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From: WannabeWhitman <wannabewhitman@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Adventures of Stampley Plantation: Chapter 3 (Mm, nc, ds, hist, interr, va)
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Date: Sat, 29 Jul 2006 01:10:01 -0400
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Attn Moderator: I ended up deleting the version posted
yesterday, since I divided it into what will now be
TWO chapters instead of one. Please re-post. Thanks!

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<1st attachment, "The Adventures of Stampley Plantation - Chapter 3.doc" begin>

The Adventures of Stampley Plantation

By WannabeWhitman (Mm, nc, ds, hist, interr, va)

DISCLAIMER:  This story is a homosexual fantasy involving slavery
in the antebellum South, non-consensual sex with minors, and
racial epithets. If you think any of this might offend you, DO
NOT READ. If you live in a country, state, or jurisdiction that
prohibits you from reading this material, DO NOT READ. If you are
a minor, DO NOT READ. I realize these stories might contain
material distasteful and offensive to some readers, but nobody is
forcing you to read it. Keep in mind these are only FANTASIES
based on our country's racial history and my own conflicted
imagination. I do not in any way condone or encourage racism, sex
with minors, or rape. 

Although this story is set in the antebellum South, I have not
done extensive research and cannot guarantee complete historical
accuracy. Most of the names, however, are taken from actual
records of slave-owners and their slaves. 

Any and all feedback is welcome and desired! I would love to hear
advice on how my writing might improve, characters or scenes you
particularly enjoy, suggestions for future characters or
storylines, stories and fantasies of your own, and anything else
you might want to share. E-mail me at <a
href="mailto:WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com">WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com</
a>. 

Chapter 3: The Bribe

Elijah was dreaming of escape. 

He was out of breath, running for his very life through a dark
forest in the middle of the night. His mother and little brother
were with him, and together they were using the stars and full
moon to guide them North. He could hear the blood-curdling howls
of the hounds in fast pursuit of the three runaways. But his fear
didn't matter, because at that moment he was FREE. Free from his
Master's clammy groping hands. Free from the sweaty grunts and
searing pain every time his Master mounted him from behind. Free
from the helpless feeling of knowing his teenage body was not his
own, but rather subject to his Master's every whim and
perversion. 

He was running, running, running from the yelping of the hounds,
but large tree branches kept getting in his way. One thick branch
in particular hung menacingly in his way, hitting him in the face
and blocking his path as he tried to duck beneath it. He cried
out for his mother and Thad, but they were nowhere to be found.
He felt like the tree branch was suffocating him........

Elijah jerked awake from his dream with terror in his eyes. 

He was still in Master James's bed. The full moon pouring through
the bedroom windows and the sound of coyotes howling in the
distance told him it was still in the deep of night. 

The tree branch of Elijah's dream was actually his Master's
rock-hard dick, poking and pushing for an entrance into his
sleepy mouth. As soon as Elijah woke up enough to realize what
was happening, he turned his head away in disgust. He recalled
that only a few hours earlier, that same dick had been shoved
inside his shit-hole. Even though Master James had cleaned it
off, the thought of putting it in his mouth was anything but
appetizing. 

Elijah felt his Master grabbing a handful of hair at the back of
his head, forcing his face to confront the veiny monster
demanding attention from his tired mouth. Elijah knew resistance
was futile. Clenching his eyes shut in disgust, he reluctantly
let his Master's cock push past his lips and deep into his mouth.


James straddled Elijah's face, clutching a clump of nappy hair at
the back of the boy's head, thus forcing his mouth's submission
to every urgent thrust. 

James was especially turned on by the spontaneity of the act. In
the past when he'd woken from sleep with midnight cravings, all
he could do was splash cold water on his cock, or relieve himself
with a quick, frustrating jerk-off. But tonight, when dreams of
Elijah's cum-drenched face had awakened James's dick, all he had
to do was turn to the naked slave-boy sleeping beside him for
immediate satisfaction. 

James was thrilled by the idea that a boy as innocent and
beautiful as Elijah had no choice but to serve his sexual needs
at any time of the night or day. He was also beginning to realize
his power to destroy the slave-boy's innocence, slowly and
methodically, orgasm by orgasm, until all purity and resistance
had been irreversibly eradicated. He knew without a doubt that
this power lay within his reach; it was now only a question of
the extent to which he'd explore and enjoy that power. 

Part of him viewed his newfound power with shame and fear. Why on
earth would a decent, compassionate man like he want to turn a
happy, spirited young boy into an exploited animal, a hollow
shell of a human being? But a deeper, darker part of James
couldn't resist his curiosity to witness firsthand what such a
transformation would look like, especially if HE were the one
responsible for the boy's corruption.

Even though James had reached explosive climax just hours ago, he
couldn't believe how good it felt to plunge his dick into
Elijah's half-asleep mouth. The sight of the boy's tightly shut
eyes and facial grimaces under the moonlight only intensified his
mounting pleasure. With his left hand, James rubbed Elijah's
forehead, cheeks, and chin, savoring the smoothness of the boy's
brown skin. With his right hand, he enjoyed the feel of Elijah's
wooly, disheveled hair clutched in his fingers. 

He forced Elijah's face into his crotch, stabbing his cock deeper
and deeper into the boy's helpless mouth. Every time his dick hit
the back of Elijah's throat, James could hear moans, gasps, and
cries of protest coming from the boy's mouth, creating a rhythmic
accompaniment to every thrust. If James happened to slam his dick
into the boy's mouth with extra violence, these sounds would be
punctuated with a rise in volume, gagging noises, or increased
sense of panic in Elijah's gasps for air. Rather than awaken
James's latent compassion, however, these sounds only further
enflamed James's lust. 

Elijah tried in vain to make his mind and spirit leave his body
until the assault was over. He tried to imagine himself fishing
with Thad and Moses, or listening to the stories his father used
to tell him and his little brother. Rather than relieve his
anguish, however, these attempts only intensified his pain and
sense of shame. Wherever his father was, Elijah hoped he was
still alive so that he couldn't look down and see his eldest son
with the Master's cock stuffed in his mouth, like a hog roasting
on a spit at Christmastime. 

Elijah no longer felt the same fear for his life that he'd
experienced during his first oral assault two days earlier. He
knew his Master's dick could choke him, but not to the point of
actual suffocation. This time around, Elijah knew the thrusting
attack would eventually be over. 

It was still hell on earth while it lasted, though. The Master's
dick tasted salty and clammy, and shot bolts of pain throughout
his body every time it stabbed the insides of his cheeks or the
back of his throat. Since he hadn't had anything to drink for
several hours, Elijah's lips and mouth were parched, forcing him
to strain to produce more saliva before the Master noticed
anything was wrong. 

