Date: Mon, 6 May 2019 07:29:07 +0000 (UTC) From: "chrisdebus2011@yahoo.com.au" Subject: "Master of River's Bend" Chapter 28 Gay/male authoritian; Gay/male/interracial Master of River's Bend Chapter 28 "Transformation" Written by Jean-Christophe: May, 2019 NOTE: nifty.org needs your financial support to continue posting these stories for your reading enjoyment. Please consider making a donation to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.htm 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. 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. I regret the loss of my blogs when tumblr suddenly changed the rules for the adult content of their site last December. I am currently experimenting with another site to see if I can regain the interest in administering another blog which I have named "Slaves through the Ages" and it can be accessed at http://slvtoby2011.blogspot.com/ Chapter 28: Ramses' time spent on the water-wheel seemed inexorably long, although, in reality, it lasted only about six weeks to eight weeks and he is unsure of how long he toiled on the cruel instrument of torture. But as Ramses laboured on the capstan for fourteen hours a day, each week seemed an eternity and each day a lifetime. At first, Ramses doubted his ability to last the distance. For the first few days, his suffering was intense and the muscles of his body screamed in protest at the exacting demand made of them. His tortured lungs struggled to supply him with the extra oxygen needed for his unaccustomed exertions and his heart pounded within his heaving chest. The coursing of the blood through his arteries and veins roared deafeningly in his ears drowning out all other sounds except the overseer's shouted exhortations to work harder. Ramses' shoulders seemed to be frozen into position as he pushed against the capstan's resistance and his legs dragged behind him like leaden weights. At the end of his first day, Ramses was unshackled from his post, chained by his neck to his eleven team-mates and driven the short distance to the nearby slave barracks which housed the miserable wretches condemned to work on the waterwheels. There he was fed and watered and given time to attend to his 'calls of nature' before being locked away in a stout security cage for the night. Within a few minutes, Ramses was 'dead to the world' oblivious to all around him and to the nocturnal activities of his fellow slaves. That first night, Ramses neither noticed nor cared about the carnal lust and the wild fucking of the other slaves taking place all around him; he was too tired and overwrought and his only concern was to rest to rebuild his strength for the next day and the fourteen-hour shift of turning the massive water-wheel. On subsequent nights however, he watched with increasing dismay as the stronger slaves dominated the weaker, younger slaves. It seemed to him that there was great rivalry among the older, dominant slaves as to who got first access to the asses of the more docile ones. Several times, scuffles broke out between the older, predatory males for the right to choose which of the younger slaves to fuck. These scuffles - more in the style of wrestling bouts - usually ended with the victor mounting a slave while the vanquished watched and waited for his turn. The ratio of slaves needing to fuck seemed greater than the number of asses available to them and many of the younger slaves were repeatedly abused. Ramses was grateful for the security and protection his cage afforded him. Of necessity, Ramses, did adapt to the water-wheel. His body attuned itself to its new labours and each day became just that much easier than the previous one. Incrementally, the relentless pushing of the capstan changed his body. Any residual fat was stripped away and his muscles hardened and grew more clearly defined. His lungs adapted to the unnatural demands made upon them and their capacity grew until he was breathing deeply and evenly. The rhythm of his heartbeats settled into a regular pattern and the flowing of his blood no longer roared in his ears. Whilst Ramses' labours became easier, his sense of isolation and boredom intensified. Bitter thoughts consumed him; his relegation to the status of a chattel slave and his self-recognition of being a mindless, plodding beast-of-burden were never far from his mind. Most of all, he mourned his loss of freedom and family. And overriding all these was the certain knowledge that he was a slave for life with absolutely no hope of ever attaining freedom. He recalled his mother was against the idea of him visiting River's Bend but his father's greed, fed by the idea of his son inheriting the riches of River's Bend plantation, had overridden her objections. Oh, how Ramses wishes she had persisted with her objections and that she had prevailed. At first, he wept bitter tears of regret for his naivety and foolish erotic fantasies about slavery. How he wished he'd never heard of the accursed River's Bend Plantation let alone visit it. However, with the passing of time, his tears dried up. Ramses' appearance also altered. With the trimming of his body fat, his muscular definition became more pronounced and as his shoulders broadened and strengthened, his biceps swelled into rounded balls of solid muscle. The unremitting heavy labour and his deep, rhythmic breathing added inches to his chest as, correspondingly, other inches were whittled from his trim waist. The muscles and sinews of his thighs strengthened turning his legs into powerful pistons of locomotion while the globes of his ass became slimmer, more rounded and, in the eyes of both Edward and Yancy, more desirable. Under the intensity of sun's rays, Ramses' skin darkened although not to the same extent as his team-mates who'd served longer on the capstan than he had. Ironically, Ramses felt better than he had at any other time in his life and despite the demeaning nature of his labours, it was obvious that hard work agreed with him. And, there were also other changes in Ramses' appearance. His hair grew into an unruly, tangled mess while a stubbly beard darkened his chin. And the soft hair on his chest thickened and coarsened making his appearance more mature and manly. A delightful treasure-trail, darker than the golden down on his limbs, trailed down the middle of his now hard, flat belly connecting the sweat-matted hair on his broadening chest to the thick pubes in which his cock and balls nestled. Apart from the occasional thunderstorm Ramses never washed. The dusty conditions of his work station and his continual sweating caked his body in a reddish patina of grime that served to protect his tender skin from the worst of the sun's rays and, to a lesser extent, from the biting, stinging insects that were the constant source of more misery. But more humiliating was his animal-like smell which would, at times, provoke