Date: Wed, 14 Jul 2004 20:23:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Seaward Plantation war clouds 3

This story contains graphic but completely fictional
depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage
boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women show up now and
then  If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read
or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.

Seaward Plantation

War clouds chapter three

An overcast sky sent down strong, gusty breezes to trouble
the waters off of Charleston Harbor.  Troy, Priam, and
Appleby had decided to take the Harmony into town rather
than the Hesperus, as they expected to begin loading many
more supplies than was their usual practice, and the steam
launch could carry that larger cargo with its greater deck
area and hold.  Appleby was by now proficient in sailing
either by canvas or steam, as were all of the adult males of
Seaward, so he scurried about attending to the boiler with
Priam as Troy took the rudder.  Chugging straight ahead, the
launch set a course for the city.  In between his attentions
to the boilers, Appleby settled in the stern by Troy, the
two comfortably nestled with their arms around each other.
Priam sat on a pile of rope facing them, smiling and shaking
his head.

"You two are an old married couple, you know that?" he
grumbled, smiling.  Troy and Appleby leaned a bit away from
each other to look the other directly in the face, smiling.
"I could do worse," said Appleby.  "So could I; don't tell
Athena, Papa," chuckled Troy.  All three burst out laughing;
Athena knew very well the relationship that the two men had
and did not mind it in the least, for at Seaward love grew
from love and it just meant there was more to go around.

Through the choppy waves the Harmony plowed ahead, and as it
went Appleby went over in his head the plans for the day.
He had remained a lieutenant in the South Carolina Militia.
Over the years offers had come for promotion, but he always
argued that his chief duty was to protect Seaward and, with
it, the sea lanes that approached Charleston.  This
rationale made sense to the other officers and so he had
kept that assignment; but it was such a small piece of land
that they felt a "promotion" was not in order.  Appleby
could not possibly have cared less; preserving Seaward was
his only goal.

Colonel Gillam had retired a few years ago and, as the
militia became more regularized, General Beauregard had
assumed command.  Important officials of the South Carolina
government had begun attending more often, and the size of
the group and its seriousness of preparation had grown.
Appleby had attended regular field exercises of the militia
over the years, always bringing Bundit as the least likely
of the "servants" of Seaward to betray the true nature of
the freedoms enjoyed there.  Appleby often found Silas
Hornsby, the soldier he had first introduced to the delights
of male love, at those exercises.  They had not resumed
their intimacy but their friendship remained strong.
Hornsby had enlisted his own lover, secretly of course, and
the two shared a tent at every outing, looking to all the
world like comrades in arms.  They were--but perhaps in a
different meaning of "arms" than their comrades attributed
to them.

At the militia meeting today, Appleby also expected to find
Robert Ashley.  Ah, Robert.... what a long and tangled
history they had.  Appleby had continued to be invited to
periodic social gatherings at Ashley Plantation.  There he
had met many of the local gentry, including his old friend
and attorney Horatio Smith, now the proud father of a little
girl with another on the way.  Appleby had become a
respected if somewhat mysterious member of the Charleston
upper crust through these and other social forays.  He
continued to feign the status of a widower, which was
accepted by all because it added to his romantic mystique.
But as the years passed, he continued to show no interest in
any of the ladies who thrust themselves upon him, and
eventually they gave it up, considering him a little
eccentric.  Virginia and Victoria, the Ashley daughters,
both found young men and married.  Appleby was heartily glad
for it, and attended both weddings to give them his
blessing:  they would no longer pursue him.  About five
years earlier Carter Ashley had died of a cancer, leaving
his grieving widow and a twenty-year-old Robert Ashley in
charge of the plantation.  That is when things really began
to turn strange.

Appleby had continued his intermittent relationship with
Robert as the boy grew into manhood, muscles filling out
beneath his strawberries and cream complexion, his page boy
haircut growing long, a wispy blonde mustache and goatee
gracing his face.  Appleby had also enjoyed the intermittent
attentions of the slaves of Ashley Plantation, some of whom
he grew to know quite well.  Tall, handsome, powerfully
built Rodney had not aged a day in appearance over eleven
years.  The slave boys, especially the three with whom
Robert consorted most closely, had all grown into attractive
manhood.

A year after his father's death, Robert at the age of twenty-
one married Emily Bruton, of a well-to-do family from
farther inland.  Appleby had met her several times, but
found her to be quite shy, even timid.  Pretty and small,
with brown hair and eyes, Appleby strongly suspected that
she was but an appendage, a coverup for Robert's more...
more nefarious practices and lifestyle.  Certainly she
always seemed to regard Robert with a look of apprehension,
even fear, when they were together.  They had a child, a
son, in the last year.  This blessed event had given Emily a
chance to retreat into her domestic arrangements even more,
focusing entirely on child-rearing and the management of the
main house.  Parties at Ashley ceased entirely, and old Mrs.
Ashley went to "visit" cousins of hers in Savannah on a more
or less long term basis.

Now master of Ashley Plantation at twenty-five, Robert had
the money and--with Emily's and his mother's withdrawal--the
freedom to live as he wished.  On the one hand he plunged
into the world of the militia, rising to become a naval
captain although only a few tattered gunboats were at his
command at that point in time.  On the other hand, Robert
fell more and more into the world of control and domination
that Appleby had noticed in him.  Twice more he had asked
Appleby to sell Bundit to him, and Appleby's protestations
of Bundit's freedom made no difference:  he simply wanted to
own that Asian flesh.  Eventually he had given up asking,
but Appleby had the strongest feeling that he was... biding
his time.  But the real evidence of Robert's decadence, his
slide into a wallow of sexual gratification and power over
others was The Barn.

The Barn came into existence shortly after Carter Ashley's
death and just before Robert's marriage to Emily.  The young
man, newly in possession of money and power on the
plantation, commandeered an old barn on the property.  It
was renovated completely on the inside and made secure from
prying eyes.  On the outside, it seemed like nothing other
than an old, red barn.  Inside.... Appleby's thoughts went
back to his first visit there.

