Date: Sun, 25 Feb 2018 00:58:58 +0000 (UTC)
From: Hank M <redbeardedsf@yahoo.com>
Subject: TYRONE IN ALABAMA, part two

Tyrone in Alabama

by Master Redbeard
r+e+d+b+e+a+r+d+e+d at yahoo dot com

See Part One for intro to story and disclaimers.

And SUPPORT NIFTY ARCHIVES! If they weren't around, this story (and so many
others) would exist only on my computer!

PART TWO

Officer Worthing escorted me to his father's house. I was dressed in the
clothes I had worn to school the morning of my arrest, but with my hands
cuffed behind my back. I swear the Captain was rubbing his hands together
and licking his lips when I was brought in. He was looking at me like I was
a box of chocolates and he was a starving man.

"What plans have you made to keep the detainee safely on the premises,
sir"" the policeman said as if he was reading from a script.

"Well, I can't put locks on all the doors and windows. Only thing I could
think is we take away Tyrone's clothes. Not so likely to make a run for it
if he's bare-assed naked." He turned to me and snapped, "Strip, boy."

I suppose it was expected. I peeled off my t-shirt and slipped out of my
sneakers and socks. It was mortifying. As far as I was concerned at that
point I was a straight boy. It was clear to me that these two older white
guys were queer for my body. But they had the power to make me undress in
front of them. As I dropped my jeans I wondered how much further they would
take their power.

"You wanna let him keep his underpants for now, Captain" Don't want him
showing off that black dick of his," the cop said, even as his hand
outlined the erection in his own pants.

"Not those boxers," the Captain exclaimed with amusement. "Too easy for him
to walk out and pretend they're swim trunks." I looked down at myself.
Nobody would see my striped boxers as anything but underpants. He motioned
toward my one bag of belongings and told me to find a pair of white briefs
to wear.

Of course I had to pull down one pair of underpants and pull up the other
with both white men watching me. I felt like I was putting on a strip show
for them.

Once they had me down to just my white briefs, I felt like my body was
shaking. When would the next shoe drop? I think they wanted to tease
me. And I know they wanted to make me feel like a servant in this house. I
was taken to the kitchen and instructed on how to make coffee, how to mix
the Captain's cocktails, where to put the trash, how to wash the pile of
dirty dishes that had been left there. All these things were shouted at me
from both directions. As soon as the young cop had me over the sink
cleaning out the garbage disposal, Captain Worthing shouted for me to climb
up on the stepladder to get down the good glasses from a top shelf.

As I was stretching my arm to get the glasses, the two men below me pulled
down the back of my briefs and smacked my exposed ass, laughing together. I
dropped a glass and all hell broke loose. "Do you know how much that
glassware costs, boy" Do you know what it would cost me to replace that one
glass so I have a complete set again, boy" No of course you don't know. You
ignorant little...." I had both big white men yelling at me as I was down
on my knees trying to wipe up the broken glass without cutting my hand.

Once he was satisfied that the floor was cleaned, the Captain grabbed the
back of my neck, made me stand and then pushed me upstairs. When I saw we
were in his bedroom, I couldn't breathe. This was it. What would come next?

He pointed to a big wooden piece of furniture beside the fireplace and told
me to bring it to the center of the room. I had never seen anything like it
and I could tell it was very old. It was sort of like a table with levers
to adjust the height of different parts, and odd attachments at both ends
of it. When I went to move it, I realized the wood was quite heavy.

As I stood facing what I thought was the back of this heavy table, the big
cop got down behind me. He was attaching each of my ankles to the two back
legs of this thing that the Captain had called a horse. Then he stood up
and pushed me chest down across the wooden top. Captain Worthing grabbed
both of my wrists and quickly snapped each into cuffs on the front legs of
the horse. I pulled at my arms and my legs and realized I was truly secured
down to this odd table.

Then the Captain opened a cabinet on the wall and I saw an assortment of
punishment devices: whips and cats, floggers and canes, straps and belts. I
was trying to form words. This couldn't be legal. They couldn't think they
could get away with this. And yet, here I was helpless. These two white men
had a straight black teen boy stripped to briefs and chained down to a
punishment horse, while they examined different belts and straps.

There was a mirror in front of me so I could see as the big cop went around
behind me. He toyed with the thin switch in one hand at the same time as he
used his other hand to toy with the erection outlined in his tan uniform
pants. I remember seeing his hand raised with the switch high in the
air. And I must have seen his hand slash down with the switch. But all I
knew was a blinding flash of white light as the pain went from my thighs
and emanated out to my entire helpless body.

