Date: Mon, 16 Mar 2015 04:52:50 +0000 (UTC)
From: Christian Debus <servus4u@ymail.com>
Subject: Re: "Master of River's Bend" Chapter 10  Gay Male / Interracial

Master of River's Bend
Part 10
"Immutef"

This is a story of erotic fiction meant to be read by adults over the age
of eighteen years

Written by Jean-Christophe March, 2015

My stories are archived at
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories

"The characters and ideas contained in this story are products of the
writer's imagination and bear no resemblance to actual persons or
events. Please respect the integrity of the story and don't do any
rewrites, make alterations or add another's artwork or pictures"

Please consider donating: Nifty really needs financial support to continue
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Chapter 10:

The former New England doctor, Patrick Delaney is now the slave known
simply as Immutef and he'd accompanied his Master to the big house where,
in his capacity as the plantation's vetinarian, he is to examine a new
slave Massa Charles has acquired. As he ran alongside Massa from the river
to the house, he'd been hard pressed to keep pace with Massa's cherished
stallion, Pegasus. Sweating profusely and affected by the midday heat, he'd
flagged once or twice only to feel Massa's cruel whip fall across his naked
shoulders coupled with his impatient demand to.

"Keep up, damn you, boy!"

Upon arriving at the big house, Immutef had watched from the sundrenched
driveway as the slave brothers Horus and Osiris had assisted Massa to
dismount and as Ptolemy paid homage to him. He'd also caught sight of a
young man, still fully clothed, whom he'd assumed to be the new slave he
was to examine. And from what he could tell from the young man's appearance
that task should be a thoroughly agreeable one.

Enviously, he watched as one of the twin brothers tethered Pegasus in the
deep shade of a large, spreading oak tree and gave him cool water to
drink. It reminded him of his own raging thirst and parched throat. But he
would have to wait until the stallion's needs had been served before one of
the brothers could fetch any water to him. In the pecking order of River's
Bend plantation, all four legged animals take precedence over its two
legged ones.  The plantation's slaves are the last to be considered in all
things.

And after his long run from the river he really needed to urinate. But
again he'd have to wait until Massa and his retinue had disappeared indoors
before asking one of the brothers to assist him by fetching a wooden bucket
for him to piss into.

Unlike Pegasus, a slave isn't free to defecate or urinate in the grounds of
Massa's home.  While it is acceptable for the field-slaves to attend to
their calls of natures as they continue to work, Immutef knew that for him
to foul Massa's driveway would be a serious offence punishable at the very
least by an ass-paddling. And having suffered such a fate soon after his
arrival at River's Bend, Immutef had no wish for a repeat of that brutal
event.

The barbarity of his ass-paddling had shocked Immutef and the excruciating
agony of it had instilled the fear of Massa Charles into him for all
time. Immutef is the first to admit that his ass-paddling had broken his
spirit and turned him into the tame, docile slave that he has become. His
ass paddling had been a defining moment for Immutef and, from that time
onwards, he no longer considered himself a free, white man and saw himself
as just another of Massa's many slaves.

Immutef's transformation from free man to slave hadn't been easy. At first,
he'd been resentful, angry and defiant. Subsequently, he'd learned these
emotions are forbidden to slaves and the ass-paddling given by the Black
overseer, Boss Edward, convinced him his only chance for survival was to
submit to Massa Charles' authority. This had been re-enforced by Massa
Charles brutally exercising his ownership rights over Immutef's body which
had demonstrated to him very forcibly that he was merely a chattel; an
owned property belonging to Massa.

Massa had fucked him just once and afterwards he'd allocated Immutef to
Master Edward as his "ass boy"; a roll he now happily fulfils. He is at
Boss Edward's constant beck and call and he eagerly waits for a field-slave
to fetch him and take him to wherever Boss Edward is working. Immutef has
learned that his ass and mouth must be ready to meet the insatiable demands
Boss Edward makes of them. Once this had been a humiliating chore; nowadays
it is a true labor of love.

