge to watch the uncomfortable social interaction play out further.

"Elijah, why don't you have a seat on the bed next to Abel?" James suggested.

Elijah furrowed his brow skeptically, wiped his wet cheeks with his sleeves, and nervously sat down on the edge of the bed, facing James.

"Abel, why don't you come out from beneath the sheets and join Elijah on the edge of the bed?" James asked.

Abel's eyes grew wide in surprise and embarrassment.

"But, Master James," Abel stuttered. "I 3; I don't have any clothes on, remember?" Despite the previous night's initiation, Abel still thought it was wrong to be naked in front of other people.

James chuckled at Abel's endearing modesty. "Don't worry, Abel," he said calmly. "Being naked's nothing to be ashamed about. Besides, Elijah's seen me naked plenty of times before. Isn't that right, Elijah?"

Elijah blushed and looked at the floor without answering.

Abel struggled to comprehend the circumstances that could have led to Elijah's familiarity with Master James's nakedness.

"Don't worry, Abel," James continued. "Here in this bedroom, there's no such thing as rules or shame or modesty or morality, do you understand? In this bedroom we're free to be ourselves, to make up our own rules, and I say it's perfectly fine to be naked in front of each other."

And with that, James dropped the blanket he'd been holding around his waist, and stood completely nude in front of the two boys on the bed.

Abel looked nervously away from the older white man's nakedness. Worried that he might sabotage his newfound camaraderie with Master James, he crawled out from beneath the sheets. He swung his smooth, lanky legs over the edge of the bed, and sat next to Elijah, modestly covering his crotch with both hands. Both boys now sat on the edge of the bed about a foot [30 cm] apart, facing James.

"I just want to help the two of you get better acquainted," James explained, pulling up a chair to sit about five feet [1½ m] from the bed. "I like you both very much, so it's only natural that I'd want the two of you to get to know each other. There's no need to be so shy."

Both boys stole nervous, skeptical glances at one another. Neither boy knew what Master James wanted them to say to one another.

"How old are you?" Abel asked quietly, uneasy with the awkward silence.

"I'se fourteen," Elijah replied, making brief, wary eye contact with the older boy beside him. "You?"

"I'm sixteen," Abel answered. After another long pause, he asked, "Have you been at Stampley all your life?"

"Yeah," Elijah mumbled, intimidated by the houseboy's 'proper' speech.

"Me too," Abel said. "We probably played together when we were little, before my mother stopped letting me play with the other children."

"Yeah, I reckon maybe we did," Elijah replied. He vaguely remembered playing with a white-looking boy when he was little, until the boy mysteriously disappeared from the group one day. "You got any brothers or sisters?" Elijah asked.

"No, it's just me, mother, and father," Abel explained. "How about you?"

"I got a little brother named Thadeus, but we calls him Thad," Elijah said gloomily, remembering the circumstances of his previous visit to Master James's bedroom.

"You're lucky," Abel responded, forgetting James's presence for a moment. "I wish I had a little brother sometimes. It gets kind of lonely up here, without any friends or brothers or sisters."

"Yeah," Elijah shrugged. "But 'least you gets to sleep in the Big House, and get all the food you want, and take baths, and 3; and wear nice clothes," he added, looking down at his own ragged shirt and pants in embarrassment.

Abel felt bad for sounding so ungrateful, and both boys fell into another tense silence.

James enjoyed this clumsy exchange more than any play he'd ever seen in the Boston theatre-houses. Before coming to Stampley Plantation, he'd watched teenage boys from a distance as they played baseball in the schoolyard, sat next to him in the streetcar, or hung out on street corners. He'd always longed to know the secrets of their lives: how they talked with one another, befriended one another, played with one another, fought with one another. It was a social world he was forbidden from entering, but his new position as slave-owner now gave him the power to force himself into that world.

The curiosity to watch Abel and Elijah together began innocently enough, but observing their awkward interactions suddenly prompted James to pursue his social experiment into a more taboo and thrilling realm. Seeing Elijah's rough African handsomeness next to Abel's refined mulatto beauty presented James with an opportunity too tempting to ignore.

His conscience nagged him with the memory of his disapproving mother in the dream that had inspired him to travel to Columbus in search of Elijah's father just three days earlier. He remembered the regret after his sexual assault against Jacob went violently, tragically wrong. Wouldn't he be a fool to ignore such glaring lessons, such generous opportunities for redemption? Could he really dismiss Elijah's sorrow, or Abel's sweet, kind spirit, all for his own selfish pleasures?

But the temptation to explore the two specimens of handsome Negro flesh sitting just several feet away was too intense for James to resist. He couldn't escape the awareness that he owned the young men in front of him, meaning he could use and enjoy them in any way he pleased. It was a privilege too enticing, too overpowering to relinquish, at least for now.

"I think that's enough small talk for now," James said nervously, shifting in his chair as his dick twitched slowly to life. "I think I'd like to see you both become even better acquainted."

Abel looked up, puzzled by the odd change in Master James's voice. Elijah shot James a skeptical look, recognizing all too well the early signs of one of the white man's mood swings.

James gulped apprehensively. Where should he begin? His mind reeled from the possibilities. He could instruct them to do anything. He could make them crawl on all fours and quack like ducks if he wished. He could order them to fight like roosters in a cockfight, or dance a jig, or piss in each other's faces. He was the plantation puppeteer, and Elijah and Abel were his marionettes.

"I'd 3; I'd like to see you kiss one another," James said hoarsely. His heart throbbed wildly in his chest. "On the lips."

Abel looked dumbfounded. "You want us to do what, Master James?" he asked, honestly thinking (and hoping) his hearing was playing tricks on him.

"You heard me," James said sternly. "I want to watch while you and Elijah kiss one another on the lips."

Abel's body grew tense. It was weird enough kissing Master James the night before. He'd cooperated then because it was with a white man, whose affection and approval he greatly desired. But now Master James was asking him to kiss another Negro boy. Elijah seemed nice enough, but he was still a common, dirty field Negro, one of the 'jungle creatures' Abraham was always claiming they were superior to.

Abel was confused by James's behavior. He'd convinced himself that the night before was some kind of fluke, something the new Master did in a moment of extreme stress and exhaustion, like the drunken nights of illicit passion he read about in Master Walt's bawdier novels. He imagined looking back on it as a strange, embarrassing episode in the early chapter of a wonderful friendship with Master James, an encounter never to be repeated. But now Master James wanted to watch while two Negro boys kissed? This could mean only one thing: Master James actually liked doing unnatural, immoral things with boys. It also probably meant that the new Master had already done such things with the slave-boy sitting next to him. Abel felt a sharp pang of fear and sadness. Perhaps Master James didn't think he was special, or want to be his friend after all. Maybe the night before had been just one of dozens, maybe even hundreds, of similar encounters with other slaves.

"But Master James," Abel protested feebly. "If you don't mind, I have other chores I should be attending to this morning. Don't you want me to empty the chamber-pot, or get your bath ready, or serve you breakfast?"

"You know I appreciate your diligence, Abel," James explained calmly, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice. "But your job is to please me and do what I say, do you understand? Some Masters only have slaves to cook or clean. Others buy slaves for breeding, or harvesting crops. But me, I have 3; other jobs for my slaves. Elijah here knows all about that, don't you, Elijah?"

Elijah nodded sullenly, and gave Abel a look as if to warn him, "It only gets worse, and we might as well cooperate." As much as Elijah dreaded another day of male-on-male degradation, he realized this might be his only chance to stay in James's favor long enough to ensure the continued search for his father, and Elijah knew he had to make the most of it.

Elijah scooted closer to Abel on the bed, and looked closely at the mulatto boy's face for the first time. He noticed Abel's sparkling green eyes, red lips of medium thickness, and a slender nose speckled with freckles. His skin was even lighter than Lil Rooster's, and Elijah marveled at how much Abel resembled a white boy.

Knowing there was no point in hesitating any further, Elijah leaned toward Abel's face and pecked awkwardly at the older boy's lips. Abel tightened his lips in instinctive resistance, but Elijah dove in for another peck, then another, and another. Abel shut his eyes and tried to reciprocate by leaning his head forward to meet Elijah's stiff kisses.

James laughed at the sight of the two teenage boys pecking at one another like two drunken roosters. Their clumsiness was oddly arousing, but James was impatient to see more.

"That's more like bobbing for apples than kissing," James teased. "Let me show you what I mean when I say 'kissing.'"

He stood up, walked over to the bed, and dropped to his knees in front of Elijah. He grabbed the boy by the back of the head with both hands and lunged at him with hungry, sensuous kisses. He licked Elijah's salty, tear-stained cheeks, nibbled on his ears, sucked on his thick, fleshy lips, and pried open his stunned mouth with his tongue. He licked every corner and crevice of the young man's mouth, as if probing for hidden treasure.

Abel watched with disgust and fascination. It pained him to see Master James showering a common field Negro with the same affection he'd shown Abel the night before. Nothing in Abel's sheltered life had prepared him for the sight of sensual intimacy between a man as pale as James and a boy as dark as Elijah.

After a minute of ravenous kissing, James released Elijah's head and pulled back for air.

"Now that's what I mean by kissing!" James declared, grinning. "Elijah, I'd like you to show Abel what you've learned," he instructed breathlessly. He stayed on his knees so that he'd have an intimate view of the show.

Elijah apologized to Abel with his eyes, took a deep breath, and grabbed Abel by the back of the head with both hands, just as James had done to him. He then proceeded to assault the mulatto boy's face with awkward but earnest kisses. Elijah lapped at Abel's neck, and sucked on his Adam's apple. He covered Abel's moist-red lips with his own thick-purple lips, sucking on them like Master James had done to him so many times before. Elijah used his tongue to force his way between Abel's lips, and darted it around the insides of Abel's mouth. Abel tasted faintly of fried chicken and morning breath.

At first Abel stiffened defensively, but eventually he surrendered to Elijah's kisses, opening his mouth a little wider and wiggling his tongue in a kind of playful sparring match with Elijah's. As he grew bolder and more accustomed to the sensation of kissing another boy, Abel pushed his own tongue into Elijah's mouth, swirling it around in nervous exploration. He tried to push from his mind the awareness not only that he was kissing another boy, but also a dirty Field Negro. The flavor of Elijah's saliva was disgusting at first, tasting like fish and cornbread, but eventually Abel grew used to it and licked at Elijah's pearly white teeth and purplish gums more enthusiastically.

James was delighted by the dramatic improvement in both boys' performances. It was thrilling beyond belief to see two normal teenage boys, with healthy appetites for teenage girls, slurping on one another's mouths simply because he'd ordered them to do so. His dick now arched its reddish head toward his stomach, and he stroked it from time to time as he watched his two beautiful slaves devouring one another's faces.

But James was dying to explore as many of the moment's erotic possibilities as he could before reaching climax. This was like one of the illegal sex shows that he'd read about, the risqu‚ performances that took place in Boston's underground clubs. Only it was his very own private show, the actors were his slaves, and HE was the director of the action.

"That's enough," James said excitedly.

Abel pulled away from Elijah, gulped for air, and wiped off the drool that was sliding down his chin, making sure the other hand still hid his dick from Elijah and James. He hoped that the worst was over, but gained no reassurance from the wild look in James's usually calm and friendly eyes.

"Take off your clothes, Elijah," James ordered.

Elijah stood up and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He shrugged it off his shoulders and tossed it to the floor, then pushed his pants to the ground and stepped out of them, completely naked. He reached instinctively to cover his crotch, conscious of Abel's curious eyes taking in the sight of his naked body.

Abel was struck by the deep, chocolaty brown of Elijah's skin, as well as his scrawny build and protruding ribcage, so different from his own light skin and muscled, healthy build. He felt sorry for the boy, thinking guiltily of his own hearty dinner the night before. Despite his sympathy for the boy, Abel thought Elijah looked dirty and unhealthy, and hoped he wouldn't be ordered to touch the Field Negro any more.

"I want to see you roll around on the bed together," James ordered. "Continue kissing, but rub your bodies together at the same time."

Abel looked disoriented, and sought in James's eyes some sign of sympathy, some confirmation that it was all just a playful prank. But all that met him there was the cold, unfamiliar stare of a man in a crazed state of desire. The expression filled Abel with dread and sorrow, for it was the same expression he'd seen in the face of Master Walt's friend three years ago, before the man tried to rape him.

"Abel, lay on your back," James commanded gruffly. "Elijah, I want you to rub against his body like you would if he was a pretty girl."

Abel resented being cast as the girl, but he knew he had no choice but to resign himself to the assigned role. Scowling, he inched slowly back on the bed and lay flat on his back, still covering his crotch. Elijah walked reluctantly to the edge of the bed, and he too was still shielding his dick from Abel's view.

"Enough with the goddamn modesty!" James barked impatiently.

Abel flinched, unfamiliar with this darker, angrier side to Master James.

"But Master James," Abel pleaded. "Boys aren't supposed to be naked around each other, at least not like this. This isn't you, Master James. You're not yourself today!"

"Nope, it's him alright," Elijah mumbled, hoping only Abel would hear.

"From this point on, you're only to speak when spoken to, do you understand, Abel?" James snarled angrily.

Gone were the fantasies of romance and companionship with his charming houseboy. James knew he was sabotaging the tender friendship he'd initiated the night before, and he hated himself for doing it. But he was a man possessed by demons. The desire to enjoy, abuse, degrade, and control the beautiful mulatto boy's body was far more intense and overpowering than the lapse of reason that for a split second had seduced him with the dream of true friendship or romance with a Negro.

