The Adventures of Stampley Plantation
By WannabeWhitman (MM, rape, nc, reluc, hist, interr, ds, va)
DISCLAIMER: This series is a sexual fantasy involving slavery in the antebellum
South, non-consensual sex (frequently with minors), and the use of racial epithets. The
material is mostly of a homosexual nature, but does and will continue to involve some
bisexual themes. If you think any of this might offend you, 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
America's racial history and my own conflicted imagination about that history. My
intention is not to 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 WannabeWhitman@yahoo.com.
Chapter 6: Roadblock to Redemption
James woke up the next morning with an ache in his heart. The feeling had been
there when he'd gone to bed, persisted through a restless night's sleep, and now
threatened to stalk him for the rest of the day.
He looked sleepily out his bedroom windows and saw the sun beginning to rise in the
distance. Today was the day of his journey to Columbus, where he planned to
investigate the sale of Elijah and Thad's father and determine what options there
were, if any, to buy him back.
Yesterday, he'd been so distraught by the dream of his deceased mother, and so
devoted to the idea of redeeming his despicable behavior, that he'd insisted on
arranging the trip for the next day. This morning, lonely and half-asleep, he
dreaded the length of the journey, and the stress of finding his way around a strange
city. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back under his covers and escape the
chill of the morning air.
James rose wearily from his bed, walked to the chamber pot in the corner of the
room, and let out a hot, light-yellow stream of morning piss. After shaking the last
drops from his relieved dick, he wet a cloth in the washbasin beside his bed and
proceeded to wash his face, neck, underarms, and crotch. The distractions of this
morning routine did nothing to relieve the ache pounding in James's chest.
For one thing, he missed Elijah more than he wanted to admit. There is no lonelier
feeling in the world than climbing into a large, empty bed where one has shared
pleasure and joy with another human being for the previous ten nights. Of course he
would have loved to enjoy the warm grip of Elijah's ass, or release a load or two of
cum into the boy's stiffly sucking mouth, but James's sense of emptiness at the boy's
absence was about much more than that. He missed hearing the boy's cute snoring
in the middle of the night, or the way he'd sometimes mumble incomprehensible
sentences in his sleep. He missed the musky smell of the boy's sweat and ass that
hung in the midnight air after an hour of intense fucking. He missed the eager,
messy way Elijah devoured his breakfast every morning, just as wide-eyed with
disbelief and excitement on the tenth morning as he'd been on the first.
James also felt a sense of dread and desperation when he'd consider that it had been
almost an entire day since he'd seen the boy. What if Elijah had fallen ill, run away,
or - James nearly fainted as he thought of it - taken his own life? What if he'd
gotten into a fight with one of the other slave-boys, bruising or permanently
scarring his beautiful face? What if one of the older bucks, hearing rumors of
Elijah's new duties in the Master's mansion, had decided to have his OWN fun with
the boy's youthful body? Or even worse, what if one of the overseers, oblivious to
James's affections for Elijah, had used the boy for a drunken midnight fuck? When
James thought of these possibilities, his entire body grew hot and weak with an
insane, overwhelming jealousy. He found himself wanting to throw shoes or dishes
or lamps against the walls, smashing them in a fury of irrational panic and
James was also having misgivings about his plans to find Elijah's father. They were
the misgivings of a man still dedicated to the "straight and narrow," but
disheartened by the self-denial he knew his moral decision demanded.
On the one hand, reuniting Elijah with his father would make James a popular
Master and instill a sense of obligation in Elijah to repay the favor. But on the other
hand, bringing the father back to Stampley Plantation would disrupt the dynamic
James had been enjoying for the past three weeks. It wasn't as if thoughts of
Elijah's helpless, grieving mother never troubled James's conscience. But for some
strange reason, the absence of the boy's father made him all the more erotically
exciting for James. James liked being the only man in Elijah's life, a fatherly figure
with extra benefits. The idea of stealing Elijah away from a mother AND father
troubled James in a way that dragging him from a broken home didn't. Not to
mention that a grown slave man could create a lot more trouble if he took it in his
mind to protect his son, drawing unwanted and embarrassing attention to James's
James slowly dressed in the crisp, clean clothes Abel had laid out for him the night
before: a white collared shirt, vest, frock coat, stovepipe hat, and cotton slacks.
James grabbed a small leather satchel from his closet and filled it with some money,
enough clothes for the next two days, the novel he'd been reading before meeting
Elijah, and a signed pass for the stable-boy, so that he could run errands or enjoy
some leisure time without being harassed while James was conducting business
After pausing to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, James walked down the
marble staircase and out the front door. Jacob the stable-boy stood dutifully beside
the hitched wagon he'd pulled up in front of the plantation-house.
" 'Mornin, Massuh James," Jacob greeted him, moving immediately to take the
luggage from his hands.
"Good morning, Jacob," James replied, feeling a sudden pang of excitement and
nervousness. He hadn't had any interaction with the stable-boy since the day of Mr.
Potter's tour, and the striking, even intimidating effect that the young man's good
looks had on him came flooding back to his memory. Even with the puffy eyes and
chapped skin of early morning, Jacob looked like a beautiful African prince.
Perhaps the day's journey won't be so dull after all, James thought with growing
enthusiasm. The stable-boy would definitely make for some pleasant eye-candy to
get his mind off Elijah.
Jacob carried James's satchel and placed it in the back of the wagon.
"Do you think it's going to be a hot day?" James asked, his voice breaking like a
teenage boy's. He wanted to establish some kind of rapport with the slave, but felt
like a blubbering idiot the instant the words were out of his mouth. How absurd,
James thought to himself. A Negro slave no older than 19 turning a grown white
man nearly twice his age into a stuttering schoolgirl!
"Do the rooster crow in the mornin', Massuh James?" Jacob smiled, instinctively
slipping into "happy darky" mode in spite of himself. He knew most white folks
loved clever little comebacks like that.
"Right you are, right you are," James replied, laughing. His body, tense since
coming into Jacob's presence, relaxed a little in relief at what felt like a step toward
casual camaraderie. "I guess the only thing to cool this summer heat would be some
rain, but I suppose we don't want that either if we want to make it to Columbus
"You 'sho right about that, Massuh James," Jacob nodded with a strained smile on
his face. Goddamn white folks and their fake-ass attempts at small-talk with
niggers, Jacob thought with contempt. He noticed James's resemblance to Master
Walt and wanted to spit in his face.
"How long you figure the trip will take us?" James asked, walking toward the
"I reckon we'll get there somewhere abouts sundown," Jacob answered, holding out
his ebony-colored hand to help James into the rear wagon seat. "I done took Massuh
Walt on this trip plenty of times, so don't worry, you in good hands, Massuh James.
I knows all the short cuts."
"Now that's music to my ears," James said, grinning and using the support of
Jacob's strong arm to hoist himself up to his seat on the wagon.
Corny-ass motherfucker, Jacob thought to himself, smiling and nodding.
Just as Jacob began checking on the security of the bridles and reins, both men
heard high-pitched shouts coming toward them from within the house.
"Master James! Master James!" It was Becky, hollering and waving her right arm
for them not to leave. "Don't you boys forget your lunch now," she scolded,
shuffling onto the front porch and handing Jacob a basket with a blue cloth
covering the top.
James thought he detected a vibe of awkwardness between the two. Probably
Jacob's dark skin, James guessed. He knew a lot of stuck up mulattos in the North,
and figured there were plenty in the South as well.
"There's enough fried chicken and biscuits for the both of you," Becky beamed,
looking past Jacob to where James was sitting in the wagon. "There's a jug of cider
too. I hope they feed you well where you're going, but in case they don't, I'll be sure
to have a real good meal waiting for you when you get back!"
"Thank you, Becky! You sure do know how to treat a man like a king!" James said,
smiling. "I swear you're the best cook in Georgia, Becky. My Uncle sure was lucky
to have you around for so long!"
Jacob smirked at Becky, knowing his back was to James. Becky blushed, for more
reasons than James knew.
"You two be safe now, you hear?" she said, changing the subject and shooing Jacob
"Don't worry about us, Becky," James assured her. "I know I'm leaving my place in
good hands with you and Abel. See you in a couple days!"
Jacob carried the lunch-basket to the back of the wagon and secured it with some
leather straps. Then he walked to the front of the wagon and hopped onto the flat
board making up the front seat about four feet in front of James. Taking the reins in
his hands and nodding with another smirk toward Becky, Jacob gave a sharp flick
of his wrists and the wagon took off down the dusty path leading to the main road.