There had been another weekend gathering at Ashley, and the
party had just finished a pleasant lunch.  The company was
dispersing for various afternoon activities, as was the
usual pattern.  Old Mrs. Ashley retired to her room while
Emily bustled around arranging domestic matters in the
house.  Robert sidled up next to Appleby.

"Well, sir, a little adventure this afternoon, perhaps?  I
have recently renovated a barn here at Ashley.  I'd like to
show it to you," Robert said with a gleam in his ice blue
eyes.  Appleby agreed, but wondered why he had done so as
the two walked across the spacious lawns and through the
gardens of Ashley.  His ambivalence about Robert and his
"adventures," indeed about the social gatherings at Ashley
themselves, ran deep.

They made for a large, isolated barn at the far edge of the
Ashley gardens.  It seemed like any other barn, except for
the fact that there were no doors or loft windows open, but
rather skylight windows placed high up the roof.  Robert
knocked on a simple door; it opened and they stepped inside.
Robert and Appleby were in a simple room lined with
banquettes, or low, upholstered benches.  As they came in,
three slaves who had been sitting on the benches stood up.
Appleby knew them well, and greeted each with a smile:
Samuel, the boy Appleby had first fondled in McGillicuddy's
slave market, was by then a youth of sixteen.  Hammond was
twenty at that time; his portly physique had matured into
barrel-chested solidity.  He was big now, but no longer fat.
And Aaron.... certainly Appleby's favorite of the three in
many ways, Aaron was then eighteen and still exotically
beautiful, his straight black hair now hanging down to his
shoulders, his leopard features more manly but still
alluring.

The three greeted the two white men with subservient bows
and "Masta, masta" all around.  At a nod from Robert, the
three slaves began undressing, laying their clothing on the
banquettes.  Appleby's eyes feasted on the unfolding sight,
little suspecting what it would lead to.  Hammond was stocky
and strong, barrel chested and very dark, his body made of
slabs of meaty flesh.  His boy breasts had grown into heavy
lobes with prominent, pointed nipples.  The unusually large
penis he had as a boy had kept pace with his growth, and was
really quite large, dangling purple black and thick beneath
a large, frizzy bush of pubic hair.  Oblong testicles hung
in a loose ballsack.  The good natured, round face he had as
a boy had become more hardened and defined as testosterone
washed through it over the years.  Tiny snakes of black hair
still covered his scalp.  But when he saw Appleby's eyes
drinking in his powerful, stocky build, the boy's smile of
old flashed in his coal dark face and he nodded at the white
man, enjoying the admiration he received.

Samuel's growth had outstripped his muscles, and at sixteen
he was skinny although not gaunt.  Long, thin muscles rolled
down his arms, his belly was a flat plain of medium brown.
The thin little penis he had sported as a ten year old was
now of average size, but sprang straight out as he lowered
his trousers.  It bobbed with his movements.  His testicles
were hugged in tight in front of his upper thighs, and a
dense mat of tight, kinky curls sat above his penis.  He now
looked appraisingly at Appleby as the white man looked at
him; they have found occasion to taste each other's sexual
favors more than once over the years, and the youth now
dared to look at Appleby looking at him.  The white man
smiled, and the black youth's face broke into a grin.

Aaron was last to strip.  He too was thin but better muscled
than Samuel.  His skin was simply beautiful, flawless and
hairless, a chocolate color with an overwash of rust that
bespoke his ancestry--of Indians?  of Arabs?  Appleby was
never sure and Aaron himself did not know.  His straight
black cap of hair had grown and now hung like a curtain down
to his neck.  His penis was still thick but not especially
long, beneath a bush of waving, long black pubic hair.  The
eighteen year old youth's body was lithe and twisted like a
flame as he removed his clothing.  Smiling at Appleby, he
ran his thumb and fingers over his organ, which leaped to
life.

Robert now removed his own clothing, revealing a muscled but
thin body covered with a flawless strawberries and cream
colored skin.  His long blonde hair was pulled back, setting
off his mustache and goatee.  A pink penis of average size
bounced out of his trousers below a bush of dirty blonde
hair.  Robert nodded an invitation to Appleby.  Thinking the
room they were in was not well appointed for a bout with the
three slave youths, but nevertheless willing, Appleby
quickly undressed as well.  He had seen Robert stage far
more decadent tableaux in the past, this seemed relatively
tame.  Little did he know....

The two white masters and three black slave youths stood for
but a moment, admiring each other, and then Robert stepped
to a crank handle in the wall and turned it.  Beyond the
wall of the room, a bell sounded.  Appleby looked around,
interest balanced with apprehension.  What appeared to be a
joint between wood siding in the wall cracked open, and a
hidden door appeared, then opened fully.  Robert pointed in
the direction of the space beyond with a mocking flourish of
his arm.  The three slave boys went first, eagerly--it was
clear they had some idea of what to expect.  Robert
followed, then beckoned to Appleby.  The man shrugged and
entered.

The room he stepped into was round.  Four doors in the wall
stood equidistant from each other.  The room was lit with
candles, but light also flooded in from a large glass
skylight in the ceiling, some twenty feet above.
Comfortable upholstered sofas circled the room's
centerpiece, which was quite a large, low bed.  The walls of
the round room were covered with tooled leather.  The floor
was a thick carpet of multi-colored Oriental design, and
Appleby thought he could make out abstract shapes of
genitalia in the weave of the rug.  The bed was as large as
any two large beds Appleby had ever seen, and was covered
with a single covering of black satin, with pillows of the
same material scattered around it.  The sofas, five in
number, were upholstered in the same black satin.  Appleby
thought it was the most decadent room he had ever seen--but
he had yet to see the show that Robert had arranged.