a derogatory comment from Yancy "PHEW! slave, you stink to high heaven!" Paradoxically, as Ramses became more malodorous to those around him, he became less so to himself. His sense of smell became desensitised to such an extent that he no longer noticed his own or the other slaves' stench. Ramses' time on the wheel coincided with mid- summer when the heat was at its most ferocious and, at first, he struggled to cope with it. The open aspect of the wheel meant that he was fully exposed to the summer heat and there wasn't any shade to give relief. As he plodded on his ceaseless rounds, he sometimes watched with envy as Edward and Yancy relaxed in the shade of a thatched shelter with a refreshing, cool drink and tasty morsels of food prepared by Massa Charles' cook, Hapi. And as the day's heat grew in intensity, Yancy would sometimes strip out his clothing and walk unashamedly naked in front of the slaves. Uninhibitedly, he would stretch his body and flex his muscles and showcase his superb musculature before jumping into the river to cool off while the hapless slaves continued to toil under the broiling sun. As Yancy preened in front of the slaves, Ramses suspected this was a deliberate act on his part, meant to highlight his right as a free man to choose his actions whereas Ramses, as a slave, no longer had that freedom. Nevertheless, it gave Ramses the chance to fully appreciate the 'Black Adonis' soon to be his master and he liked what he saw and lusted after Yancy. Ramses would watch enviously as Yancy swam and splashed around in the water calling out to Edward to join him. "Hey, Edward! This feels so good. The water's so cool. Come and join me!" But Edward never did! Perhaps, as the head overseer, he felt it inappropriate to do so in case it lessened his authority in the eyes of the white slaves under his control. Yancy, on the other hand, revelling in his new-found freedom wasn't, as yet, bound by such a constraint. Gradually, Ramses came to look forward with eager anticipation to Yancy stripping off his clothes and disporting in the nude. As Ramses watched Yancy cavorting in the water, he was captivated at the way the water beaded on the glistening warm mahogany of Yancy's skin which served to highlight the perfection of his body. Ramses was stirred by the sight of his former slave's magnificent physique. Ramses, as best he could, looked on as Yancy disappeared beneath the water's surface only to re-appear a few moments later; exploding back into his sight like some mythological god rising from the ocean's depths. He couldn't take his eyes away from Yancy's magnificent body and he was fascinated by the way the water trickled in meandering rivulets down over the contours of his torso. One day in particular. Ramses watched as Yancy used his powerful arms on the river's edge to lever himself bodily out of the water. The stress this placed on Yancy's body highlighted his every muscle and sinew and threw into sharp relief the outline of his body. He paused momentarily and Ramses eyes were drawn to his curvaceous ass. And Ramses' nakedness couldn't hide his massive erection. Sometimes, as Luke Trevannion, Ramses had lusted after the ass of the slave, Nestor. But that was as far as it ever went. Luke was too afraid of his puritanical parents to ever indulge in the abominable sin of sodomy. Luke's childhood fear of the everlasting fires of Hell - and his mother - held him back and he'd creep away to some secluded spot to masturbate. Oh, how Luke had longed to exercise his right as a free man to fuck the slave, Nestor. But fear had always held him back. And now, as he looked upon the naked Yancy, he knew it was too late. The circumstances had changed and the former slave is the master and the former master is the slave. At a time of Massa Charles choosing it will be his ass which is fucked by his former slave; and as he watched Yancy emerge from the river, the idea wasn't altogether disagreeable to him. As Yancy burst from the water in an explosion of youthful energy and momentarily stood on the riverbank, Ramses was reminded of the statue of the naked, ancient, Greek athlete sculpted out of black marble in his father's study. Then, Yancy vigorously shook the excess water from his body sending droplets flying in all directions before retreating into the comforting shade of the shelter to pour himself a refreshing cool drink. Apart from the physical changes to Ramses - which were all to the good - the most obvious one was to his emotional state of mind. Working on the water-wheel, while improving Ramses' physique and turning him into a strong slave with the promise of many years of hard labour ahead of him - had also altered his mindset to that of the slave he'd become. Toiling on the wheel was both dehumanising and soul-destroying. The mindless, repetitious nature of the work dulled Ramses senses and crushed his spirit. For the first few days, Ramses had to concentrate on playing his part in turning the capstan and keeping the monstrous water-wheel rotating thus avoiding the overseer's whip. This had required all of his attention and proved to be a challenge to his endurance. Many times, during those first few days he believed he was unequal to the task and prayed for a quick release from his travails. With all hope gone, he saw death as preferable to a lifetime of brutal slavery and unremitting hard labour. However, for Ramses, there wasn't to be any quick escape from slavery. Edward and his overseers - Yancy was proving an able student also - were well-versed in knowing just how hard to push the new slave and when to draw the line. At those moments, when he felt he could no longer continue, the overseer's lash, judiciously applied to his back, convinced him otherwise and he found the inner, untapped strength to continue. And as the seemingly endless days on the capstan turned into interminably long weeks, Ramses became the slave that Massa Charles had planned for. At first, Ramses tried to keep track of time as best he could by counting his days toiling on the water-wheel. Inevitably, this became a futile exercise - after all, a slave has no need to know what day of the week it is or even the month of the year. Time is irrelevant to a slave; it belongs to his owner to be used at his discretion and for his profit. On River's Bend there are no rest days for the hapless slaves. They work from sun-up to sunset and because Massa Charles doesn't observe the sabbath, they toil seven days a week for three hundred and sixty-five days a year. This became the pattern for Ramses' miserable existence as a slave and at the end of those six to eight weeks, his spirit was broken and all hope had deserted him. He'd become accustomed to the routine of his life as another of River's Bend's white slaves and he was both physically and mentally reconciled to his fate. To be continued .........