It took James at least an hour to grow accustomed to the noisy jerking and bouncing
of the wagon. In Boston and on the journey to Stampley Plantation, James had
always ridden by stagecoach, which while bumpy and occasionally dusty, was a
much quieter and smoother ride. The sounds of the horses' hooves against the dusty
road, combined with those of the turning wheels and rocking body of the wagon,
made the ride so noisy that he couldn't talk to Jacob without shouting. After a
couple awkward and futile attempts at starting a conversation over the racket,
James finally gave up and settled back for a silent ride. James was partly relieved to
be spared the pressure and embarrassment of interacting with the young slave.
The freedom from conversation also gave James the opportunity to drool over
Jacob's lithe adolescent body without interruption or distraction. Just as he had
when Jacob had driven he and Mr. Potter around Stampley Plantation's 3,154 acres
that second day, James savored every visual detail of the teenage boy's good looks.
Only this time he didn't have to break his ogling down into quick, fleeting glances
while pretending to listen to Mr. Potter's boring stories. He could stare as long and
intently as he liked, knowing Jacob's eyes were focused on the road.
He started with the stable-boy's thick, wooly hair, tangled and sprouting a good
three inches in all directions. It looked dirty and had flecks of straw and leaves in it.
Then James took in the young man's smooth neck, sturdy and colored deep ebony.
A thin sheen of sweat glistened on top of the rich dark skin. James's eyes moved
slowly to Jacob's slender back, its shoulder-blades pressed out against a beige,
scratchy-looking shirt. He loved to watch Jacob's back muscles tense and ripple
when the boy would shift in his seat or lean forward, elbows on his knees.
He could see patches of sweat soaking through Jacob's shirt under his arms and
across his back. James wondered how the Negro's sweat would smell and taste.
But of course the part of Jacob's body that earned the bulk of James's attention
were the muscled half-globes resting on the wooden seat, pressed tightly against the
young man's muddy cotton pants as if trying to escape. James shook his head in
lustful amazement at the consistent beauty of Negro male buttocks. Every ass on a
Negro male he'd seen so far curved firmly up and out from the small of the back in
perfect upturned semi-circles. So different from the flat or flabby asses on most
It's just not fair, James thought with amusement. You'd think God could have
stopped after endowing the Negro with a phallus longer, thicker, and more powerful
than the average white man's. That was certainly generous enough. But no, he also
saw fit to bless the Negro male with a temptingly upturned, perfectly rounded
backside that made anyone looking at it, man or woman, want to reach out and
grasp its firm, fleshy mounds. "Cursed race" my ass, James chuckled to himself.
A thin line of sweat outlined Jacob's ass-crack through his dirty pants. James's dick
jerked to life when he stared too long at it. He got goosebumps when he imagined
how exciting it would be to clutch the ripe upturned melons in both hands, slowly
spreading them apart to see, smell, and taste the mystery hidden deep in their
It turned James on even more when he thought of the youth's strength and
masculinity. James wasn't načve; he knew Jacob probably wasn't a virgin to the
realm of all things sexual, as Elijah had been. In fact, James would be surprised if
the young man hadn't made at least a dozen Negro girls VERY happy over the past
few years. Picturing the young buck pumping his manhood deep between a pretty
Negro girl's thighs only increased his desirability in James's eyes.
But James was aroused to think that Jacob was most likely a stranger to the
experience of sex between men. Perhaps not as ignorant to the concept as Elijah had
been, but almost certainly just as inexperienced.
James recalled the thrill he'd gotten when Mr. Potter informed him one night that
as far as he knew, neither James's uncle or any of his overseers had ever had a
liking for boys or men. "Unless they was bought from someplace else," Mr. Potter
assured him mischievously, "all the Stampley boys got assholes just as pure and
tight as the day they popped out their Mama's bellies." Mr. Potter had gone on to
tease him about how lucky a bugger like James was, as he frequently had to pay
high prices to replenish the supply of virgins for he, his two sons, and his overseers.
This meant that the idea of sucking a man's prick or taking another man's dick up
his ass was probably as foreign and repulsive to Jacob as eating horse manure or
fucking a pig. He probably had a gal of his own, maybe even a wife. Hell, he might
even have kids for all James knew. The possibility only increased Jacob's masculine,
What began as casual ogling, intended to pass the time, slowly grew into a
maddening lust. James's admiration for the boy's lanky build and tight adolescent
muscles soon turned into an intense, demanding curiosity to see, smell, taste, and
touch all the hidden and most intimate parts of his stable-boy's body.
If James had been in a similar situation a month ago in Boston, lusting after a young
Negro driving one of the city's coaches, he would have had no choice but to suffer
his strangling, impotent lust from afar, then rush home for relief from the
frustrating substitute of his hand.
But everything is different here, James reminded himself. Jacob was a piece of
James's PROPERTY, no more or less so than the wagon beneath him, the clothes on
his back, or the money in his leather satchel. James knew he could stop the wagon,
rip off the young man's clothes, and take the stable-boy's body right then and there
in the back of the wagon or ditch by the side of the road. And in the unlikely case
that his white Southern peers discovered the rape, James knew he would almost
certainly have their tacit, if not explicit, approval. Hell, a man like Mr. Potter would
hoot and holler and congratulate him on in his depravity. Even the sodomitic nature
of the behavior would probably escape condemnation, for the simple fact that he'd
be fucking a beast, a piece of chattel, rather than an actual man considered his
equal. Knowledge of his immunity from judgment or punishment spurred James on
in his lustful thoughts.
Another part of the temptation for James was Jacob's age. Jacob was a young
MAN, fully in the prime of his physical and sexual development. James had taken
great pleasure in robbing Elijah of his innocence; there was no doubt about that.
But with the exception of his enormous dick, Elijah was still physically and mentally
a boy. Any sense of his manhood was only vaguely formed, tentative and
Jacob, on the other hand, was a virile young MAN. He was probably cocky when
hanging out with his buddies or trying to impress the Negro girls. He probably
bragged about his dick, and most likely knew how to use it well. In just one day's
time, he probably produced enough spunk to fill a bucket. He had curly dark facial
hair down his cheeks and above his lips. He had a lithe muscled build that probably
made him a frequent victor in boxing or wrestling matches with his Negro pals. He
was probably aware, at least vaguely, of the interest some men might take in his
dick or asshole, but proudly reserved the first for pussy and the second solely for
farting and shitting.
Violating the virginity of a young MAN, forcing his body's participation in shameful
and emasculating acts, would be a thrill far beyond that of stealing a boy's
innocence. James's dick hardened in his pants as he realized that taking Jacob's
MANHOOD would be a pleasure exceeding even that offered him by Elijah's virgin
The possibility, once fleshed out in his mind, immediately became an obsession.
Fully imagined, it was an experience James couldn't shake from his mind. A life
without sampling such a pleasure suddenly seemed unbearably boring.
James looked down with embarrassment at the hard dick clearly outlined against
the fabric of his trousers, and hoped Jacob didn't look back at him. He clenched his
eyes shut and tried to focus on the dream of his mother and the decidedly NON-
sexual purpose for the day's journey. He even tried to think of Elijah, but the boy
who'd consumed his thoughts just an hour earlier now seemed small and distant in
his mind. After more than ten days of fucking the same mouth and ass - beautiful,
to be sure, but the SAME nevertheless - James craved the new pleasures that a body
like Jacob's promised.
Just wait to get back to Stampley, James told himself. It would be impossible to
enjoy Jacob on the trip to Columbus without inconvenience or embarrassment. But
if he waited three days, he could enjoy the young man in privacy for as long as he
wanted. Three days felt like an eternity to wait for the pleasure his mind and body
now stubbornly demanded. James shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Hoping it
would make the time go by quicker, he pulled his hat down over his eyes and fell
into an awkward, restless nap.
Jacob hadn't wasted a moment's reflection on his new Master since the trip started,
other than to feel tense and annoyed by the man's eyes staring intently at his back.
Damn, Jacob thought to himself, ain't there plenty of things to look at besides a
The sun rose to illuminate a beautiful day. Jacob enjoyed the smell of the trees,
fields and occasional pond or creek they'd pass on their drive. He liked to feel the
mild breeze against his face, created by the wagon's movement. His stomach
growled in eager anticipation of Becky's fried chicken and biscuits. Sharing the
Master's lunch was one of the few perks to these trips. That and the chance to see
the city, maybe even enjoy a fling or two with one of the local girls if he was lucky to
get leave of the Master long enough.