"Consider this an education, Abel!" James continued feverishly. "And this bedroom is your classroom. I'm trying to give you an education that will prove far more valuable in your future life at Stampley Plantation than anything you'll find in my Uncle's library. Do you understand?"

Elijah shot Abel a look that warned him not to argue any further.

"Yes, Master James," Abel sighed, staring at the ceiling and struggling to fight back tears of disappointment and disillusionment. Master James was destroying all his hopes of equality and companionship with the white man.

"Now both of you 3; remove those hands!" James ordered.

Elijah shut his eyes in embarrassment and dropped his hands. Abel gasped at the sight of the young man's massive six inches [15 cm], hanging long and thick over two enormous, dark, low-hanging balls. He'd seen plenty of male genitals in Master Walt's art books, and caught glimpses of his father's from time to time when the old man got dressed in the morning, but he had no idea that a man's dick could be so big, let alone a 14-year-old boy's.

Abel shyly uncovered his own dick, even more insecure and embarrassed now that he'd seen the monster dangling between Elijah's legs. He thought his own four soft inches [10 cm] looked shriveled and inferior in comparison.

Elijah climbed onto the bed, and clumsily positioned himself on all fours over Abel's reclined body. He looked sheepishly over his shoulder at James, as if hoping the man had changed his mind.

James stood near the edge of the bed, pumping his red, erect dick.

Elijah looked down at Abel, whose eyes were shut as if he were trying to meditate his way out of the unpleasant circumstances. There was no denying the young man was handsome, even handsomer than Lil Rooster, and if Abel lived in the slave quarters he'd probably be more popular with the women than any buck on the plantation. Elijah felt self-conscious of his gangly build and African features – his wide nose with its flared nostrils; his thick, chapped lips; his crispy, kinky hair; and his huge, dark dick. He envied Abel's refined, 'white' features.

Elijah could tell Abel was scared, so he leaned down and whispered in the older boy's ear: "It feels real gross at first, but if we give Massuh what he want, it'll be over soon enough, don't worry."

Abel shut his eyes tightly and nodded nervously for Elijah to proceed. Elijah slowly lowered himself until the entire length of his body was pressed against Abel's. He lay still for a moment, wondering what he should do next. He nuzzled Abel's neck and tensely kissed the older boy on the lips.

Abel stiffened, remembering Elijah's dirty appearance and thinking the boy had a distinct, greasy odor. He took Elijah's advice to heart, however, and wrapped his arms awkwardly around the dark-skinned boy's sweaty back.

As Elijah kissed Abel more deeply, he relaxed his body and moved his hips in a sensual, circular motion. He grinded his crotch against Abel's smooth, muscular stomach. He tried to imagine it was Laney beneath him, but the firmness of Abel's body frustrated his fantasies and kept his dick from getting hard. He was still aware of James's ogling eyes, however, and since he was desperate to stay in James's favor, Elijah tried his damnedest to put on a satisfying show. He lowered his head to suck on Abel's taut, dark-brown nipples, inspiring a moan of surprise from Abel. As he licked the golden houseboy's nipples, Elijah pressed his hips deeper and faster into the body beneath him, squishing his dick against Abel's stomach.

James stroked his dick eagerly, delighted by the sight of Elijah's gorgeous brown bubble-butt, covered in a light sheen of sweat, rising and falling, rising and falling. He laughed at the two boys' stiffness, but found their clumsy discomfort intensely arousing. Part of him wanted to join in on the fun, but he decided to wait, knowing his involvement would break the erotic spell of their awkward fumbling.

As he rubbed his body against Abel's with increasing speed and intensity, Elijah moved too low, causing his dick to slip beneath Abel's balls and push against the smooth, sweaty crevice of the houseboy's ass. Abel's eyes shot open in surprise, but Elijah pretended not to notice and continued poking his thick but still-soft dick against the older boy's ass-cheeks.

The warmth of Abel's most private region reminded Elijah of the pleasure he'd felt when fucking Thad, and the fantasies he'd entertained while fondling Lil Rooster's half-naked ass in the middle of the night. For several minutes, Elijah completely forgot about Abel and Master James, and lost himself in a fantasy that it was Lil Rooster lying beneath him. He imagined that it was Lil Rooster's cocky, masculine face that he was devouring with kisses. He decided it was Lil Rooster, not Abel, moaning and shifting uncomfortably beneath his gyrating body.

As he lost himself in these fantasies, Elijah's dick expanded against his will until it was a throbbing nine inches [23 cm] poking at Abel's ass-crack, rudely demanding entrance. Elijah savored the sweaty warmth of the fold beneath Abel's balls, and guiltily imagined how good it would feel to push deeper and enter the older boy's most private of places. He kissed Abel more deeply, moaning and licking the slick roof of Abel's mouth. He thrashed wildly up and down, prodding against the houseboy's backside with greater insistency.

Elijah wondered if Master James would be upset if he attempted to fuck Abel without permission. He knew Abel wouldn't like it, but better him than me, Elijah thought guiltily. He was pretty sure somebody was going to be fucked before the day was over, and he sure as hell didn't want it to be him.

Abel grew accustomed to the weird but tolerable feeling of Elijah's sweaty body squishing against his own, but he became alarmed when he felt the younger boy's dick lengthening and hardening as it pushed against his ass. It was one thing for Abel to let Master James put his dick inside him when he'd had no other choice, but there was no way he was about to let another boy, especially a lowly Field Negro, degrade him in such a painful way. When Abel felt the head of Elijah's dick pry open his ass-crack and nudge against his asshole, he couldn't take it any more. He pushed Elijah off of him and bolted upright in the bed.

"I can't, Master James!" Abel exclaimed, pointing to the stunned and embarrassed Elijah, now flat on his back and sporting an enormous erection. "I know I let you put your thing inside me, Master James, but please don't make me let him! He'll split me in half with that thing!"

James stopped pumping his dick long enough to smile at Abel's sincere terror and catch an eyeful of Elijah's expanded manhood.

"Now that's what I like to see," James said, winking at Elijah. "Somebody's ready to play."

"No, it ain't like that, Massuh James," Elijah stuttered, looking apologetically at Abel. "I mean 3; I was just 3; I didn't mean to 3;"

"No need to apologize," James said, smiling devilishly. "You're just showing Abel how these sessions are supposed to work. What do you say we give Abel here his first taste of dick?"

Elijah looked hesitatingly in Abel's direction.

Abel gulped and shook his head vehemently. "Please no, Master James! I can't 3; I just can't, Master James. I'll get sick, I'll throw up."

Abel hated that his lifetime of flawless, faithful service to white folks had all led up to this threat of disgusting degradation, this one act of service he had to refuse. He desperately wanted Master James's attention and affection, but not like this. Anything but this. Just the thought of putting his face near another man's dick made him nauseous.

"I'm sure Elijah thought the same thing before his first time," James assured him. "And in less than a month, he's already turned into quite the expert cocksucker, ain't that right, Elijah?"

Elijah's body stiffened in shame and annoyance, remembering Lil Rooster's insults.

"I 'spose, Massuh James," he agreed, not wanting to jeopardize the search for his father.

Abel looked at Elijah in amazement, dismayed as to how any self-respecting boy could brag about doing something so degrading.

"Why don't you show Abel here how it's done?" James suggested, jumping to join them on the bed. Kneeling, James grabbed a handful of Elijah's tangled, wooly hair, shoved the boy down to all fours, and pushed his hard, pulsating pole against the slave-boy's unwilling lips.

Abel stared on in shock and disgust as James jabbed his dick past Elijah's thick lips, still wet from kissing Abel, causing Elijah to cry out in alarm as it hit the back of his throat. James slowly withdrew his dick, covered in slimy spit, and shoved it back in again just as deeply. Elijah's eyes were squeezed shut in miserable endurance, and he moaned and choked with every brutal thrust.

At one point, Elijah gasped for air, and pried James's hands from the back of his neck.

"I wanna show him another way," Elijah mumbled, looking up at James for approval. With his right hand, he grabbed the base of James's dick, and slurped on the upper half like a boy who hadn't eaten in days. He settled into a bearable rhythm, bobbing up and down energetically, using his hand to keep the lower half of James's dick enclosed in a warm, wet grip.

James leaned across Elijah's sloped back to grab a handful of the boy's fleshy brown butt-cheeks, kneading and slapping them with surprising aggression. Winking lecherously at Abel, James sucked his middle finger into his mouth, then leaned over and slid it between the dark, clenched line of Elijah's ass-crack. He repeated this several times, each time pushing his finger deeper and deeper between the folds of Elijah's ass-cheeks.

Abel felt so sorry for Elijah that he had to look away. He also dreaded the possibility that he'd be in the very same position within minutes. James caught him looking away and yelled at him to watch. Elijah let out a muffled gasp of pain as James pushed his slick middle finger past Elijah's tightly sealed asshole, resistant to invasion after a three-day vacation from violation. Elijah slobbered on James's dick, trying his hardest to show the enthusiasm he knew Master James desired, while James smacked, groped, and fingered Elijah's ass.

James relished the sloppy, eager sucking of Elijah's thick lips on his dick, and he concluded with satisfaction that the boy had developed some impressive skills over the course of the past month.

But James was ready to bury his dick in a fresh virgin mouth. He slipped his dick out of Elijah's mouth, and nodded for Abel to take the boy's place. Elijah gasped for air and collapsed on his back in exhaustion and relief.

Abel stared at James's dick, slick with saliva and precum, and thought for sure he was going to throw up. But never in his life had he disobeyed a white man, and he couldn't start now. Doing so would only get him exiled to the fields, or worse. He knew he had no choice but to submit to this unexpected fate, to learn how to complete these new tasks with the excellence and diligence that had earned him such a stellar reputation.

Abel positioned himself on all fours, just as Elijah had been, and looked fearfully at the throbbing red creature staring him in the face. It was slick with Elijah's saliva, and Abel grimaced at the thought of ingesting the other boy's spit. He nervously grasped James's dick in his right friend, shut his eyes tightly, and placed its tip between his thin, trembling lips. He held it between his lips like that for a moment, not sure what to do, but grateful that Master James was letting him take his time.

James's cock tasted slimy and salty, and bittersweet precum oozed from its tip. When Abel stopped to think what he was doing, he started to gag, and had to take the dick out of his mouth for a gulp of fresh air. Master James stroked his crispy dark curls, coaxing him to continue.

He put the dick back in his mouth, and attempted to fit another couple inches. But again, the intrusion was too much, causing him to choke and sputter in disgust. Abel looked back at Elijah, as if to ask, "How the hell did you do this?" But all Elijah could do was shrug sympathetically and nod for Abel to continue lest he should provoke Master James's impatience.

Recalling Elijah's trick, Abel formed a fist around the bottom half of James's dick so that he wouldn't have to worry about taking it all in his mouth at once. He wrapped his lips around the head and proceeded to bob up and down, like a hen pecking at seeds. In this way, he developed a system that could keep him from vomiting. James had to warn him a couple times about covering his teeth with his lips, but eventually he figured out how to please his Master while sparing his own mouth the severity of a full-on assault. When the stench and taste of dick became too much for him, he pulled off to gasp for air, enjoying a desperately needed rest by licking up and down the base of the shaft, or swirling his tongue around the dark-pink edges of its circumcised head.

James sighed and hummed like it was the best blowjob ever. Abel wasn't as experienced or talented as Elijah, but knowing that James's dick was the first the young man had ever tasted, more than made up for the occasional teeth-scratches. The sight of the gorgeous mulatto boy on all fours, worshipping his dick with grunts and gasps and winces of embarrassed pain, nearly pushed James over the edge of orgasm. To avoid bringing the morning to a premature halt, James pushed Abel off his dick and gestured for Elijah to take James's place.

Abel winced when he realized his Master's intentions.

Still dazed from the assault on his own young body, Elijah crawled over to James and perched on his knees so that both he and James were kneeling side by side, with Abel before them on all fours.

Abel's eyes widened with anxiety when he saw Elijah's dick up close. Even though it was now soft again, it still looked like a menacing python, threatening to coil and strike at any moment. Abel also noticed the patch of curly kinky hair above Elijah's cock, and felt grateful for his own nest of soft, crow-black pubic hair. Abel lifted the heavy member with his right hand and placed the tip of it in his mouth.

Elijah sighed with pleasure at the feeling of his dick being engulfed in a hot, wet mouth. James had only sucked his dick once before, and while Elijah remembered it feeling good, it was also frustratingly brief and incomplete. The feel of Abel's lips surrounding his thick manhood felt terrific, and he found himself wishing the houseboy was more confident and experienced, so that Elijah could bury his entire shaft down Abel's throat.

Abel sucked tentatively on the tip of Elijah's cock, like a kitten testing a bowl of milk presented to it by a stranger. Abel's clumsy licks and slurps and sucking brought Elijah's cock quickly to life, until it looked like a thick tree-branch slapping and poking Abel in the face. Abel stretched his mouth as wide as he could to receive Elijah's manhood, but he could only manage two or three inches [5-8 cm] at a time without gagging.