James noticed that it was taking him longer to climax this time.
Too bad for the boy, he thought to himself. 

The extra time allowed James to throw back his head, close his
eyes, and relish every stroke of the boy's hot tongue against his
shaft; every suction of Elijah's thick Negro lips as his own cock
slurped in and out of their nearly-virgin opening; every glimpse
by moonlight of the boy's angry, panicked eyes when they'd open
wide after a particularly brutal thrust. 

Every few minutes, James took his dick out of Elijah's mouth and
smacked its hardness against the boy's chin, lips, cheeks, and
forehead. He liked wiping a trail of precum from the boy's ear,
down his neck, across his Adam's apple, and up to his other ear,
a mark of degradation on the caramel-skinned slave-boy. It only
took seconds of such playfulness, however, before James's dick
would miss the wet tightness of Elijah's mouth and dive back into
its warm resting-place.

The suction of Elijah's stiff lips and awkward wriggling of his
tongue soon had another stream of hot semen surging from deep
within James's balls to the head of his dick. Having already
released a load of cum into Elijah's ass two nights before, and
having splattered his face with hot juices just a few hours
earlier, James now felt an urgent desire to unleash his orgasm in
the slave-boy's unsuspecting mouth. He tightened his grip on the
back of Elijah's head and thrust his cock deep into the boy's
throat, holding it there as he pumped stream after stream of
steamy liquid down the boy's esophagus. 

Elijah's body fought to free itself as he felt the sudden
explosion of runny fluid in the back of his throat, but James's
strong hands held him firmly in place. The older white man's cum
had a pungent odor and sour taste, and Elijah's throat gagged to
refuse it entrance into the boy's healthy young body. Choking and
sputtering, Elijah felt his mouth filling with the hot, bitter
fluid until it ran out the corners of his mouth, down his chin,
and into a puddle on his naked brown chest. 

"Swallow it!" James hissed in frustration.

Elijah squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to open his
throat to the slimy, disgusting liquid. Some of it oozed into his
throat and he gulped it down hurriedly.

"Listen, boy," James warned sternly. "Don't let this happen
again. Next time you'll know what's coming, and you'd better
swallow every drop. Like this........" 

James scooped up gobs of cum from Elijah's chin, neck, and chest,
then shoved them into the boy's slobbery mouth. 

"Lick my fingers clean," James ordered, enjoying the thrill of
mastery over the visibly repulsed boy. 

Elijah resentfully licked the white gooey fluid off the older
white man's fingers, doing everything within his power to avoid
puking from the acrid taste. He almost preferred having his
Master's spunk shot deep into his bowels; at least that way he
wouldn't be forced to see, smell, or taste it.

Even after Elijah had licked his fingers thoroughly clean, James
continued to probe the boy's warm mouth with his fingers. James
got a sadistic thrill from looking down at Elijah's clenched eyes
while he grabbed the boy's tongue and rubbed his fingers along
the ridges of small white teeth. James even poked his index
finger into the back of Elijah's throat, just to hear his raspy
adolescent gagging one more time. 

His body spent from its second orgasm of the evening, James's
sadism soon gave way to resumed tenderness. He  pulled the boy
into a close embrace facing him. In that position, he gently
stroked Elijah's wildly matted hair and kissed the boy's sore
mouth. His tongue explored all the places his fingers had just
fondled, and he sucked on Elijah's cute little tongue. 

James sensed the tension in Elijah's body. He knew the boy wasn't
reciprocating his tenderness, but by that point he didn't care.
Elijah was his PROPERTY, after all, and existed solely to feed
his sexual appetites and keep his loneliness at bay. He could
keep him a sexual prisoner like this for weeks, months, even
YEARS at a time. 

James's kissing became slower and clumsier, until eventually he
fell asleep in mid-kiss. 

Elijah waited until his Master was safely asleep, then squirmed
out of his embrace to face the opposite wall. His esophagus still
burned from the tangy taste of his Master's juices, and his body
felt dirty from the sticky cum still caked on his face and chest.
But as miserable as he felt, Elijah was relieved to have his
ordeal over with, for another few hours at least.

Next thing he knew, Elijah was being shaken awake by a bony white
hand on his shoulder. His eyes shot open and he tried to remember
where he was. 

"Wake up, my little black beauty," James said kindly, but the
words made Elijah cringe. James was wearing pants and sitting on
the edge of the bed. He was holding a wide metal tray that
carried several plates of steaming, delicious-smelling food and a
glass pitcher filled with an orange liquid.

"Time for breakfast, Elijah," James explained, nudging the boy
awake. "Becky must think I have a monstrous appetite this
morning," he laughed, winking at Elijah. James wanted Elijah to
forget his sexual brutality during these moments of quiet
intimacy, but Elijah only nodded with a far-away look in his
eyes. 

James moved to sit with his back against the bed's headboard, the
tray resting on his lap, and motioned for Elijah to sit up beside
him. The boy sleepily moved into place beside his cheerful
Master, wiping his eyes and looking down at the food laid before
him. There were hot flaky biscuits drenched in melted butter and
strawberry jam; slices of crispy bacon; two bowls of steaming
oatmeal; and chunks of freshly cut watermelon. 

Elijah's eyes opened wide in wonder at the feast in front of him.
James smiled, realizing this was probably the first decent meal
of the teenage boy's life. 

"Eat all you want," James encouraged. "I can even ask for more if
you'd like. Poor Becky might think I've lost my mind, but she'll
cook up more if I ask." 

Elijah stared at the food in shock. His pride urged him to refuse
his Master's kindness, but his growling stomach insisted
otherwise. Elijah's bony ribcage wasn't just the look of awkward
adolescence; it was also a sign of severe under-nourishment.
Master Walt had never let his slaves starve, but he certainly
wasn't generous with food rations. Other than Christmastime,
Elijah's diet consisted primarily of cornbread, gruel (basically
mashed corn), fried potatoes, boiled greens, and fish if he and
his buddies were lucky enough to catch some. With the exception
of the occasional rabbit or squirrel, meat was a rare delicacy,
and fruit was even scarcer. Even with the food Elijah was
accustomed to, portions were small and never fully satisfied his
hunger. Elijah knew that white folks in the big house lived
better than their slaves, but he'd never imagined prosperity
quite like this. The temptation to sample such wealth was too
strong. Elijah reached forward, grabbed one of the warm biscuits,
and then greedily crammed it into his hungry mouth. 

"There you go," James said, laughing sympathetically at the boy's
raw display of hunger. He watched in amusement as Elijah devoured
his breakfast like a madman, shoveling food into his mouth faster
than his skinny arms could reach for it.  