He thought about how funny Becky had acted toward him that morning. She'd been
real distant and weird around him ever since the fling that led to his troubles with
Master Walt. She's probably just pissed I don't give her the dick no more, Jacob
concluded. He was used to girls and women getting addicted to his dick, then angry
when he moved on to give others the same pleasure.
Occasionally Jacob and James would pass other wagons on the road, and Jacob
always liked to see if they carried any pretty nigger girls or women. If they did, he'd
subtly nod or wink at them in a way that left no doubt in their minds how he felt
about their looks.
Of course if there were WHITE women or girls on board, he was careful to look
down and away as the wagon passed. He'd heard too many horror stories about
niggers being hanged or getting their balls chopped off after nodding at a white
woman the wrong way, or letting their eyes linger just a second too long on some
white girl's flowing hair or pert young breasts.
Not that Jacob didn't WANT to look. His attraction to white girls was actually the
source of a lot of guilt for the stable-boy. Vicious and permanent as his hatred for
white people was, he couldn't help but be curious to know what a white girl's
breasts would look like, naked and groped by his rough black hands. Sometimes
he'd jerk off to fantasies of his cock stuffed in some horrified white girl's throat, or
pumping in and out between her smooth, pale thighs.
Jacob comforted himself with two thoughts. First, his attraction was nothing more
than curiosity; he'd never pursued it, and it had never diminished his love of nigger
women. He knew plenty of niggers who drove themselves crazy drooling over white
flesh either they couldn't have, could have but didn't know it, or could have, DID
know it, and were just too afraid they'd get caught. Most of the time these
obsessions formed after some rebellious teenage daughter or bored housewife used
them as their sexual playthings for a week or two, then forgot about them after the
thrill of breaking the taboo had faded. At least he'd been spared THAT fate, Jacob
thought to himself.
The second point of consolation was that Jacob's lust for white women was solely a
lust for violence. He hated white men, and knew there was nothing the white man
feared, forbade, and despised more than the rape of a white woman by a nigger. (Of
course it was always considered "rape," even when the white bitch initiated and
begged for it). In Jacob's mind, there was no better expression of his hatred for
white men, no better act of defiance, than to force his African manhood into a white
girl's pussy, even if only in his imagination. When he pictured himself fucking a
white girl, it was always rape, always an act of punishment and humiliation. With
every thrust he was trying to rip open her pink flesh with his black dick, and pollute
her body with his nigger sweat and seed. Every white cunt he fucked in his mind
was the daughter or granddaughter or wife or mother of a white man he loathed.
After several hours, James noticed they'd turned off the main road onto a smaller,
bumpier road with less traffic.
"One of the shortcuts I was tellin' you 'bout, Massuh James!" Jacob shouted over
the din of the wagon wheels.
James nodded and looked around. The road cut through more forest than fields,
and he saw farmhouses, shacks, and plantation-mansions far less frequently than
he'd seen to the left or right of the main road.
Of course the lack of scenery only added to the boredom of the trip.
The first few hours of the ride had gone by quickly, but as the sun rose higher in the
sky, the heat grew more intense and the length of the trip seemed almost
unbearable. James took off his hat and overcoat, removed his vest, and unbuttoned
the top buttons of his collared shirt to cool off. He noticed the small patches of sweat
on Jacob's back had now spread to soak through most of his shirt.
As the day approached noon, James's stomach began to growl, taunted by the
occasional whiffs of fried chicken and biscuits from the back of the wagon.
Eventually his hunger became too much to bear.
"Should we stop and eat soon?" James asked loudly, leaning forward. He realized
how comically inappropriate it was for him, the Master, to be asking his slave to
determine their lunch schedule.
"Massuh Walt and me had us a spot we always stopped at for lunch!" Jacob shouted
back. "It ain't too far from here, if you don't mind waitin', Massuh James! Massuh
Walt always liked it cuz it gots a creek for some fresh water and a swim to cool off!"
James smiled and nodded his approval.
"That'd be just fine, Jacob!" he yelled, then sat back in his seat. Right now he would
welcome anything to break up the monotony of the trip, and quenching his thirst
with some cold creek water, followed by lunch and a refreshing swim, sounded
heavenly. His dick twitched at the thought of swimming with his slave. Swimming
meant being naked. And while he wasn't sure of the proper protocol, he sure as hell
had no problem inviting Jacob to join him....which meant all the aforementioned
delights of the lunch-break, PLUS a look at the flesh stingily hidden by Jacob's
About five minutes later, Jacob pulled the reins back and slowed the wagon to a halt
on the right side of the narrow dirt road. About thirty feet from the road James
could see a small clearing surrounded by trees. He could see the sparkling of a
creek, and now that the wagon was stopped he could hear the sounds of its gently
Tying the reins around the hitch to the left of his wagon seat, Jacob hopped out of
the wagon and reached out to help James down. James felt a rush of excitement at
the hot, rough skin of the youth's hand firmly grasping his own.
"This be the place, Massuh James," Jacob said, unfastening Becky's basket from the
back of the wagon. "I thinks you'll like it. I knows Massuh Walt was always real
happy stoppin' here. It be real nice and cool in the shade."
Jacob was right. As James followed Jacob through a criss-crossed path twenty feet
or so through a tangle of trees and brush, he noticed the air was considerably cooler
than where the sun beat blisteringly down on the wagon and road. With Jacob's
back toward him, James stole lustful glances at the stable-boy's sweat-soaked
clothes clinging to his body, revealing the contours of muscles and dark skin
beneath. Jacob led him into a semi-circular clearing at the side of a creek, covered
with tangled grass and shaded by the surrounding trees.
"I don't know 'bout you, Massuh James, but I gots to piss like a horse," Jacob
declared bluntly, unfastening his belt as he did so. He walked to a far corner of the
clearing and began to piss. James could hear the thundering sound of the young
man's piss splashing against dirt and leaves. He got a chill of excitement at the
sound and tried to picture the dangling appendage producing such a powerful
stream. It reminded him of the ache in his own bladder, so he walked to an opposite
corner of the clearing to piss.
After emptying his bladder, James collapsed against the thick trunk of one of the
trees on the outer edge of the clearing, savoring the pleasant relief of the cool air.
"Thank you, Jacob," James said, his nervousness of the morning returning. "This
looks like a wonderful place to stop. Sit down and rest. Lord knows you deserve it
after driving in the heat all morning."
"Thanks, Massuh James," Jacob replied, slumping down with his back against a
tree several feet from James. Jacob removed the cloth from Becky's basket and
dutifully held the basket out to James. James pulled out the jug of cider, two
biscuits, and a thick leg of fried chicken. Jacob then eagerly grabbed his own piece
of chicken, and once he saw James take a bite, wasted no time hungrily tearing into
the meat with his teeth.
The first few minutes were silent except for the sounds of energetic chewing and the
occasional compliment to Becky's cooking skills. The fried chicken wasn't as crispy
as normal, but the salty coating of grease and flour and the meat already warmed by
the heat of the sun combined to make a tasty meal for the two men.
James took a long drink from the cider-jug, then handed it to Jacob, who followed
suit. James felt a strong desire to talk with Jacob, to hear about his life on Stampley
Plantation and grow acquainted with the young man's humor and personality. But
he felt shy and clueless as to how to go about doing so.
Despite Jacob's smiles and jovial words, James sensed a cockiness and detachment
that made him uncomfortable. James longed for a sincere friendliness from Jacob.
He wanted Jacob to trust and like him in a way he'd never liked or trusted Uncle
Walter, and probably any other white man for that matter. Even though he was the
boy's Master, James feared that at any moment he'd say something to annoy the
handsome young man, and ruin any chance at true friendship between Master and
"How old are you, Jacob?" James asked nervously.
"I'se 18, Massuh James," Jacob said with a mouthful of chicken, focused on shooing
away a fly attracted by the youth's sweat-soaked clothes.
"Ahhhh, what I'd give to be 18 again!" James laughed, taking another sip of cider.
Jacob looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"You talk like you'se an old man, Massuh James," he said, thinking to himself that
white folks always got so melodramatic over the pettiest things. He remembered
Master Walt bitching about his graying hair at least a hundred times on these trips.
"You ain't but what....22, 23???" Jacob actually guessed James at 28 or 29, but
was an expert in telling white folks what they wanted to hear.