I screeched, which only caused the two white men to howl with laughter.
"Breaking you in, boy," chuckled the cop as he toyed again with the
switch. I felt my balls pull up against my body in fear.

But the Captain pushed the younger man aside. "No, no, look what you're
doing. You've left a mark on his thighs. And the marks from the thin ones
take longer to go away." I was trying to wrap my head around what the old
man was saying. But he started to gently rub my butt cheeks, there was
something almost tender and loving in his touch. "Good thing you didn't
break the skin on these flawless globes, heheh. Would be such a shame for
these butt cheeks to get marked up before I even get to enjoy them, heheh."

With that the old guy shoved his index finger all the way up into my
ass. My whole body tensed and I howled, "Oh God, no!"

The cop pulled my hair to force me to look up at him as he said, "You too
fuckin' stupid to know when you got it good, boy. Cap'n here wantsa save
you from an ass whooping."

Then I watched as the Captain's son went around behind me with a container
of Vaseline. He used both hands to spread my ass cheeks apart and then he
slathered the thick substance up and down my crack. He worked a
Vaseline-covered finger into my hole, and then a second finger. I watched
the scene in the mirror. Here was a Southern white cop in uniform
finger-fucking my bottom. At the same time that cop had his dick out of his
pants and was jacking off like crazy.

Captain Worthing had also pulled his penis from his fly and was stroking
it, but he was in no hurry to finish up, just enjoying the show. When he
decided enough time had passed, the old man pushed the cop aside and
positioned himself behind me. I felt the head of his uncut cock press
against my anus.

I was barely able to get out a whisper, "P-p-please, Captain... please,
sir... you know I never... I never did nothin' like... I'm a straight boy,
sir."

"Yeh, that's the way I like `em," he chuckled, and slammed the full length
of his stiff cock all the way up into me with one thrust.

I howled with agony not even realizing that the uniformed cop was right in
position to shove his exposed erection into my open mouth. He grasped me by
the face and snarled, "If I feel any teeth on it, boy, you gonna get all
those teeth knocked out of yo' head."

I grunted, "Mfff mfff," glad that he couldn't make out the words, "Yes
sir." What had I turned into? Had I become the subservient black serving
boy these white men wanted me to be? All I knew at that moment was that I
was totally vulnerable. As the Captain had pointed out some time earlier,
nobody would believe the word of a black teenager over two white officers
of the law -- especially not in Alabama.

The Captain didn't waste any time. As soon as he was inside me, he was
fucking in and out of my ass fast and hard. I felt his balls slap against
my thighs and when he would slam in and grind against me I felt his hairy
bush on my smooth cheeks. His hands were all over my ass, at one moment
tenderly caressing and the next moment slapping and pinching.

The pain from my ass coursed through my body. I think that's why I didn't
choke much on Jefferson Worthing's cock. It wasn't as thick as the
Captain's and he wasn't fucking as hard as the old man was. This pervy
young white dude was long dicking my mouth, pulling his boner almost all
the way out and then slamming all the way in, repeatedly slamming his big
belt buckle into my nose. Both men were still dressed in uniform with their
cocks out, taking their perverse pleasure with my naked, bound, black body.

As he was fucking hard, the Captain started telling his son, "You know,
your great granddad used this horse for the very same purpose. My
granddaddy taught me that fucking the girls can get messy, all those female
emotions, plus the complication of babies. But the caramel boys with such
nice round asses -- ah, the firm bodied young athletes, totally straight of
course."

Dammit, this sick old man was in bliss recounting how generations of men in
his family had abused and raped black teen boys just like me. I felt tears
come to my eyes but shut my lids and held them tightly closed. I wouldn't
give these Southern bastards the pleasure of seeing their black boy cry. I
said a prayer that all the Captain's ancestors were burning in the deepest
pits of hell for what they had done to boys like me.

I couldn't help contorting my face with anger, and I think that's what put
the cop in my mouth over the edge. He grabbed the back of my head and
slammed forward with his full body weight. His cock was lodged deeper in my
throat than I thought it could go. His belt buckle and the weight of him
was pressed so tight against my nose that I couldn't breathe. His cock was
pulsing and each time it pulsed it shot cream down my throat. The cock was
so deep down that I just had to swallow.