"Easy now, Elijah," James warned, still chuckling. "Don't make
yourself sick! It's not going anywhere, so take your time." 

He reached out and took his own bite of biscuit, watching Elijah
out of the corner of his eye. 

"Most slaves would kill to be in your place right now," James
explained. He wasn't sure if it was true, but it hit the
persuasive note he was aiming for. Elijah continued inhaling his
breakfast, seemingly indifferent to his Master's words.

"I know you're probably not fond of the........things I make you
do when we're together," James continued. "But you'll see that
being my personal slave has its advantages. No other slaves get
to sleep on such a soft bed, for example, or wake up to such a
feast. Besides, I think I've treated you with more kindness than
the overseers probably treat your mother in the fields." 

Elijah didn't look up, but resented the Master mentioning his
mother so casually. He focused on the pleasant sensations of
breakfast, and tried to ignore his Master's annoying rambling. 

James poured Elijah a glass of orange juice. The boy stared at it
curiously, then gulped it down greedily. It was his first taste
of orange juice; water was the only liquid he'd ever drank with
breakfast. He liked its sweet, cool taste, and it helped wash
from his mouth the smell of morning breath and aftertaste of
swallowed cum.

"Refreshing, isn't it?" James asked, smiling and stroking the
boy's greasy, nappy head. "What I'm trying to tell you, Elijah,
is that if you continue trying to make ME happy, I'll do my best
to make sure that YOU'RE happy too. I have to confess, I'm
already growing quite fond of you." 

Elijah wanted to spit his food in his Master's face and tell him
the way to make him TRULY happy would be to send him back to his
mother and little brother, and never make him do another
disgusting thing with him ever again. But he remembered the
Master's threats from two nights before, and knew his fate as a
slave-boy was to submit to suffering without challenge or
complaint. 

"Thank you, Massuh James," Elijah mumbled with his mouth full of
bacon. "This breakfast's real good, Massuh. I know you'se been
kind to me, Massuh James." He remembered his mother's advice,
telling his Master everything he wanted to hear. 

James got goose bumps at the sound of the teenage boy's raspy,
grateful voice. His dick also twitched at the sight of Elijah's
brown naked body, covered in crumbs and remnants of dried cum
from the previous night's adventures. 

Even the sight of Elijah EATING was arousing to James. He enjoyed
watching the eager gulps of his slave-boy's Adam's apple,
imagining the food being swallowed deep into the boy's insides
where it would be digested into a part of the boy's beauty,
sweat, energy, and shit. He knew it was crazy, but part of him
envied the food's contact with the most intimate and unreachable
parts of the boy's breathtaking body. 

Swept up in a moment of impulsive passion, James took Elijah's
cheeks in both hands, interrupting his breakfast and pulling him
close for a deep, tender kiss. He licked the crumbs off the boy's
fleshy Negro lips, sucking tenderly at Elijah's half-open mouth
still full of half-chewed food. 

Elijah rolled his eyes back to look at the ceiling, frustrated
with his Master's interruption of his breakfast. He watched in
silent protest as James moved the breakfast tray to the floor,
stood to remove his pants, and climbed back beside him,
smothering his face with aggressive kisses. 

"Damn," Elijah thought sourly. "He ain't even gonna let me finish
eatin' before he takes his way with me again." 

"You can finish your breakfast later," James assured him
breathlessly, caught up in his growing frenzy of lust. "Now it's
time for you to EARN it."

He pulled Elijah down into a horizontal position on his back, and
covered the slave-boy's scrawny naked body with his own nude,
pale, middle-aged flesh. 

He grabbed Elijah's face in both hands and devoured it with his
mouth, relishing the smell and taste of sleepy boy. He nuzzled
the boy's neck and grinded his dick against his legs while Elijah
stared at the ceiling above him in boredom and despair. 

This moment of passion, begun with a flash of tender foreplay,
quickly turned into something urgent and animalistic. James's
dick was already fully hard and poking hungrily around the warm
crevices of the boy's thighs and buttocks. He felt a greedy,
overwhelming desire to fuck the boy quickly and without mercy. He
had watched Elijah's breakfast slide eagerly down his throat, and
now he longed to feel the boy's insides again before they became
polluted from digestion. 

James shoved Elijah's legs into the air and pushed the boy's
knees against his chest. Elijah's ass tensed in anticipation of
its second violation in several hours, its third in the boy's
entire young life. 

James leaned across the bed and reached down to the abandoned
breakfast tray on the floor. He scooped up a glob of melting
butter from one of the dishes, returned to his position between
his slave-boy's spread legs, and smeared it all around Elijah's
dark, wrinkled asshole. The boy's asshole tightened at first
touch, then loosened slightly, then tightened again, panting in
dread of the assault just seconds away. 

James pushed one, then two of his butter-drenched fingers into
Elijah's resistant asshole, watching the boy wince in pain as he
did so. This was a new and interesting sensation, he thought, the
feel of his FINGERS exploring the boy's forbidden insides. He
loved the panicked grip of the boy's asshole as it fought
fiercely to expel the unwanted intruders. He savored the silky,
slimy feel of the boy's rectum as his fingers wriggled their way
deeper and deeper. He smiled as he watched the boy gasp in
protest, then cover his face with his right arm in frustration
and embarrassment. 

James removed his fingers, but just before he started to wipe
them on the bed-sheets, he had a wicked impulse to make Elijah
lick them clean. The idea of the boy being forced to taste the
melted butter mixed with the slime from his rectum was
surprisingly and sadistically exciting to James. Without warning
or permission, James shoved his gooey fingers into Elijah's
horrified mouth. 

"Lick them clean!" James ordered, enjoying his command over the
boy. 

Elijah started to choke, but had no choice but to suck his own
slimy insides off his Master's fingers. He longed for another
drink of orange juice to rinse out the nasty taste and musky
smell of James's fingers. 

James nearly climaxed right then, just watching Elijah's
expressions of surprise and disgust. 

He knew it was time to fuck the boy's warm, greasy asshole  
briefly but brutally. He placed his eager cock against the boy's
tight opening, then fully entered the boy in one forceful thrust.


Elijah screamed in protest so loudly that James worried for a
second that Mr. Potter, Becky, or Abel would come running to see
who'd been murdered. James smothered the boy's screams with his
right hand, pressing down on the boy's face as he used his dick
as a battering ram to open Elijah's tight entryway. The warm
melted butter intensified the normal pleasures of ass-fucking,
and allowed James's dick to sink deeper into Elijah's guts than
on his first two fuckings. 