James laughed, blushing. "That's very kind of you, Jacob. You sure know how to
get on your Master's good side! I'm actually an ancient THIRTY years old!" James
pointed to the slight receding hairline that had caused him so much worry over the
past couple years.
"That ain't nothin' at all, Massuh James!" Jacob said, shooing James away
dismissively. "You still a spring chicken!"
James laughed again, relieved at the pleasant back-and-forth he'd initiated with
Jacob found the small-talk tiresome, and wished James would let him finish his
lunch in peace. Master Walt never talked this much. He actually ignored Jacob most
of the time, which Jacob preferred to James's annoying questions.
But James persisted, asking Jacob how long he'd lived on Stampley Plantation, if he
was married or had any family there, what he liked to do in his leisure time, what
his Uncle had been like as a Master, and anything else he could think of to avoid an
awkward silence and assure the stable-boy that he was a kind and caring Master.
Jacob's replies were brief and showed just a hint of impatience, James thought.
They were friendly, even humorous at times, but James couldn't shake the sense
that Jacob was simply putting on a show, keeping his true feelings and answers
carefully concealed. It seemed like something the young man could do in his sleep,
so different from the spontaneous bursts of energy and self-revelation James
frequently enjoyed from Elijah.
At first James felt hurt and intimidated by Jacob's cheerful aloofness. His hurt soon
turned to frustration, and his frustration quickly changed into anger and horniness.
James realized he was probably just deluding himself with his attempts to befriend
his stable-boy. Perhaps deep down all he REALLY wanted to do was fuck the young
man. Perhaps all he was TRULY interested in was Jacob's striking handsomeness,
and the effort to get to know the boy was just a shallow and disingenuous strategy to
get in his pants. Perhaps the institution of slavery made honest friendship between a
white man and Negro impossible. Perhaps the kind of interracial intimacy James
craved could only be enjoyed through force and manipulation.
These thoughts saddened James, but also freed him to drool over Jacob more
confidently. Jacob reclined against his tree, picking the meat out of his teeth with a
small twig he'd found on the ground. James's eyes were drawn magnetically to the
unmistakable bulge outlined by the thin cloth of Jacob's pants. Every now and then
Jacob absent-mindedly scratched or grabbed at his crotch, making James's tortured
lust all the more acute. James wondered what it looked like. Was it bigger than
Elijah's? Smaller? Lighter? Darker? Thicker? Smellier? Tastier? James felt like he
would wither up and die if he didn't feast his eyes and mouth on its mysteries before
the afternoon was over.
This was the perfect opportunity, James thought to himself. They had complete
privacy. The clearing was back from the road, and the road had seen no traffic since
their arrival. Jacob was his slave, and had to obey his orders. He could do anything
he wanted with the young man. He could lick every sweaty inch of Jacob's dark-
skinned body. He could fuck the aloofness and defiance off the Negro boy's face. He
could make him scream and beg for mercy, with nobody around for miles to hear or
care. James's dick sprang to life as he pictured the limitless possibilities.
"Let's cool off with a swim!" James suggested spontaneously, leaping to the ground.
He'd already made up his mind what he was going to do, but wanted to make the
transition as easy and natural as possible.
Jacob looked up, surprised. Master Walt never invited Jacob to join him for a swim,
even before the whole Becky fiasco. Jacob waved James away and shook his head.
"Naw, you go ahead, Massuh James, I ain't much of a swimmer." He'd actually
been swimming in the creek behind the slave quarters all his life, but wasn't
comfortable with the idea of being naked in his Master's presence, and preferred to
enjoy a quick nap while James swam.
"Awww, come on, Jacob!" James insisted. "You can't tell me you don't want to get
out of those sweaty clothes!" James pointed at Jacob's shirt, which now looked like
it had been drenched with a bucket of water.
"If it's alright with you, Massuh James," Jacob asked. "I'd be mighty grateful for
the chance to rest my eyes."
James paused, frustrated by Jacob's obstinacy. For a moment he felt self-conscious
about the idea of his pale, thin body being naked beside the muscled African's
magnificent nude body, and almost changed his mind. The thought of seeing Jacob's
youthful body completely exposed was too enticing, however, and he persevered in
James hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, stripped it off, and threw it near the tree
where he'd been sitting. Jacob looked away uncomfortably. James lifted his legs and
removed his shoes. Then he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his trousers, shoved them
to the ground, stepped out of them, and then kicked them toward his shirt. His
nakedness in front of Jacob made him feel nervous and embarrassed.
His body was slender and in decent shape, certainly nothing to be ashamed of, but
James felt insecure about his blindingly pale skin and lack of defined muscles he'd
admired on other men his age and younger. His legs were covered in a thin layer of
dark curly hair, but his upper body was completely smooth with the exception of a
few dark chest hairs. His ass was rounder and fleshier than most white men's, but
still scrawny and flat compared to buttocks of African ancestry. A tangled patch of
dark brown pubic hair sprouted above his dick. His medium-size balls hung in two
pink sacks, covered lightly in wiry brown hair.
Jacob didn't want to look, but still caught glimpses of his Master's naked body in
spite of himself. Other than Master Walt, James's was the only white man's body
Jacob had ever seen naked. Even the overseers that raped his mother and sister had
only bothered to pull their dicks out of their flies. James looked thinner and younger
than Master Walt, but with the same pasty-white skin. Jacob wanted to laugh when
he caught a glimpse of Master James's shriveled, pinkish dick. Superior race my
ass, he thought with cynical amusement.
James walked over to the creek and dipped his toes in the water. It was cold but not
freezing - the perfect temperature for relief from the heat of the day. He waded out
into the middle, where the water only barely reached his waist. With a sudden
plunge, James forced his whole body underwater, then stood back up, laughing and
"Damn, that was cold!" James said, smiling over at Jacob. "It sure does feel good,
though!" He crouched into a sitting position beneath the rushing water, so that only
his shoulders and head showed above the water line.
"Don't be such a spoiled sport!" James teased. "The rest of the drive will sure feel a
lot better after a nice swim!"
Jacob hoped James couldn't see him roll his eyes. Why couldn't Master James leave
him the fuck alone?!? Damn, just because he's a slave doesn't mean he has to be the
cracker's best friend. He'd listened to the whiny, fake-friendly voice all through
lunch, and now it wouldn't let him catch some shut-eye in peace. He wanted to
shout, "Shut the fuck up, you annoying, corny-ass motherfucker!" but instead he
just shook his head and said, "No, thanks, Massuh James, I'se content right under
this here tree."
"Jacob," James said, his voice growing tense with frustration. "I'm no longer asking
you to join me. I'm TELLING you to join me."
Jacob flinched in surprise. For a fleeting second, his eyes flashed with hostility and
his large, wide nostrils flared in defiance. Why the fuck did the man want him to
swim so badly? Goddamn crackers and their crazy whims.
Jacob didn't say a word, but reluctantly stood and slowly began unbuttoning his
James's heart raced with excitement, faster and more breathless with every button
freed by Jacob's large, dark fingers.
Staring blankly in front of him, trying desperately to hide a scowl, Jacob shrugged
the shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground.
James stared shamelessly at the young man's disrobing, and gasped at the beauty
exposed before him. Jacob's chest was slender but defined with pectoral muscles
standing slightly out from the rest of his chest. Two large, nearly pitch-black nipples
dotted the rich black skin of each muscle. The young man's abdomen rippled with
three muscles on each side. The Negro's skin was covered with a sheen of sweat that
made his ebony skin look even more beautiful. A narrow trail of black, curly hair
moved down from a small, indented belly-button to the mystery below, still hidden
by Jacob's cotton pants.
Jacob suddenly began to feel a discomfort beyond the normal annoyance and
contempt he felt around white people. Master James's eagerness for Jacob to swim
had seemed odd just a moment ago, but now it was starting to make sense. The man
stared at his naked chest as if he was under some conjure woman's spell. Master
James had a sparkle in his eyes that Jacob sometimes saw in girls when they
watched him working shirtless in the stable, or even worse, when he took off his
clothes before fucking them. It was the same eager look he'd seen on Nelson's face
that night in the stable, and during all their subsequent encounters.
Motherfucker, Jacob thought to himself. Master James is a cocksucker just like
Fuck me, he thought with rising worry. He'd taken plenty of shit from Master Walt
and the man's overseers in his young life, but he'd never had to worry about THAT.