I thought I would pass out from lack of oxygen, and then I felt the Captain
collapse behind me. His big body fell across my back. His cock also slammed
in harder than before, deeper into my ass sending a new wave of pain. That
old man's penis was pulsing in my guts, shooting stream after stream of hot
cream inside me.

As both men slowly slid their dicks out of me, I gasped for breath. I was
still chained down to this horse, bent forward at the waist with all four
of my extremities cuffed to table legs. They left me bound like that while
they went into the other room to drink and laugh together. I tried my best
to cry silently, feeling so helpless and wondering how long I would remain
a captive in Captain Worthing's house in Alabama.

Once I was unchained, the Captain told me that I should go around the house
dressed in just the briefs. "You will not have the dignity of wearing
clothes, but I don't need to see your black dick waving around here, boy.
Besides I like the way the cotton fabric clings to your round ass, and that
nice contrast of the white against your skin color."

I was supposed to be homeschooled during this time, but the only things I
was taught were household chores and sexual service. I learned to cook all
sorts of meals, learned to do laundry and iron all of the Captain"s clothes
(even his socks and boxers), and learned to scrub floors on my hands and
knees -- all while wearing just my white briefs. I also learned to wash the
Captain in the shower, which always ended with me on my knees using my
mouth to make sure the old man's cock and ass were clean enough. I learned
to respond to all the Captain's orders instantly, to massage and lick any
part of his body as commanded, and to forget that I ever had any dignity or
self-respect.

Sometimes when the old man was drunk and we were alone, he would become
romantic. Once he licked my body all over and said I was beautiful and, "I
wanna worship your delicious black skin, beautiful boy, and serve your
perfectly muscled body." But who would ever take my word that a white man
like this former town sheriff would say that to a black boy?

Once when I asked Captain Worthing how long my sentence was for, he snapped
"Don't be impertinent, boy." He supervised me closely when I spoke to my
mother on the phone once a week. I was only allowed to tell her how good
the Captain was treating me and how happy I was. He held the phone as I
spoke so he could pull it away or turn it off anytime he chose. Even if I'd
had a chance, I don't know how I could have told my mother what was going
on in the Captain's house. I was too humiliated with all the nasty sex I
had to perform.

While I spent the week either naked or in white briefs, each Sunday morning
the Captain would dress me up in an ill-fitting black suit and take me
along to his church. I had a perfectly good suit of my own, but he insisted
I wear this old one that had belonged to one of his sons. It gave him a
chance to tell his fellow parishioners how he had given his son's
hand-me-down clothes to this poor black youth. I had to stand beside him as
the townspeople filed by to praise his goodness for taking in "a no-account
colored boy." When they addressed me, I knew I had to tell them how
grateful I was to the Captain for letting me live in such a fine home.

One day after church services I ended up on my knees in the minister's
office, sucking on the holy man's cock. The Captain sat in a comfy chair
enjoying the show, even though I was still fully dressed in the
hand-me-down suit. A door in the back of the room opened and there was the
minister's grandson, a tall, blond jock I recognized from the school
football team. I stopped sucking, frozen at having been caught in the
act. But the Captain swatted me on my butt and said, "Nobody told you to
stop."

The minister grabbed my head and was pumping my face up and down as the
blond teenager played with the outline of his cock in his nice gray church
pants. After I had swallowed his grandfather's jizz, the school jock
whipped out his boner and shoved it into my cum-covered lips. But before I
could even start sucking, the Captain remarked, "What a finely-formed white
athlete this is. Show us everything, boy."

When the blond boy just froze and didn't do anything, the Minister
helpfully added, "Don't be shy, son. Show the Captain how nice your muscles
are developing."

I was kneeling on the floor fully dressed in my church suit as I watched
the white high school athlete slowly strip out of his nice Sunday
clothes. He was blushing and I could tell he was shy and reluctant to
expose himself. But it appeared to me that he didn't have a choice. When I
glanced back to the Captain, I saw the fat old man was still sprawled out
in his comfy chair and was masturbating his exposed cock.

The Captain was the one giving the orders. The young football player fucked
my mouth and the Captain was right behind him, jerking himself off as he
watched the blond youth's smooth ass cheeks moving in and out. When the
young jock was getting close to the end, panting and fucking my mouth more
frantically, the Captain started swatting the boy's ass.

The blond teenager seemed to be crying as he shot his load down my
throat. Pulling his dick out of my lips, he seemed even more shy as the
Captain talked about, "What nice smooth skin this boy has, and what lovely
muscle definition."