Elijah was torn between sympathy for Abel and the urgent, selfish need to enjoy the pleasures of the older boy's body. He knew firsthand the difficulty and humiliation of taking a dick in one's mouth, but he also craved the pleasure he knew it could provide. As his enjoyment mounted, Elijah's selfish desires took complete possession of him. He seized Abel by the neck and rocked his hips, gently at first, then more urgently, thrusting his dick deeper and deeper into Abel's panicking mouth.

For some reason, the houseboy's light skin only fueled Elijah's frenzy. All roles were thrillingly reversed: House Nigger serving Field Nigger, Older worshipping Younger, Mulatto in submission to African. Elijah shoved his dick in and out of Abel's mouth with increasing speed and violence, watching with guilty excitement as slobber and precum oozed out of the corners of Abel's mouth and dripped down his chin.

While Elijah pummeled Abel's mouth, James turned his attention to the handsome houseboy's muscled, hairless ass. He looked down and shook his head in breathless amazement that any young man's ass could be so perfect. Crouching behind Abel, James buried his face between Abel's firm, perfectly rounded buttocks. He inhaled the sweet, musky scent of mulatto-boy-ass. He sniffed hungrily at Abel's asshole, savoring its smell of soap and sweat. Eager for a taste of the young man's near-virgin rosebud, James darted his tongue deep into Abel's ass-crack until it poked against the tightly sealed opening buried inside.

Abel cried out in surprise, but in doing so he only allowed Elijah's cock easier access to the back of his throat. Abel remembered James's bizarre fascination with his shit-hole during their bath the night before, but this was taking things to a whole new level. Abel could only conclude that any person deriving pleasure from licking another male's asshole must be afflicted with the gravest of mental illnesses.

But James was deliriously happy as he lapped greedily at his 16-year-old houseboy's asshole. As he pressed his tongue against the tiny opening, demanding entrance to the secret treasures of Abel's rectum, James smacked and grasped at Abel's firm buttocks. He still couldn't believe that such a flawless ass belonged to him. He owned it, and could enjoy it as many times and in as many ways as he wished. He could massage it, lick it, spank it, finger it, whip it, or fuck it any time he felt the inclination. He could take pleasure from Abel's body hundreds, maybe even thousands, of times over the next few years, until the slave-boy no longer held any physical appeal for him.

Deep down, James knew Abel was more than just a pretty ass. He recalled with a pang of regret the young man's eager friendliness the night before. James acknowledged that Abel was a smart, sensitive young man with hopes, fears, and dreams just like anyone else. If James chose to free Abel from slavery, he knew the young houseboy could easily become a successful writer, politician, teacher, or businessman. But the possibilities within James's reach were too seductive to pass up, and James realized with shame that he lacked the moral strength and willpower to do the right thing. Still, there was something liberating in this conclusion, and James surrendered to the carnal pleasures of the moment.

Intoxicated by the musky smell of Abel's teenage ass, and worked to a fever pitch of desire by the sounds of Abel slurping and moaning and gagging on Elijah's thick cock, James decided it was time to plunder the treasure that had offered up such exquisite pleasures the night before. He spit into his hand and stroked his dick until it was slick with saliva. He spread Abel's buttocks and aimed the head of his dick at the houseboy's tiny pink asshole. With one brutal thrust, James broke past its protective opening and slowly sank his dick into the warm, ecstatic squishiness of Abel's bowels.

Abel screamed from the pain of the unexpected violation, and shot James a careless look of anger and resentment.

James felt badly for hurting the young man, he honestly did, but the sensation of Abel's asshole clutching at his dick was just too intense to resist. He pushed his dick in slowly at first, circling it around Abel's rectum in deliberate exploration. The urge to possess the boy's body completely soon overwhelmed him, however. He grabbed Abel's hips and accelerated the speed and force of his thrusts until he was bucking violently into Abel's backside.

Abel smashed his face into the bed, hoping at least to have a reprieve from Elijah's oral assault while James slammed into him from behind. Elijah was close to the brink of orgasm, however, and unwilling to abandon the addictive pleasures of Abel's mouth. Elijah grabbed Abel by the chin and shoved his throbbing manhood deep into Abel's weary mouth. Impaled on both ends, Abel lurched painfully between James's dick pumping in and out of his aching asshole, and Elijah's dick stretching his sore mouth.

As Elijah watched James thrash into Abel's asshole like a madman, he felt suddenly envious. He had a nagging curiosity to know if the mulatto boy's ass felt as good as Thad's had felt. He wondered if James would allow him to sample Abel's ass in addition to Abel's mouth. He didn't want to betray a fellow slave. But at the same time, he knew that since Abel had no contact with the slave-cabin community, this was a rare opportunity to explore his new desire in a way that wouldn't hurt his little brother or expose himself as a 'pussy-boy' to his friends.

Elijah made sheepish eye contact with Master James.

"Massuh James," he spoke up nervously. "I was hopin' maybe I might 3; ummmmm 3; you know 3; try doin' what you'se doin'?"

Abel grunted in protest, his mouth still full of dick. There was no doubt in his mind that taking Elijah's monstrous cock up his butt would almost certainly kill him. At the very least, it would cause irreparable damage to his insides. He shot Elijah a look of surprise and anger for betraying him so casually.

James paused in mid-thrust, and broke into a surprised smile. He felt a mix of shame and satisfaction about Elijah's transformation. In less than a month, James had taken an innocent, na‹ve Negro boy, shocked and disgusted by all forms of sex between males, and corrupted him to the point that he was now practically begging to fuck another boy in the ass. James could never have imagined such a change was possible on that first night with the scared, reluctant slave-boy. He wondered if this was the ultimate power of slavery, the ability to completely alter another human being's personality and desires. It was a tantalizing idea, and James found himself eager to watch the evolution continue, not just with Elijah, but also Abel, and Thad, and dozens of other slave-boys and men whose lives he could disrupt and transform with just a snap of his fingers.

Without saying a word, James pulled his dick out of Abel, moved to the side, and motioned for Elijah to take his place. Elijah removed his dick from Abel's mouth and hobbled on his knees to position himself behind Abel. Abel rested his head on the bed, his taut golden butt still arched into the air.

Elijah's heart raced wildly in anticipation of the conquest to come. He looked down at Abel's wrinkled asshole, still sloppy-wet from James's spit. Elijah watched it open wide, then shut, wide, then shut, panting in anticipation of another assault. Elijah knew he should find this repulsive, but for some reason he felt only awe and lust at the sight of the strange, private body part.

Nervous and inexperienced, Elijah fumbled to place the tip of his cock against the inviting entrance. James kneeled nearby, eagerly watching Elijah's every move. Elijah pushed clumsily against Abel's asshole. Already loosened to accommodate James, it stretched to receive the much thicker head of Elijah's dick. Elijah shuddered with pleasure at the first sensation of penetrating the houseboy's insides.

Abel moaned in response to the increased size of the violation, and grasped at the bed-sheets in a kind of silent scream.

Elijah pushed with all his strength to sink his thick manhood past the stubborn resistance of Abel's narrow rectal walls. He watched in delirious pleasure as inch by inch of his massive pole was sucked deeper and deeper into the houseboy's slippery dark intestines.

As soon as the invasion was complete, with all nine inches [23 cm] lodged in Abel's clenched asshole, Elijah jerked like a wild stallion trying to toss its rider. The sensations of having his dick entombed between the firm, golden round globes of Abel's buttocks were even better than he remembered them being with Thad, and Elijah wished they could last for hours. He slammed his body mercilessly into the body beneath him, pulling Abel backwards by the hips so that his dick was swallowed to the hilt with every eager thrust. Elijah once again imagined Lil Rooster in Abel's place. He wanted to prove himself by stuffing his dick in the ass of the cocky boy who had so obnoxiously and hurtfully challenged his manhood.

Abel screamed like a woman giving birth. He felt Elijah stabbing his insides like a dagger, and he half-expected Elijah's dick to rip through his throat and burst out of his mouth at any minute.

Afraid that Abel's violent screams would wake the entire plantation, James hobbled forward on his knees, lifted Abel so that the boy was on all fours again, and waved his dick in Abel's face. It was covered in a thick coating of spit, precum, and ass-slime, and Abel dry-wretched at the sight of it. He was thankful he hadn't eaten anything since the night before.

Abel shook his head desperately, wanting to please Master James but incapable of cooperating with such a revolting request. James pressed his dick insistently against Abel's lips, smacking them with it and wiping a string of pre-cum and ass-juice across the boy's chin. Abel shuddered in disgust. But conscious of nothing but his own compulsions, James used his hands to pry open Abel's mouth and fill it with his messy appendage. Abel crinkled his nose in disgust at the taste of his own insides.

James stuffed Abel's mouth with his prick, rinsing it off with every thrust down the traumatized boy's throat. James could tell by Elijah's quick, raspy breaths that the boy was going to explode at any minute, so he adapted the pace of his pumping to match the speed and intensity of Elijah's fucking.

Abel's stiffness and screams subsided, and his defeated body now lunged limply in whatever direction the dicks impaling him demanded. For a moment, James wondered if the boy had fainted from the assault. For several minutes, the room echoed with nothing but the sound of Elijah's large testicles slapping against Abel's sweaty, slimy ass.

The sight of Abel's body, stretched in submission before him, was too much for James, and he flooded Abel's mouth with thick, tangy cum. Surprised and disgusted, Abel reared back from the rush of hot fluid filling his mouth, but James gripped Abel's head so that his dick stayed lodged in his mouth, dumping every last drop into the degraded boy's mouth and throat. Abel stubbornly sealed off his throat, which caused him to sputter and choke so badly that cum and slobber spilled out the corners of his mouth.

Elijah saw James's climax and worried that the selfish white man might conclude the show before letting Elijah enjoy his own climax. Elijah bucked vigorously in and out of Abel's ass, deep and hard and fast, until the warmth and friction of Abel's insides became so intense that he could feel his juices rushing toward release. He pushed Abel flat against the bed, collapsed on top of him, and nuzzled the houseboy's neck. With one final, furious jerk of his body, Elijah spewed what seemed like bucketfuls of his steamy 14-year-old semen into the houseboy's prostrate body. His scrawny frame literally shook with pleasure from the most powerful orgasm of his young life. He followed this up with several mini-thrusts to wring every last drop from his dick, savoring the sweet euphoria of spilling his seed deep inside another young man's body.

Abel burrowed his face into the bed in humiliation as he felt Elijah's scalding juices splattering deep into his bowels. Next to his face was a puddle of semen and slobber that had leaked from his weary mouth.

Never before had Abel felt so dirty and degraded. His throat was raw and swollen, and his asshole felt like it was engulfed in flames. Even worse than the physical trauma, however, was the despair and humiliation of being exploited and degraded like a common animal. After all the years he'd taken pride in his dignified service, proper speech, fancy clothes, and refined manners, this is what he'd been reduced to: a naked, helpless 'nigger' with dicks crammed into his mouth and ass.

But was this what he'd always been? Had he simply deluded himself to think he deserved the respect and admiration of white folks? When Master Walt called him 'special,' or white people praised his good looks, was this what they pictured? If one took away the nice clothes and special privileges, wasn't he just a dirty, common nigger like Elijah? If Master Walt was still alive, would he rush to Abel's rescue, or join his nephew's sadistic fun? Abel felt more alone and abandoned than he'd ever felt in his life, and a stray tear escaped down his tan, freckled cheek.

Elijah lay atop Abel's body, panting with relief and exhilaration. Before meeting Master James, he never imagined such pleasure existed in the world. Surely fucking a girl couldn't feel any better? He felt guilty for showing Abel so little mercy, but rationalized it by telling himself he was only performing for Master James. He was playing a part, as a strategy to stay in James's favor and ensure the continued search for his father.

Still, he'd volunteered to fuck Abel, which sort of made him an accomplice, not a victim, to James's abusiveness. Maybe Lil Rooster was right, Elijah reflected uneasily. Maybe Master James was actually turning him into a 'pussy-boy' after all. But he only enjoyed giving dick, not taking it, Elijah reassured himself. At least he wasn't like that slave Nelson that Lil Rooster was telling him about. At least he didn't crave sucking dick, or getting fucked. At least not yet.

James collapsed beside the panting, sweaty bodies of his two slave-boys, and threw his arm across Elijah's back. He felt dizzy and elated. The air was thick with the smells of sweat, saliva, semen, and teenage Negro flesh, combining to create a rich, musky, intoxicating odor.

This was the closest thing to paradise on earth, James thought to himself: this unrestricted access to a limitless supply of beautiful Negro boys like Abel and Elijah. It staggered the imagination to picture a future of day after day, month after month, year after year of mornings just like this, infinite possibilities for erotic adventures with boys and men of all ages, smells, sizes, skin complexions, and personalities.

Just as he'd corrupted Elijah and degraded Abel, James could determine the fates of every single one of Stampley Plantation's 248 slaves. He could orchestrate erotic entanglements involving countless combinations and taboos: older with younger, friend with friend, friend with enemy, father with son, daughter with mother, brother with brother. The possibilities were endless. Sure, the slaves on his plantation were complex, breathing, feeling human beings. But they were also players in a private theatrical production he could manipulate and enjoy for the rest of his life. Because they were his puppets, and he was their puppeteer.