He'd heard Nelson's stories. He knew there were plantations where white men
raped boys and men instead of girls and women, or boys and men IN ADDITION
TO girls and women. But he'd always thought of that as something that happened to
OTHER niggers....far, far away from Stampley Plantation. He'd spent plenty of
angry, anxious nights after some drunk overseer dragged Laney off to the overseer
quarters, but he'd never had to worry that it might be HIM snatched up and gang-
raped in the middle of the night.
Until now. There was his Master, drooling over his naked chest like a dog waiting
for its supper, probably stroking his puny little dick under the water. Fuck, fuck,
FUCK, Jacob thought angrily. MOTHERFUCKER. What the fuck do I do now?!?
He wanted to snatch up his shirt, run to the wagon, and ride until he reached North.
But Jacob knew that was a plan doomed to failure. The first white man to see an
unfamiliar nigger driving a wagon without a white person in it was sure to start
asking questions, demanding a pass, and Jacob would be busted. Besides, his heart
was deeply entwined with the lives of those on Stampley Plantation, despite the
tragedy he'd suffered there. He couldn't bear the thought of never seeing Laney or
Solomon again. And he knew Laney would probably follow in the footsteps of her
mother if she lost her only remaining family member.
Jacob felt choked by the same helpless feeling he'd felt as a child when the overseers
scattered his marbles and dunked his head in the wash bucket. He seethed with
resentment at his treatment, but was powerless to do anything to stop it.
Maybe his fears were exaggerated, Jacob thought hopefully. Maybe the Master
smiled out of sincere friendliness, with no ulterior motives. Maybe Jacob's all-
consuming hatred for white people had led him to judge a kind, innocent man
Jacob bent over to take off his shoes. He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and
slowly pushed them to the ground. Now completely nude, Jacob sullenly walked to
join James in the creek.
James could feel his body shaking, partly from the chill of the creek water, but
mostly from the breathtaking beauty before him. Jacob's legs were thinner than his
more developed upper body, but still showed firm muscles, the dark skin covered in
tiny curls of crispy black hair.
Most impressive, however, was the appendage dangling between the young
African's legs. It was pitch-black with a purplish mushroom head, and hung at least
seven inches in its completely soft state. It looked bigger than Elijah's did when soft,
and considerably thicker. A thick patch of nappy pubic hair, similar to that on
Jacob's head, covered the area above the impressive creature.
James gasped when he saw Jacob's balls. Enclosed in smooth, charcoal-black skin,
they looked bigger and heavier than those he'd seen on bulls. Jacob's entire crotch
area glistened with sweat, and James felt an urge to seize the stable-boy's dick and
balls in his hands and taste their pungent heat before it was too late.
Uncomfortable with his Master's shameless stares, Jacob stepped into the creek and
sunk his naked body beneath its waters. The cool water felt good against his hot
For about fifteen minutes, the two men made tense small talk, occasionally diving
beneath the water for another refreshing rinse.
James noticed a spider-web of grayish scars across Jacob's back and shoulders,
undoubtedly left by dozens of severe lashings. The scars looked painful enough;
James could only imagine how they must have looked, raw and bloody in the
immediate aftermath of a whipping.
Jacob felt foolish for his earlier fears. James made no attempt to touch him, even in
playful splashing and wrestling, and hadn't turned the conversation to anything
James was thrilled by the young Negro's nakedness so close to his. James knew that
his old life in Boston could never in a million years have placed him in such an
exciting scenario. He knew what he wanted to do, but didn't know how to go about
Elijah had been so easy in comparison, he thought. Forcing a sexual encounter with
a slave-child in his own bedroom, knowing Mr. Potter was just down the hall in case
anything went wrong, was very different than initiating sex on his own, in a strange
environment, with a young man, miles away from Stampley Plantation. Knowing
the power and threat he held over Jacob didn't make the introduction of the idea
any less clumsy or potentially confrontational.
"We best hit the road if'n we wants to make Columbus 'fore nightfall," Jacob spoke
up. He was eager to resume the journey and confirm the baselessness of his earlier
"Yeah, you're probably right, I guess we better get on with the day," James said
with disappointment. He was beginning to panic. He knew he had to say or do
something soon or else he'd always regret losing such a unique opportunity.
Jacob stepped out of the creek, water sparkling and dripping from his smooth
James's dick sprang to full instant hardness when he saw the flawless ass before
him. It was ten times more breathtaking than anything he'd imagined while staring
at its clothed curves earlier that morning. Two rich-black upturned half-melons
sprung out from the small of his back, their muscles flexing as Jacob walked toward
his clothes. Their beauty was marred only by crisscrossed grayish scars, similar to
those on the young man's back.
James felt an urgent uncontrollable impulse to rub his nose up and down the dark
crease of Jacob's ass-crack, to pry them open with his fingers and tongue.
"Stop!" James shouted hoarsely, causing Jacob to turn his head in surprise just as
he was leaning down to retrieve his pants, which were resting at the foot of the tree
he'd leaned against at lunch.
"Massuh?!?" Jacob asked uncertainly.
The change in his Master's tone of voice was unmistakable. This is it, Jacob thought
to himself. The Master's going to try to rape me, just like those bastards raped
Mama and Laney. FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.
James walked out of the creek like a ghost from a swamp. His body was trembling
with nervousness and excitement.
Jacob cringed when he saw that his Master's dick was now a rock-hard seven
inches, jerking toward the sky. It looked red and angry.
"Do as I say, and don't cause me any trouble, Jacob," James instructed, hoping he
sounded more intimidating than he felt. "I know this might sound strange, but I
happen to find you....remarkably handsome. And as your new Master, it's my
right to take pleasure from your handsomeness however I see fit."
Jacob stared at him with a look of undisguised hatred.
James shuddered, seeing laid bare the animosity he'd earlier guessed was beneath
the surface of the boy's jokes and obsequiousness.
Suddenly James realized the almost laughably absurd danger of the situation he was
in. Here he was, a soft, skinny white man with no whip, knife, or gun, trying to rape
a strapping young buck at least five times stronger than him, miles from any white
people who could come to his rescue if Jacob took it in his mind to resist his rape
But wasn't that precisely the perverse brilliance of Southern slavery?!? In many
regions of the South, Negroes outnumbered whites twenty to one, so what stopped
them from banding together to slaughter their Masters and claim the land for
FEAR. Fear and ignorance. Ignorance that kept most slaves from knowing anything
of the world beyond their own plantation. Ignorance from hearing over and over
and over again that niggers are stupid, passive, weak, and helpless - intellectually
inferior to the smarter, stronger, and more powerful white race. Messages of
degradation and impotence repeated so often that some slaves end up believing they
really ARE nothing more than dumb, cowardly niggers.
Ignorance is the fertile breeding ground for fear. Fear of the whip. Fear of having
one's limbs or genitals amputated. Fear of physical torture. Fear of death.
But more powerful even then self-interested fear, James knew, was the fear driven
by love. Fear of seeing one's wife, husband, parents, or children whipped, raped,
sold, or killed. Fear of being separated from one's family and childhood friends,
from the only life one had ever known.
And this fear, James recognized, was the very thing that would allow him to abuse
and enjoy Jacob's body without fear of resistance or danger. Fear was the thing that
permitted him the exquisite pleasure of dominating someone so clearly his physical
"Face forward with your back toward me!" James ordered sternly, stroking his dick
in his right hand. "Place both hands against the tree, spread your legs, and bend
"Massuh James, I don't understand...." Jacob said, shaking his head. "I thought
we was goin' to hit the road, Massuh James."
"This won't take long," James said, thinking in the back of his mind that HOURS
wouldn't be long enough for him to enjoy this handsome buck in every way he
wanted. "You heard what I said, Jacob. Spread your legs and bend over with your
hands against the tree! NOW!"
Jacob saw the older white man stroking his hard, veiny dick, and knew it could only
mean one thing. The image of Nelson sprawled across the wooden stool that night in
the stable flashed through his mind.
HELL NO! Jacob swore to himself. There was no fucking way he was going to let
ANY man, especially a goddamn sissy cracker, fuck him like a bitch. It was one
thing to get his dick sucked by another nigger friend of his, and to fuck him in the
ass. That really wasn't all that different from fucking pussy, and there sure as hell
wasn't anything bitch-like about that. Solomon and Charlie had done it too, and
they for goddamn sure weren't bitches. But there was no way in hell he was going to
let a white man's dick fuck his asshole just like it was pussy. No man, not even
Nelson or Solomon, was ever going to use his ass that way.
