Date: Sun, 4 Apr 2010 01:45:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: pat roberts <philip_effiong@yahoo.com>
Subject: White Sunset Part 2

Jean-Pierre Leaves School (1)

At a time when jobs for white male teenagers and those in their twenties
were so difficult to get there was strong competition from the Pod Whites
to secure the best positions. At the top of the corporate world they knew
they could be, if they fell on their feet, valuable property and treated
akin to prime stock or valued racehorses. For the lucky black schoolboy
whose Pod White was about to leave school, a successful sale could mean for
every black boy in the Pod, a new phone, computer games, or money to spend
on rock concerts and fun. It was the icing on the cake; their reward for
training him so well, and for feeding him all that protein rich blackboy
cum. Now they could trade the white bitch-boy off, take the profit, and get
a new younger model.

For those blacks who had formed an attachment to the white boy there might
be some sadness, but they consoled themselves that he had to move on, and
anyway his replacement was often already in the school, fresh and open to
inspection. If he was a white puppy they would have the joy of gang-fucking
a new young white ass, and if he was more mature that too brought its own
pleasures to the Pod, an opportunity to humiliate and discipline at a
serious level.

The last Pod meetings for a Pod white were often demanding and
difficult. The following is a report from Jean-Pierre, an 18 year old
French Pod White from New Africa Academy, who was sold on to the Senior
Management Team of United Grain Producers of Zimbabwe.


Now read on, dear reader, in his own words, what happened to this young
white boy in the new Africa!

During my five years at New Africa Academy I had of course been podded each
year.  Apart from one year when I was transferred to Pod Support for the
rugby teams, the Pods were tough but reasonable, and I was generally well
managed by the black prefects.

My best year was with the Rock Hard Niggas. I was used hard but given
breaks and was normally ridden by no more than six blacks a day and the
prefects at night.. It was all very controlled, which I liked. The prefects
maintained a rota for members to use me, and they rarely engaged in Pod
Swops. In fact I can only remember two occasions when they did it – once
when I was taken to the Black Gold Pod for their Christmas party and the
other time I was rented to The Drilling Team for a two week attachment.

With the Rock Hard Niggas I was disciplined only once a week, but it became
the hardest part, and something of a school spectacle. It was always
carried out with the strap, by one of the youngest members. He was chosen
by the three prefects while I was in front of the Pod Court. My offences
and shortcomings were presented by any Pod member. It was always the
younger members who had most to say. That I had refused to carry their
books, that I had been racially arrogant towards them, that I hadn't shown
sufficient respect – things I couldn't refute because there was almost
no detail.  They always chose a boy who I wouldn't want to do it, either
because he was sadistic or an exhibitionist. My thrashings usually took
place late on Saturday mornings, in my dormitory after I had cleaned the
showers and toilets. That meant that dormitory residents who were not
members of my Pod were there, making about thirty boys in all. Then they
decided to open the sessions up to visitors, who paid an entrance fee to
watch. The visitors were mainly juniors who wanted to see an older white
boy whipped in front of them.An hour before the whipping on a few occasions
I was paraded – taken on a leash by two young blacks around the school
to ensure a full house. Whilst the boys were in full school uniform on
Saturday mornings I was not allowed even Pod shorts when I was paraded, but
a loin cloth which kept my tattooed butt on show. On my back they wrote a
message in felt pen, something like

"Come and see me whipped!  Dorm4 11am Entry 2 bucks".

It always worked. The black boys went wild, I was mobbed, and they packed
them in.

Because I 'm French they always used a French style whip on me – the
martinet – which was also manageable by younger boys. The number of
strokes was decided in advance by the prefects, but if it was too low there
would be lots of demands, especially from the boys that paid, that it be
increased. It usually was.

As I was tied down to the table on the platform at the end of the dorm the
boys were usually in high spirits, all munching their Saturday morning buns
and drinking their cokes. Seeing me beaten became part of their good
weekend, but they always called out for things to be done exactly as they
wanted. They wanted pics, they wanted my legs to be well spread out, they
wanted the first strokes with me facing the audience so they could see my
face, they wanted to be able to see when I started to cry. That always
caused a lot of interest, as some had bets as to when it would happen, and
then a huge wave of laughter. Half-way through I was turned so they could
see my butt.

All I could remember after it ended, and I see it still, was the rows of
smiling, handsome blackboy faces, clean and fresh, waiting for the
strokes. As the thrashing got under way many of them were stroking their
dicks or those of their neighbours, clapping when the whip landed. I always
remember the laughter when I cried.

As my legs were far apart, my balls had zero protection.  Before it all
started they would come and pose over my white butt for photos and some of
them would hold my balls for the pic. By the time I was being whipped the
pics had gone out to their buddies on their mobile phones and replies would
be coming in, the mobiles ringing all the time.The more I yelled and
cried,the more they cheered. At the end they would come up and feel my
butt, smacking it and making things worse. Many would pose for more pics
with their buddies – often holding the martinet across my red striped
butt.