Now, as he waits in the full display position at the bottom of the steps
for Massa Charles' return from lunch, twenty-seven year old Immutef has
nothing better to do than to think wistfully of the days, when, as the
young Doctor Patrick Delaney, he'd lived as a free man and practiced his
beloved medicine in one of the poorer quarters of Baltimore.

Born the third and youngest son of a wealthy Boston mercantile family, he'd
received the best education his parents' considerable wealth could buy
after which he'd chosen to study medicine at one of New England's most
prestigious universities.  His decision to break with family tradition and
not follow his two older brothers into the family's enterprises both
surprised and disappointed his father who, however, reluctantly accepted
Patrick's decision to become a doctor.

After he'd graduated, Patrick's father arranged for him to join the
practice of one of Boston's most prominent medicos but influenced by his
Quaker beliefs, Patrick decided to devote his life to the poor and the
underprivileged of the world and rather than settle for a comfortable and
financially enriching career in Boston, he accepted a position working with
a Society of Friends mission in the city of Baltimore with its unique blend
of Southern agrarianism and Northern mercantilism.

Patrick attacked his outreach work with missionary zeal and he worked long
and arduous hours ministering to a mixed citizenry of poor whites and black
slaves whose indifferent owners carelessly neglected their illnesses and
injuries.

Faced with such inequality it was inevitable that Patrick became
politicized. It didn't happen overnight; rather it was a gradual awakening
to the reality of the lives lived by the folk he served. And with the
passing of time his particular ire was directed against the cruel injustice
of slavery. In Boston, he'd not been exposed to slavery; indeed, on
reflection, he couldn't recall one encounter with a black slave until he'd
come to Baltimore. Since then, sadly, there'd been far too many on a daily
basis.

He'd lost count of the many bloodied, flogged backs he'd cleaned and
dressed and of the never ending procession of black slaves - men worn out
by the unremitting hard labor their owners demanded of them and of black
women made old before their time by the ceaseless child-bearing inflicted
on them by their white masters' insatiable need for a new generation of
young slaves to work their fields.

Day by day, Patrick's anger grew and increasingly he became more
outspoken. Soon, he'd earned a reputation for being one of the more vocal
of Baltimore's abolitionists and it was suspected by his pro-slavery
opponents that he actively supported the "underground railway" which helped
runaway slaves escape to the North.

Inevitably, Patrick made many enemies among the slave-owners who muttered
darkly about "this doctor; this meddlesome Northerner" who threatened the
status quo of their Southern values.

Patrick was aware that his views weren't popular with Baltimore's
slave-owners but naively or unwisely - it's difficult to decide which - he
persisted with his unpopular activities. His criticism of slavery in
general and of the "cruel, heartless slave owners" in particular became
more strident and more frequent. Patrick never lost an opportunity to
organize public rallies among the local abolitionists which always resulted
in scuffles between them and the pro- slavery supporters.

After one such rally, Patrick found himself in front of an unsympathetic
court charged with disturbing the peace. As the rally's organizer, he was
found guilty and heavily fined and warned further appearances before the
court could result in a jail term. Undeterred, Patrick continued with his
anti-slavery activities.

Finally, with their patience exhausted, Patrick's enemies decided he had to
"disappear" which would also serve as a warning to other anti-slavery
agitators to cease their unwelcome protests or face similar fates.

But how to make Patrick disappear proved difficult to achieve and several
scenarios were considered. The first and most obvious one was to simply
kill him one dark night in a staged robbery. Another suggested that he be
abducted and taken to a river and "accidentally" drowned. These were
considered too obvious - and easily traced back to the perpetrators - to be
credible and so both were rejected.

And as they hesitated for lack of a creditable plan, Patrick's protests
continued unabated.  However their efforts to dispose of him were to prove
academic; their deliverance from the troublesome doctor came from an
unexpected source.

                                                    >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Fortuitously, for the plotters Patrick had also come to the attention of an
unscrupulous slave- dealer named Saggory Clutterbuck who trades slaves into
the Deep South of Louisiana and along the Mississippi River. In fact, he is
a specialist trader who recruits white men into his slave coffles and
presents them to his buyers as "prime, mustee bucks".