James saw the angry panic in Jacob's eyes, and quickly tried to steer clear of a
"Didn't you tell me you have a little sister?" James asked threateningly. "I'm not
going to hurt you, but if you refuse to cooperate I'll have no choice but to hurt you
AND the person closest to you."
Jacob's eyes flickered with impotent rage. He was ashamed that he'd thought for
even a second that James might actually be kind and sincere. Goddamn cocksucking
bastard ain't no different than the rest of 'em, he thought.
"I'm sure you wouldn't want anything to happen to your little sister, would you?"
James continued, his desperation to experience the delights of Jacob's flesh making
him resort to these cruel threats. "Like being whipped....or SOLD???"
Jacob knew his options were limited. He clenched his muscles in masculine
resistance, but slowly spread his legs and leaned forward with his hands pressed
against the tree. He felt shamefully feminine in that position.
James could hardly believe this was happening. Just a few stern threats and a
proud, manly slave like Jacob was bent over in complete submission. Jacob's dark
upturned mounds were a temptation he could no longer resist. A temptation he no
longer had any REASON to resist.
He walked forward, dropped to his knees, and grabbed Jacob's firm, fleshy ass-
cheeks in both hands. Streams of water still trickled down the slave's smooth, ebony
skin. James clutched, groped, and smacked the black buttocks like a child who's
just opened a long-requested Christmas toy.
Jacob shut his eyes tightly in hatred and embarrassment.
Impatient to see the prize protected beneath both muscular mounds, James spread
Jacob's ass-cheeks with his fingers. There, clenched tightly and deeply within the
boy's ass-crack, was Jacob's virgin asshole. The slit was slightly longer than
Elijah's, but sealed just as tightly. The tiny wrinkled hole was a lighter purplish
color that stood out against the rest of Jacob's black skin, and it was surrounded by
several curly wisps of Negro hair. The hair trailed up and down the insides of
Jacob's ass-crack. James thought to himself that the asshole looked angry and
defiant, just like the young man to whom it belonged.
Desperate for intimacy with Jacob's most prized and protected body part, James
buried his face between the firm mounds of the young man's ass. He smashed his
nose against the wrinkled opening and inhaled deeply. It had a strong, musky smell,
a combination of skin, sweat, shit, and creek-water. Not as clean as Elijah's, but
strangely more enticing.
James knew most men would find what he was doing repugnant, but he didn't care.
The aroma and closeness to the young man's body was intoxicating. He shot out his
tongue and licked up and down the outer edges of Jacob's crack. Urged on by the
salty taste of the boy's sweat, James circled his tongue around Jacob's anus, then
lapped hungrily across its surface.
Jacob's body tensed in surprise and discomfort. This wasn't part of the horrors
he'd imagined. Never in his life had anyone licked his ass like it was pussy. Not even
Nelson, who tended to be more sexually adventurous than most of the girls he
fucked around with. And while Jacob had licked pussy plenty of times, he'd never
even CONSIDERED the possibility of licking a girl's asshole. Why the hell would
any man with even half a dick want to lick another man's shitter? Filthy pervert
cracker motherfuckers, Jacob thought with disgust. What the fuck will they come
up with next?!?
James forced Jacob's cheeks apart with both hands, holding the ass firmly in place
while he feasted on it like it was the last meal he'd have for days. He poked and
swirled his tongue around Jacob's purple pucker, savoring its tangy, forbidden
flavor. He spit a big glob of saliva right on the clenched little hole, then spread the
wetness around with his tongue. He hoped the warmth and lubrication of his spit
would loosen the stubbornly sealed gateway to Jacob's insides. He longed to push
his tongue deeper into the boy's tunnel, to fuck him with his tongue the way he
planned on later fucking him with his dick.
Jacob lurched his body forward in an attempt to escape these strange new
sensations, but Master James had his butt firmly in his hands. His initial disgust
quickly turned to surprised and reluctant pleasure. No tongues, fingers, or dicks
had ever come within a foot of his asshole, so he'd never known being touched
where his shit comes out could feel so....good???
He moaned in spite of himself at the pleasure the man's warm slurping was giving
his tensed-shut asshole. He hated to admit it, but it almost felt as good as getting his
dick sucked. It didn't make his dick get hard, but it still felt amazing. He felt guilty
for feeling anything from a white man's touch other than disgust and hatred.
Jacob dismissed his guilt and realized that the REAL thrill came from seeing a
white man in such a degraded position, performing such a filthy act. And not just
that, but doing something so nasty and humiliating to a NIGGER'S asshole! He felt
a little uncomfortable bent over like a bitch about to get fucked, but other than that
what he was doing wasn't any worse than letting Nelson suck his prick. He liked
seeing his Master worship his sweaty asshole like it was some kind of sacred shrine.
His dick began to rise when he thought of his Master down on his knees, slurping
greedily away at the very hole through which he'd taken a shit in the outhouse
earlier that morning. This made him push his ass against the white man's face, and
relax his asshole to let his Master's tongue sink deeper into him.
James was encouraged when he noticed Jacob thrusting his ass eagerly backward,
allowing James to bury his tongue even deeper into the slave-boy's tight opening.
The deeper his tongue reached, the hotter and tangier the boy's ass tasted. James
shuddered with excitement when he imagined how good it was going to feel to
plunge his hard seven inches into the stable-boy's obviously virgin hole. But he
knew he had to pace himself....there were other parts of the boy's body he
wanted to enjoy first.
James pulled his face out of Jacob's ass and took a breath of fresh air. He could still
smell the boy's ass on his nose, lips, and chin. James jerked Jacob's body around to
face him, pushed him into a standing position, and leaned him back against the tree.
James smiled and winked at Jacob when he noticed that the slave's thick purplish
cock was now half-hard and still waking up. Jacob looked away and shut his eyes,
annoyed and embarrassed.
Still on his knees, James wasted no time grabbing Jacob's shaft with his left hand
and swallowing half of it into his mouth. Like Elijah's, Jacob's dick was
circumcised. But that was where the similarities ended. To James, the 18-year-old's
cock felt and tasted completely different from the younger slave-boy's. While it
wasn't as long, it was considerably thicker, and had the distinct weight, girth, and
power of a full-grown African's.
It also had a thick musky smell....or perhaps that was still the boy's ass he was
smelling. No, it was a different smell this time, something potent and nutty
emanating from Jacob's gigantic, heavy-hanging balls.
James eagerly tried to fit as much of Jacob's manhood into his mouth as possible,
but its thickness stretched his lips painfully and made it impossible to slide much
more than two-thirds of the dick in his throat. He made a valiant effort, however,
sucking and moaning and licking Jacob's shaft just as enthusiastically as he liked to
have his own dick sucked by Elijah.
Jacob was aroused by much more than the pleasurable sensations of having warm
wet lips wrapped around his prick. That was a feeling as familiar to him as taking a
piss. Dozens if not hundreds of girls had sucked him off, and that wasn't even
counting Nelson. As far as blowjobs went, Master James's was average, somewhere
between a virgin's clumsy biting and Nelson's expert deep-throating.
But Jacob had never been sucked off by a white person, male or female, and it
turned him on immensely to watch his Master groveling and gagging on his knees
like a nigger bitch. Jacob had been forced his entire life to place white folk's
pleasure before his own. He knew that legally he was considered the equal of the
horses he cared for, a piece of livestock whose sole purpose in life was to make white
folk's lives easy and pleasurable. But here was a white man devoted to HIS pleasure,
sucking a nigger's dick like it was the most natural thing in the world. And he
seemed to be ENJOYING it, just like the nigger women enjoyed it, and just like
Nelson always enjoyed it.
That was the only thing disrupting Jacob's pleasure. He didn't WANT James to
enjoy it. Where was the fun in degrading a white man if the sissy cracker LIKED
being degraded?!? Jacob was intoxicated with this newly-discovered power, and he
wanted to test its boundaries. He wanted to cause his Master pain and suffering and
No longer thinking rationally or cautiously, Jacob reached out and grabbed a
handful of hair on the back of James's head. It felt soft and thin in his hand, so
different from the thick nappy tangles on most niggers. He reached out with his
other hand and snatched another handful. Tightening his grip on both clutches of
hair, Jacob yanked James's head toward him, forcing the older white man's mouth
to take more of his dick.
James's eyes shot open in surprise, but he didn't put up a fight. Jacob held James's
head in place and began forcing his dick deeper into the man's throat.
