Date: Sat, 17 Feb 2018 02:28:29 +0000 (UTC) From: Christian Debus Subject: "Master of River's Bend Chapter 22 Master of River's Bend Chapter 22 "Learning the Power of the Whip" Written by Jean-Christophe, February, 2017 This is a story of erotic slave fiction with the emphasis on male on male sex. If you are under the legal age or should the subject matter offend you, then read no further. For more of my stories visit all my tumblr sites at http://jeanchristopheworld.tumblr.com http://slavenoah.tumblr.com http://slavephillip.tumblr.com This story is the product of the writer's imagination and not based on any actual persons or events. Please respect the integrity of the writer's work and don't do any rewrites, make alterations or add another person's artwork without permission. Nifty needs your help! If you enjoy nifty.org, please consider giving them your financial support to help them continue with publishing these stories for your reading pleasure. If you'd like to help, please donate to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Chapter 22 Suddenly, life is good for Yancy! Yancy sits with his arms casually extended outwards along the back of the trap's leather seat. From his sprawling position, he is able to watch the two naked slaves trotting before him. Both slaves provide an erotic display of masculine, physical perfection. Their nakedness hides nothing and reveals all. The two slaves trot in unison; their steps matched to one another and their globular ass-cheeks undulate as they trot down the tree-lined road leading to the river which gives the plantation its name. Yesterday, Yancy had travelled this same road, away from the river, as Luke Trevannion's slave, Nestor. Today, he is returning to the river as the free man, Yancy who is to begin a new life as an overseer of River's Bend Plantation's white slaves. Even more satisfying to him is the fact that one of the naked slaves running in front of his trap is his former master, Luke Trevannion who is now the slave of Massa Charles, the "real" master of River's Bend. In keeping with a long-held tradition of naming his personal slaves after ancient Egyptian deities, Charles has renamed him Ramses. The older of the two slaves, the pony named Chico is shackled between the shafts and the full weight of both the cart and Yancy's not inconsiderable weight falls on his powerful body. The pony's torso and legs are stressed by this; every muscle group in his superb, young body is highlighted to perfection. And to add to his overall appearance Chico is sweating profusely; it beads on his broad shoulders, coalesces into little rivulets which meander down his broad back before being channelled into the deep canyon between his well-rounded buttocks. Yancy applies his driver's whip to the slave's back and as leather strikes sweaty, naked flesh, little droplets of perspiration are dispersed into the air. The other slave, Ramses is younger than the pony, possibly by two or three years and isn't as well-developed. But Chico has been a slave at River's Bend for almost twelve months and his body has been muscle-hardened and honed to physical perfection by onerous, hard labour. The slave, Chico reminds Yancy of one of the marble statues of naked, ancient Greek athletes which adorn the study of his recent master, Robert Trevannion. He'd studied these statues many times after Robert had summoned him, as the helpless slave, Nestor, to his study, bent him over his desk and fucked him. Nestor had tried to close his mind to the shame and humiliation of these rapes by concentrating his attention on those same statues. Somehow, this never worked and Nestor was always left feeling "dirty", degraded, guilty, used and robbed of his manhood. His resentment of Robert Trevannion's raping of him and of his master's similar treatment of his older brother, Aries had slowly festered in his mind and eventually it had turned to scarlet hatred of the whole Trevannion family. And that hatred extended to Robert's only son, Luke. To be fair to Luke, he'd never sexually abused Nestor or any other of his parents' slaves - either male or female. He'd shown no outward inclination towards sex. However, Nestor knew that Luke secretly masturbated in the solitude of his bedroom as he was frequently called upon to dispose of dry, cum-stiffened rags before they were discovered by Luke's prudish mother, Martha Trevannion. Most other young "masters" routinely used their family slaves for sex but Luke had never done so. It was as though Luke was "sexless" although there were times when Nestor thought he detected a latent interest towards him on Luke's part. Instinctively, he knew Luke preferred male on male sex and was struggling with some inner demons because of this. Certainly, Luke would have been fearful of his parents' reaction should he ever declare himself to be a homosexual. The slave, Nestor knew of Luke's solitary, afternoon