Chapter 9
The Punishment (Part 1)

This time, he was back in the clearing by the creek, where just two days earlier he'd been brutally raped by Jacob the stable-boy. His dream was forcing him to suffer the ordeal again: the helplessness of being suffocated by Jacob's cock; the humiliation of being shoved to the ground on all fours, then gagged and spit on as Jacob mounted him from behind; the pain of having his virgin asshole ripped open by Jacob's manhood; his confusion as he felt the pain give way to flashes of guilty pleasure, enjoying the taboo thrill of surrendering his body to the aggressive desire of a strapping African buck like Jacob; and the feeling of having his insides flooded by the young man's hot semen. But worst of all was the realization that it was his fault. He'd allowed his obsessive desire to spoil the camaraderie he'd struggled to initiate all morning, ruining any chance of a happy, healthy relationship between the white man and Negro.

Everything in the dream felt horribly real. James could taste the coarseness of the cloth stuffed in his mouth. He could feel the clumps of grass and dirt scratched out of the ground as he braced himself against the brutal rhythm of Jacob's thrusts.

James's sleeping lips parted in a silent scream, and his arms and legs jerked as if trying to run away.

"Master James! Master James!" Jacob repeated urgently, over and over as he slammed his muscular hips into the older white man's body.

Suddenly Jacob's deep voice took on a higher, huskier tone.

"Master James! Wake up, Master James! You're having a bad dream, Master James!"

James's eyes shot open, darting wildly around the room in confusion and alarm.

It took him a minute to recognize the faces of Elijah and Abel looking down at him with concern. He was lying in the middle of his bed, and both boys were reclining naked on each side, shaking his arms to wake him up.

He shivered with a mixture of arousal and regret as he recalled the morning's depravity, when he'd savored the pleasures of Abel's mouth and ass and watched as Elijah pummeled the mulatto's butt with greedy abandon.

Based on the intense heat and brightness of the room, James guessed it was midday, meaning he'd been asleep for several hours. His two slave-boys had probably fallen asleep as well; or perhaps they'd lain awake, impatiently awaiting their next instructions.

James's heart pounded in his chest as his body slowly realized he'd only been having a nightmare. The clearing in the woods was miles away, and James's asshole, while still a bit sore, was clean and safe from violation.

But something didn't feel right. He couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly, but something prevented him from feeling secure and at ease.

He slowly realized that the source of this sustained anxiety was a sound, drifting through his open bedroom windows. It was the most terrifying sound he'd ever heard, something between blood-curdling shrieks and the deep, menacing rumbles of thunder. At first it sounded like a harmless hum in the distance, but it grew louder and louder until it pierced the peaceful afternoon with its high-pitched screams. Soon the sound surrounded the house, shaking its very foundations.

Abel and Elijah exchanged knowing glances and looked anxiously at James to gauge his reaction.

A chill crept up James's spine when he realized the sound's origin: It was the howls of bloodhounds. And that could mean only one thing: Mr. Potter's 'nigger hunt' was over.

James stumbled out of bed and stuck his head out of one of the bedroom windows. In the distance, he saw what appeared to be Mr. Potter and six other men approaching the plantation-house on horseback. An army of bloodhounds sprinted beside the horses, announcing their arrival with boastful barking.

James peered closer to see if the posse returned in victory or defeat. He gasped in horror when he noticed the filthy, battered body of Jacob, half-stumbling, half-dragging behind Mr. Potter's horse by a rope binding his hands together, attached on the other end to the white man's saddle.

The men let out a chorus of shouts and cheers as they galloped up to the house.

"Little Jimmy!" Mr. Potter hollered toward the house. "Get your scrawny little Yankee ass out here and see why they call me the best damn nigger-catcher this side of the Ohio River!"

James scrambled to find his clothes, which he'd tossed in a pile beside the bed the night before.

"I'll 3; I'll be right down!" James shouted toward the window as he struggled to pull on his full-body cotton undergarment. He felt a rising dread at the thought of facing Jacob again.

"Master James?" Abel spoke up hesitatingly. His eyes looked swollen as if from crying, and James noticed streaks of spit and semen caked in the corners of his pretty lips. "What do you want Elijah and me to do?"

James whirled around to face the two boys on the bed. His mind raced to decide what to do with them. He hadn't contemplated the future of their services beyond the morning's spontaneous pleasure.

"Abel, I'd like you to bathe, get dressed, and resume your daily duties," James instructed as he hurriedly stepped into his dark cotton pants. "Please tell your mother I was ill from yesterday's events, and that I asked you to nurse me throughout the night. I'll 3; I'll let you know when I wish to 3; see you again," James added, blushing.

Abel looked away, annoyed and ashamed. James thought the boy's beauty seemed somehow tarnished by the morning's degradations, but perhaps it was only the swollen sleepiness to be expected after a long nap.

James rushed into his closet and came out with a crisp, clean white shirt.

"Elijah," James began as he slipped his arms through its sleeves. "I'd like you to stay with me today. And maybe later we can talk more about getting your father back."

Elijah glanced at the floor in disappointment. But at least his strategy to stay in Master James's affections was working.

Abel and Elijah crawled out of bed and threw on their clothes. Abel cast a sullen look in Elijah's direction, recalling the pain caused by the younger field slave's selfish eagerness earlier that morning. Elijah looked in the other direction until Abel left the room.

Once he was fully dressed, James descended nervously down the marble staircase, with Elijah following obediently behind.

By the time James stepped outside to the front porch, Mr. Potter and his men had pulled their horses to a halt several feet away. Grinning proudly from ear to ear, Mr. Potter jumped off his horse, walked up to the verandah, and greeted James with a boisterous pat on the back.

"What did I tell you, Little Jimmy?" Mr. Potter boasted. "Didn't I promise to have that stable-nigger back to you before sundown?"

James nodded distractedly, hesitant to look in the direction of the captured Negro. He felt uneasy and unprepared for this part of his new position as slave-owner.

"Thank you kindly for your services, Mr. Potter," James said, feigning a grateful smile. "As you know, I'm rather, um 3; inexperienced in these matters, and I have no idea how I could have managed without you."

"Ain't nothin' at all," Mr. Potter replied, still smiling and patting James on the back. "Hell, huntin' niggers is almost better than fuckin', ain't it, boys?!?"

The six men on horseback responded with raucous cheers and laughter.

Elijah recognized three of them as Stampley overseers, including Mr. Snopes, the man who'd taken him to James's bedroom that first night over two weeks ago. He detected the smell of liquor in the air, and guessed they'd been drinking in celebration.

Mr. Potter noticed Elijah standing a few feet behind James. The slave-boy shuffled his feet nervously, and watched the scene in front of him with anxious curiosity. Nodding in Elijah's direction, Mr. Potter gave James a knowing wink. James blushed and realized the other men, with the exception of Mr. Snopes, were staring at Elijah with surprise. The boy's tattered clothes made it obvious he was a field slave, and it was highly unusual for a field slave with such an unkempt appearance to stand beside a Master on the plantation-house verandah.

"I 3; I was just giving this boy a lecture about morals," James said weakly, struggling to explain Elijah's presence.

Elijah cocked his head in confusion.

"Becky caught him stealing tomatoes from the garden, and I was just trying to decide how best to punish him when you all arrived. I 3; I suppose your timing is fortunate, so the boy can see what happens to niggers who don't know their proper place around here."

James thought he sounded ridiculous, but hoped his explanation seemed sincere enough to convince the men and earn some respect and credibility in their eyes. Besides, it wasn't a total lie. Part of him hoped the sight of the captured slave would scare Elijah into continued submission, dampening any thoughts of rebellion or escape.

Mr. Potter's eyes sparkled with satisfaction at hearing his young protégé utter the word 'nigger' for the first time.

Elijah looked perplexed. He started to defend himself, but quickly determined that doing so in front of so many white men would be the height of foolishness.

"You're damn right about it bein' good timing," Mr. Potter exclaimed. "Only thing better than huntin' niggers is punishin' niggers! And this here's one nigger who's had it comin'. Attacking one of the richest men in Georgia! That's one stupid-ass nigger, if you ask me. Don't you want a better look at him, Little Jimmy?"

James nodded in nervous assent, glancing over where Jacob lay face down in the dirt. For a second, James wondered if the young man was dead.

Mr. Potter leapt off the porch and strode over to his horse. He snatched up the rope that was attached to his saddle on one end and the runaway's hands on the other. With a violent yank of the rope, Mr. Potter jerked Jacob to his feet.

James flinched from the sight in front of him.

At first, James barely recognized the captured slave. Jacob's tangled wooly hair was littered with leaves, twigs, and dirt. Angry, bloodshot eyes stared out from a face caked with mud and dried blood. The boy's shirt and pants, ragged under normal circumstances, were now scarcely more than shredded strips of cloth clinging to the young man's sweat-soaked body. The dark skin exposed through the tattered rags was covered with cuts and bruises.

"Hello, Jacob," James said softly, meeting the stable-boy's defiant gaze with a stern but sympathetic look.

James trembled with conflicting emotions. Part of him actually felt sorry for Jacob. He tried to imagine how lonely and terrifying it must feel to be a captured runaway, surrounded by white men eager to watch him suffer a long, painful death. He wondered just how deep and dark a despair must afflict a person after tasting freedom for the first time, only to have it snatched away forever. Deep down, James had half-hoped that Jacob would miraculously outrun Mr. Potter's expert team of slave-catchers, making his way to freedom and safety in the North. James's first impulse was to release Jacob from his ropes and comfort him by bathing and doctoring his wounds.

But James also found himself disturbingly aroused by the sight of the young buck in bondage. Jacob was a handsome man under normal conditions, but the image of the proud African's muscular teenage body covered in dirt and bound by ropes was a sight of breathtaking beauty. An intense rush of lust for Jacob's lanky teenage body corrupted James's sincere compassion. James realized that despite the fiery hatred in Jacob's eyes, the young man was completely at his mercy. Jacob's helplessness inspired within James a hunger for revenge, intensified by the knowledge that his vengeance could be as cruel and imaginative as he liked.

James fought to expel such awful thoughts from his mind. James's mother had always called him a 'sensitive soul' due to his love of animals and kindness toward other children growing up. He'd always been one to avoid violence and conflict, and he still hoped he could spare Jacob the punishment suffered by slaves guilty of similar crimes. He simply wanted Jacob washed and rested, so he could enjoy the young man in the privacy of his bedroom, just as he'd done with Elijah and Abel.

James locked eyes with Jacob, but could only meet the stable-boy's insolent stare for a couple seconds before looking nervously away.

"You're 3; you're lucky to have me as a Master, you know," James fumbled to answer Jacob's accusatory look. "If you belonged to Mr. Potter here, or anybody else for that matter, you'd probably be hanging dead from a tree right now. But me 3; that kind of cruelty just isn't in me, I'm afraid."

Mr. Potter scowled. James heard disappointed grumbling from the men on horseback, but ignored them and continued:

"I know the white folks in these parts will call it Northern squeamishness or Yankee self-righteousness, and perhaps they're right. But I can't see the point in killing or mutilating somebody for doing what I'd have done in the same circumstances. Like my Uncle Walt, I've tried to treat my slaves with nothing but kindness since arriving here. So you should consider yourself lucky, Jacob."

Jacob's bloodshot eyes burrowed into James with unflinching hostility.

Jacob stifled a cynical laugh, wondering if Master Walt's nephew knew about the overseers that raped his mother and sister, or the whippings ordered out of petty jealousy, or the sudden sale of his elderly father as revenge; and if Master James did know, would he still consider his uncle's behavior 'kind'?

The white man's patronizing ignorance made Jacob sick with rage. After two days of non-stop running, Jacob's mind was feverish from fatigue. He'd sprinted through woods, dashed over fields, and swam across creeks and rivers. By day, he'd hidden in snake-infested swamps and hollowed-out tree-trunks, eating wild fruit for sustenance. By night, he'd run until his tired body collapsed. When he'd heard the howls of the bloodhounds, he had no choice but to scurry up the nearest tree to avoid having his legs or arms ripped off by the vicious dogs.

And now that Jacob's running was over, the adrenaline-rush of temporary liberty gave way to nauseating terror. He knew he was as good as dead. He figured James would be too ashamed to tell the whole story, but attacking a white man was still enough to guarantee torture, mutilation, and most likely death as punishment. He felt a strangling sense of sorrow and panic when he realized he might only have a few more hours to live. But refusing to surrender his Negro pride was his only remaining source of strength and independence.

"What I'm trying to say," James explained sympathetically, "is that I'm extending you an offer of forgiveness. All I ask is that you apologize for your rebelliousness, and promise me it will never happen again."

The six men on horseback groaned, and looked at Mr. Potter with scowls of disbelief.

"Now look here, Little Jimmy," Mr. Potter interrupted. "That ain't the way we do things in these parts, and you'd be makin' a big mistake not to make an example of this uppity nigger while you've got the chance 3;"

James held up his hand for Mr. Potter to hush.

"I thank you for your services, Mr. Potter," James said firmly. "But he's still my property, isn't he? And that means it's up to me to determine the young man's punishment."

James shivered as he uttered the words, thrilled by his new authority.

"It's up to you, Jacob," James continued, looking into the stable-boy's eyes. "I give you my word that no violence will come to you, if only you'll apologize and promise to be a dutiful slave from this point on."

Jacob glared and shot a huge wad of spit in James's direction.

"Fuck you," he snarled.

James gasped in surprise at the young man's disdain for his generous offer.

The words barely escaped Jacob's lips before Mr. Potter had his rifle cocked and aimed at Jacob's head, the tip of its barrel just inches from the young man's defiant face.