He shoved until all eight inches were stuffed into the back of Master James's throat,
causing him to gag and try to pull off for air. The sound of his Master's gagging
turned Jacob on all the more. He'd always liked to hear the same sounds coming
from Nelson and the nigger girls he messed around with, but this was even more
intense because it was a WHITE MAN gurgling and choking like a helpless slave.
Holding James's head firmly in place, Jacob thrust in and out of the man's throat
like it was a tight wet pussy. He stood up from leaning against the tree, allowing
himself the freedom to pump with all his might.
James began to panic.
At first he'd felt an unexpected thrill when Jacob grabbed the back of his head. He
got chills at the first sense of powerlessness, the knowledge that things were
suddenly out of his control. He enjoyed the sound of the young man's masculine
grunts, and the aggressive thrusts that shoved the thick African manhood further
down his throat than Elijah's had ever been. He savored the sweet taste of the boy's
sweat, skin, and precum, and was surprised to find that he LIKED the feeling of
another man's penis filling his mouth.
He'd enjoyed sucking Elijah's dick, but this was even better. Was it because he'd
surrendered the power of the act to Jacob, as he'd never done with Elijah? James
got no real PHYSICAL pleasure from the act, and his dick had even softened since
switching his attentions from Jacob's ass to the boy's dick. In fact, the hard, meaty
appendage stabbing the sides of his mouth and back of his throat was
uncomfortable at best, painful at worst.
But he had to admit, there was something unexpectedly thrilling about having his
mouth used as a Negro boy's pussy. He imagined all the girls Jacob had probably
fucked in the same exact way he was now fucking the face of his older white Master.
James's dick twitched at the thought of being the receptacle for the pent-up seed
stored in the big balls slapping against his chin with every thrust.
But the motions of Jacob's hips had become more aggressive, more demanding, and
James was growing frightened. Several times he started to throw up his lunch,
quickly swallowing it back down before the next violent thrust. He worried that
perhaps this intensity wasn't typical of the stable-boy's manly fucking motions, that
the power dynamic established earlier had been forgotten or abandoned.
James screamed through his forced sucking, and pushed against Jacob's naked
muscled legs. As James had feared, the stable-boy was too strong for him and his
resistance was futile. Jacob's legs stood immovable, and his large hands continued
to force James's mouth down on his dick.
Jacob was caught up in a frenzy of lust and sexual power unlike any he'd ever
experienced. His white Master's screams only intensified his furious pounding. He
looked down with angry, open eyes at the sight of his thick, soot-black dick
slamming in and out of Master James's thin, red lips and pasty-white face. It was
the most beautiful thing he'd ever witnessed.
He knew when the Master tried but failed to push him away, that Jacob then had
complete control. His sexual pleasure and craving for revenge pushed all thoughts of
Laney, Solomon, even his own survival, completely out of his mind. All he wanted
was to savor the most explosive, ecstatic orgasm of his life while hurting and
humiliating a white man.
Jacob slapped James on the cheeks as he continued impaling the man's face with his
dick. His slaps were mild at first, but grew harsher until they made loud smacking
noises and left red handprints on the man's pale skin.
"You like the taste of coon dick, cracker?!?" Jacob taunted, pulling his dick out of
James's mouth and slapping it across the man's cheeks while he waited for an
James was scared for his safety, but against his will felt a sharp pang of excitement
at being degraded by one of his own slaves. He wondered if Elijah had felt similarly
when James had degraded HIM in a similar fashion.
James gasped for air, but couldn't bring to his throat the self-degrading words he
knew Jacob wanted to hear.
With his left hand, Jacob yanked James's head back by the hair. With his right
hand, he hit the man full and hard across the face.
"What the fuck did I ask you, you little fairy cocksucker?!?"
James felt true terror now. He could already feel his cheek growing swollen and
puffy where Jacob had hit him. He looked at the ground in dread and disbelief at
the violent turn his afternoon plans had suddenly taken. He looked desperately
toward the road and started screaming for help at the top of his lungs.
Jacob backhanded James with his fist. Now both of James's cheeks were bruised
"Scream like that again and I'll fuckin' DROWN your Yankee ass in the creek, you
Jacob shoved his thick pole all the way to the back of James's throat, then pulled
out with deliberate slowness. "Now answer my fuckin' question....you likes the
taste of nigger dick?!?"
James gulped in shame and looked at the ground. "Yes," he mumbled.
"Yes, WHAT, you stupid ofay motherfucker?!?" Jacob was relishing the
performance he'd fantasized about all his life.
"Yes, I do love nigger dick," James said softly.
"Say it likes you fuckin' mean it!" Jacob ordered. "You know how lucky you is to
get a taste of this dick?!? You know how many nigger bitches'd kill they own best
friend for one TASTE of this motherfucker?!?" He waved his thick pole
obnoxiously in James's face.
"I LOVE NIGGER DICK!" James yelled angrily. "What the hell do you want from
me?!?" he pleaded helplessly. "I love the way they look! Their size! Their smell!
Their taste! What else can I say?!?"
Jacob laughed contemptuously and shoved his dick back in James's mouth.
"Now that be more like it, MASSUH James," Jacob said, sarcastically exaggerating
James's title of authority. "Now worship that African dick like the white pussy-boy
James's eyes welled up with tears when he recalled his nervous attempts to befriend
Jacob earlier that morning. How long ago that now seemed! And not more than ten
minutes earlier he'd been selfish and foolish enough to think he was actually going
to have HIS way with the young man's body! How quickly and horribly
circumstances can change, he thought to himself.
James's throat choked and burned with every angry thrust of the African's massive
Jacob's eyes moved from the older white man's thin lips, dripping with spit and
precum, to his pale ass. Thoughts of his next pleasure began to form in his mind.
He'd always wanted to rape a white woman as a way to get back at all the white men
who had ever done him harm. But wouldn't raping an actual white MAN be the
more targeted and satisfying revenge?!? Especially a white man whose intentions
just moments ago had been to take Jacob's OWN virginity??? Besides, he already
knew how good a tight asshole felt wrapped around his dick, and he could only
imagine how much BETTER the asshole of his helpless Master would feel. Too bad
the sissy's pussy probably already been fucked a hundred times, Jacob thought.
Jacob yanked James's head off of his dick. "Turn over so's I can fuck that cracker
pussy with this big African dick!" Jacob ordered.
James's eyes grew wide in terror. In all his years of lusting after men and imagining
the possibilities of male-male sex, James had never once had the desire to feel
another man's cock fucking his asshole. The idea of fucking OTHER men's assholes
had always been appealing, and had now become an addiction after discovering the
exquisite pleasures of Elijah's teenage asshole. But having his OWN ass ravaged the
way he longed to ravage others....HELL NO! He'd always imagined it would
cause excruciating pain, and the screams he'd witnessed from Elijah and Thad
hadn't been too reassuring.
But now he was staring at Jacob's throbbing black monster, and the young man was
planning on fucking him with it....violently and without mercy, no doubt!
James jerked out of Jacob's grip and scrambled toward the creek, hoping he might
be able to cross it and run to safety. Jacob laughed at the skinny white man
stumbling around like a crazed animal.
"Where the fuck you think you gonna go, you stupid-ass cracker?" Jacob said,
He pounced on James and pinned him to the ground. James was sprawled flat
against the dusty Earth, paralyzed beneath the weight and strength of Jacob's
muscular black body laying on top of him.
Jacob wasted no time finding his desired target. He had no desire to dirty his fingers
by touching the white man's asshole, so he hoped the slobber still dripping off his
dick would be enough lubrication to enter James's body. He arched his hips, pointed
the enormous mushroom head of his midnight-black dick against his Master's tiny
pink pucker, and shoved with all the strength his 18-year-old body could muster.
James's screams pierced the countryside's peaceful afternoon air. Jacob watched
with delight as his thick shaft ripped into the white man's pink pussy. Based on its
tightness and the pain of the man's screams, Jacob guessed with surprise that his
Master was a virgin after all. The knowledge only made the assault all the more
empowering and exhilarating for Jacob.
Without pulling his dick out, Jacob reached back and grabbed the blue cloth from
Becky's lunch basket. He leaned forward and stuffed it in James's mouth to muffle
the man's blood-curdling screams.
Smashing his body flat against James's, Jacob pumped his hips slowly up and down.
In that position, Jacob's dick stayed deeply implanted in James's asshole, and every
thrust only pushed the dick deeper, or moved it around in circular motions.