Light skinned slaves are in great demand among the aristocratic, plantation
wives who value them as house-servants and they command high prices. Over
the years, Saggory has spirited many an unsuspecting, young, white man away
into slavery and his nefarious activities have made him a very rich man; in
many cases richer than the clients he serves.

And Saggory's dealings with one client in particular have proved very
profitable. This client is a manumitted, black man who operates River's
Bend plantation on the Mississippi River.  Whilst the plantation belongs to
one Beauregard St Jean, it is the black man known as Massa Charles who is
the true Master of River's Bend and interestingly, the real owner serves
him as his slave, Ptolemy. In reality, all the slaves on the plantation are
white men laboring under the guise of light-skinned mustees.

It is a strict requirement of Massa Charles that all his slaves must be
white men. Over the years, Saggory has supplied him with the majority of
his "mustee" slaves that he recruits from among the poor, the homeless and
the white trash of the larger towns and cities where they won't be missed.

Saggory visits River's Bend twice a year at six monthly intervals with a
coffle of prime, mustee slaves for Massa Charles' selection - he has the
right of first refusal on Saggory's livestock - and he always pays
handsomely for any slaves he buys.  In return, Massa Charles sells his
rejects to Saggory. However, describing them as rejects doesn't do justice
to them.  These rejected slaves are, without exception, among the primest
slaves that Saggory has the pleasure of handling. Their time at River's
Bend has turned them into prime specimens and broken their spirits so that
they no longer think of themselves as free men and truly see themselves as
slaves. The hard labor tending to the plantation's crops has toned their
bodies and honed their muscles to the peak of physical perfection and the
River's Bend brand they wear on their muscular chests excites much interest
among the eager buyers at the New Orleans' slave auctions where they are
sold.

However, before River's Bend's rejected slaves mount the auction-block
there is another client who has first pick of them.  And that is Monsieur
Henri who owns and operates an exclusive, male bordello which caters for
the perverted tastes of the city's fops and dandies.

Invariably, some of River's Bend's rejects do find themselves working in
Monsieur Henri's stable of male-whore slaves until, worn out by constant
usage, they are then sold on to spend a few more brief, nightmarish years
toiling in the living hell of the sugar cane fields.

And on a past visit to River's Bend, Massa Charles had made an unusual
request of him. He'd placed a "special order' for a white doctor who would
tend to River's Bend's slave population and to Massa Charles' beloved
horses.

Saggory had warned that such an order might prove difficult to fill but
promised that he'd do his very best. However, he'd warned Massa Charles
that such an acquisition wouldn't come cheaply. He'd been assured by Massa
Charles that the cost of acquiring such an unusual and valuable slave
wasn't an issue.

Then, Saggory was delighted to hear of an abolitionist doctor from the
North working in Baltimore. The doctor had incurred the wrath of the
Maryland slave-owners who wished he'd vanish from the face of the earth.

And so it was an easy matter for Saggory to arrange for two ne'er-do-wells
to abduct Patrick Delaney and to secrete him in a barn on an isolated farm
that he used as a marshalling area for his latest coffle of mustee bucks.

And he'd also arranged for papers to be prepared proving that Patrick is a
slave named "William" the progeny of two deceased slaves Abe and Lizzie who
were the property of the widowed Mrs Dorothea Ferguson, the owner of the
farm and a close friend and a confidante of Saggory Clutterbuck.

Anything is possible for the right price!

                                                 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

As Immutef thinks back over these events he curses himself for his
foolhardiness. Naively, he'd held to his anti-slavery principles and he is
now paying a high price for them. How long ago was he delivered to River's
Bend and bought by Massa Charles?

Of course, he has no idea of the date; as a slave he has no need of such
knowledge. A slave learns to read the year by the seasons and the planting
and harvesting of crops. Well, there have been two plantings and currently
the crops are being harvested for a second time.  Based on that reckoning,
Immutef conjectures that he has been here for approximately two years.