"What did you just say, nigger?!?" Mr. Potter barked angrily.

"You deaf, cracker?" Jacob replied, trying to hide the fear in his eyes.

Mr. Potter pressed the end of his rifle into the flesh of Jacob's forehead.

"Fuck Massuh James!" Jacob shouted. "And fuck you too! Fuck all y'all." He nodded toward the six men on horseback. "He had it comin' to him. You'se all got it comin' for what you been doin' to niggers!"

Mr. Potter laughed derisively. "You're one damn foolish nigger, you know that, boy? I oughta blow your monkey brains out right now for talkin' to a white man like that."

"Please, let me handle this," James pleaded, pressing gently on Mr. Potter's arm for him to lower his rifle.

Mr. Potter shrugged him off and glared at Jacob. Jacob's chest heaved furiously up and down, and his large African nostrils flared in defiance.

"I have half a mind to shoot the son of a bitch dead and pay you back in cash or niggers," Mr. Potter said, spitting to the side. "What d'ya think, boys? What do we do with uppity niggers like this in Potter County?"

"Cut the coon's eyes out and feed 'em to him!" shouted one of the overseers from the Potter Plantation.

"Nawwww, that ain't no fun," said another. "I say we tie the nigger to a tree and burn him alive!"

"I like whippin' best," chimed in the last of Mr. Potter's three overseers. "Just whip him 'til there ain't nothin' left to whip, like we did to Isaac Grubbs' nigger last year!"

The remaining three men on horseback laughed uneasily, but otherwise stayed quiet. They were three of James's own overseers, and didn't want to say anything rash that might jeopardize their employment.

James cringed at the men's sadistic suggestions. His Abolitionist friends were frequently criticized for exaggerating the horrors of slavery, but perhaps they'd been too generous in their depictions of the barbaric South.

"I'm with you, McGreevey," Mr. Potter replied. "I say we whip his ugly black hide right off his back."

The burly man sighed and dropped the gun to his side.

"But goddammit, Little Jimmy, you're kin to Walt Stampley, God rest his soul, and I ain't gonna disrespect the dead by goin' against your wishes."

The men on horseback spewed out a string of curses in protest. Jacob let out a tiny gasp of relief.

"But I'd like to have a word with you in private, if you don't mind," Mr. Potter added gruffly, grabbing James by the shoulder and leading him to the far end of the verandah. Still resting his hand on James's shoulder, Mr. Potter spoke in a low voice:

"Now listen here, Little Jimmy. I think this love of niggers is amusin', I really do, and even kinda sweet in a queer Yankee way. But you've got to understand, the men that work for you ain't used to lettin' niggers get away with the kind of shit you've been takin' from that stable-nigger. they're the ones in the fields with your niggers, day in and day out, not you. And they've got to know you ain't some sissified nigger-lover who's gonna start changin' the rules and underminin' their authority, you understand?"

James nodded reluctantly.

"These men make their living keepin' niggers in line," Mr. Potter continued, his breath reeking of liquor and cigars. "But if they can't trust that you've got their backs, if they can't count on the threat of the whip to back up their orders, then they can't do their job, you see? And if they can't do their job, the whole goddamn system'll fall to pieces."

"Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," James muttered.

"You'd best think twice about that foolish talk, Little Jimmy," Mr. Potter snapped. He smiled and nodded toward Elijah, who was still standing nervously on the other end of the porch. "You think a pretty nigger boy like him would give up his ass to a white man like you if he wasn't a slave?!?"

James blushed and looked away. He knew Mr. Potter was right. The threat of punishment was an essential part of the sexual perks James had grown addicted to during his first month at Stampley Plantation. If he spoke out against the cruelty of punishment under slavery, he'd also have to turn his back on the same system that gave him easy, endless access to the bodies of hundreds of Negro boys and men. And that was a sacrifice he just couldn't make, at least not yet.

"How 3; how do you think I should have him punished, then?" James asked nervously.

Mr. Potter gave James a toothy grin. "Don't you worry your delicate little Yankee head about that! Leave it up to me, Little Jimmy, and I'll show you how it's done."

James shuffled his feet anxiously. He wanted to spare Jacob from Mr. Potter's cruelty, but also knew he had to earn the respect and loyalty of his overseers. And deep down, he felt a disturbing curiosity to witness the sadism of Southerners firsthand.

"I'll 3; I'll leave the punishment in your hands," James said reluctantly. "But only under two conditions: I don't want him whipped, and I don't want him maimed or 3; damaged 3; in any way."

Mr. Potter paused skeptically at first, and then broke into a devilish smirk.

"I think I can work around that. Just don't be backin' out on the deal 'fore we're through, you hear?"

James nodded in guilty agreement.

Mr. Potter reached out and shook James's hand vigorously. "You let me run the show, and I just might work things out to suit your fancy," he added with a lewd wink.

James puzzled over Mr. Potter's meaning as the two men walked back to the other end of the verandah. James looked at Jacob, who hadn't moved since his earlier outburst. James detected a slight look of worry cross Jacob's face when the stable-boy noticed Mr. Potter's enthusiastic grin.

"I'm afraid you've left me with no other choice," James sighed, unable to look at Jacob directly. "I was willing to give you another chance, but since you've refused to apologize, I've given Mr. Potter here permission to supervise your punishment."

The men on horseback let out a loud cheer of approval.

Jacob felt a growing pit in his stomach, and thought for a moment he might collapse.

Elijah's heart sank with disappointment; he'd hoped Master James would do the right thing and spare Laney's brother from a brutal punishment. He recalled the time he snuck off with some of the other boys to spy on Mr. Snopes whipping Lil Rooster's daddy, and hoped Jacob wouldn't be forced to endure worse.

"You hear that, boys?!?" Mr. Potter shouted eagerly. "Let's get this nigger to the stables, and show Mr. Stampley what we do to niggers who think they're too good for the life God gave 'em!"

Jacob stood in the center of the largest Stampley stable.

His hands remained tightly bound with thick rope, and his arms hung helplessly in front of him. Mr. Potter and the six overseers formed a wide circle around the captive slave. James and Elijah sat next to one another on a large bale of hale to the side of the barn, like theatergoers attending an afternoon matinee.

Sunlight poured through the stable windows. The room was thick with the smell of manure, made worse by the heat of the summer afternoon.

Jacob's heart pounded in his chest, and he tried to stifle the fear rising within him. He'd endured plenty of whippings before, but this was different. His captors showed no intention of binding his body to the stable's whipping-post, or stringing him up to the rafters. And instead of just two or three overseers supervising his punishment, there were eight white men in the room, each drooling over the chance to hurt and perhaps even kill him.

Jacob looked straight ahead, his chin raised slightly in defiance. He tried to ignore the hostile stares of the white men surrounding him. He knew his last hours on earth would be filled with the most ghastly of torments, but was determined to suffer them with dignity.

Jacob watched as Mr. Potter stepped out of the circle, walked forward, and stood directly in front of him. Mr. Potter's face nearly touched Jacob's own, and Jacob could smell the stocky white man's rank breath and foul body odor.

Mr. Potter grinned wickedly and shook his head in mock disbelief.

"You've got to be one of the dumbest niggers I've ever seen," he declared. "Any nigger with a peanut for a brain would be on his knees right now, beggin' for his life and tellin' us what a stupid, ungrateful nigger he is. But not you! You're still standin' there actin' like the goddamn Pharaoh of Egypt himself."

Jacob's breathing grew heavier, but he stared into Mr. Potter's eyes without flinching.

"You know what this nigger's problem is?" Mr. Potter bellowed, looking around at the six overseers standing nearby. "He's done forgot he's a nigger."

The overseers nodded and grunted in agreement.

Mr. Potter met Jacob's rebellious gaze and continued:

"Just who the hell do you think you are, boy?!? You think you're some kind of African chief? Some proud Zulu warrior, or some nonsense like that?"

Mr. Potter bowed before Jacob in mock reverence, and the overseers burst into laughter. Jacob clenched his jaws shut, fighting the urge to respond to the white man's taunting.

Mr. Potter stepped back, and his grin soured into a scowl.

"Well, you ain't never been and ain't never gonna be no such goddamn thing," he snarled. "And me and my men here are going to spend as long as it takes to remind you that here in Georgia you ain't nothin' but a low-down nigger slave! You ain't no better than a mule or a chicken around these parts, and just as God gives us the beasts to serve our bidding, he gives us niggers to be our slaves. Only thing you need worry your nappy nigger head about is how to please Master Stampley, you hear?"

Jacob stared proudly ahead, ignoring Mr. Potter's lecture.

"You listenin' to me, boy?!?" Mr. Potter snapped.

Jacob gave no response beyond the grinding of his jaw muscles.

Without warning, Mr. Potter struck Jacob across the face with the back of his hand. The force and surprise of the blow sent Jacob stumbling backwards, and its sting caused Jacob's temper to flare up again.

"Go to hell!" he shouted, spitting in Mr. Potter's direction. "I hope all y'all crackers burn in hell! I'se a man, not your 'boy'! And I ain't no cracker's slave!"

Several of the overseers lunged toward Jacob, but Mr. Potter waved them back.

"Now that's more like it," he chuckled. "A feisty nigger like you makes these things a hell of a lot more fun!"

Mr. Potter stepped up to Jacob and snatched a fistful of his dirty tangled hair. He snapped the stable-boy's head backwards so that Jacob was staring at the roof. Leaning in close, Mr. Potter growled in Jacob's ear:

"The sooner you apologize for what you done to Master Stampley, and start actin' like a nigger slave 'stead of some high-and-mighty prince, the quicker this'll be over, you hear?"

"Fuck you!" Jacob shouted defiantly, his chest heaving with a mix of adrenaline and terror.

He winced as Mr. Potter tightened his grip, yanked Jacob's head back even further, and spit directly onto his face. Jacob seethed with hatred as he felt the white man's slimy spit slide slowly down his face, but he was powerless to wipe it off.

"You're going to get that, and worse, every time you talk back, you hear me, boy?" Mr. Potter warned.

With his free hand, he smeared the saliva all around Jacob's handsome face, leaving a trail of spit across the stable-boy's nose, cheeks, and lips. Jacob clenched his eyes shut in disgust.

"Maybe this can be one of your new duties," Mr. Potter added sarcastically. "What d'ya think, boys? You think he's good enough to be a white man's spittoon?"

The other men grunted enthusiastically.

"I say we test the nigger out first," Mr. Potter declared, grinning mischievously. "Let's see how he likes white men's spit 'fore we give him the job full-time. Give it to him, boys!"

Mr. Potter shoved Jacob to his knees. One by one, the overseers stepped forward, snorted huge wads of mucus into their throats, and pelted Jacob's face with spit. By the time the sixth overseer had contributed his spit to the mix, Jacob's face, tightened in disgust, was soaked with saliva. Gobs of mucus clung to the young man's crispy facial hair, and streams of saliva slid down his forehead, cheeks, lips, and chin before dripping onto the ground.

Elijah wrinkled his nose at the gross sight in front of him, guiltily grateful it was Jacob, not him, who was the object of the white men's wrath that afternoon.

James too found the sight distasteful, but couldn't tear his eyes away from it.

"Damn, we sure did make a mess of this nigger's face, didn't we, boys?" Mr. Potter boasted. "What d'ya say we wash the dirty coon off?"

Mr. Potter dropped his trousers to his knees, unbuttoned the front flap of his cotton undergarment, and pulled out a short but massive cock. Everyone watched in amazement as the burly man released a powerful geyser of piss directly at Jacob's face.

Jacob sputtered in disgust, and struggled to stand and escape the gushing stream of warm, light-yellow piss. But Mr. Snopes shoved him back to his knees with a kick to the back.

"You ain't goin' nowhere," Mr. Potter laughed, waving his stumpy dick back and forth so that it sprayed piss across Jacob's hair, face, and upper body. "You're staying put 'til you learn your role as a good obedient nigger."

The overseers' initial surprise quickly turned to amusement, and they cheered as they watched Mr. Potter piss all over Jacob.

Jacob clenched his eyes and lips shut as the white man's urine splashed against his skin and trickled down his forehead, cheeks, and neck. He felt trapped in a slow-motion nightmare. He wanted to preserve his dignity, but that desire battled with his instinct for survival. Despite the miserable conditions of his existence, Jacob still wanted to live. He wanted to tell his little sister jokes over supper. He wanted to go fishing with Solomon. He wanted to fuck many more girls and women. But were the pleasures of family and friendship worth the sacrifice of his pride, his manhood? He could already feel both slipping away as Mr. Potter drenched his ragged clothes with steamy, smelly piss.

Mr. Potter's strong stream of urine turned into a weak dribble, then ceased altogether. The large man tucked his dick away, buttoned his drawers, and pulled up his pants.

"I think he likes it, boys!" Mr. Potter declared, grinning and wiping his hands on the rear of his pants. "But I've got a feelin' he ain't learned his lesson yet, so I think the six of y'all should give him some more!"

A few of the men hesitated, uncomfortable with the idea of flopping their dicks out for all to see, for fear that their length and girth might be found lacking when compared to the other men.

Being one of the oldest and most experienced of the crew, Mr. Snopes stepped confidently forward, jerked down his pants, unbuttoned the flap of his underwear, and pulled out a shriveled, jaundiced-looking stub of a penis. He walked up to Jacob and unleashed a powerful stream of golden piss directly at the young man's thick, tightened lips. Like a mischievous child, Mr. Snopes shot piss at Jacob's neck, then into both ears, then across the top of his bushy Negro hair.