walks along the country roads and lanes surrounding his parents' home but he wasn't aware of their true purpose. He didn't know that Luke used these times alone to lust after the shining, sweat-soaked bodies of the near-naked, black slaves toiling in the fields under their white masters' whips. He didn't know that Luke secreted himself behind a hedge and salivated at the sight of so much magnificent, black muscle. Nor did he know that Luke found sexual relief by using his right fist to masturbate as he inserted the index finger of his left hand into his asshole to finger- fuck himself. Or that he matched the speed of his finger thrusting to that of his masturbating fist until he climaxed. These things remained Luke Trevannion's "guilty" secrets not shared with anyone - free man or slave. And yet, despite his hatred of the Trevannion family, Nestor was reluctantly attracted to Luke and would have gladly fucked him as retribution for his father's treatment of him and Aries. One of his duties was to bathe Luke - a not wholly unpleasant task- and one which Nestor enjoyed despite his resentment. As his hands soaped and sponged Luke in the bath, Nestor got to know his young master's body intimately. He was particularly drawn to Luke's pert, shapely buttocks and what was hidden between them. And he secretly came to the conclusion that white ass was meant to be serviced by black cock. Although Luke Trevannion's treatment of his father's slaves didn't involve sex, it was, in all other respects, typical of a young, white slave-owner. He regarded them with disdain and he had a total disregard for their humanity. Obviously, he saw his family's slaves as inferior, sub human beings and when he considered their actions warranted an adverse response from him, he subjected them to either emotional or physical abuse. Usually, Luke's physical abuse included soul-destroying face-slapping for minor infringements or humiliating ass caning or strapping for more serious ones. Nestor lost count of the number of times his face had been slapped or he'd been taken to the stables and ordered to "shuck down" until he stood stark naked. Then, ordered to bend over the shafts of a carriage, Luke beat him with either a rattan cane or a thick, leather strap both of which hung on hooks in the stables for that purpose. As Luke's cane or strap laid red stripes on Nestor's ass, his tears had moistened and darkened the stable's cobblestone floor beneath him. However, he'd not cried from the pain he suffered - over the years, he'd learnt to bear his punishments stoically - but for the utter degradation and bitter shame he felt. Luke's treatment of him was a denial of his manhood and this had added further to the deep reservoir of the hatred he felt towards the Trevannion family. In some aspects, the emotional abuse was subtler but none-the-less devastating in its application. He hurt internally whenever, the Trevannion's had referred to his mother as "the wench" or "girly" and his father as "the buck" or "boy". And it was particularly galling to hear a young Luke address them as such. He'd long become inured to being called "slave" or referred to as "a colt". But one thing he'd never been able to accept was hearing an adult, male slave derogatively referred to as "boy". Of course, protest was forbidden him and he'd had to accept being called "boy" and smile as he replied, "yassuh, Massa Luke", "yassuh, Massa Robert" or "yassum, M'tress Martha". Such is the dispassionate nature of slavery! These things are forever seared into Yancy's soul and mind. There can be no forgiveness for Luke Trevannion's treatment of him and now, as the slave, Ramses, he must pay the penalty for his past, thoughtless actions. Yancy determines, Ramses will pay a high price in retribution and he'll not be shown any mercy. Quite the contrary! Ramses will be ruled with an iron rod. Despite being free, the memory of these things hardens Yancy's heart while the bitter bile of resentment rises from the depths of his belly and scorches his throat. Today, he is no longer a slave but a free man. Never again will he be referred to as "boy". And his former master, Luke Trevannion is no longer free but is now a slave. He is now the one to be called "boy"! Their changed circumstances overwhelm him; he still finds it hard to comprehend the swift chain of events that has seen the tables turned so dramatically. He is thankful to Charles for making this possible and vows to repay the Master of River's Bend with hard work and dedication as an overseer of his white slaves. As Yancy thinks back over these aspects of his life as the slave, Nestor, he feels the need to dissipate some of the anger still festering in him. He needs a target for his anger and he has two "whipping boys" running in front of him. He uncoils his carriage whip and takes aim at Chico's bouncing ass. "Speed it up, Chico!" he commands. The whip coils around