Bitterly, he thinks back to his abduction and enslavement. He'd suspected
nothing was amiss as he walked home alone, after a night-time, anti-slavery
meeting. The night was moonless and the streets poorly lit and he'd caught
sight of two shadowy figures lurking at the entrance to a darkened
alleyway. But he'd thought nothing of this nor was he afraid. After all,
he'd walked this way many times before and he always felt safe. However, he
decided to ignore the two figures and to walk past them without
speaking. As he quickened his pace, he cast a sidelong glance at them but
they seemed engrossed in their conversation and didn't pay him any
attention. Once past them, he slowed the pace of his walking; after all he
was just a few minutes away from his home. What could possibly happen?

He doesn't remember what happened next. However, he remembers a sudden
blinding light and a starburst of color in front of his eyes before he was
overwhelmed by the total oblivion of unconsciousness. Therefore, he wasn't
aware of being hogtied and bundled into a cart hidden in the alleyway and
covered with a tarpaulin before being delivered over the state line to Mrs
Ferguson's farm in Virginia.

Immutef regained consciousness in the Upper South.

Immutef didn't know the length of his period of unconsciousness. But as he
struggled out of the darkness, he was aware that it was daytime by the
sunlight filtering in through the chinks in the door of the barn that
served as his prison.  Suddenly, he was aware of a cold draught chilling
his body and of a prickling of his skin. And it took several more moments
for him to know why.

To his dismay, Immutef suddenly realized that he was naked and lying prone
on a straw- strewn floor. Bewildered, he struggled to sit upright but felt
a tight restriction around his throat and weight on the extremities of his
limbs.  As he raised his hands to his throat to investigate, he was
horrified to see his wrists were shackled and to find the weight around his
neck was an iron collar identical to that worn by slaves. And as he moved
his feet he heard the rattling of chains that also restrained his ankles.

Immutef struggled to make sense of what was happening. Obviously, he'd been
abducted. But why? Although commonsense told him that his enemies were
probably responsible. But where was he and why was he chained like a slave?
And what was to happen to him?

Panic stricken, he began to shout out for help. His unanswered shouts grew
louder, shriller and hoarser until the barn door was unceremoniously thrown
open by a man carrying a whip.  Wordlessly, he strode over to where Immutef
was lying and uncoiling his whip, he laid it across Immutef's naked belly
and chest.

Immutef's agonized scream reverberated around the barn and as he vainly
tried to escape the whip' fiery pain, he rolled over onto his belly for
protection. His efforts proved vain; twice more he screamed as the whip cut
across his shoulders and his ass.

As a doctor, Immutef had tended the backs of many slaves who'd been
whipped. He was familiar with the whip's deadly handiwork but he had no
knowledge of the agonizing pain it inflicted on its hapless victims. That
is until now.

However, Immutef had been treated leniently. The whip had merely caressed
his body giving it a mere foretaste of its awful pain. He was unaware that
he was a valuable asset whose worth wasn't to be diminished by permanent
marking or disfigurement.

Nevertheless, Immutef's pain was intense and through his sobs, he begged
for mercy.

"Then hush yer mouth, boy!" The man snarled. "That is, less'n yer want a
real whuppin'. "

He didn't know it but Immutef was in the presence of his nemesis, Saggory
Clutterbuck, the man who was to take him into the Deep South and sell him
as a slave to Massa Charles.

Through his tears, Immutef examined this man who'd inflicted such awful
pain on him. The slaver was aged somewhere in his late forties to early
fifties.  Overweight, with heavy jowls and perpetually sweating, Saggory
gave the impression of being "poor white trash". Certainly, his unkempt
appearance, shining, bald pate and the grey stubble of his beard did much
to confirm this impression of his social standing. And when he opened his
mouth to snarl, Immutef noted the nicotine stained teeth that gave him the
look of a merciless predator. As Immutef looked into the cruel face of his
tormentor he was suddenly afraid; he was made so by the sinister curl of
his lips and the pitiless look in his eyes.

"What's happening to me?" Immutef pleaded to know what was happening. "Why
am I here?"