Two of the other men joined him, then another, then two more, until all six overseers surrounded Jacob in a tight circle, soaking him in hot, foul-smelling piss. The men's bladders were near-bursting after drinking all morning, and their streams of urine seemed to last for several minutes. They laughed and boasted as if competing to see who could last the longest and soak the runaway slave most thoroughly. Lines of piss crisscrossed in the air, splashing against Jacob's dark skin and running down his hair, face, and neck in tiny, angry streams.

Jacob clenched his eyes shut to keep the hot piss from stinging his eyes. His skin burned as the urine splashed against his many cuts and scratches. But the humiliation of the ordeal was far worse than the physical discomfort. How could he salvage any kind of pride or dignity after being forced to his knees and soaked in the piss of the men he hated most?

Elijah closed his eyes to block out the awful scene playing out in front of him, but the sounds of piss splashing against human flesh kept the disturbing image vividly in his mind. He resented Master James for forcing him to witness such cruelty, and wanted nothing more than to run to the familiar comforts of his cabin. He only knew Jacob as Laney's older brother, but still he felt sorry for him and wished there was something he could to rescue his fellow slave.

James shifted uneasily as he watched Jacob's punishment proceed. Part of him was shocked and sickened by the sight of the young Negro being drenched in piss, and wanted to make it stop. He shuddered to think how filthy and degraded Jacob must feel, and knew deep down that his stable-boy didn't deserve such treatment. After all, Jacob had only attacked and run away when threatened with rape. He'd only reacted out of a natural instinct for self-preservation.

But compassion is no match against the darker desires of the human soul. James continued to watch, mesmerized, as the overseers turned Jacob into a human outhouse. There was something disturbingly arousing about seeing a teenage Negro boy abused and humiliated, especially one as cocky and handsome as Jacob. In his native Africa, Jacob would probably be a prince or warrior, a leader of men and seducer of women. But in the American South, this muscular adolescent was nothing more than a cowering 'nigger,' the degraded plaything of the white men who enslaved him. Knowing this intensified James's arousal, and turned the sight of Jacob's piss-soaked body into a vision of twisted but thrilling beauty.

The overseers finished and tucked their dicks away. Jacob kneeled in a puddle of piss on the stable's dirt floor, and streams of urine dripped from his nappy hair and trickled down his forehead and cheeks. His piss-drenched shirt clung to his upper body, heaving with rage and resentment, and the soaked cloth revealed the dark skin and muscular frame beneath.

"Jesus Christ, you're a mess," Mr. Potter observed with amusement. "You ain't so uppity now, are you, boy?"

Jacob glared at the burly white man, but stayed silent. He knew talking back would only prolong his punishment, and tried to assure himself that silent endurance wasn't the same as surrender or submission. Perhaps if he remained proud but silent, they'd let him live another day to see his sister and friends.

"I hope you're learnin' your lesson, boy," Mr. Potter continued, walking in a slow circle around Jacob. "I loved him like a brother, but Walt Stampley never did nothin' but spoil his niggers, sparin' the whip the way he did. Lettin' a lazy boy like you run his stables was just plain foolishness, and didn't do nothin' but give you a big head. You ain't nothin' but a smelly nigger covered in white men's piss, and that's all you'll ever be 'til the day you die."

He paused and smiled sadistically.

"But I want to hear you say it," he taunted. "Admit you ain't nothin' but a dumb nigger and we can end this right now."

Jacob's thick lips quivered with the urge to spew profanities at the gloating white man, but he bit his tongue and looked defiantly straight ahead. He could endure his punishment, but he would never betray his pride by lowering himself to the point of agreeing with the white man's hateful insults. Playing the 'happy darky' was one thing. There was even a kind of power in fooling white folks on a daily basis. But actively accepting their degraded definition of him was a line Jacob refused to cross. He spat angrily on the ground to show his contempt for Mr. Potter's request.

"You stupid, stupid nigger," Mr. Potter said, shaking his head. "Looks to me like he wants some more, boys."

The other men shook their heads in vigorous agreement.

Mr. Potter grabbed a fistful of Jacob's wet, wooly hair and jerked the young slave to his feet. He stood directly in front of Jacob, his sweaty face just inches from the stable-boy's.

"You know what your problem is?" Mr. Potter snarled. "You've never known what it's like to be a nigger on the auction block."

He took hold of the neckline of Jacob's cotton shirt, already soaked and tattered, and with one violent pull ripped it completely off the teenage boy's back and tossed it to the ground. Jacob's naked ebony skin glistened from the moisture of piss and sweat.

"You've never known what it's like to be a nigger for sale," Mr. Potter continued, staring menacingly into Jacob's fiery eyes.

He ran the back of his hand slowly down the length of Jacob's smooth, muscular chest. Jacob's torso tightened in response to the touch of the white man's clammy hand.

"You've never stood in the town square in front of a bunch of white folks starin' at you, gropin' and pokin' and proddin' at your naked nigger flesh."

With his right hand, Mr. Potter crudely caressed Jacob's naked chest, poking at his bellybutton and pinching his large, pitch-black nipples. With his left hand, he groped Jacob's purple, fleshy lips between his fingers, then pried open Jacob's mouth and grabbed at his wide, strong teeth.

Jacob recoiled from the white man's probing hands, but could only shut his eyes and swallow his rage.

Elijah watched with anger and sorrow, wondering if his father had been forced to suffer the same kind of humiliating examination.

James stared in wide-eyed wonder, envying Mr. Potter's intimacy with the naked teen's muscle-rippled body.

"If you'd ever been a nigger up for sale," Mr. Potter continued, "you'd know good and well you ain't a man, but a piece of goods, somethin' to buy and sell just like a horse or saddle. In a matter of minutes, you'd be inspected by fifty or more men, even a few women, just like I'm doin' to 'ya now. Their white hands would cover every inch of your body, and you wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop it."

As he talked, Mr. Potter wiggled his fingers roughly around in Jacob's mouth, feeling his slick, black-purplish gums and yanking at his pink tongue. He withdrew his hands from Jacob's body and wiped them on the back of his dirty pants.

"When I'm lookin' to buy myself a strong young buck like yourself," Mr. Potter explained, "the first thing I do is check and see what's hangin' between his legs."

He grabbed at Jacob's crotch, cupping it through the stable-boy's torn and piss-splattered pants. Jacob clenched his eyes shut, powerless to resist the older white man's violating touch. He cringed as he felt the man's fingers cupping his balls and pulling at his dick through his wet pants.

"I do believe we've got ourselves a breeder here, boys," Mr. Potter announced, winking obnoxiously at Jacob. "But I reckon we better find out for sure."

He grabbed the waist of Jacob's pants with both hands, and with an aggressive tug he tore what was left of them off the young man's body.

Jacob now stood completely naked, except for the rope still binding his hands. Despite the summer afternoon's humidity, Jacob shivered, embarrassed and angry at the numerous eyes feasting on his nude and vulnerable body.

Elijah looked away at first, sharing Jacob's embarrassment. He recalled the first night James had forced him to strip against his will. But youthful curiosity got the better of him, and he glanced guiltily at Jacob's nudity, noticing with pride that his own dick was nearly as big as the older teen's.

James gasped at the spectacular beauty of Jacob's youthful, sculpted body. From where he sat, James could see the naked slave in profile. This allowed him to admire both the thick, coal-black appendage dangling between Jacob's legs, as well as the perfectly protruding semi-circles of his ass. The breathtaking sight reminded him of the lust that had overtaken him after watching Jacob swim in the creek just two days earlier, and goosebumps of desire and anticipation spread across James's body.

"Looks like I was right," Mr. Potter observed smugly. He nodded at the appendage hanging heavily between Jacob's legs, crowned by a wild patch of course pubic hair. He seized it in his right hand and flopped it around for the other men to see. "This has got to be at least seven or eight inches [18-20 cm], I'd say. Perfect for breeding."

Jacob inhaled deeply and resisted the urge to spit in Mr. Potter's face. Jacob had never been particularly modest. In fact, his dick was one of his few sources of pride and pleasure as a slave, and he always enjoyed showing it off. But this was different, something unnatural and unsettling. Even Master James's unwelcome groping two days earlier had been motivated by awe and desire, not power and mockery. The feeling of Mr. Potter's sweaty fingers fondling his cock was a violation not only of his body, but his very manhood.

Mr. Potter yanked at Jacob's dick as if milking a cow. He cupped Jacob's enormous, charcoal-colored balls, rolling them around in his fingers.

"You've gotta hand the niggers one thing," Mr. Potter chuckled, talking over his shoulder to the other overseers. "They might be dumb as mud, but they're sure as hell hung like horses. And this one ain't even close to the biggest nigger dick I've seen! Hell, I've seen bucks with dicks as big as tree trunks, and swore they'd split my nigger girls in two 'fore knockin' 'em up. I thank God Almighty it's the only thing the niggers got that's better than white folks. I guess the good Lord felt sorry for makin' the niggers into slaves and this was his way of makin' up for it."

Mr. Potter shot Jacob a mocking smile, and the other men laughed uncomfortably at the joke. The impressive size of the Negro male's genitals was common knowledge in the South, but also a source of constant insecurity and anxiety. Some Abolitionists even argued that all the hatred, oppression, and violence of slavery in the South was at its unconscious core inspired by nothing more than petty penis envy.

"I wonder how many nigger cunts he's fucked with this big ol' beast," Mr. Potter continued, pulling and squeezing Jacob's flaccid dick and heavy balls.

Jacob stood frozen, every muscle of his body rippling with annoyance and discomfort.

James's dick sprang to life as he watched the Negro teen's massive dick pawed and played with by Mr. Potter's hairy white hands.

"I bet you've got nigger bitches comin' at you day and night to get this thing 'tween their legs, don't you, boy?" Mr. Potter asked, grinning at Jacob. "How many pussies have you fucked, boy? Dozens? Hundreds? Everybody knows nigger boys like you always got pussy on the brain. Now I ain't a saint myself, but niggers are like goddamn animals when it comes to fucking."

Jacob shut his eyes and tried to ignore Mr. Potter's interrogation. He thought of the countless girls and women he'd seduced in his eighteen years on Stampley Plantation. He'd even fucked a few girls in this very barn: throwing them to the floor of one of the stalls, or across a bale of hay; lifting their skirts, and shoving his pants to his knees; then plowing into their wet pussies like a gorilla in heat.

"You think this nigger's ever fucked a white girl?" Mr. Potter asked.

"He'd be one dead nigger if he did!" the overseer Richardson growled.

"Yeah, he's probably too much a coward to try," Mr. Potter conceded. "But I wonder how many white girls he's wanted to fuck. Knowing niggers, probably every one he sees. You know bucks like him can't wait to get their monkey paws on our women if they have a chance!"

The overseers grumbled in angry agreement. Jacob winced, knowing Mr. Potter's accusations were mostly true.

"Maybe he thinks he can please our women better than we can?!?" Mr. Potter asked loudly. "Maybe this big ol' dick's the reason he's gotten too big for his britches. Well, boys, I think I know a way we can take care of that!"

Mr. Potter released Jacob's dick and smiled menacingly. He walked to the side of the stable and dragged a large bale of hay to the center of the room, placing it behind Jacob.

Jacob blinked his eyes open in confused dread. He'd heard rumors of slaves on other plantations having their dicks and balls chopped off after something as minor as glancing at a white woman in a way deemed inappropriate by their jealous masters, and wondered if he was about to suffer the same horrific fate.

Mr. Potter seized Jacob by the shoulders and spun him around so that his back was facing his onlookers. With a brutal shove, Mr. Potter forced Jacob face-first across the bale of hay. Because his hands were tied, Jacob couldn't control his balance, and ended up with his face and upper body smashed awkwardly against the hay, his taut black buttocks jutting out toward the semi-circle of sadistic spectators.

Jacob felt uncomfortably feminine in this position, and gulped when he recalled the image of Nelson in a similar position, bent over a stool before being fucked by Jacob, Solomon, and Charlie. His eyes opened wide in surprise and horror as he felt Mr. Potter's hands smacking and kneading both of his butt-cheeks, running his fingers over the grayish welts scarring his ass's otherwise smooth dark skin.

"You know what this is, boys?" Mr. Potter asked playfully, slapping Jacob's soot-black bubble-butt. He glanced over at James, who looked as if he'd been hypnotized, and gave the younger man a lecherous wink. "This right here's what I call some damn good nigger pussy."

The other overseers reacted with puzzled and skeptical looks. They glanced at one another with nervous concern, disappointed with their torture-session's unexpected digression.

"I ain't sayin' it's good as the real thing," Mr. Potter clarified, clutching and kneading the firm fleshiness of Jacob's ebony buttocks, sweaty and crusted with mud from running through swamps, creeks, and forests for two days.

"But it's a nice tight hole, ain't it? Even tighter than pussy, in fact. Ain't a better way to put this uppity nigger in his place than turnin' him into a piece of sloppy nigger cunt, just like the ones he likes to fuck!"

Mr. Potter ran his middle finger along the tight dark line of Jacob's ass-crack, pushing into the moist crevice between his muscular buttocks and up against his tiny clenched asshole.