The party had entered through one of the four doors.  The
moment it closed, the door on their left and the door on
their right opened simultaneously.  Through each door came
twin boys of about twelve years--but no, now Appleby saw
that they were not twins but were surely brothers, and could
not have been more than a year apart in age.  They were of
striking appearance:  their features were African with wide,
flared noses and very thick, full lips, but their skin
showed only the palest wash of coffee.  Their hair was a
bush of tangled curls, but its color was blonde--whether
natural or died, Appleby could not tell.  Both boys were
naked, thin penises sticking straight out beneath a few
wisps of brown-blonde pubic hair and above small nutsacks.
Their African ancestry was revealed in their high,
uprolling, tight buttocks.  The brothers were slim without
being skinny, thin pads of muscles on arms and legs, their
chests and torsos showing nearly flat plains of flawless
skin.  Where had Robert found these beautiful creatures,
Appleby wondered.  He must have searched slave markets up
and down the coast until he had discovered such exotics.
Appleby shuddered to think what Bundit's fate might have
been had he, God forbid, surrendered the Siamese youth up to
Robert.  And he shuddered with the thought of his own
beautiful son, a little darker than these boys, and how he
might fare on the mainland.

Looking quickly around, Appleby perceived that the
appearance of the two slave boys was having the desired
effect.  Every cock, including his own, was stiff and some
of them showed pearls of precum at their tips.  But the show
that Robert had arranged was far from over.  Each of the
brothers held a long black ribbon in his hand which led back
through the door.  The boys were advancing into the room,
and it became clear that the ribbons were attached to
something.  And then the party discovered what that was:
behind each boy came a dark chocolate slave girl, each about
eighteen, her hands very loosely tied by the black ribbon.
Indeed, it was clear that the simulation of bondage was just
for show, but it had the desired effect.  Even those men or
boys among the party who preferred their own sex caught
their breath at the sight, and every single penis was now
painfully erect, strings of  precum hanging down from many.
Each girl was simply beautiful, wearing caps of boyishly
short cut, tufted, shiny black hair in an African style,
with long curling eyelashes and splendid, large lips rolling
out top and bottom.  Their melon breasts were round, high,
and tight, with purple black, erect nipples.  Their hips and
bottoms were of the round, wide configuration so typical of
African women, and small patches of dense, kinky hair made
triangles in their groins.

Each of the light-skinned slave boys led his "captive" up to
the bed.  With a flourish, the string fell from off of their
hands even as each girl climbed up onto the bed and sprawled
against the scattered pillows.  There they lay, regarding
the pack of tumescent males through long, curling eyelashes
above heavy lidded, half-closed eyes.  Robert, Appleby, and
the slave boys came up to the very edge of the bed to admire
these beauties, and every cock was sticking straight out or
straight up.

The light-skinned boys were not done with their duties,
however.  Approaching the party, smiling sweetly at the men
and youth, each one approached two of the observers.  One
boy came up to Appleby and grasped his aching red penis with
a light tan hand and slowly, slowly began manipulating it.
With the other hand he beckoned the nearest slave to come
forward:  it was Samuel.  He likewise grasped Samuel's
stiff, dark brown rod with his other hand and slowly slid
his hand up and then down.  The boy's brother was doing the
same with Robert in one hand and Aaron in the other, pumping
just enough to maintain rampant erections.  It appeared as
if Hammond, unoccupied, was the choice for the next
development.  Robert nodded to him and the large black youth
crawled onto the bed.

The girls moved to their knees as Hammond, also on his
knees, crawled toward them.  Crowding each other to gain a
position in front of him, they kissed his full lips with
their own luscious mouths, thick, wide, and glistening lips
sliding over each other.  Hammond's big hands cupped their
firm, high breasts or the rounded contours of their butts.
Little cries of delight and the sounds of heavier breathing
could be heard from the trio.  Hands sliding over dark
flesh, tongues exploring mouths, the three held that
position for some long moments.  Then, making his choice,
Hammond pushed one of the girls to her back on the bed.
Spreading her legs, he positioned the fat head of his large
black cock at the entrance to her vagina and moved it
slowly, lubricating it with the flow of precum discharging
from the tip.  Then in one smooth motion he entered the
girl, who cried out in both lust and pain as his big,
rampant cock filled her.  Hammond lay down flat on top of
her, one hand clutching her shoulder, the other hand
entwined in her short, tufted hair.  He was positioned so
that the observers were looking directly at his ass and down
his back.  Hammond began pumping in and out, moving his big,
muscular buttocks up and down as his penis slid inside the
girl.  His friends could see his black shaft making its
cycles, encircled by the girl's labia, every time his butt
lifted for another stroke.

The other girl lay back against a pillow and beckoned to the
onlookers, smiling, a languid expression on her beautiful
dark face.  Appleby wondered for a moment if she were
drugged in some way to be so peaceful and compliant--or did
she simply enjoy the experience?  His speculations were
disrupted by the movement of Samuel next to him responding
to the call.  His stiff, dark, sixteen year old cock
bobbing, the boy wasted no time in crawling onto the bed.
On his hands and knees over the girl, between her spread
legs, he kissed her passionately, then nibbled her breasts
and the pointy nipples.  The girl reached around and grasped
his firm, high butt, pulling inward.  Taking the hint,
Samuel pointed the leaking, shiny head of his stiff cock at
the girl's love hole and she pulled him right into her.  Now
the onlookers could also see Samuel's slick, stiff dick
sliding in and out of her hole as he raised his butt in the
cycle of pumping.  The ballsacks of both black slaves were
tucked up tight now underneath their penises, and they rose
and fell with increasing speed as the black youths fucked
the willing slave girls beneath them.