Jacob stayed in a slow rhythm at first, enjoying the hot soupy tightness of his white
Master's violated insides. He savored the sound of James's screams of pain, now
choked off by the blue towel. He listened eagerly to the squishing, slurping, farting
noises of his dick plunging up and down into the white man's torn-open asshole.
Damn, he's got a tight asshole, Jacob thought. Definitely tighter than any pussy, and
even tighter than Nelson's!
But an orgasm was only a small part of the satisfaction Jacob craved. Increasing the
speed and intensity of his thrusts, he leaned his sweaty face next to James's so that
he could whisper in the white man's ear.
"You feel that, motherfucker?!? You feel that nigger dick up inside your pussy,
James nodded frantically in pained assent. His eyes were clenched shut and he bit
down on the rag shoved in his mouth.
"Yeah, you crackers all the same," Jacob continued. "Always actin' all high and
mighty like you the rulers of the whole goddamn world, treatin' niggers like shit,
when all you cocksuckers really want is a nigger's dick up yo' ass! You'se all
pathetic, if you ask me."
Jacob spit on James's face in disgust and continued pummeling the ass beneath him
with deeper and harsher strokes.
James had never felt pain so excruciating in his entire life. He prayed to God he'd
pass out and be spared the rest of his nightmare. It felt like someone was shoving a
fiery torch through his asshole and deep into his rectum.
After the first five minutes of alarming pain, his ass grew slightly more accustomed
to the invasion. At first he thought he was going to shit himself, and then he realized
it was just the bizarre feeling of having Jacob's huge pole, thicker than any shit he'd
ever taken, rubbing against the part of him that gave pleasure when taking a shit.
As much as he hated to admit it, Jacob's thrusts were actually giving him pleasure,
mixed with the persistent pain of having his virgin tunnel plunged open.
A twisted, deep-down part of him found a forbidden thrill in being hit, yelled at, spit
on, and anally raped by a handsome young African like Jacob. And didn't he
deserve such treatment anyway, after the way he'd abused Elijah and Thad???
James could still smell the lingering scent of Jacob's ass on his face, mingled with
the distinct Negro smell of Jacob's flaring nostrils, greasy hair, and sweaty skin
leaning against his face as the young man whispered insults in his ear. Jacob's
breath was hot with the lingering smell of fried chicken. James thrilled at these
smells and the sticky warmth of the stable-boy's lithe naked body smashed against
his own pale, scrawny build.
God, this is fucked-up, James thought to himself. And wasn't he largely to blame?
Wasn't this exactly what James had planned on doing to Jacob just a half hour
earlier, only with the positions reversed?!?
Did it really have to be like this? Clearly he derived at least some pleasure from
having his mouth and anus enjoyed by the Negro slave. And Jacob obviously took
pleasure from the act as well. What if everything wasn't so fucked-up down here in
the South? Maybe under different circumstances he and Jacob might be doing this
willingly, mutually??? Who knows, perhaps they might be lovers?
James shut his eyes and imagined Jacob's brutal thrusts as aggressive but tender
lovemaking between equals: the one needing to dominate after a lifetime of
submission, the other thrilled to submit after a lifetime of unasked-for power?
James's heart ached to think that the pent-up needs on both their parts could only
find expression in a brutal, ugly scene such as the one playing itself out this
Jacob's thoughts were far from dreams of an interracial utopia. He buried his face
in James's soft, sandy-brown hair and slammed his body into the one beneath him
with ferocious force. His body began transporting him to the place of hatred and
violence he always visited just before a climax. Only this time he wasn't fucking a
scared little nigger girl incapable of comprehending his hatred, but fucking the very
OBJECT of his hatred, a white man who symbolized every white man he'd ever
This knowledge worked his mind into a frenzied state of heightened hostility and
rage unlike any he'd ever known. He clenched his eyes shut and remembered the
smelly overseers dunking his head in the wash-bucket when he was a little boy,
laughing and slapping his terrified face every time they pulled his head out of the
water. He remembered the looks of horror, then surrender, on his mother and
sister's faces as they were raped in front of him and his father. He remembered the
look of hollow-eyed grief and defeat in his father's eyes when the man told Jacob
they'd found his mother's body in the creek. He remembered the countless
whippings ordered by Master Walt out of petty, spiteful jealousy. He remembered
the morning he woke up to find his father gone, sold without having the chance to
tell his children goodbye.
Jacob concentrated on these memories in a furious, wild-eyed rage, smashing his
body violently into the man crushed beneath him, over and over and over. Tears of
grief and helplessness flooded his eyes. He'd always known it in the back of his
mind, but now Jacob realized this would probably be his last fuck on Earth. His
whole body tensed as he unleashed all his hurt, fury, and powerlessness in one
explosive, suicidal orgasm.
He slammed his hips as deeply into James's body as he could, spurting stream after
stream after stream of scalding cum into the white man's battered body. All his
memories, all his pain flooded his Master's bowels in one euphoric, transcendent
James's dick was aroused in spite of the pain by the thrill of being mounted by
Jacob, like James was the buck's favorite piece of nigger pussy. When he felt the
young Negro's hot, thick semen pouring into his guts, James felt for a second that he
was LUCKY to be chosen as the cum-rag for a beautiful young man like Jacob. He
thought of the hundreds of potential children swimming in the stable-boy's seed,
and felt a sense of possessive pride knowing they'd be permanently absorbed into
his own flesh and blood. Throbbing involuntarily, James's dick shot four sticky
streams of cum onto the grass beneath him.
Jacob had only collapsed for a minute or two atop James's limp body before feeling
the rush of defeat and despair now that his temporary power, seized by force and
violence, was gone from him forever.
He looked around him like a man waking from a deep, drunken stupor. What the
fuck did I just do?!? he thought with rising hysteria.
His mind, still cluttered from the high it had just experienced, raced to consider his
Returning to Stampley Plantation was out of the question. Master James would
order him raped, tortured, and hanged, without blinking an eye.
He could murder the white man and dump his body in the creek, eliminating the
only witness to the crime, then run for freedom up North. No, that would be foolish,
he concluded. His chances of actually escaping were slim to none, and a slave with
the blood of a murdered white man on his hands was almost certainly doomed to be
lynched, while a runaway might still come out with his life, minus a foot or finger or
balls. Jacob could also gamble that shame would make James report his
disappearance as a simple runaway, keeping the rape and assault to himself.
Jacob winced when he thought of Laney. But he had no choice. He'd been a fool,
and now he had to face the consequences. He knew time was of the essence. The
more miles he put between himself and this place before news reached the slave-
catchers and surrounding communities, the better his chance at making it out of this
He reached over and pulled the belt out of his pants, which were still lying where
he'd left them when ordered to swim by the grinning Master James. He yanked
James up by the arms, snatched the gag out of his mouth, and dragged him over to
one of the trees on the outer edge of the clearing. He could see cum leaking out of
the man's ass and down his leg.
"Please, Jacob, don't kill me!" James begged. He was still shell-shocked from his
rape, but alert enough to know that the fear of punishment for one crime might lead
a slave like Jacob to commit even worse crimes.
Jacob looked around wild-eyed, like he wasn't sure where James's voice was coming
"Do as I tells you," Jacob instructed distractedly. "Or I WILL fuckin' kill you. Now
put on your clothes." He wanted to eliminate as much suggestion of rape as possible.
Make it look like an average robbery and escape.
Jacob stood over James as the trembling man put on his clothes. Jacob pushed him
into a sitting position at the foot of the tree, then pulled his arms back around the
thick trunk and tied his hands tightly together with his belt. He then shook out the
blue towel, still wet from James's saliva, and tied it around the man's head as a gag,
stuffed once again in James's mouth.
Jacob knew others occasionally used this spot for breaks in their travels, but hoped
he'd have at least three or four hours before James was discovered. A whole day, if
he was lucky.
Jacob hurriedly put on his clothes, then stuffed the chicken and biscuits left over
from lunch in his pockets. He glanced guiltily at James's pleading eyes, but spit in
his direction to show what he still thought of the cocksucker who'd wanted to rape
Jacob ran to the wagon and looked cautiously down to the road to see if anyone was
coming. He frantically went through James's luggage, where he was thrilled to find
money and a slave pass already signed. Now there's a stroke of luck, Jacob thought
He stuffed both the money and pass in his back pocket. He walked to the front of the
wagon and affectionately petted his horses goodbye. They were the only things left
from his life at Stampley Plantation to which he could say goodbye.
A tear of sadness, regret, and fear escaped down his cheek. Jacob brushed it away
with his sleeve, and then took off into the woods.
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.