With a threatening look, James removed his hand from Elijah's
mouth. Elijah substituted his screams of agony with quick,
guttural gasps of pain that accompanied every thrust. Every gasp
was paired with a clenching-shut of the boy's eyes in misery and
endurance. These sights and sounds provided physical proof of
James's power over Elijah, inspiring him to slam his adult body
into the boy's scrawny frame with even greater intensity.

It only took a dozen brutal thrusts into his slave-boy's lanky
brown body before James felt a weaker but still-powerful orgasm
building up within him. He leaned down and smothered Elijah's
cries by shoving his tongue into the boy's gaping mouth, tasting
sweet remnants of biscuits and bacon mixed with the fouler taste
of butter and ass-juices. He lunged his body deeper and deeper
into Elijah, thrilled by the feeling of the boy's sprawled legs
and feet wrapped around his back. Finally, James buried his head
into the sweaty nape of Elijah's neck and focused all his energy
on the orgasm to come. He whispered Elijah's name over and over
in his slave-boy's ear, grunting in defeated ecstasy as he heaved
his body into Elijah's one final time, emptying what was left of
his body's semen supply deep into his slave-boy's waiting bowels.


He lay atop Elijah's body, his softening dick still inside the
boy's butter-greased ass, sweating and panting for breath, for
what felt like hours to Elijah's restless body. 

Finally Elijah worked up the nerve to ask hesitantly, "Can I
finish eatin' now, Massuh James?" 

James lifted his head up to look down at his shy, scared
slave-boy. He chuckled at the boy's simple request, uttered with
such simplicity and candor. His chuckle turned into long,
convulsive laughter atop Elijah's frail, confused body. Still
laughing uncontrollably, James rolled off the boy and onto his
back. He reached down to the floor, lifted up the tray, and put
it on Elijah's lap, laughing the entire time. 

Now he was laughing at far more than Elijah's nervous request. He
was laughing at the irony and absurdity of life. He was laughing
at the fact that barely two weeks earlier he'd been a Northern
virgin prude, scared of sex and judgmental toward slavery, and
here he was, naked and sweaty and laughing after fucking the hell
out of a scared, innocent 14-year-old Negro slave   for the THIRD
time in two days. He was laughing at how far he'd fallen, and
wondering how far he still had to fall. 

And it was in that exact moment that James Stampley surrendered
himself to his folly, wherever it might lead him. 

*****************************************************************
**    


James's encounters with Elijah fell into a pleasantly predictable
routine for the next five days. 

Using an old stopwatch James had given him and taught him how to
use, Elijah snuck up to his Master's bedroom every night at nine
o'clock. James was usually lonely and horny following the absence
of his favorite slave-boy, and typically tore off Elijah's
clothes before the boy had the chance to utter a greeting. 

James then enjoyed a couple hours of groping, licking, sucking,
and fucking, collapsing at the end of his climax into a deep but
temporary sleep, suffocating the small boy in his arms. 

If Elijah was lucky, James slept soundly until morning. Most
nights, however, James woke up around two or three in the morning
to push his cock into his sleeping slave-boy's mouth, or poke its
reddish head against the boy's tiny asshole, usually still wet
and squishy from an ass-fucking just a few hours earlier. 

Elijah's favorite part of the routine   in fact, the only part of
the routine from which he derived any satisfaction whatsoever  
was breakfast. The deliciousness of Becky's cooking was only
slightly less amazing to the deprived slave-boy than the apparent
limitlessness of its supply. 

Breakfast was usually followed by another sexual act. This was
then followed by another few hours of sleep as the morning sun
warmed the naked sleeping bodies of Master and slave. 

Around noon, James fetched lunch for himself and Elijah, every
bit as plentiful and tasty as breakfast. 

In the afternoons, James frequently became talkative and
emotional. Depleted of all sexual drive by this point, he usually
began to feel guilty for the preceding hours' abuses. So in those
final afternoon hours, James treated Elijah with extra kindness,
asking the boy countless questions about his life. Elijah usually
answered in reluctant mumbling at first, but grew more eager and
talkative as the afternoon wore on. Regardless of the unpleasant
circumstances, Elijah was a normal teenage boy and loved to talk
about himself, especially to an eager adult listener.  

Who was his best friend? ("Thad, I reckon, then Lil Rooster"). 

What was his favorite food? ("Probably Mama's catfish, but Miss
Becky's biscuits is a close second"). 

What were his biggest fears? (Lightning and Rattlesnakes). 

What did he remember about his father? (his deep voice, the
exciting adventure stories he used to tell him and Thad, the
strange scar across his cheek, the prayer he always used to say
before supper, the way he snored at night after a long day in the
fields, the first time he showed Elijah how to fish, their
subsequent father-son fishing trips every Sunday afternoon). 

Sometimes as he listened to Elijah's cute ramblings, James felt
an overwhelming sense of remorse for the pain he'd caused the
young boy's body and spirit. He longed to restore the boy's
virginity. He wanted to write up manumission papers and send
Elijah, his mother, and little brother off to safety and freedom
in the North. He felt a need to apologize for all the ugly,
brutal things he'd said or done to the boy in the past week. 

But a deeper, darker need had now taken hold of James's mind, a
need to POSSESS the boy COMPLETELY   flesh, mind, and spirit.
Elijah's precocious stories only made this need more urgent and
uncompromising. 

Around 2:30 p.m. each day, James gave Elijah permission to leave,
and the boy dashed off with a hurried, "See ya tomorrow, Massuh
James." James then lay in bed for another fifteen minutes, dizzy
and delirious from the memories of the previous night and day. He
felt as if he were stumbling through a dream; everything seemed
strangely, blissfully surreal. Sometimes he even wondered if he
wasn't falling in love with Elijah. 

James always snapped himself out of these afternoon daydreams by
remembering that Abel could walk in the room at any time after
three o'clock. He stripped the soiled bed-sheets and left them in
a pile for Abel to collect later. After this, James grabbed a
clean set of clothes and headed downstairs for a hot bath. 

He stumbled his way through dinner in a daze, sometimes snapping
out of it long enough to admire the shape of Abel's muscular
teenage ass pressing against the house-boy's silk slacks. 

After dinner, he walked to the main road and back, stretching his
stiff muscles after lounging in bed for hours. Then he suffered
through another hour or two of Mr. Potter's dirty stories and
crude humor, impatient to put out his cigar and return to his
bedroom to await the return of his special slave-boy. 

Elijah's routine was very different. 

After consuming large meals to which his starved body was
unaccustomed, not to mention being pumped full of his Master's
cum, Elijah's first stop was always one of the five outhouses on
the southern border of the slave quarters. After emptying his
bowels, Elijah snuck through the woods to a private spot he'd
found in the creek where the other children never swam or fished.
There he soaked himself in the warm creek water until the smells,
sweat, and crusty cum from his Master was completely washed off.
As soon as he felt like his body, especially his asshole, was
thoroughly clean and prepared for the coming night's ravishing,
Elijah snuck back home and crawled wearily into bed. 