Freed from attending to Samuel, the exotic blonde-African
boy who had been slowly pumping Appleby now sank to his
knees and took the white man's cock into his mouth.  He did
not slide it in and out--Appleby was not to come in that way-
-but the boy simply caressed the white man's cock inside his
warm mouth, maintaining a gentle suction.  Appleby sank his
fingers into the boy's blonde curls, breathing heavily, lips
open, watching the scene on the bed.

Surprisingly, Samuel came first even though he had started
later.  He cried out, arched his head back, his whole body
bucking and spasming as his seed filled the womb of the girl
beneath him.  Looking closely, Appleby was sure he could see
the black boy's testicles slowly turn inside the tight, dark
ballsack tucked up under the squirting penis.  Samuel cried
out once more, pushed hard, and then collapsed onto the
girl, panting heavily.  He lay like that for a minute with
Hammond still bucking and pumping steadily next to him.
Then the black boy rolled off the girl and lay a foot or two
to her side, recovering his breath.

Robert gave Aaron a little push, and the leopard-faced young
man stepped forward, his rampant black dick sticking
straight out.  He, too crouched over the black slave girl,
kissing her, fondling her breasts.  Scrambling forward, he
thrust his shaft into her mouth, and she slid her thick,
wide lips up and down it as he rolled his head from side to
side, calling out "ah, ah!"  At that moment Hammond came,
slamming his bulk forward into the girl beneath him with
such ferocity that her cries joined his.  Hammond roared,
the clenching of his butt muscles obvious for all to see, as
his rampant, swollen dick pumped troops of black-baby-makers
into the girl below.  Her fingers, around his back, tore at
his skin as her own ecstasy mounted, her legs wrapping
around his back.  The couple lay quivering and panting,
locked together, as their shared passion passed.

By now, Aaron had slid back down the panting torso of the
girl beneath him and had positioned his wet dick at the
opening to her vagina.  He thrust it inside smoothly,
lubricated by Samuel's semen, and began pumping vigorously.
The sun shining through the skylight lit up the dark reddish
black shine of his skin, now covered with sweat, and flashed
off of his tight, high butt as it pistoned up and down, in
and out, the muscles clenching up toward his back with every
thrust.

Hammond now rolled off the girl, spent, and lay on his belly
a foot or two to the side.  Forgetting his manners as a
host, consumed in lust, Robert quickly scrambled forward.
On his haunches, he pushed his pink, stiff penis into the
girl's vagina, now well enlarged and lubricated by Hammond.
Bending forward slightly, he roughly grasped the girl's
pert, melon-sized breasts in his hands and squeezed,
twisting the nipples with his fingers.  "Masta Robert!" she
cried out in pain, squirming.  A high pitched laugh escaped
Robert's lips.  Pushing forward, he inserted himself
completely inside of her, then stretched out to lie on top
of the writhing girl.  Grasping her wrists, he pushed her
arms above her head and pinioned her to the bed as he began
pumping in and out.  Appleby could now see Robert's pink and
red ballsack rise and fall as his penis moved in and out,
the light pink color of his shaft contrasting with the dark
chocolate black of the flesh surrounding the girl's vagina
and anus.

Now Aaron came, groaning, clutching the girl beneath him
tightly as he pushed into her, holding their two bodies
together.  The black slave girl had wrapped her arms and
legs around the exotic slave boy and was pulling him into
her flesh as well.  Their bodies writhed together for a
while.  Aaron was no longer pumping but every muscle of his
body worked as he drained his seed into the girl below.
Then he slumped, spent.  The slave lay like that for a
moment and then rolled off the girl in the direction of
Samuel who still lay near her on the bed.  Samuel put an arm
around the panting, heaving chest of Aaron while Aaron's
penis, still erect, leaked a long rope of silver and white
drool.

Appleby was completely caught up in the otherworldly scene
that Robert had staged.  All considerations that might have
given him pause in the past were utterly washed away in a
flood of hormones.  Unable to wait, he crawled up between
the legs of the girl who now extended her arms to him.  With
no preliminaries, he inserted his rampant organ into the
girl and pushed.  Appleby began swinging his hips, sliding
his rigid dick in and out of the slave girl beneath him.  He
could look down and see the delightful contrast of his rigid
red penis sliding in and out of her night-dark flesh, his
own patch of curly pubic hair mashing into her thick pad of
kinky hair.  Looking straight down at her, he locked eyes
with her, staring into the dark inviting depths of her eyes.
Next to him Robert was pumping vigorously inside the other
slave girl.  The two white men now looked each other in the
eye for a moment, smiled hugely, and returned their
attentions to the squirming black slave girls beneath them.

Appleby lowered himself onto the girl, riding on her pert
breasts, sliding on a layer of sweat put there by Samuel and
Aaron.  His penis slid easily in and out of her vagina which
was bathed in the accumulated cum of the two slave boys.  He
tasted her lips, also tasting Samuel and Aaron there,
chewing on the large outcurving flesh of the lips.

Next to him Robert cried out, arching and clenching his
torso, as he exploded inside the other slave girl.  It put
Appleby over the edge also.  From deep inside him a flood of
semen gathered and came roaring out of his penis even as a
wild animal cry emerged from his chest.  Both white men now
bucked and thrashed on top of their slave girls, pushing
white man's seed into their waiting vaginas.  Then the
moment passed and they collapsed, panting onto the girls.

Even before they recovered breath, the three black slave
youths with them snuggled in close.  Aaron arched over
Appleby's back, still astride the slave girl, and wedged
himself between the girls and their white masters.  Samuel
rolled in close to Appleby, his arm around the white man's
back, while Hammond did the same for Robert, running his big
brown hand up and down the blushing bottom of his master.