the pony's buttocks and lays another red stripe to those already there. Chico gasps but his reaction is predictable; the sting of the lash signals that his driver requires more effort from him. Involuntarily, he jerks forward as much as his shackles permit and he increases his speed. And Ramses must also keep pace with Chico, Yancy takes deliberate aim at Ramses' as yet unblemished back. Bound by his wrists to one of the trap's shafts, Ramses can't escape the whip's fiery bite. "Keep up, boy!" Yancy shouts. "Match your speed to the pony's." In the past twenty-four hours, much has changed for Ramses. He'd gone from free man to slave and transformed from the haughty, arrogant, near-aristocratic Luke Trevannion into the naked, subservient slave, Ramses. Yesterday, he'd felt the bite of the cane on his naked body but the pain it inflicted was a mere "flea-bite" compared to the fiery sting of Yancy's carriage whip. As the whip fell diagonally across his back it left a vivid red stripe running from his left shoulder to the waist. This is his first taste of a whip but it will, by no means, be the last. It serves as a warning of the whip's power and gives notice of its future role in his life as a slave. It will drive him in all his labours and spur him to greater effort on behalf of his master. In that sense, Yancy's first use of the whip on Ramses serves as his "real" initiation into true slavery. Once more, Yancy applies the whip to Ramses; this time to his ass. To Yancy's great delight, Ramses screams out at the unaccustomed pain and lurches forward in a vain attempt to outrun the cruel lash. Empowered by Ramses' helplessness, Yancy lashes out with his whip for a third time; this time the whip snakes out and wraps itself around Ramses' lower back and belly adding a third stripe to his torso. Despite his pain, Ramses knows that it could be worse - much worse. Massa Charles has ruled that his body isn't to be damaged or permanently whip-scarred by heavy whipping. The one, just used by Boss Yancy, is only a light, carriage whip used by a driver to keep his human pony focused on its task of pulling a cart or trap. It is used more as a goad to urge the pony forward or as a signal for it to run faster, much like the crop a mounted rider uses on his horse. In a sense, it is used as a means of communication between driver and pony. It eliminates the need for the driver to continually shout orders to the pony labouring before him. Its use on his body, tells the pony what its driver wants from it. The driver's whip speaks most eloquently for the driver and its sharp tongue is most persuasive in convincing the pony slave to give more of itself to its labours. While the pain of Boss Yancy's driver's whip can be likened to multiple wasp stings, Ramses suspects this pain is as nothing when compared to the heavy, steer-hide bullwhips used by River's Bend's black overseers on their white charges. As he secretly watched from behind the hedges around his parent's home, he'd seen the lacerating affects a bullwhip can have on a naked back. He'd witnessed the white man's whip fall across the unshirted backs of many a hapless, black slave and he'd heard the sickening sound of raw leather striking bare flesh. He'd heard the suffering slaves' cries of anguish, pain and outrage. He'd never considered the slaves' suffering; always he'd been sexually aroused by the sight of a whip laying another stripe on a slave's back and in his erotic, masochistic fantasies he identified with the slave. In his romanticized version of slavery, he yearned to feel the whip's bite on his own body. His desire to be a "slave" was that strong. Now, he is truly a slave but not the one of his erotic fantasies. He is in every sense a "real" slave owned by a Black Master. Naively, he'd thought of slavery only in terms of sexual and masochistic pleasure. He'd daydreamed about being impaled on a black man's cock and salivated at the prospect. At night, in the solitude of his bedroom, he'd stroked his cock and fingered his asshole and imagining he was being "used" by Nestor or his brother, Aries. Not once, had he ever considered the other, more loathsome aspects of being an owned property, another man's slave. Well, he'd experienced the sex but it wasn't as he'd envisaged it. This morning, Massa Charles had used him callously and shown no regard for him. Massa's raping of Ramses was a potent demonstration of his absolute mastery over Ramses and all his other slaves. Ramses knows that very soon other whips will be used on him and he shudders at the prospect. He knows his master has said he is to be spared the heavier whips - for now - but inevitably, like all other of the plantation's slaves, he'll also be subjected to their coercion. And then there is the promised "ass-paddling" by Boss Edward still hanging over his head. He wonders, when that'll take place? And after that he is to be branded. The