"What do yer think is happenin', boy? Why yer is a slave - my slave - and
'bout to be sold down the river' in Loosiana. That's what's happenin' to
yer, boy. And don't yer go makin' no trouble for me or yer'll taste more of
the snake. Yer unnerstand me, boy?"

Saggory's words horrified Immutef. What did he mean by referring to him as
a slave? Why, it's obvious that he's a white man and not a Negro
slave. There's been a terrible mistake; one that must soon be put right.

"I'm not a slave! You're making a dreadful mistake. I'm a free white man
and my name is Patrick Delaney. I demand that you set me..........."

Immutef didn't finish his demand. And as Saggory's whip sinuously wrapped
itself snakelike around Immutef's torso, he bellowed out his pain once
more.

"Oh God! That hurt. Oh God... please, no more, please?"

"I did warn yer, boy! I tol' yer to keep yer mouth shet. Each time yer open
it to protest or to sass me yer'll be whupped. Now let's have no more
nonsense about yer not being a slave. I have papers provin' yer is a mustee
slave named William, the git of two slaves once owned by the widder woman,
Mrs Ferguson of Meadowbrook Farm, Virginia. And I have the receipts provin'
I just bought yer from her for $850 so that makes yer my property. Mind
yer, I expect to make a good return on my investment in yer. A handsome,
well setup, young, mustee buck like yer always sells at premium prices at
The Forks of the Road slave-market in Natchez or in New Orleans. Yes sir,
Southern ladies favor yer yeller-skinned bucks to serve as handsome footmen
in their drawing-rooms or as their comely coachmen on their outings. But
yer're already spoken for. I have a buyer ready to take yer off my hands at
a handsome profit."

"Please, let me go? You're making a mistake. I'm not really a slave."

"And I say yer is a slave. Who do you think folk will believe? Me, a free
white man honestly going about his lawful business or yer a slave
malcontent? I'd advise you to keep yer mouth shet, boy. Law-abidin', white
folk don't take kindly to an uppity slave makin' a ruckus. Slaves have been
'gentled' under the gelding knife for less."

"Please don't do this? Contact my father in Boston and he'll pay you
whatever amount you ask to set me free."

Once more the whip finds its mark and as Immutef cries out in agony,
Saggory reprimands him.

"Still arguing' yer is a free white man. When will it sink into yer thick
skull that yer is a slave? I'm guess'n it's goin' to take a lot of pain to
convince yer of what you really is. Now listen up to what I have to
say. I've assembled a coffle of thirty-two, prime, mustee bucks jest like
yer. Yer'll be joinin' them in a few moments and then at first light
tomorrer, we heads out for Mississippi. We have a long way to travel and I
won't spare the whip to keep yer all in line and on schedule."

Immutef listened in disbelief as the slaver set out the fate that awaited
him. How could this be happening to him? White men aren't meant to be
slaves. And yet the pain of Saggory Clutterbuck's whip suggested
otherwise. He'd just been whipped like many of the slaves he'd helped heal
as a doctor.

Immutef's mind battled with the horrors of his situation. Earlier, the
slaver had said he was to be sold down the river. Immutef was familiar with
the term; he knew that slaves in the Upper South lived in fear of being
sold down the river. In practice, it meant being transported down the Ohio
and Mississippi Rivers into the Deep South and sold to the sugarcane and
cotton growers. Such a prospect filled the local slaves with dread and
served as an incentive for them to remain tame and obedient and not give
trouble to their owners. And he was also very aware of the method used to
transport slaves.

Often, he'd watched pityingly as a coffle of shackled slaves shuffled past
him on their way to a slave auction or to a new master.  He'd looked on
appalled as the long lines of men, women and children were driven under the
whips of their overseers to their destinations.

He'd choked back tears as the processions of human misery passed him by in
the street; frightened children clutching their mothers' skirts, desperate
women clutching their children to them knowing they could soon be ripped
from their arms and separated for life and the men, their heads bowed in
sorrow and shame, stripped to the waist so that interested onlookers could
appraise their brute strength and whose bare backs made tempting targets
for the slave-driver's whip.