Floating on a peaceful cloud of afterglow, Appleby saw that
the party was not yet over.  Onto the now crowded bed
scrambled the blonde-African slave boys, each with a pot of
lubricant.  Appleby saw Robert push his torso up off the
slave girl a little, nod toward Hammond, and simply say,
"Him."  The twelve or thirteen year old exotic boy nearest
to them crawled over to Hammond, dipped his fingers into the
pot, and began lubricating the big slave's anus.  Knowing
what was coming, Hammond lifted his hips up and spread his
legs to receive this service, grunting as the boy thrust one
and then two slimy fingers into his butt.  Meanwhile, Robert
began moving his hips back and forth ever so slowly and
slightly--he was using the warm love tunnel of the girl
beneath him to achieve a new erection.  In and out just a
little, in and out.... and then with a little more vigor.
In a minute or two Robert pulled out of the girl, his
rampant red penis now fully erect again, slippery with his
and Hammond's semen.  Moving a foot or two to the side, his
straddled the big, firm butt of Hammond as the slave youth
remained lying on his belly.  The blonde African boy removed
his fingers, Hammond's anus now dilated.  Robert put his
hard dick in place and pushed.  Hammond cried out, "Masta!"
and then gasped, panting, as the rigid white penis
penetrated all the way into him.  Robert remained on his
haunches, his dick plunging down into the upraised bottom
below him.  He began rocking his hips back and forth, and
kept time to his movements by slapping the hard black butt
every so often.

The sight of Robert's rigid pink penis sliding in and out of
the chocolate hills of Hammond's butt inspired Appleby.  His
dick sprang to life of its own accord inside the girl, who
writhed in pleasure at the feeling of renewed rigidity.  But
she was not to be the object of his attentions this time.
The white man looked at the blonde-African boy nearest him
and nodded at Aaron.  Understanding the gesture, Aaron,
lying on his back between the two slave girls, pulled his
legs up.  The twelve or thirteen year old exotic boy now
lubricated Aaron's anus, inserting two fingers to expand the
hole.  Aaron nodded at Appleby and the white man pulled out
of the black girl beneath him, moved over between Aaron's
legs, and put the head of his rigid dick to Aaron's anus.
He pushed.  Aaron took in breath sharply but did not cry
out.  The black slave wrapped his arms and legs around
Appleby's back and drew the white man down onto him.  The
two looked deeply into each other's eyes, smiling, sharing
breath as Appleby began a slow rhythm.

Then Appleby, inspired, shifted his glance to Samuel.  The
skinny black sixteen year old lay on his side, watching the
proceedings, clutching his own penis which was now stiff
again.  Appleby looked to the slave boy with the lubricant:
"Do me," he said.  Unused to doing this to a white man, the
boy hesitated, but Appleby nodded again and thrust his butt
up invitingly, but not so much as to dislodge from Aaron.
Eagerly, the blonde-African now lubricated and enlarged
Appleby's asshole.  Samuel began panting between parted lips
in anticipation, and was back between Appleby's legs before
the slave boy was even finished with his task.

When Appleby's anus was adequately greased, the boy withdrew
and Samuel positioned his rampant dark brown dick against
the white man's love hole, then pushed.  The discomfort was
not great, as Samuel was not overly large in any part of his
body.  Appleby was now riding between two black boys,
plunging down into the warm anus of the eighteen year old
exotic beneath him, burying his face in the youth's thick,
straight black hair, biting his dark brown neck and
shoulder, while skinny Samuel mounted the white man from
behind.  Samuel wrapped his arms tightly around the white
man's chest and clung to him as he pistoned his hips in and
out frantically.

Already nearly at the brink from the ongoing stimulation of
the afternoon, Robert and Appleby both soon came, grunting
and moaning as they pushed down into the slave boys they
were impaling with their spouting dicks.  Samuel was not far
behind, suddenly spasming and clenching his hips to shoot a
load of semen into the white man to whom he clung.  Cries
and groans filled the air for a moment, and then there was
stillness.  The white men rolled off of the black slaves to
lie on their backs, nestled among the other dark bodies on
the bed.  Samuel necessarily rolled off in the process, but
hugged Appleby tight as they lay side by side.  Hammond
rolled over onto his back lying next to his master, the
white man's semen leaking from his ass down onto the bed.

One more stage of the adventure:  the young slave boys now
bent their curly blonde heads over the groins of Hammond and
Aaron, tasting the male and female discharges that still
lingered there.  The boys sucked each stiff organ into their
mouths, bobbing their heads.  Hammond and Aaron groaned and
gasped, their prostates already stimulated by being fucked,
and held the slave boys by their curly heads.  It did not
take long, and soon each bucked upwards, shouting, to spurt
their final loads of semen into the waiting mouths of the
slave brothers.  The two boys swallowed hungrily and, when
the crisis had concluded, withdrew.

Moments passed as quiet and peace was returned to the scene.
Now the two younger boys came forward with basins of scented
water and towels.  The whole company, black and white, male
and female, helped one another to clean up after the long
sexual struggle they had experienced that afternoon.  The
white men and the older black youths then rose from the bed
to stand and watch.  The blonde-African boys found the black
ribbons and loosely tied the hands of the slave girls again.
Tugging gently the boys pulled the girls toward the doors.
Heads down, submissive smiles on their lips, the girls rose
from the bed and followed the boys through the doors, which
closed behind them.

The white men and black slaves stood around as if recovering
from a dream.  Robert opened the door and led them back to
the room they had first entered.  They dressed, then emerged
into the waning afternoon sunlight.  Appleby bade the three
slaves adieu as they departed in one direction.  He and
Robert walked back to the main house, exchanging smiling
glances, Appleby shaking his head in wonder and not a little
exasperation.  It had been a marvelous experience, but his
belief in Robert's capacity for excess had only been
confirmed.

The memory passed, and Appleby shook his head to clear it as
he saw that the Harmony was nearing the piers of Charleston
Harbor.  There seemed to be greater traffic around the pier
as they docked in the usual place, more coming and going of
men in uniform, more loading and unloading of cargo.  What
were unmistakably cannons could be seen under canvas
coverings lined up on the pier or on the decks of cargo
vessels, while wooden pallets with pyramidal stacks of
cannon balls, and kegs of gunpowder, were lined up here and
there.