He no longer played with the other children, even when Thad
begged or bribed him with tales of exciting new games or lucky
fishing holes. He rarely slept, but instead stared blankly at the
cabin walls, resigned to his depressing fate as the Master's
"personal slave." 

Phoebe tried to cheer him up when she'd get home from the fields,
singing one of his favorite songs or frying up a catfish Thad had
caught. Sometimes these efforts brought a smile to Elijah's face,
at other times just a distracted, mumbled "Thanks, Mama." 

Deep down he treasured these few hours with his mother and little
brother, but even in these private moments Elijah felt haunted by
Master James's presence. He could only get caught up in a game
with Thad, or one of his mother's stories, for ten, maybe fifteen
minutes before awful visions of the perverted acts he'd been
forced to perform just hours before would plague his restless
young mind. Even in these moments of so-called "freedom," the
reality of his new life weighed him down. He longed to be a
normal, clueless boy like Thad again, but he didn't know if or
how such a return to innocence would ever be possible. 

Usually in the middle of a competitive game, Elijah looked at the
rusty stopwatch in his pocket and realized it was close to nine
o'clock. With an apology to Thad and sad glance at his mother,
Elijah hugged them goodbye and returned to the Big House for
another night of submission to the depraved acts demanded by
Master James. 

Elijah was surprised at how quickly he got used to Master James's
disgusting uses for his young body. His shock and defiance on his
first night with the new Master now seemed like part of another
lifetime. He certainly didn't LIKE the things he was forced to do
  in fact, he still found most of them quite painful and
revolting   but he had learned how to comply, sullenly but
silently. Gross behavior like tongue-kissing, sucking dick, or
taking cock up his shit-hole   activities he never knew EXISTED,
let alone imagined himself actually DOING, just one week ago  
now seemed like things he'd been doing all his life, things he
could do in his sleep if he had to. He knew resistance would only
cause he and his family more suffering, so he simply closed his
eyes, gritted his teeth, and endured his Master's affections as
long as they lasted. 

Sometimes the nightmare lasted for what seemed like hours, until
his jaw-muscles ached and his asshole felt like it had been torn
to shreds. At other times his Master's groping was mercifully,
almost laughably short, the grunts and thrusts coming to an
abrupt end after only two or three sweaty minutes. 

Elijah still cringed inside every time his Master pulled out his
red veiny dick and pushed it against his lips, but his mouth
slowly adjusted to the unnatural feeling of having a big penis
shoved into it. He gradually learned how to relax his jaws and
throat to allow for better access and avoid gagging. He figured
out how he could use his right hand at the base of the dick so
that he wouldn't have to take as much of it into his mouth. He
got into the habit of spitting and slobbering as much as
possible, causing less friction against his lips and mouth, and
making the inevitable later entry into his asshole less painful.
He learned how to balance long, deep suction with short, quick
bobs up and down, or licking up and down the shaft, allowing for
the chance to breathe in between the heavy sucking. And, most
difficult of all, he finally reached the point where he could
swallow all of his Master's dick-juices without choking. 

Elijah still hated the feeling of having a dick crammed into his
shit-hole, but it no longer hurt as intensely as it had the first
couple times. It still shamed and disgusted him every time Master
James mounted him from behind. He wasn't sure why, but he felt
like normal boys didn't take dicks up the butt the way Sophy took
Jacob's dick that afternoon in the barn. He couldn't imagine his
father, or Jacob, or Lil Rooster allowing another man's privates
to be shoved up inside them. 

But at least now the pain wasn't as severe, and he knew what to
expect. The first time the dick pushed past his asshole always
hurt the worst, but after a few excruciatingly painful thrusts,
the burning was replaced by a dull, steady sensation. The only
feeling he could compare it to was taking a huge shit over and
over and over again. He was embarrassed to admit it to himself,
but a couple times he was even surprised to feel PLEASURE from
his Master's thrusting, making his own dangling six inches twitch
and harden. It usually only lasted a few seconds before Master
James shifted positions in a way that replaced the brief pleasure
with the more familiar feeling of pain and violation. Each time
Elijah swore he must be imagining things. 

After being fucked a dozen or more times, Elijah's asshole began
to loosen and accommodate his Master's cock more quickly and
easily. It retained its firm grip, but gradually became more
flexible and cooperative. Elijah also discovered that if he
pushed real hard, as if he was taking a shit, his asshole would
receive its intruder with less pain and difficulty.

James never dreamed a man could have so much sex on a regular
basis, and he loved every minute of it. 

He became addicted to the idea of sex without the seduction and
self-consciousness that surely would have accompanied it if he'd
been pursuing another white man or free Negro in the North. That
kind of sex demanded time and effort, but as a slave-owner he
could take pleasure from Elijah's young body at any time of the
night or day, with just a word or look. And the true beauty of it
was that he never had to consider Elijah's feelings, or worry
about the quality of his own sexual performance. He could be as
quick, clumsy, or adventurous as he wished, and he knew his young
slave-boy couldn't say a word in judgment or protest.

Sometimes James preferred the simple and familiar, settling for a
quick-thrusting blowjob or doggy-style fuck. At other times he
became more imaginative, exploring and degrading his Negro
slave's body in new and exciting ways. 

Sometimes he'd bend Elijah over with the boy's elbows leaning on
the windowsill, and fuck him aggressively as Elijah watched his
pickaninny friends playing in the distance. 

Sometimes he was content just to fuck Elijah with his fingers,
intently watching the boy's pained facial expressions as he
shoved one, two, then three, and one time even FOUR, fingers into
the boy's stretched asshole. He loved feeling the silky warm
squishiness of the boy's insides, and seeing the boy's resentment
when forced to lick his fingers clean afterwards. 

His favorite position, however, was simple. He liked to sit with
his back against the bed's headboard and make Elijah lie flat on
his stomach between his legs and worship his Master's cock and
balls with his mouth. This allowed James to watch Elijah's
clumsy, half-hearted blowjobs, but also have a full view of the
boy's plump upturned buttocks. Sometimes he would lean down to
smack, grab, or knead the boy's fleshy mounds with his hands.
Before long one or two fingers found their way to the sweaty
crevice of Elijah's ass-crack, exploring its hidden treasure in
anticipation of the more brutal plundering to come.

Sometimes James was slow and tender in his lovemaking, entering
Elijah with gradual strokes as he affectionately nibbled on the
boy's ears or neck. At other times he became rough and abusive,
devoted to causing Elijah as much pain and humiliation as
possible. In these frenzies of angry lust, James shouted insults
at Elijah such as "dumb nigger" or "dirty pickaninny bastard" as
he slammed his raging dick into the boy's helpless asshole. 