Jacob squirmed under this alarming invasion. He bucked vigorously and struggled to escape Mr. Potter's humiliating examination of his body's most private and protected region. He wasn't about to be turned into a pussy-boy like Nelson. His asshole was strictly for shitting and farting. He never even allowed the Negro girls he fucked around with to go anywhere near his asshole with their tongues or fingers, and he wasn't about to let a white man stick a finger inside him!

Jacob's fierce resistance was met with the thud of Mr. Potter's boot smashing against his skull. The pain of the brutal blow nearly knocked him unconscious. He collapsed, dizzy and defeated, back onto the bale of hay, the twin black globes of his naked rump arched invitingly into the air.

"Fuck 3; you," Jacob mumbled wearily. He still struggled to get up, but collapsed again like a man intoxicated or drugged. "I 3; I ain't no cracker's bitch!" he cried out weakly.

Elijah was filled with sympathy for Jacob, and the scene triggered memories of his own recent humiliations at the hands of Master James. He bravely nudged James and begged him to intervene before Jacob suffered any further.

James too was shocked by Mr. Potter's violence, and felt that it came dangerously close to disregarding his instructions not to damage Jacob in any way. He didn't want a reputation as a cruel master, and nearly leapt to his feet to stop things before they got out of hand.

But the sight of the proud stable-boy slumped over, his round virgin ass ripe and ready to be plucked, was undeniably arousing. James recalled the many times he'd sat behind Jacob in the wagon and drooled over the curves of his sweaty ass as it pushed against the boy's dirty pants. He'd come close to possessing the Negro teen's masculine treasure two days earlier, and now he had a second chance 3; if not to take Jacob's anal virginity directly, at least to enjoy a front-row seat to the defiant young slave's deflowering. Despite the urgings of his conscience and Elijah, James couldn't muster the strength to stop the scene playing out before him. Besides, hadn't he promised Mr. Potter that he wouldn't interfere?

With Jacob weakened and disoriented, Mr. Potter proceeded to grasp, squeeze, and strike the stable-boy's muscular upturned buttocks.

"Stupid nigger, you should've given up when we gave you the chance," Mr. Potter hissed, violently slapping Jacob's right ass-cheek. "Cry all you want, but today you will be a cracker's bitch!"

Mr. Potter's face took on a look of fierce determination. Using both hands, he pried apart Jacob's fleshy half-globes, revealing the tiny prized pucker buried deep between them. It was little more than a black-purplish dot, encircled by dark wisps of hair and clenched tightly shut against any attempted invasion.

Mr. Potter ran his finger up and down Jacob's moist ass-crack, brushing it against the crispy curls running along the base of both buttocks. A musky smell of sweat and shit wafted up from the runaway slave's mud-caked ass, an odor to be expected after two days without washing.

"You see that, boys?" Mr. Potter said enthusiastically, spreading Jacob's butt-cheeks to expose his tightly sealed asshole. "This right here's what I'm talkin' about! Fresh nigger pussy! Ain't no way in hell a hole this tight's ever been touched!"

Jacob protested hoarsely and struggled to stay conscious after the terrible blow to his head. He was aware of the large hands pawing and probing his ass, but his stunned body was powerless to do anything to stop it.

James stumbled to his feet and stepped forward to get a closer look, captivated by the sight before him. He tried to conceal the rock-hard dick tenting beneath his pants.

Elijah sighed, all-too-familiar with the white man's faraway expression. Apparently Master James wasn't the only white man with an interest in Negro boys' shit-holes, Elijah reflected with surprise. What if this obsession with ass was some kind of white-man disease that had spread to him? He squirmed uneasily and fought his own urge to get a closer look at Jacob's body. Would the older slave's asshole excite him as much as Thad's, Lil Rooster's, and Abel's?

The overseers scrunched their noses in disgust at the sight of Jacob's exposed anus, surprised by the passion with which Mr. Potter was describing a nigger buck's smelly asshole.

"Hell, no!" blurted out Foster, the youngest and most outspoken of the Stampley overseers. "I ain't tryin' to disrespect you or nothin', Mr. Potter, but I know pussy, and that for damn sure ain't a pussy!"

"Of course it ain't, literally speakin'," Mr. Potter answered, laughing at the young man's prudish but natural disgust. "But think on it like this, son. I pay upwards of a thousand dollars or more to the traders in Columbus and Atlanta for nigger-girls guaranteed to be virgins at the time of sale. I buy 'em for me, my sons, and my men, and they're worth every goddamn extra penny, ain't they, boys?"

The three Potter overseers nodded in agreement.

Mr. Potter poked crudely at Jacob's wrinkled asshole with his fingers.

"But here we got ourselves a cocky nigger buck just beggin' us to teach him a lesson, with a hole I guarantee ain't never been touched by a living soul 3; a hole just as warm and tight wrapped around a dick as any pussy 3; so why not turn his uppity self into our very own nigger-slut?"

The overseers glanced at each other, curious but still skeptical.

"Nah, I ain't fuckin' no coon's smelly shit-hole!" Foster insisted, shaking his head vigorously.

"Look, I ain't into fuckin' my own kind neither," Mr. Potter assured him. "But why the hell not try it, just this once? I'm tellin' you, it's the perfect punishment. We fuck the pride right out of him 'til he ain't nothin' but another silly, stooping darky!"

Mr. Potter spat a wad of saliva directly onto Jacob's dark asshole, which clenched itself even tighter at the touch of the foreign substance. He used his fingers to smear it around the stable-boy's black-purplish pucker, making it slick and shiny with bubbly spit.

Every muscle along Jacob's shoulders, back, ass, and legs rippled with rage and resistance to the burly white man's touch. The room seemed to be spinning. Girls had sometimes clutched and caressed his buttocks as he fucked them, but this was sickeningly, shamefully different. Now his ass was being played with like a piece of pussy, and Jacob dreaded what it was being prepared for.

"My 3; my ass ain't no pussy!" Jacob gasped, thrashing about to escape Mr. Potter's probing fingers. But the rope binding his hands allowed him little mobility, and he looked like a fish flopping around on dry land.

"We're going to see about that," Mr. Potter replied grimly.

He pressed the tip of his index finger against the wrinkled ring of Jacob's asshole, demanding entrance to the vigorously defended opening. The angrily clenched muscle fought fiercely against the intrusion, but the strength of Mr. Potter's finger broke past the protective circle and pushed into the tight, dark-moist tunnel beneath.

Jacob's mouth gaped open in a silent scream of pain. His body lurched forward to escape the violation, but because it was already smashed against the bale of hay, Jacob had no choice but to submit to the finger penetrating his virgin passageway. The pain was far worse than he'd ever imagined, and Jacob shuddered to think what a thicker and longer intruder might cause him to suffer.

Mr. Potter could only slide his finger two inches [5 cm] into Jacob's insides before being met with more resistance. The stable-boy's anal walls sealed themselves shut to block further invasion, and the upper two inches [5 cm] of the Negro teen's tunnel nearly suffocated Mr. Potter's finger with its grip.

"Damn, this nigger's ass is tight!" Mr. Potter exclaimed with growing excitement. "I've had my fingers up plenty of pussy in my time, but never felt one as tight as this!"

The other men stared with disgust and fascination as their boss shoved his finger into the runaway slave's spit-soaked asshole. Several pulled flasks out of their pockets and swigged liquor as they watched the strange scene.

Mr. Potter's cock jerked and expanded beneath his pants. The idea of raping Jacob had started out as a desire to degrade a defiant slave who dared to deem himself the white man's equal. But the sensation of Jacob's asshole sucking hungrily on his finger now aroused a more carnal motivation. He remembered the cute little pickaninny boy he'd fucked on that drunken night many years earlier. He recalled the pleasure of forcing his dick between the nigger-boy's tiny upturned buttocks, slamming into the skinny little body while the deflowered boy sobbed into the grass for his Mama. Mr. Potter realized the boy would now be around Jacob's age, and wondered if fucking a nigger man would be equally enjoyable.

Impatient to satisfy his curiosity, Mr. Potter shoved his finger completely into Jacob's ass with a brutal thrust.

Jacob grimaced in pain, and his breathing tightened into panicked gasps. His hips pushed against the bale of hay as if trying to dig an escape tunnel with his dick. The muscles of his buttocks tensed and rose, strangling Mr. Potter's finger between them.

Jacob's squirming only fueled Mr. Potter's lust. He jerked and wriggled his finger around the stable-boy's rectum in aggressive exploration. He spit on Jacob's ass and forced a second finger, then a third, into the stable-boy's fiercely resistant tunnel. Eventually he was shoving three fingers in and out of the muscled teen's tight, slimy asshole, furiously poking and prodding against the slick, silky walls of Jacob's rectum.

Jacob's eyes squeezed shut to block out the pain and humiliation of having his ass finger-fucked like a bitch's pussy. The violation of Mr. Potter's thick fingers sent shockwaves of searing pain throughout his body. The man's jagged fingernails scraped rudely against his insides. Jacob wanted to shout curses at the disgusting white man so gleefully robbing him of his masculine pride.

Goddamn filthy crackers, Jacob thought to himself in a dizzy rage. Only white men could find enjoyment from shoving fingers up another man's shit-hole.

Mr. Potter continued assaulting Jacob's ass with his right hand. With his left hand, he shoved his pants to his knees, undid the flap of his undergarment, and released his stubby erection.

James watched with envy as Mr. Potter's fingers forced their way in and out of Jacob's ass with delicious slurping sounds. His dick strained against his clothing as he tried to imagine the tightness and texture of the stable-boy's virgin tunnel.

It had been one thing to corrupt the innocence of boys like Elijah and Thad, or to take advantage of Abel's trust and admiration. But Jacob presented an entirely new thrill altogether: the opportunity to compromise a young man's masculinity by forcing him to be another man's bitch, a degraded role previously unthinkable or detestable in the average male's mind.

James also felt an awakening need for revenge, a desire to punish Jacob and restore the proper relationship of slave to master upon which the entire institution of slavery depended for its survival.

But more than anything, James was stricken with a suffocating urge to possess Jacob's strong, unwilling body, to sink his cock deep into the Negro teen's rebellious bowels. And James wanted to be the FIRST to enjoy Jacob's unexplored ass, the first to pry open his prized virginity.

James's delirious desire pushed aside all concerns about modesty or reputation, and he stumbled forward to claim Jacob's virginity as his own. He stood next to Mr. Potter, who was just then positioning himself over Jacob's arched buttocks. James clutched his own dick and nodded sheepishly at Jacob's prone body.

Mr. Potter looked at James with an expression of amusement mixed with disappointment.

"What the hell am I thinking?" Mr. Potter exclaimed apologetically. "It's your nigger, after all. Of course you should have the honor of fuckin' him first!"

Mr. Potter tucked away his frustrated dick, stepped to the side, and motioned for James to enjoy the feast laid out before him.

"He's all yours, Little Jimmy!" Mr. Potter insisted, patting James encouragingly on the back. "Show the uppity little nigger who's Master around here!"

Jacob glanced over his shoulder and sighed with shame and fear when he saw James standing behind him. He eyed the bulge in James's pants, and knew the creature beneath wanted to plunge into his shit-hole, which was still stinging from the assault by Mr. Potter's fingers. He tried to crawl away, but Mr. Potter stomped the heel of his boot into the small of Jacob's back, smashing his body against the hay-bale in helpless submission.

In Boston, James would have been mortified by the idea of exposing himself to other men. And the possibility of fucking another man in front of an audience would have been unthinkable. But Jacob's muscular whip-scarred buttocks beckoned James like a siren, and his lust-crazed mind was conscious only of the masculine virgin ass he was about to penetrate.

James trembled with anticipation as he stepped up behind Jacob's upturned ass. He reached slowly forward and grasped at the stable-boy's firm dark mounds, caked with mud and streaks of dried urine.

He noticed the smell of shit, piss, and sweat hanging thick in the air, but strangely enough wasn't disgusted by it. Instead, he found it oddly intoxicating, and inhaled the rich musky fragrance of the dirty runaway slave.

He gasped with delight as he kneaded Jacob's ass muscles, running his fingers along the ridges of the young man's scars. He admired the strength and shapeliness of Jacob's perfectly rounded buttocks, typical of most Negro males but no less breathtaking in their beauty.

James pressed his finger into Jacob's ass-crack and slid it along the deep cavern from the edge of Jacob's backbone until it found his moist, panting asshole. He shoved his finger into the tight, slick opening and watched with guilty arousal as Jacob's body tensed in pain and resistance.

James closed his eyes and savored the strange texture of the stable-boy's ass tunnel, circling his finger in eager exploration. It was only the third Negro butt he'd examined this way, but James was amazed at how each was unique in appearance, texture, and tightness. Jacob's asshole was more wrinkled than Elijah's, hairier than Abel's, and tighter than both despite his slightly older age.

The precum leaking from James's throbbing cock reminded him that Jacob's ass offered up greater delights to James's dick than it did his fingers. He fumbled to unfasten his belt and jerk his pants to his knees. He unbuttoned the square flap of his undergarment and freed his fire-red dick so that it jutted into the air.

Half-squatting, half-standing, James positioned himself behind Jacob's lanky, sprawled-out body. He tried to ignore Mr. Potter, who stood just a couple feet away with his boot still firmly implanted in Jacob's back.

The beauty of Jacob's muscular coal-black buttocks bent over the hay-bale was so striking that James feared his dick might unleash its pent-up fluids before finding its way to the receptacle it craved.