And this was the fate that awaited him. He'll be shackled into a long line
of human misery and made to walk overland through Tennessee and down the
Natchez Trace to Mississippi.

And Immutef wondered what horrors awaited him there. The slaver had
mentioned he was already spoken for and therefore he knew that somewhere in
the Deep South he had a master waiting to take delivery of him as a new
slave.

It would seem his fate is sealed!

                                                  >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


Two years on, Immutef's sad reflections of his past life are interrupted by
the arrival on the front porch of Massa Charles and his
entourage. Curiosity has the better of him and despite his downcast eyes,
he is able to raise them enough to look upwards on to the verandah and to
scrutinize what is taking place. He is surprised to see that Massa is
accompanied by a young, black man, who, if his clothing is any guide, is a
slave. This surprises Immutef; his time at the plantation has taught him
that there are no black slaves at River's Bend. Indeed, he knows such a
notion would greatly anger Massa Charles and woe betide any white slave
unlucky enough to be on the receiving end of that anger. In a way, Immutef
envies the young black man, who, if he is a slave, has the luxury of
wearing clothes to cover his nakedness.

Massa is also attended by his body slave, Ptolemy and the young fan-bearer,
Zaff who, despite industriously waving the heavy, oriental fan in a vain
attempt to cool his master, does manage to keep the annoying, buzzing
insects at bay.

The other remaining member of the group is the same young man he'd noticed
earlier. Then, he'd been fully and expensively clothed; now he is stark
naked and probably he is the new slave who he is to physically examine for
Massa Charles.

Immutef visually appraises the young man and is pleasantly surprised. He
estimates the youth's age at about eighteen and while he lacks the animal
physicality of the plantation's field-slaves, he does show great promise of
achieving their muscularity in due course.

But what really surprises Immutef is the striking similarity between
Ptolemy and the young man. Standing side by side, it's obvious to Immutef's
trained eye that they are blood relatives albeit that Ptolemy is
considerably older. But looking at the younger man's features, Immutef
concludes people could be forgiven for taking them as father and
son. Obviously, they share a common ancestry.

But why is he here and why is he as naked as any other of Massa's slaves?

Immutef's thoughts are rudely interrupted by Massa Charles' impatient
command.

"Immutef, get your lazy, white ass up here! NOW!"

Immutef trembles at his master's imperious tone and he breaks from his
position and quickly bounds up the steps. On reaching the top verandah, he
falls to his knees and crawls on all fours to where Massa is standing side
by side with the young, black man. Ptolemy and the young, white man stand
behind them in the position of respect and with their heads bowed in
submission. Immutef leans forward and kisses Massa's dusty riding boots
before speaking.

"Greetings, Massa! How can your slave be of service to you, Massa?"

Once, Immutef had hated assuming this position of abject shame and
humiliation. Then, he'd been aware of the stress placed upon his naked body
and how it had shamefully exposed him to the scrutiny of Massa Charles and
his black overseers. In those early days, he'd blushed with humiliation and
his body had burned from the shame and degradation of being forced to adopt
it.

At first, his white pride hadn't allowed him to fully submit and he'd
silently rebelled. His defiance wasn't lost on Massa Charles who moved
quickly to assert his authority over the haughty, young doctor from
Boston. Several very painful canings had followed and when these hadn't
achieved the desired effect, Massa Charles had resorted to the whip. He'd
been loath to whip Immutef for fear of permanently scarring him as the
doctor was a valuable slave who'd cost him a small fortune.

Charles has no compunction about using the whip on his field-slaves; after
all, they are lazy brutes whose primary function is hard physical
labor. Left to their own devices, these slaves don't apply themselves
assiduously to their chores and so his overseers constantly need to spur
them to greater effort on his behalf. And their heavy bull-whips achieve
this.