About a week after his first encounter with Elijah, James grew
frustrated with Elijah's detached attitude toward their times
together. James wasn't stupid. He saw Elijah grimace every time
James pushed his cock in the boy's mouth. He felt Elijah's body
stiffen, then grow limp, every time he climbed on top of him. At
first this resistance had been an enormous turn-on, visible proof
of the boy's innocence. But now James was becoming impatient and
annoyed. 

James was developing a strong attachment to Elijah, but he knew
deep down that his slave-boy felt nothing positive toward him in
return. He realized Elijah was only in his arms each night thanks
to an unfair and inhumane culture that legally and socially
categorized Negroes as nothing more than livestock. James knew
that if given the choice, Elijah would gladly leave and never see
his Master again. 

The fear of whippings or worse forced Elijah to surrender to his
Master's desires, but James realized that FEAR as a motivator
could only find limited success. Fear alone could never make
Elijah love him, or come to his bed with enthusiasm. As things
currently stood, Elijah would never be more than a limp rag-doll
to soak up his cum.

One evening during his post-dinner walk, James came up with a
thrilling idea. 

Perhaps it was time to explore a new aspect of his recently
discovered power as slave-master. He'd witnessed the results of
FEAR on his slave-boy's behavior, but why not try out HOPE
instead? REWARD rather than PUNISHMENT? A devious strategy began
to form in his mind. 

When Elijah came to his room that night, James ordered him to sit
on the edge of the bed. Elijah looked startled; usually he was
already half-naked and covered in his Master's saliva by this
point. James paced back and forth, searching for the right words.


"I want to talk with you about something very serious, Elijah,"
James began. "It's about your father." 

Elijah looked up with surprise and concern. 

"Yes, Massuh?" he asked, trying to conceal the curiosity in his
voice.

"Well, Elijah, I've been thinking," James continued, pulling up a
chair to sit across from the boy. "You've told me a lot of
stories about your father lately, and it's clear you love and
miss him very much." 

Elijah nodded uncomfortably, staring at the ground. None of his
nights with Master James had begun this way.

"I guess what I'm trying to say," James pushed ahead, "is that I
feel bad about what my Uncle Walt did to your family, and I want
to make it up to you." 

Elijah looked up, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "I........I
don't understand, Massuh James."

"What I'm trying to say," James explained softly, taking the
boy's hands in his own, "is that I'm going to do my best to get
your father back." 

Elijah's eyes widened in surprise. He tried to remain calm, but
his heart was already doing somersaults. "I'se confused, Massuh
James." 

"I can't promise anything," James clarified. "But I'll do
everything within my power to bring your father back. I'll write
to the attorney and slave-trader who handled your father's sale,
and see if I can track down who he was sold to. If I'm able to
find out that much, I'll offer good money to buy him back. Double
his real value, if it comes to that."

James wasn't sure how sincere his promises actually were, but he
certainly had the wealth and resources to keep them. He could
worry about that later. Right now all that mattered was making
Elijah believe him.

Elijah stared at his Master, stunned and confused. He tried to
fight back the tears welling up in his eyes. After four years,
he'd nearly given up hope of ever seeing his father again, but
now, without warning or reason, his new Master was rekindling
hope in his heart. It was too strange and good to be true. Why
would his Master want to reunite his family? Perhaps he was a
kind man after all, in spite of the forced sex and occasional
angry words. 

Elijah worked up the nerve to express his doubt. "But........why
you wanna do that, Massuh James?"

"I told you, Elijah," James explained. "I want to fix my Uncle's
mistake. I really do care about you, Elijah. I want to make you
happy. Bringing your father back WILL make you happy, won't it?"

Hope crept into Elijah's suspicious eyes. His mother had always
taught him never to trust anything from a white person's mouth,
but Master James sounded so kind and sincere. Maybe there would
be some happiness in his future after all. 

"Oh, yes, Massuh James!" Elijah said, betraying his optimism.
"That makes me real happy."

"I'm glad to hear that, Elijah," James said. "I'll do everything
I possibly can to find him and bring him back........but I'm
going to need you to do your part." 

Elijah furrowed his brow. 

"My part, Massuh?" He didn't see what he could possibly do to aid
the search for his father.

"Yes, YOUR part," James explained. "From now on, I want you to
show me some ENTHUSIASM in our........times together." 

Elijah's heart sank, and his face fell to the floor. He knew it
was too good to be true. He should have known a white man
wouldn't do nothing good for a Negro without wanting something in
return. 

"Inthoos........enthooshiazm, Massuh James?" Elijah asked,
struggling to pronounce the Master's big word. 

"In other words," James continued, "I want you to PRETEND that
you like what we do together, even if you don't. If you want me
to do everything within MY power to make YOU happy, I expect YOU
to do everything within YOUR power to make ME happy, do you
understand? That's only fair, isn't it?"

James blushed at his shameless emotional manipulation of the
helpless boy, but his dick twitched at the thought that his plan
might actually work. 

Elijah wanted to cry. It was already all he could do to suck his
Master's dick without gagging, or take his Master's dick up his
ass without crying. He didn't think he had it in him to pretend
that he actually LIKED it. 

Maybe his Master's promise was a trick, but what if it wasn't?
What if his father's safe and joyful return really WAS up to him?
Wouldn't it be foolish not to at least TRY? He already let Master
James use his body three, four, sometimes five times a day   how
much harder could it be to smile and moan in fake pleasure while
he was doing it? 

"I........I reckon that's fair, Massuh James," Elijah mumbled. 

James smiled, relieved his plan was working.

"Listen carefully, Elijah," James replied sternly. "I want you to
act like you LOVE everything I make you do. No arguments and no
frowns, you hear? If you fail to put on a convincing show, you
can kiss goodbye all hopes of ever seeing your father again."

"Yes, Massuh James, I'll try my best," Elijah said, trying to
muster up some eagerness in his voice. 

"Well, then, get started, boy," James commanded, eager to see the
results of his new experiment. "Take off my clothes and show me
how a good little nigger-boy sucks dick." 

James tried not to laugh when Elijah first began fumbling with
the buttons on his shirt. The boy seemed more scared and hasty
than eager and willing, but James found himself amused with the
boy's first attempts. It was clear Elijah had the right idea. 

As Elijah clumsily tried to take off his shirt, James pushed the
boy away, stood up, and pulled off all of his own clothes. I can
at least spare him the ordeal of undressing me, James thought
with a chuckle. 