The three men of Seaward secured the Harmony, then walked to
the end of the pier.  Troy and Priam were armed with
fistfuls of orders for goods that they would gather and
deliver to the Harmony during the day, or, in some cases,
have brought out to the island.  Appleby had some orders
that he could best place, such as purchases of gunpowder and
shot, and so he went on his way to accomplish those tasks.
He had asked Troy and Priam to meet him on the sidewalk
outside the meeting hall where the militia was to gather a
few minutes before the gavel would fall.

Appleby spent most of the day going about his business,
ordering supplies for the provision of Seaward.  He stopped
by Horatio Smith's office as well to bid him good-day and
inquire as to his growing family.  Finally the time for the
meeting of the militia arrived, and he hurried to the hall.
There he found Troy and Priam on the sidewalk, as appointed,
their heads carefully down and gaze averted from the passing
white men.  Appleby swallowed, not for the first time nor
for the first hundredth time, his sense of anger and
injustice at a world that would enforce such degradation,
but he showed no sign of his disgust outwardly.

Entering the hall, Appleby took care to sit near the front,
but bade Troy and Priam to bide their time at the back of
the room.  He saw Robert Ashley and greeted him in a
friendly way.  The twenty-five year old young man, but among
the more senior naval officers in the militia, now took a
seat at the head table in front of the room. He and Appleby
exchanged many a glance and knowing look throughout the
proceedings.

The meeting began, and the topics discussed confirmed
Appleby's sense of an impending conflagration.  Stirring
rhetoric of states' rights and nullification alternated with
personal attacks on Abraham Lincoln and factual discussions
of war preparations.  It was clear that preparations were
being made to move on federal forts and properties in the
Charleston area, and that nobody expected any sort of
compromise to be reached that would fend off war.  Appleby
sat silently, hiding his grim thoughts behind a neutral
exterior.

Toward the end of the meeting, General Beauregard called
upon Appleby, who had asked for a spot on the agenda.
Appleby rose and stepped to the front of the room.

"My fellow citizens of Charleston," he began.  "You know me.
You know that I have lived for more than a decade among you,
that I claim family ties to South Carolina, that I own
property here, that I have been a faithful member of this
militia."  Heads nodded all around.  "I will not say that I
come to you in fear, for fear is weakness.  But I see that
war is afoot in the land, and I come to you with...
foreboding.  I have no doubt that the good citizens of
Charleston and the strong arms of this militia can drive any
Northern enemy from this city and the harbor--" and Appleby
was interrupted with shouts of "hear, hear!" and "with God's
help!"  "--but what of the waters beyond?  What of Seaward
Plantation, alone on an island just beyond the arms of land
that Providence has provided for the protection of this fair
city?  I do not fear for myself, dear friends, but for what
Seaward represents to the safety of South Carolina.  Should
an enemy land on Seaward, could even the fine navy of the
militia," and here he gestured toward Robert Ashley who
puffed himself out in pride, although he commanded only a
ragtag collection of leaky vessels and gunboats, "could even
that navy, I say to you, come to our aid in defiance of a
Unionist fleet?  And if not, what then?  What mischief might
an enemy do that had a foothold on Seaward?"

The gentry and greybeards assembled looked grave and shook
their heads, considering the grim truths that Appleby was
saying.  Actually, what he feared was precisely the other
way around:  an expedition from Charleston itself that
seized Seaward to fortify it against federal forces.
Appleby was trying to turn the issue the other way, and gave
the company a moment to let his remarks sink in.  He
continued:

"You know that I have served as a lieutenant in the militia
for nearly eleven years now.  You know I have the defense of
South Carolina and of my own property and property rights at
heart.  So I come to you with a proposal to keep the enemy
from Seaward, to keep the foe at bay."  Of course, he did
not say that he considered the foe to be the present company
that listened so attentively.  "I propose, my friends, that
the South Carolina militia think of Seaward not as an
isolated island but as a first line of defense against the
enemy.  I propose that cannon be placed on Seaward, ready to
fire on vessels that would rip her from the fabric of South
Carolina.  I have, as you know, faithful servants of my own
on Seaward, and I propose to train them in the use of these
cannon, just as many of you have trained your own servants
in the defense of your homes."

At this point the treasurer of the militia rose, one Mr.
Hurley, a local businessman.  "But Mr. Appleby, sir, what of
the cost?  As you know, cannon are very dear, and at the
present time we are so pressed with the need to purchase so
many provisions...."

Appleby drew himself up.  "You are correct, Mr. Hurley, the
cost is very dear.  But what is the price of liberty sir?
Yet I ask myself that question, not you, not this goodly
company.  What price liberty, sir?  I hereby pledge my own
treasure to purchase these cannons and bring them to
Seaward.  I have some friends yet in armories in the North.
It is not too late to order cannon and have them delivered
to Seaward.  I pledge to bear the financial cost, my
friends, so that the price of liberty may be paid!"  It was
stirring rhetoric, and members of the militia again buzzed
enthusiastically and there were one or two "huzzahs" shouted
out.

General Beauregard then rose to speak.  "You are a true
patriot, sir, but I have one more concern.  Your servants,
sir?  Can they be trusted?  We all know that there have been
unfortunate uprisings throughout the South.  Can your
servants be trusted to fire cannon upon the enemy, sir?"
The company now was silent, and Appleby could hear his own
heart beating.  It was, of course, the key question, and
everything depended on what would happen next.

"Quite so, sir, quite so.  I may assure you in no uncertain
terms that my servants are willing to defend Seaward and
South Carolina from any enemy.  But let me ask you to
examine them yourselves, my good friends, to determine the
answer to that question.  I have brought two of my most
faithful servants, leaders among the others, so that you may
ascertain their fitness for this momentous duty.  Troy,
Priam, will you come forward?"