However Charles found his new slave pleasing to the eye and he hadn't
wanted to mar the ascetics of Immutef's body. He'd ordered the overseer,
Edward to apply the whip lightly so as not to permanently damage such a
valuable property but with enough force to inflict pain on the rebellious
slave. But even this hadn't worked and so Charles had resorted to the
ultimate weapon in his arsenal of punishments. He'd had Immutef taken to
the barn, strung up by the heels and ass-paddled and coated with fiery
pimentade. This achieved the desired effect; Immutef's spirit had finally
been broken and he became the docile, compliant slave now crouching
fearfully at his Massa's feet.

"Boy, this is Sir Yancy," Massa points to Yancy, "and he is my house-guest
for the foreseeable future. You are to afford him every respect and you
will obey all commands he gives you as though they were given by me. Do you
understand?"

"Yes Massa!"

"Then pay your respects to my house-guest and be quick about it. I have a
new slave for you to examine."

Hastily, Immutef crawls to where Yancy is standing and pays homage to him
by kissing his feet and begging to be allowed to serve him as his Master's
honored guest.

Yancy gazes down on the vet's broad back and upturned ass and is pleased
with the sight of a white man humbling himself at his feet. He has only
been at River's Bend for a few hours but already he is adjusting to the
changing circumstances of his life. Usually, it is he who pays homage to
the hated white masters who'd owned and controlled his life from the moment
of his birth. Today, this has been turned around. Now, it is he who stands
tall and he has the white man groveling at his feet. And this slave - like
Charles' other house slaves - arouses him. His cock jerks to attention with
the close confines of his threadbare trousers and pulses with lustful
desire. This isn't lost on Charles who laughingly remarks.

"Steady on there, Yancy! There'll be time for pleasuring one of my slaves
in due course. That is if you can hold off for a while longer? Can you,
Yancy?"

"I'm not sure, Charles. It's been a while since I had any pleasure of my
own. My mistruss didn't allow her slaves to pester one another."

"So it's been awhile since you last had sex?"

"Yes it has been a while, Charles. Unless you count the times my white
massa fucked me."

"Your master fucked you, Yancy?"

"Massa fucked all his young, male slaves, Charles. Of course he did it so
that the mistruss never knew. He usually waited until she was away shopping
or visiting her friends. Whenever the mistruss ordered the carriage to take
her shopping or visiting, all the younger slaves waited for the Massa's
summons to his bedroom and wondered who'd be chosen."

All this is news to Ramses! He listens in disbelief as Yancy tells Massa
about his father's secret, sexual activities with his young male
slaves. Luke hadn't any idea of his father's secret predilection for male
sex. Indeed, he'd listened as his father railed against the abomination of
males lusting after one another's bodies and he'd lived in dread of his own
homosexuality being discovered and of the consequences that would
inevitably follow if it became common knowledge. Ramses is angered by his
father's hypocrisy.

For his part, Charles is incensed by this treatment of Yancy. It's almost
as though he is taking it personally which in a way is true. In the few
hours he's known Yancy, he's taken quite a shine to the young, black man
and it hurts that he has suffered so much. His own memories - of long ago -
come flooding back of the time when as a young slave, he'd been similarly
treated by Ptolemy's father. He'd been powerless to resist but usually,
after he'd been used, he would placate his anger and resentment by rough
fucking the master's son, Beauregard. In that, at least, he'd had some
sense of payback. But Yancy had been denied a similar revenge.  Even though
Yancy - as Nestor - had fantasized about having sex with his master's son,
Luke, it had never happened and Charles decides that it will - and soon.

Tonight, he'll exercise his ownership rights over Ramses and tomorrow he'll
give him to Yancy for his usage. But why wait until then to give Yancy the
sexual release he so obviously craves.  Impulsively, he orders the young
slave, Zaff to.

"Zaff, run into the gardens and fetch Horus and Osiris to me. Be quick now
and don't dawdle or you'll feel my boot up your skinny, white ass!"

Obediently, Zaff does as he's ordered and soon the twin brothers are
crouching at their Massa's feet. They wait in trembling silence for him to
speak.

"Get to your feet and stand at display! And you too Immutef!"