Now completely naked, James lay down on his back, on the bed.
Elijah jumped up and quickly stripped out of his own clothes,
then climbed on top of his naked Master. 

James was thrilled when Elijah pressed his thick Negro lips
against his own and awkwardly tried parting them with his tongue.
James had always initiated the kissing, and Elijah had always
done little more than open his mouth and stiffly receive his
Master's tongue. But now he was licking at his Master's mouth
like a kitten lapping up milk. There was still a stiffness to his
actions, to be sure, but it was obvious the boy was making an
effort.

Elijah tried his best to imitate the way Master James usually
treated him in these situations. He covered James's lips with his
own, slurping at them awkwardly. He swirled his tongue clumsily
around the inside of the man's mouth. He did his best to act as
if he liked it, even humming in pleasure as he'd heard Master
James do so many times while engaged in the same activity. 

Elijah moved his lips to his Master's neck, kissing and licking
his way stiffly down James's body until his mouth was against the
man's red, throbbing cock. Taking a deep breath, Elijah swallowed
it in one huge gulp, choking from the over-eagerness of his first
attempt. Elijah refused to give up, diving back down on his
Master's dick with another full gulp. Taking the base in his
right hand and spitting a wet gob of saliva on the tip of the
dick, Elijah rapidly sucked up and down, up and down, quickly
getting his Master's dick slick and hot with his spit and warm
breath. 

Elijah's sucking had never been so intense. There was no need for
James to grab the back of the boy's head or hump his face, for
this time Elijah was doing an extraordinary job on his own. The
boy even moaned as he eagerly sucked up and down. James knew
Elijah was performing, acting purely out of self-interest, but
that was part of the erotic thrill. For James, the excitement lay
in his power to make Elijah perform degrading acts and pretend
like he enjoyed them. 

James felt a sadistic compulsion to test the limits of Elijah's
cooperation. 

Placing his hands beneath his own head and grinning broadly,
James taunted, "You like sucking your Master's white cock,
nigger?" 

Elijah winced, but hoped James hadn't noticed. He was already
doing his best. Why couldn't his Master just leave him alone? But
Elijah was desperate to earn his father's return, and a powerful
incentive such as the one James placed before Elijah could compel
one to do almost anything   especially a poor teenage slave boy
with so few hopes for the future. 

Elijah pulled his mouth off his Master's dick, a stream of saliva
running down his chin. He looked up and gave James the widest,
most convincing smile he could muster. 

"Oh, yes, Massuh, your thing taste real good, Massuh. Better than
Becky's biscuits." 

James laughed at the boy's corny creativity. "So your pickaninny
mouth likes white dick, huh, boy?!? Better than fried chicken?
Better than WATERMELON?!?"

Elijah cringed but played along. "Oh, yessuh, Massuh James, I sho
likes the taste of your dick. More than anything, Massuh, more
than watermelon!" 

He resumed his animated sucking as if to prove his point. When he
felt like he could hardly breathe, he'd take long licks up and
down the shaft of James's dick, moaning in pleasure like he was
tasting Christmas candy. 

"Lick my balls!" James commanded, enjoying the boy's enthusiastic
servility more than any of the preceding week's pleasures.

Elijah obeyed, burying his nose against James's large balls
reeking of sweat and semen. He closed his eyes in disgust, but
pretended like he was enjoying a delicious meal. 

James closed his eyes in ecstasy at the feel of Elijah's nervous
warm breath on his balls. 

"That's right, nigger," James barked, putting on a performance of
his own. "This will teach you your proper place in the world.
Nigger lips and nigger tongue were made for the white man's
balls. What are you, boy?!?"

Elijah was confused by the question. 

"A slave, Massuh?" Elijah answered, hoping it was the expected
reply. 

"I want to hear you tell me what you ARE!" James demanded.

"I'se a........I'se just a nigger, I 'spose, Massuh," Elijah
replied sullenly, still lapping at his Master's balls. 

"You're damn right you're a nigger, but what KIND of nigger?!?"
James taunted. He realized with more amusement than guilt how
much he was beginning to sound like Mr. Potter.

Elijah wanted to cry, but kept a silly grin on his face. 

"I'se just a dumb, dirty nigger," he confessed. 

"A dumb, dirty nigger who likes to lick white men's balls!" James
added. 

"You'se right, Massuh James," Elijah agreed. 

"Say it!" James ordered. 

"I'se a dumb, dirty nigger who likes to lick white men's balls,
cuz they sho do taste good, Massuh James," Elijah declared,
sucking his Master's balls into his mouth. 

Caught up in his sadistic frenzy, James decided to present Elijah
with the ultimate test of his feigned enthusiasm.

"Lick my asshole!" James barked. 

Elijah clenched his eyes shut in disbelief and disgust. He
remembered how good it felt when James had done that to him
several days earlier, but the idea of actually licking another
person's shit-hole was repulsive. It was the place where farts
and shit came out. He thought of the foul odors of the slave
quarter outhouses. 

Not this, he thought to himself. Anything but this. 

"Please, Massuh," Elijah begged. "I'se doin' my best to make you
happy, but please don't make me do that! I'll do anything you
wants me to, anything but that."

James was annoyed at having the illusion of enthusiasm disrupted.


"Do you want to see your father again or not?!?" he growled. "You
heard what I said   lick my ass, nigger!"

Elijah knew he had no choice but to cooperate. Wanting to get it
over with as soon as possible, he moved his tongue lower until it
nervously poked at the older white man's pink wrinkled asshole.
Elijah was surprised that it was pink instead of brown. He was
also surprised to find that his Master's ass smelled no worse
than a mixture of sweat and soap. Still, it was a gross thing to
do, and he tried his hardest to put from his mind what it was he
was actually doing   kneeling between his Master's legs and
licking the older white man's asshole like it was the most
natural thing in the world!

"Come on, nigger, you can do better than that," James insisted.
"Eat my ass like it's corn-on-the-cob, boy!"

Elijah tried to ratchet up his energy level. He lapped at his
Master's asshole with deep, long strokes of his tongue, followed
by quick, awkward pokes at the center of his Master's pucker.
After more of James's scolding, he began biting and slurping on
it as his Master had done a few days before. He spit on the
winking asshole and spread the saliva around with his tongue. He
even tried to push his small red tongue deeper into his Master's
ass   something he never in a million years thought he could ever
be made to do! 

The sight, sounds, and sensations of Elijah eagerly slurping on a
grown man's asshole for the very first time was too much for
James's aroused body. With barely a warning, his dick shot
streams of white cum into the air, splattering down onto Elijah's
hair, eyes, nose, lips, and chin. 

Realizing what was happening, Elijah dutifully moved to drink the
final few spurts of semen from his Master's dick. With no coaxing
from James, he also began licking the cum from around his lips,
even scooping some up off his forehead and feeding it to himself.


