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, even
shocking, to some, 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. My intention is not to condone or encourage racism, sex with minors, or
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 WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com.
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
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
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-
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
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
"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
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
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
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,
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
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
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
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,
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
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
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
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
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
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
"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,
"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,
"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
"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
"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
"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
"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
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
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
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
"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
James closed his eyes in ecstasy at the feel of Elijah's nervous warm breath on his
"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
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
"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
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
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
"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.
"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
"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 naive 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
"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
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
"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
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
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 WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com.