Eager to avoid such an embarrassing disappointment, James spat on his dick and pointed it at Jacob's tiny wrinkled hole. He pressed the tip of his cock against the tightly sealed orifice. He shook in awed disbelief that he was about to mount a black boy as proud and handsome as Jacob.

James pushed with all his might and broke past the tight circle of Jacob's anus, sighing in ecstasy as he sank three inches [7½ cm] of his manhood into the stable-boy's forbidden tunnel.

Jacob yelled with surprise at the searing pain of the invasion. Ashamed of his weakness, he buried his face in the hay to stifle any additional screams. His wide nostrils flared with humiliated rage at having his shit-hole stuffed with another man's dick. He shut his eyes in shame, braced his body against the pain, and tightened his asshole to expel its assailant.

James had lodged less than half his cock in Jacob's rectum when his dick seemed to hit another obstacle. Desperate to plunder the deepest treasures of Jacob's intestines, James seized Jacob by his hips and heaved into his body with all the strength he could muster. The intensity of the thrust was too much for the runaway slave's weakened body. Jacob's rectal walls collapsed, allowing James to sink his hungry shaft deep into the stable-boy's hot, squishy bowels.

Jacob's face tightened in agonized suffering. He bit into the hay to smother his moans and brace himself against the excruciating pain.

The sight of Jacob gritting his teeth like a woman in childbirth only excited James all the more. The sound of the stable-boy's deep, defiant voice reduced to raspy, panicked gasps was a thing of thrilling beauty. James buried his dick up to its base in Jacob's butt, grinding his hips in circular motions as a silent declaration of victory over the stable-boy's surrendered virginity. James slowly withdrew his dick, slick with spit and shit, and then shoved it back in with brutal force.

Jacob jerked his head up in angry alarm, offering up silent howls to the stable roof.

Holding Jacob firmly by the waist, James thrust in and out of his asshole with accelerating speed and intensity. Because of the load he'd dumped in Abel's mouth earlier that morning, James was able to prolong the pleasure he was taking from Jacob's body. He savored the warm, wet suction of Jacob's surrendered insides as he pummeled the Negro teen's prostrate body. His red, veiny dick pumped in and out of Jacob's dark-purplish asshole, disappearing into the young man's untrammeled intestines.

James bucked wildly up and down, slamming his dick into Jacob's body with merciless speed and force. These frenzied gyrations were spurred on by Jacob's angry gasps each time James's dick pushed against its deepest point inside Jacob's ass.

Mr. Potter watched with jealous fascination, cheering on James's every thrust.

"God-DAMN, that looks like some good tight pussy," Mr. Potter declared.

James grunted in affirmation, then shut his eyes to focus on the pleasure Jacob's body was giving him.

"Don't it sound just like pussy, boys?" Mr. Potter asked the other onlookers. "Slurpin' and smackin' and suckin' just like a wet cunt!"

Several of the men nodded in nervous agreement and fondled their dicks through their pants. The others looked on uneasily, drowning their discomfort with gulps of liquor.

For the first several minutes of Jacob's rape, Elijah squirmed sullenly in his seat, angry with Master James and sorry for his fellow slave. But hard as he tried to shut out the scene before him, the rhythmic slurping/smacking/gurgling/farting sounds of ass-fucking grew louder and more pronounced, until Elijah could think of nothing else. At first they reminded him of his own painful rape at Master James's hands. But soon the sounds began to conjure memories of his own dick going in and out of his little brother and Abel, and his cock sprang guiltily to life. He wondered if the ass of an older boy like Jacob felt just as good, or better? He tried to fling such filthy thoughts from his mind, but the enticing sounds filling the room overwhelmed Elijah's feeble willpower. He now stood on his bale of hay, straining to get a better view of the show as he reached beneath his ragged pants and eagerly stroked his dick.

When James feared that orgasm might overtake him, he halted his pace to slow and sensual strokes, rocking softly into the tense body beneath him. He motioned for Mr. Potter to remove his foot from Jacob's back, and lay his body flat against the stable-boy's sweaty back. He nuzzled Jacob's sticky neck and savored the feeling of their warm bodies pressed so intimately together.

As he pumped his hips in slow, circular motions, James licked hungrily at Jacob's neck, cheeks, and ears, tasting the salty bitterness of sweat and dried piss. He stared at Jacob's beautiful African features: its eyes clenched in pained resentment, its nostrils flared in shame and anger, its mouth wincing with every sharp thrust of James's dick.

Drunk with lust and power, James no longer felt any sympathy for Jacob. Instead, he relished his conquest of the cocky boy's manhood. He remembered his own humiliation at Jacob's hands just two days earlier, and intensified his assault on the arrogant adolescent's virgin body.

Jacob's grunts grew louder and more desperate. James pressed his mouth against Jacob's ear and whispered the same insults Jacob had hurled at him when the roles were reversed:

"You feel that, nigger? You like that white dick up inside your pussy, nigger?"

"Fuck you," Jacob hissed between heavy panting. "I 3; ain't 3; no 3; pussy," he gasped to the rhythm of James's angry fucking. "And I ain't 3; yours 3; or nobody else's 3; nigger 3; neither!"

Jacob tried to cling to his last shred of manhood, even as the white man's dick pounded his ass like it was sweet, juicy pussy. But it was a losing battle. If given the chance, would he be able to look his buddies in the eyes again, or fuck girls with his former talent and confidence?

Jacob's defiance spurred James on to more determined and violent thrusts. He licked and bit at Jacob's neck and ears as he lunged his manhood deep into the slave's warm guts.

He closed his eyes and pictured Jacob's sweaty bubble-butt rising and falling, rising and falling as Jacob fucked some moaning Negro girl in a dirty slave-cabin, and the image made James's possession of that very same ass all the more satisfying. He flung his cock into it with wild abandon, stretching open Jacob's battered asshole and obliterating all remaining signs of his precious virginity.

The suction of Jacob's tight rectal tunnel tempted James toward an explosive climax. James rested his face against Jacob's moist neck and pounded furiously into the muscular ass beneath him. When he could hold off no longer, he heaved his body into one final thrust and fired thick, steamy cum deep into Jacob's rectum.

Jacob shuddered with disgust as he felt the warm semen soiling his insides. Surely there was nothing more degrading than feeling another man's hot baby-juices sloshing around one's intestines! He wondered if his mother and Laney had felt as he did now, when raped in front of he and his father by drunken overseers.

At least he didn't have to worry about having a white man's baby, he reflected with bitter relief. But Jacob could see the other white men circling him like vultures, stroking their dicks and getting drunker by the minute, and he knew his nightmare was far from over.

James lay limply atop Jacob for several minutes, enjoying the warmth of the stable-boy's sweat-soaked body. He was jolted out of his reverie by Mr. Potter's booming voice.

"Damn, Little Jimmy, you ain't gonna keep the nigger all for yourself, are you?"

Mr. Potter laughed and pulled lewdly at his crotch.

James lifted himself off Jacob and pulled his soft, slimy dick from the Negro's ass with a sharp plopping noise. A trail of cum and shit-juice seeped from Jacob's stretched asshole. He stumbled away from Jacob's body like a man waking reluctantly from a pleasant dream.

Suddenly James became aware of the eyes following his every move, and he blushed with embarrassment. He collapsed beside the bale of hay, weary from his exhilarating orgasm yet curious to watch Jacob's continued degradation.

Mr. Potter wasted no time taking James's place behind Jacob's bent-over body. Grabbing Jacob by the hips, he shoved his thick stump into Jacob's raw asshole without the slightest hesitation or consideration for the slave's feelings. The slick coating of James's cum allowed him entry with little resistance, and in no time he was bucking wildly into the body beneath him.

Mr. Potter stabbed Jacob's asshole with short, fast strokes, closing his eyes and grunting like a hog in heat.

Mr. Potter's stocky build gave his thrusts a violence that James's had lacked. Jacob felt like he was being ripped in two by the burly white man's thick cock. He couldn't comprehend how Nelson had participated in such a painful, degrading act so enthusiastically. To Jacob, the sensation of getting fucked felt like taking a boiling-hot shit over and over again, and he desperately hoped his suffering would soon be over.

"Damn, boys, with my eyes shut I'd swear this was pussy!" he called out, smacking Jacob's ass-cheeks so hard that he left purple handprints in the boy's ebony skin.

"Ain't as clean as pussy," he observed, looking down at his shit-smeared dick pumping in and out of Jacob's anus. "But it's for damn sure just as tight. Tighter, in fact!"

Eventually the pain grew so great for Jacob that he could no longer suppress his screams, and he matched Mr. Potter's brutal thrusts with savage shouts of pain.

"You don't sound so tough now, do you, boy?" Mr. Potter taunted, humping Jacob like a drunken jackrabbit.

"You like havin' this white dick shoved in your shitter? Well, you best get used to it, 'cause as long as you draw breath you ain't gonna be nothin' but a white man's bitch. On your knees, on your back, hung upside down, it don't matter. You'll have so many cocks stuffed in your ass and throat 'fore we're through with you, you won't remember what pussy is!"

"Go 3; to 3; hell!" Jacob shouted between his loud moans. "I 3; ain't 3; no 3; pussy-boy 3; you fat 3; cracker 3; motherfucker!"

Mr. Potter laughed uproariously.

"You hear that, boys?" he mocked. "This nigger says he ain't a pussy-boy! Well, I guess he ain't aware of the dick shoved in his ass-cunt!"

The other men joined Mr. Potter in laughter at the ridiculousness of Jacob's refusal to accept reality. The alcohol and sex-sounds had loosened them up, and most had begun to enjoy the afternoon's adventure.

Mr. Potter slammed his heavy body into Jacob's aching asshole. In an effort to increase the stable-boy's pain, he pulled his dick completely out, dripping with Jacob's ass-juices, then forced it back in with brutal force, ripping open Jacob's asshole each time. He did this several times in a row, causing Jacob to cry out in furious agony.

Being more experienced than James, Mr. Potter lasted much longer, pummeling Jacob's body for what seemed like hours. At times, he slapped Jacob's ass or yanked at his tangled hair while taunting the stable-boy with cruel insults. At other times, he closed his eyes and fucked in rhythm to his own groans of pleasure.

Eventually he shook with a volcanic orgasm, unleashing a geyser of scalding cum into Jacob's already-polluted bowels. He yanked his dick out of Jacob's ass and scooped up the slimy cum trickling out of Jacob's panting asshole. Pants still down around his ankles, he walked around to where Jacob's face pressed awkwardly into the bale of hay and shoved his cum-soaked fingers into the boy's shocked and disgusted mouth.

"It'll probably do you good to get some white man in you," Mr. Potter laughed, wiggling his messy fingers around the inside of Jacob's mouth.

The taste of cum and ass-slime caused the mortified stable-boy to gag. When Mr. Potter withdrew his fingers, Jacob spat and sputtered violently to rid his mouth of the nasty substance.

Mr. Potter tucked away his dick, buttoned his drawers, yanked up his pants, and looked around at the rest of the men.

"Who's next?" he bellowed. "We ain't goin' home 'til this nigger's loose as my wife's cunt, and every single one of 'ya best do your part at least once!"

Richardson and Snopes already had their pants to their knees and dicks in hand, looking at one another to see who'd be the first to try fucking a nigger boy. Foster and the three Potter overseers remained fully clothed, but looked dizzy and drunk and far more willing to follow their boss's lead than they had an hour earlier.

Jacob looked wearily around the room, and despaired when he saw that his swollen, stinging asshole was going to be fucked six more times, at the very least. He wished Mr. Potter had kicked him unconscious. At least that would have spared him the horrific pain and humiliation of being gang-raped by eight white men. And he hoped they'd go ahead and shoot him when they were done, because he'd never be able to face his sister or friends again, not after something as degrading as this.

"Jesus Christ, boys!" Mr. Potter growled impatiently. "He's just a dumb nigger. It ain't like fuckin' him's gonna turn you off to pussy for good!"

Richardson stepped nervously forward and approached Jacob's upturned bubble-butt.

"There 'ya go, he ain't gonna bite," Mr. Potter coaxed sarcastically.

Richardson held his hands behind his back, reluctant to touch the dirty stable-boy more than necessary, and flopped his flaccid dick between the firm folds of Jacob's buttocks. He slid it up and down the slave's slick ass-crack, pushing it against the warm, wet asshole. But nothing Richardson did could excite his dick into an erection.

"I sure am sorry, Mr. Potter," Richardson said sheepishly, putting his dick away in surrender. "It's 'cause I ain't used to fuckin' nigger boys, I reckon."

Mr. Potter began to reply angrily, then paused as if possessed with a new idea.

"Snopes, I'd like a word with you!" he said impatiently. He put his arm around the senior overseer's shoulders and led him to the side of the room. They talked in hushed tones, and Snopes broke into a toothless grin.

Snopes left the barn, and returned several minutes later with a beautiful young Negro girl by his side, no more than fourteen years of age.

"I'm thinkin' this pretty nigger girl might be just the thing you boys need to get your dicks hard," Mr. Potter explained with sadistic delight.

The rest of the men cheered with enthusiastic agreement, drooling at the sight of the scared little girl with nappy pigtails.

Jacob turned dizzily around to see the girl that Mr. Potter was talking about. His heart sank in despair when he recognized who it was.

It was Laney.

NEXT PART