"Taste good, nigger?" James asked, laughing at the boy's
cum-drenched face. 

"Sho do, Massuh James. Your stuff taste better than mine,
Massuh," Elijah lied. 

"Come here, boy. Lay on top of me," James instructed. 

Elijah sprawled his naked brown body across his Master, the sweat
of their stomachs sticking together. 

"You did a real good job, Elijah," James said in a kinder tone of
voice, stroking the back of Elijah's tangled nappy hair. "Keep it
up and you'll be seeing your father in no time." 

*****************************************************************
******

The charade continued for three more days. 

Elijah devoured his Master's dick like a rabid dog. He smiled and
nodded and verbally agreed with the most offensive insults. He
begged his Master to fuck his tight nigger ass, and moaned in
exaggerated pleasure no matter how much his rectum was burning in
pain. At night he lay awake imagining what the reunion with his
father would be like, and in those moments all the day's
degradations seemed worth it. 

Despite his best efforts, Elijah's performance as the eager,
willing slave boy wasn't flawless. He was a sensitive teenage
boy, after all, and even the most jaded adults have trouble
concealing their true feelings every waking moment. James
occasionally caught flashes of defiance in Elijah's eyes, or
winces of pain or disgust. 

The novelty of his latest experiment began to wear off, and James
realized there was no power or threat within the slave-master's
reach that could compel a slave to reciprocate feelings of lust
or love. A slave could be raped, whipped, degraded, manipulated,
sold, and even killed, but could never be forced to love. 

Rather than help him see the futility of his behavior, Elijah's
rejection only made James feel powerless, then angry and
resentful as a result of that powerlessness. 

One morning James awoke from his sleep to the sound of sniffling.
He opened his eyes to see Elijah resting in a fetal position on
the far side of the bed, facing the bedroom windows that
overlooked the slave quarters. It was obvious the boy had been
crying. 

"What's wrong, boy?" James asked coldly. The tears might have
inspired sympathy just a few days earlier, but now they merely
provoked annoyance. 

"Nothin', Massuh," Elijah said quietly. "Just a bad dream, I
reckon." 

James knew the boy was lying and wanted to hear the truth,
regardless of how it might hurt his fragile ego. 

"Go ahead, Elijah, you can tell me what's the matter," he said in
as kind a voice as he could muster.

Elijah hesitated. 

"I 'spose I just miss my little brother," he mumbled. "This the
best time to fish, so I reckon that's what put my mind to it." 

James felt a pang of jealousy, then anger. Suddenly he was struck
with a tempting idea. Turning it over in his mind, temptation
quickly evolved into full-fledged obsession.

"If you miss your little brother so much," James said hurriedly,
before his conscience could scare him away from the idea that had
taken shape in his mind, "then I think it's about time I invite
him to join in on our fun."

Elijah felt dread stabbing at his stomach. He cringed to think
that his own careless words had planted such an idea in James's
mind.

Elijah tried to sound calm and collected: "Oh, no, Massuh, he
probably busy with the other boys anyway. I'll be okay, Massuh
James, don't worry about me. I'se ungrateful to say such a thing,
Massuh."

But James was already past the point of no return: "No, I think
I've made up my mind, Elijah. You've told me so much about your
little brother, it's only fair I meet him, right? Besides, I'm
sure he'd love to see what HE could do to bring his father back
again, wouldn't he?" 

Elijah shuddered at the creepy sound of his Master's voice. How
could he have been so nave as to think his little brother was
safe from the Master's weird cravings? Was he so cocky that he
thought the Master would never desire other slave boys, including
Thad? But Thad was only ten years old! Surely the Master wouldn't
force a CHILD to do such nasty things?  

Elijah turned over and faced Master James, staring directly in
the man's eyes for what felt like the very first time.

"Please, Massuh James," Elijah pleaded, a stray tear running down
his face. "Don't do nothin' to Thad! He my only brother, Massuh,
and he just a little boy. I been the man since Daddy got sold
away, but Thad........Thad ain't never had to be a man, he only
ten, he ain't ready for the stuff a man like me can do. I'll do
ANYTHING you want, Massuh James, ANYTHING........just please
don't do nothin' to my little brother!" 

"Oh, I have no plans to HURT him," James replied with a devilish
grin. "I just want to meet him, see if he's as handsome as you.
Show him what the two of us been up to for the past week. You
don't want to keep secrets from your baby brother, now do you?" 

James was enjoying this sadistic high. If Elijah wouldn't love
him willingly, James would possess the boy in the only other way
possible   through shame and forced obedience. James knew that
even if he didn't lay a hand on Thad, having his little brother
as a witness to his rape would humiliate Elijah for life.   

Elijah was sobbing now. It was the first time James had seen him
break down and cry since their first encounter over a week ago. 

"Why are you doing this?" Elijah kept sobbing over and over. "Why
are you doing this to me?"

"Don't be so melodramatic," James shrugged. "What I'm doing to
you is far kinder than anything you'd feel under the overseers'
whips in the fields." 

James was actually beginning to believe his own justifications
for the ways he was hurting Elijah. 

"Besides," he continued. "I'm going to reunite you with your
father, remember?!?" 

Elijah sniffled, remembering the only glimmer of hope in his
bleak adolescent life. 

Was the potential reunion with his father worth the steep price
of introducing his little brother to the Master's brutality?
Could he trust Master James's word? His father could be dead, and
Master James might already know it. But was that a gamble he was
willing to make? Even if it was only a faint possibility, was it
a chance he could turn his back on? 

Besides, Elijah reasoned with himself, if Master James truly
wants Thad, he'll take him with or without his cooperation. And
if his little brother's corruption was inescapable, wouldn't it
be better for him to be present? Wouldn't Thad need his stronger
older brother to coach and comfort him through the nightmare? 

"It's your choice," James stated matter-of-factly. "Bring your
brother to my room in one hour, or you'll never see your father
again." 

Elijah wiped his tears with the back of his hand. He knew he had
no choice but to obey his Master's orders. 

"Yes, Massuh James," Elijah said softly. "I'll........I mean
we'll be here in one hour." 

Without another word, Elijah climbed out of bed, threw on his
clothes, looked at the rusty stopwatch in his pocket, and ran
from the Big House toward the slave quarters. 

*****************************************************************
*******  

Any and all feedback is welcome and desired! I would love to hear
advice on how my writing might improve, characters or scenes you
particularly enjoy, suggestions for future characters or
storylines, stories and fantasies of your own, and anything else
you might want to share. E-mail me at <a
href="mailto:WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com">WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com</
a>. 

  




 

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