prospect of the branding iron terrifies him and yet he knows it is "de rigeur" for a slave-owner to place his mark on his property. It is done with cattle and horses so why not with slaves too? After all, they are merely possessions. Ramses' thoughts are interrupted once more by Yancy's whip. He orders him to. "Move your white ass, boy! Keep pace with the pony." Yancy smiles with satisfaction as Ramses cries out and lurches forward. The pony is maintaining his pace without any effort but Ramses is struggling. Unused to running, he is soon panting from both the exertion and the heat. His breathing is laboured and he wildly gulps air into his oxygen starved lungs and his chest heaves from the heavy demands placed upon it. Beads of perspiration form on his torso and soon, like Chico, his body glistens with a sheen of sweat. The naked, sweat-soaked bodies of both white slaves present an erotic image that isn't lost on Yancy who salivates at the sight of them running before him. Both slaves are superb but differ in that Chico's body is the rich, brown colour of sun-ripened chestnuts whereas Ramses still retains his freeman's pallor. Within days, he too will begin to acquire the all- over body tan common to the plantation's slaves and be mistaken for a mustee. And naturally, because he has been a slave for longer, Chico's muscular development is more pronounced than Ramses. But that too will soon change. With hard work and firm discipline, the new slave's body will soon rival Chico's. Of that Yancy will make certain. Yancy settles back in his seat to enjoy the experience of riding in a trap pulled by a naked slave in harness. Overhead, the branches of the venerable trees lining both sides of the stately drive intertwine and form a welcome canopy which protects Yancy and the two slaves from the intensifying heat of the early morning sun. The sun's rays filter down through the leaves and cast dancing shadows on the glistening bodies of both Chico and Ramses. The only sounds to break the cathedral-like silence of the driveway are the scrunching of the trap's wheels on its gravelled surface, the pitter-patter of the two slave's bare feet and their loud, laboured breathing. Watching as the two white slaves labour under his whip, Yancy reflects that his new life as a free black man is good! Yancy looks to both his left and right out through the wide, age-weathered trunks of the venerable trees lining both sides of the driveway into the adjacent, sun-blasted cotton-fields where gangs of naked, white slaves are toiling under the lash. He smiles with satisfaction at the scenes being played out around him as slave-gangs prepare the fields for their next planting. Some slaves use spades to clear away the old, decaying vegetation from the previous crops; others use pitchforks to load it into drays hauled by teams of eight slaves in yokes and harness. As each cart is filled to the top, these unfortunate wretches are whipped into action and begin the laborious journey to the manure pits located next to the stables where their loads will be added to the body wastes of both farm animals and slaves and ultimately used as organic fertilizer in Massa Charles' fields and gardens. Many white plantation owners have, of late, come to realize the advantages of manuring their fields and now keep herds of cattle to provide them with the "raw material" for this purpose. Charles, on the other hand, has long understood the advantages of organic manure to revitalize the fertility of his fields. He regards this by-product from his slaves and farm animals as a valuable resource not to be wasted - even Ptolemy and his house-slaves are called upon to "contribute" - and they all help to increase his crop yields. Charles makes no distinction between his white slaves and a farm animal. After all, his slaves too are just domesticated farm animals and he sees them no differently to his cattle, pigs, poultry or horses. Yancy derives even greater satisfaction from watching those wretched slaves, who yoked together in pairs and harnessed four to a heavy, wooden plow, struggle to pull their iron, single-furrow plow-shares through the resisting earth. There is no rest for these slaves; unlike the draft slaves who do get to a few moments respite as they stand docilely and mute while they wait for their drays to be loaded. The plow slaves, by contrast, are whipped mercilessly by their overseers to keep these abominable agricultural implements of torture constantly moving forward. As a former slave, Yancy can neither read nor write but he is familiar with the books in his former master, Robert Trevannion's extensive library. As the small slave-boy, Nestor, he'd often helped his mother dust the bookcase shelves which housed the leather-bound volumes of which their master was inordinately proud. He recalls one picture in a book whose title remains unknown to him. But it did show how white men and