To this day I wonder what the deal was with the Minister. Why wasn't he
outraged that this nasty old man was perving on his grandson? Was the
Minister also a perv? Or was he that afraid of the power of the former
sheriff?

Another weekend after church, the Captain dropped me off at the school I
had briefly attended. I was led to the empty locker room and left in the
clutches of the head coach, who immediately ordered me to strip for a
shower. Coach was a man's man, a muscular retired marine, whose wife was
pregnant with their fifth child. But when I was naked in the shower with
the man, I remembered the story the Captain had told about a respected
teacher who worshipped black boys. It was clear to me that story had been
about the coach.

It seemed like Coach had to lick every detailed inch of my body, rambling
on about how my flesh was like a "statue carved out of obsidian." The man
teased my dick for hours, never letting me cum even as he would give a few
quick licks to my cock head every so often. Finally he had my arms and legs
strapped down onto a massage table with me on my back. I didn't know what
was coming next as I watched him climb up on the table.

I was amazed as the Coach lowered himself onto my cock. The man's hands
were spreading his own hairy butt cheeks and he was wrapping his butthole
around my hard cock. Bare naked and bound on my back all I could think was
that this muscular man was raping my cock. I'd been teased so much that my
dick was stiff as iron, and now the respected faculty member was fucking
his ass on my boner.

The whole time he was riding my dick, Coach had his eyes closed and was
rambling on about, "You black boys think just because you have such big
stiff cocks that you can make us white boys do whatever you want..." I
swear, if I could've had a recording of what he was saying during that
fuck, they would've carted this fool away to the looney bin.

When I couldn't hold back anymore, my black erection started shooting cream
up into the Coach's rear. At the same time he grabbed his flopping dick and
his sperm flew out. When I noticed how small his white cock was, I looked
away. I was actually embarrassed that I knew his dick size. No wonder the
retired marine worked so hard to be a macho man, and no wonder he had come
to worship the big cocks of black guys.

But the most humiliating experience during the time I lived at the
Captain's house was when he took me to a fancy dress-up party. He told me
it was a period party and the host would have an appropriate costume for me
to wear. The captain drove me to this big old Southern mansion and took me
around the back to meet our host, an old skinny white man I knew as the
president of the bank.

The bank president was wearing this fancy outfit from a couple of centuries
ago. Sandwiched between the two old white men, I stripped down to my briefs
but our host insisted I remove those. He then gave me a pair of pants that
had the legs partly torn and left ragged.. They were too wide on me so I
was given a rope to tie around my waist and hold them up. Then I was given
a white undershirt that was equally torn and discolored. But I was left
barefoot.

That's the way I was expected to serve drinks to the gentlemen guests.
There were only about a dozen men there, all old and white. And all of them
seemed to enjoy the site of me dressed in the raggedy outfit. While one man
put his hand up my shirt and tweaked my nipples, another man had his hand
slipping between my legs from behind, squeezing my balls. It didn't take
long before the athletic undershirt was ripped to shreds and had fallen off
me.

I was stretching to hand some drinks to a group of men when some joker
decided to cut my rope belt. My ragged pants fell to my feet. I stumbled
and was pushed forward by many hands that all seemed to be grabbing for my
exposed ass. Men laughed, but our host stopped them from going further.
"That's not the way we planned this, gentlemen. Remember our quest for
authenticity."

Our host was fussy about his period pieces, so I was outfitted with another
ragged pair of pants, no shirt this time. I was displayed on a little stage
with my hands tied behind me. The host was giving a speech about this being
a "fundraiser for the next senator's campaign," and that the former sheriff
had been kind enough to donate something special for the auction.

That's when the raggedy pants were pushed down to the floor. One man in the
group called out, "Yeh, but did the Captain already get that boy's butthole
all stretched out."

The Captain was already a little drunk as he laughed in return, "You can
check for yourself. He had an enema before coming here so he would be
cleaned out."

I was immediately bent forward. More than one white man fingered my ass.
They all seemed to like the tightness because they broke into nasty remarks
about "what a hot ass this little colored boy has." I was working harder
than ever to keep from crying at that point. But I was damned if I was
gonna let these white bastards see me cry.

The man with the top bid was a nasty redneck who hog-tied me and tossed me
in the back of his truck. He took me back to his house where he shared me
with his three sons and also his elderly dad. I've blacked out on most of
the details.

* * * * *