Troy and Priam came forward.   Appleby had coached them in
what to do, but now was the moment of truth.  Could they
pull it off?  Slowly, they came toward the front of the
room.  If Appleby had seen them from a distance he would not
have recognized them.  Their shoulders slumped, their gait
was shuffling.  He now realized that they were wearing older
clothes, not rags but not the good material that the people
on Seaward wore every day.  Troy's and Priam's heads were
bowed as they came forward.  Almost trembling with fear and
anticipation, Appleby threw them in the lion's den.  "Troy,
Priam, answer these gentlemen's questions, if you will."

"Yassuh," they both whispered; had Appleby heard them
correctly?  Nodding toward the General, he sat down to see
how the fate of Seaward would be determined.  Beauregard
stared at the slaves for a moment.  They were... yes they
were, Appleby realized, they were actually bobbing a little,
in a sort of cringing fashion, heads turned toward the head
table but eyes cast down.  Beauregard spoke sternly:  "Well,
your master has said that you are willing to learn how to
use cannon to defend Seaward.  If a Northern enemy comes,
could you do this?  Would you do this?  Would you fire on
Yankee gunboats and soldiers?"

A moment passed as Appleby's heart turned over two or three
times.  Then Troy stepped forward and raised head and voice.
"Lawsy, massah, laaaawwzzeee!  We'uns don' want dem Yankees
comin', nassuh, nassuh no way!"  His eyes were huge and
round, nearly bugging out, his lips slack, but his voice was
all sincerity.  Appleby stared at him stunned, taking in for
a moment the artistry of the performance.  Then like a
freight train, the desire to laugh out loud hit him hard.
He feigned a coughing fit to hide the impulse to simply
howl, hiding his face behind his hand, as Troy continued.
"Lawsy, no, massah, don' let none o' dem Yankees come heah.
Massah, Ise gwine do anyting, anyting a'tall, to keep dem
Yankees away.  Ah lubs Seawa'd, massah, ain't gonna let no
Yankee come take it!"  Appleby twisted in his chair and
coughed hard again, covering his face with a handkerchief,
stamping his foot.  An elderly gentleman sitting next to him
patted him on the back.

"And you, boy, what say you?" asked Beauregard of Priam, who
was certainly less a "boy" than he was.  Priam shuffled
forward, shaking as if he had the palsy.  A startling, high
pitched whine erupted in the meeting room.  "Ah, save us
Lawd, saaaaaaave us all!" cried Priam in a screeching voice.
He was bucking and bobbing, eyes rolling, hands raised palms
outward.  "I shoots dem Yankees, Lawd ah do, I kicks 'em,
massahs!  Lemme at dem Yankees!  I shoots de cannon, if'n
massah Appleby tell me how.  Lawsy, lawsy!" he concluded in
a high pitched, cracked voice.  At that Appleby coughed so
violently, slapping his own knee, that Robert was obliged to
bring him down a drink of water from the table.  He drank
it, giving himself a moment to compose himself.  Wiping the
tears from his face that had rolled down his cheeks with his
handkerchief, he composed himself with a mighty effort,
knowing what was at stake.  Then he rose.

"You see my friends, what these servants," and he gestured
toward Troy and Priam but did not dare look at them, "these
good and faithful servants are willing to do to assist in
the defense of this great state.  Let me go from here now,
my friends, to order cannon, shot, and powder.  Let me not
delay.  Give me your blessing to arm Seaward and protect the
liberty of South Carolina!"  It was such a stirring
peroration, coupled with the obvious sincerity of his
slaves, that half the militia rose then to shout its
approval, and the rest applauded.  "So be it!" declared
General Beauregard.

"Then, sir, with your leave, I depart this place immediately
to order these defenses for the island and the state.  There
is not a moment to lose."  Beauregard nodded and Appleby
wheeled away with almost unseemly haste, holding his hand to
his face as he strode from the room.  His servants, faces
averted downward, followed him as quickly as they could bob
and shuffle.  Members of the militia applauded Appleby as he
went, and some drew swords to hold above his head as he
passed, which he acknowledged with nods and a wave of his
handkerchief even as he continued to cover his face.

Appleby burst from the building onto the street in frantic
haste, followed closely by Troy and Priam.  Snorts, gasps,
and a high pitched keening sound escaped from his two
companions.  When he could struggle to find words as they
hurried along he simply whispered urgently, "Hold it!  Hold
it!"  Careening down the street, looking left and right,
Appleby finally found what he wanted:  a deserted alley half
hidden behind a cart with no open windows overlooking it.
He lunged into it, closely followed by the two black men.
The instant they were inside, howls and roars of laughter
exploded from them.  Weeping and choking with laughter, they
slapped their knees, slapped each other on the back,
laughing until they were hoarse.  "Lawsy! Lawsy!" said
Appleby in a high pitched mimicking tone, bringing more
gales of laughter from his friends.  They laughed until they
wept.  Eventually they regained control of themselves,
wiping their own and each other's faces with handkerchiefs,
sighing and restoring composure to their features.  At last
they looked at each other with satisfaction, nodded, and
headed back out to the street.

On the way, Appleby stopped at the telegraph office to fire
off several urgent messages that he had composed the day
before in anticipation of being allowed to send.  He had
over the last eleven years nurtured contacts with armories
and arms merchants in the North, where they were much more
plentiful and better equipped than in the South.  His task
there completed, he conferred with Troy and Priam as to the
day's activities.  They assured him that the Harmony was
fully loaded, the hold filled and crates and barrels lashed
to the deck.  It was time to return to Seaward.

The three returned to the pier, Appleby in the lead, Troy
and Priam maintaining the illusion of subservient slaves by
walking several steps back, although they conversed easily
as they went along.  The three turned onto the pier and,
still talking, headed toward the Harmony's berth.  As they
drew near it they saw they had a visitor standing on the
pier next to the boat: a short young man or perhaps a boy,
hat pulled down over his features, dressed in simple but
good clothing.  "May I help you, sir?"  inquired Appleby
politely.  The figure straightened up, removed the hat with
a flourish, revealing-- Marcus!