The three slaves hastily scramble to their feet and adopt the full display
position placing their bodies on prominent show for Charles' and Yancy's
scrutiny. The two brothers are obviously nervous at being perfunctorily
summoned from their labors to come and stand on the front porch of their
Massa's home. Their limbs quiver, their mighty chests heave and their
clearly defined abdominal muscles flutter betraying their unease at this
unexpected turn of events.  Why are they here? Have they displeased Massa
and are they to be punished? But then the vet is also present. Perhaps they
are to be examined by him as a prelude to being sold. Suddenly, cold fear
grips them as they contemplate being torn apart and sold.

However, Massa Charles invitation to the mysterious young Black man
standing at his side answers their unasked questions and puts their
troubled minds to rest. It would seem they aren't to be sold!

"Yancy, I think the time is right to get rid of some of your
frustration. We have time for you to have a quick fuck if you desire
it. Choose which one of these two boys you'd like to use."

Yancy is taken by surprise by Charles' words. Nevertheless it's a tempting
invitation and one not to be refused out of hand. But the natural reticence
he'd acquired over the years of his slavery prevent him from showing too
much enthusiasm and of course, there's the matter of his shyness at
performing such an act in front of Charles and his slaves. Almost as though
he is reading Yancy's thoughts, Charles adds.

"Don't worry about the slaves' feelings, Yancy. They don't count. White
slaves aren't entitled to the same feelings as a free Black man. Remember
they are here for our pleasure and to be used when and how we
decide. Anyway, all the slaves present - with the exception of Ramses -
have been used publicly by me and soon he will be too. These two slaves are
used to performing in front of me and other slaves and I often use them as
after dinner entertainment. I have them fuck one another for my amusement
or, occasionally, I have them use Ptolemy. It's quite something to see him
on all fours with one of the brother's cock up his ass and the other
ramming his pecker down his throat just like a hog on a spit roast."

"That must be humiliating for Ptolemy. Does he ever object?"

"No Yancy! Ptolemy has never protested and he knows better than to oppose
me. And as for humiliating him - yes it does and it's meant to. Remember,
Yancy it was the white man who set the rules by his treatment of his
slaves. All I have done is to take those same rules and adapt and redefine
them for use with my white slaves. I have always endeavored to humiliate
all my white slaves to the utmost of my ability. I can never forget how the
St John family cruelly mistreated their slaves. It's the memory of those
times that drives me to constantly take my revenge against all
whites. Anyway, Ptolemy's shame and degradation are small recompense for
the crimes his ancestors committed against our people. Yancy, you must
never forget your own treatment at the hands of Ramses' parents who are
another branch of the St John family."

"I won't Charles. And I look forward to taking my own revenge over Ramses."

"Good lad, Yancy! Ramses is ripe for fucking and after I've taken his
cherry tonight, he'll be your slave to do with as you please. But for now
which slave do you choose? Horus or Osiris?  Let me add there's nothing to
separate them. Both are tight-assed and are a sheer delight to fuck."

"Thank you, Charles and well ..... um......."

Yancy's hesitant answer surprises Charles. He thought that a virile, young
black man would jump at the chance of fucking either of the white
slaves. Charles knows from personal experience that either of the brothers
would please him and he wonders why Yancy hesitates.  Perhaps, Yancy is shy
or embarrassed?

"Is something wrong, Yancy? Have I embarrassed you? If so, then I apologize
most heartily."

"NO! No Charles, you haven't embarrassed me. It's just... well.....I've
taken quite a fancy for your vet. I couldn't help but notice his ass as he
crouched at my feet and the thought crossed my mind I'd really like to fuck
him."

"And so you shall, Yancy!" Charles hearty laugh echoes around the
porch. "And you're quite right; he does have a nice ass. I did use it once
and from memory it was most enjoyable. The slave is yours to fuck and to
enjoy."

Then, an idea occurs to Massa Charles; he decides it's time for his new
slave, Ramses to be put to work and he orders him to.

"You, Ram! Run to the kitchen and ask cook for some goose fat. And when you
return, you can grease Immutef's hole ready for Sir Yancy's pecker. Hurry
along now unless you want my whip across your skinny, white ass. Don't keep
Sir Yancy waiting."



To be continued .........