In return for "protecting" me and regulating fuckings and the beatings I
received, the prefects, strong hung blacks who fully lived up to the name
of the Pod, had open access to my dormitory cubicle at night. Despite
everything, I came to first accept and then love the hard useage by their
long thick nigga dicks as the three blacks tag fucked me each night. I
often slept with one of their dicks still deep in my ass.  Despite their
hard fucking they treated me well, often stroking my blonde hair and
carressing me until I begged for their black dicks.  They loved to hear
that. One of them always quickly wanked me off after they had finished, and
Juma, the strongest of them, used to get the others to shoot my dick into
his mouth.  He says it gave him power!

All that changed with my last Pod. As I got older, my Pods became younger.
This was done because the school got to know how popular my beatings were
with younger blacks, and the Pod would give some of them the opportunity of
controlling an older white. The way I was treated gave rise to a lot of
amusement in the school. I was now kept almost naked, wearing only a jock
which kept my tatooed ass exposed. I was leashed most of the day even in my
own classes, where I was the only white amongst twelve or so blacks in
their later teens. My class mates often mocked me for the Pod duties I had
to carry out, but also made me service them. Sometimes within lessons, and
with the open acceptance of black teachers, I was pushed to the floor to
suck the boys' dicks. But despite servicing them, my classmates nick-named
me Nigga Pup Boy. I think that was unfair.

As I didn't seem to have a job to go on to, and couldn't afford university,
I agreed to join the school's job placement scheme.  I didn't understand
that the Pod would benefit from the placement but they did, and very
substantially. At one Pod meeting, with no warning, after I had been
stripped naked and as two of the younger black boys were warming me up with
the Pod paddle, four senior black managers of a firm called United Grain
were suddenly standing around me, watching the black boys use me, and
making comments.  They were then asked to sit on the teachers podium to
watch me servicing the Pod. In front of them I was laid out on the table
and fucked by five black teenagers, and sucked off as many again. The four
managers all came down close to watch. I noticed two of them were very
interested indeed as the boys waiting to fuck me stripped off their shorts
and briefs. I got so horny when I saw the men holding the boys erect black
cocks, and stroking their shiny young bubblebutts. They all got up really
close as I was fucked, squeezing my nipples and stroking my hair as I
swallowed the blackboy cum that was directed to my mouth.

One of the Pod leaders, Dolo, later described in his own words what then
happened:

 "Cheered on by the boys, I told him to get off the table and kneel. I
ordered that he take out the managers' cocks from their expensive suits and
soft cotton briefs. They were huge sleek and powerful nigga cocks! Lolelo
ordered the boy to suck and jack the cocks off, one by one, into his face
which he did. It was great to watch cos he didn't expect the cum to spurt
out when it did and we all laughed when it hit him in the mouth or the
eyes. The largest dicked nigga deep throated him to test him properly, even
feeling his white throat to see where his tool ended up! With the help of
Adebisi and Rafiki, pushing his head down, he was eventually able to take
all ten inches.  He choked a bit, and went blue in the face which was
funny. Then that guy also shot his cum into Jean-Pierre's face, and it
dripped all the way down him. Wicked!

The managers then asked if they could discipline him "as a test", with the
leather thonged whip (the martinet).  We all agreed of course, as we wanted
to sell him, saying they could test him in any way they wished.  Abiola and
Habib, dressed in their tight rugby shorts cos they had just left the
field, now bulging a hell of a lot at the cock, spread his legs and held
him down over the teacher's desk.  Each of the black men gave him three or
four lashes with the martinet. They were laughing and joking together as
they did it. They noticed that the whipping was getting us all hard; one of
them felt my cock as his buddy whipped the white butt. He was amazed that
it got so big and hard as I watched the whipping. He unzipped my shorts,
pulled out my cock and jacked me off on to Jean-Pierre's back as the
whipping continued. It felt so good. Finally the youngest, and most
handsome of the four managers said he needed to piss.  Jean-Pierre was held
down, by Adebisi and Abiola I think it was, his mouth was held open wide,
as the black guy let go a long golden stream from his long thick nigga
tool.  Jean-Pierre was able to swallow most of the piss, but some splashed
over him. As the Pod meeting was over I pissed over him too, and a lot of
the boys copied me. It was ok to do it, because we gave Jean-Pierre a mop
to clean up after.

It was a really good and enjoyable session and a great way to end the week.
We all had a really fantastic time with the guys, and they ended up buying
Jean-Paul at the asking price as well.  So it was really a win-win
situation. I think I'm going into the corporate world when I leave
school. Anyway they invited as few of us to go up and see how he is getting
on, in a few weeks time, so I might search out a management traineeship
while I'm there.  There's a lot of goodwill towards me at present,
especially from the guy who jacked off my dick.  He said he wants to see me
again, and he's head of personnel or something."

                                          * * * * * ** *

Jean-Pierre's three year contract with United Grain was signed that
evening, by the Principal, the Pod leader, the local representative of the
Racial Retraining Board, and the senior of the four managers.  His parents
had signed an open contract for my re-assignment.  In return, they kept
their house, which would otherwise have been requisitioned.

He was to be employed for three years as Office Boy (Personal Services and
Stress Relief) on the Senior Management Floor of their headquarters. It was
a live-in appointment, and lodgings would be provided by the company
through an agency called The Kennels.


                                            * * * * * ** *


Its not over for Jean-Pierre yet!  The school hasn't finished with him.
Next episode follows shortly.

Let me know what you feel about the episode so far

philip_effiong @yahoo.com