The men were simply stunned.  "How... what?" said Appleby,
unable to form a sentence.

"Hi, Papa Mark, Papa Troy, Papa Priam!  I hid in the hold on
the way over, I didn't think you'd find me!  I've had such a
good time today.  Papa Mark, people thought I was white as
long as I kept my hat down.  Some nice white lady asked me
where my "good mama" was!  I've been all over Charleston!"

Appleby wheeled around and thanked whatever higher powers
there were that they were at that moment unobserved.  Troy
and Priam continued to simply stare, open-mouthed.  Priam
found voice first.

"Get. On. That. Boat. Now." he said, a quiet, deadly earnest
in every syllable.  Marcus looked crestfallen, as if a good
joke had been misunderstood.  "But Papa," he began.  Now
Troy stepped forward and grabbed the boy by the collar,
swinging him bodily in one move onto the boat.  Priam and
Appleby now leaped onto the boat, untying the ropes that
secured it to the pier.  Troy had flung Marcus onto a crate
near the tiller, and there he sat while the men scurried
around with extra haste to put out to sea, looking about
them nervously.  The boat chugged away from the pier,
picking up speed as her boilers built up a head of steam.
It was only when the boat was well underway and out into the
harbor that Priam and Appleby had the luxury of collapsing
onto piles of cargo near the stern.  Troy was at the tiller
and, when he was not scanning the horizon for the best
course, glared with a singleness of purpose at young Marcus,
who by now was beginning to be frightened.

Priam and Appleby sat for a moment.  Appleby felt physically
sick, sure that he would vomit over the side at any moment.
Priam again was the first to find the strength to act.  He
took one step toward Marcus, hauled him to his feet, wound
up one arm and planted a swat on the boy's butt that could
be heard half a mile off, then put him back down.  Marcus
began blubbering.  "It was just for fun," he said amidst his
tears, "I didn't do anything wrong."

Appleby still could not speak.  How fortunate he was that
Priam and Troy were equally "Papas" to the young miscreant
and were fully empowered to act as such while Appleby
recovered himself.  Troy next found voice.  "You young
fool!" he shouted, as Marcus recoiled.  "You could have been
taken into slavery!  You could have been kidnapped onto a
ship!  What were you thinking?"

"But I wasn't!" wailed Marcus.

Appleby at last spoke.  "Marcus... it wasn't just your own
risk.  You could have betrayed the whole island.  You are a
walking advertisement of the different life we lead there.
You could have... have drawn attention to us," and everyone
understood the deadly seriousness of this last charge.  Even
Marcus, now openly weeping, hung his head and cried that he
was sorry.  Appleby rose and fell upon the boy, wrapping him
tightly in his arms, tears of fear and relief streaming down
his own face, and held him like that as the boat made top
speed for Seaward.  The group was silent for the rest of the
voyage except for the boy's sniffling.

Coming within a mile of the pier, they beheld a sad sight:
Portia, pacing up and down, waving a kerchief at them as
soon as she had them in sight.  As soon as they were within
shouting distance they could hear her cry:  "Marcus!  Is he
with you?  I can't find him anywhere!"  Marcus, now heartily
ashamed, stood up on a crate and waved.  At that his mother
simply collapsed, weeping, on the pier.  The men got the
boat to the pier and secured it as soon as they could.
Marcus jumped from the boat and ran to his mother, who first
enveloped him in her arms.  The men came up behind.  "He
stowed away.  He has been wandering the city alone all day"
was all that Appleby could say.  It was enough.  It was like
reading out a death sentence.  Portia enfolded the boy
again, weeping.  Then she stopped, stood up, and swatted him
nearly as hard as Priam had.  "Come!" was all she said,
grabbing his shirt and dragging him, wailing, off in the
direction of their cabin.

Hector, the twins, Cassius, and Bundit had arrived,
attracted by the sounds of the boat arriving but also by the
commotion.  They were, to a man, horrified at the news of
Marcus's caper, Bundit no less than any of the others.  They
shook their heads in silence for a while, then began to
unload the supplies into the donkey cart that Pan had
brought down, their mood balanced between shock and relief.
It took some time to unload the stores and put them away.
As soon as the task was finished, Appleby went directly to
Portia's cabin.  He knocked softly and she came to the door.
Seeing who it was, she slipped onto the porch, closing the
door quietly behind her, and then collapsed into Appleby's
arms, weeping softly.

After a moment she composed herself and stepped away to pat
her hair into place and wipe her eyes. "He is sleeping," she
said.  "He knows how wrong it was.  Oh, master! what are we
to do?"  Appleby could not answer her, but only shook his
head and held her once again until she had regained her
composure.  "I must check on him," she said, smiling through
tears at him--kissed him lightly on the lips--then went
inside.

Appleby walked forlornly back to the house, sinking heavily
into a rocking chair on the verandah.  He looked out into
the night.  There were footsteps inside, and Troy came out
of the house.  He smiled at Appleby, looked out into the
dark, then sat down next to him.  Reaching over, he squeezed
the white man's hand with his strong brown one.

"What are we to do with Marcus, Troy?  What are we to do
about the war that's coming?"  asked Appleby, shaking his
head.

"I don't know, Master Mark.  Whatever it is, we can't do it
tonight.  You need some rest, master."

Appleby nodded wearily, but kept rocking.

"I told Athena I might be away tonight.  Master... would you
like some company tonight?"  His hand squeezed Appleby's
again, gently.

"I would Troy.  Yes, I would, thank you.  Just... just
someone to hold me and keep the world away."

"I can do that, master," said Troy, and rising, he led his
friend upstairs.