women who'd sinned in life, suffered the torments of their purgatory and hell after their deaths. Struggling to conceal their nakedness behind cupped hands, these white sinners are depicted being tormented by winged demons who torture their naked bodies with whips, red-hot pincers and branding-irons. This picture had terrified him as a boy and yet, as he matured, he came to understand the white man is a victim of his own superstitious beliefs: it is the reason for his joyless existence, his obsession with salvation and his overriding fear of damnation and hellfire. It had seemed to Nestor that the white man's unquestioning acceptance that such cruelties await the white sinner after his demise justifies, in the white mind, the enslavement of the ungodly" barbarians of Africa and his cruel indifference to the black man's suffering. As Yancy watches Charles' slaves at their labours, he reflects on this. The scenes being played out around him are just as potent as that picture he'd seen long ago. In the picture, the white sinners are shown in the after-world reaping the rewards for their actions in life. In the fields around him, the white slaves are also suffering. However, unlike the dead sinners, these slaves aren't in the after-world; they are very much alive and they are reaping the "rewards" of the white man's actions in this life and not after death. The hiss and crackle of the overseers' whips, the thwack as cruel leather bites into yielding white flesh, the cries of pain, the grunts of exertion and the groans of the suffering slaves testify this is so. Truly, their torment, pain and suffering is no less than that of the white sinners depicted in Robert Trevannion's book. Yancy hopes so with all his heart! Yancy looks towards Ramses and is consumed with urge to make him suffer just as the slaves in the field are suffering. He visualizes Ramses as one of four slaves harnessed to a plow. He sees his former master sharing a heavy wooden yoke around his neck and across his naked shoulders with another slave. With his head and wrists locked into the wooden beam, Ramses back and ass would be vulnerably exposed and make tempting targets for the whip. Oh, how he longs to see the broad shoulders, tapering back and curvaceous ass of the new slave, Ramses wearing a criss-cross pattern of angry, red-blue welts of the whip. In anticipation, he lashes out at Ramses with his driver's whip - a mere toy in Yancy's thinking - to lay two more stripes on the slave's ass and is rewarded by his cry of pain. Yancy salivates at the thought of using Ramses as a plow-slave and decides he'll speak to Edward about using him in this role. The sight and smell of the slaves' profuse sweating, of their taut, muscular bodies stretched to their very limits, of their straining, bulging muscles and stressed leg tendons is powerfully erotic and is proving too much for Yancy. He really needs to fuck! Of course, Ramses is "off limits" until Charles declares otherwise - and Yancy is bitterly disappointed by this - but Chico is available. And from what Charles said earlier he is a "great fuck". Perhaps, he can find the secluded spot among the trees lining the riverbank that Charles had referred to where he can relieve the pressures building up inside his churning, aching balls. There, he can unharness Chico and have him crouch on all fours while Ramses masturbates and lubricates the pony's eager hot hole ready for his impatient, rampant cock. To this end, Yancy orders Chico to. "Chico, take me to the spot where Massa Charles fucks you!" "Yassum, Boss Yancy! Chico sure is happy to take Boss Yancy to Massa Charles' resting- place. Is Boss Yancy gonna fuck Chico?" The pony asks expectantly. "Ain't nothin' Chico likes more'n the thought of him bein' fucked by you, Boss Yancy." "That's none of your goddam business boy!" Yancy replies angrily. "Whether or not I intend to fuck you is of no concern of yours, slave. But I can tell you this! When we reach Massa Charles' resting place, I'm going to double you over the shafts of your cart and whip your dumb ass good. You have just earned ten stripes of the whip for your impertinence in questioning my intentions. A slave NEVER questions his superior's plans for it" "Boss Yancy! Chico's sorry, Boss!" A white-faced Chico answers crestfallen. "I'se don't mean no disrespect, Boss Yancy, Suh! Chico only wants to please you, Boss." "Then you can please me by moving your sorry ass and take me to Massa Charles' resting- place." Yancy lashes out at the pony's ass with his whip. "Now move yourself and be quick about it" Yancy's need is growing more urgent by the second. "You too Ramses. Pick up the pace and stay in step with Chico unless you want my whip across your lazy, white ass." Both slaves respond positively - they have no other option but to obey - and quicken their pace as they hasten towards Charles' resting-place. To be continued ...............