Date: Wed, 6 Mar 2013 20:40:27 -0500
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Rue Dauphine 35

Rue Dauphine 35
Lance Kyle

Scott awoke the next morning with a sense of being watched.  He was indeed.
He had the twin slave boys, Romulus and Remus, on either side of him, with
Sampson on the far side of Remus, and the twins were both awake and,
propping themselves up on elbows, were quietly surveying his body.  Scott
wriggled awake, startling the boys a little, but when he cupped their
tight, rounded bottoms with one hand for each, they broke into grins.

"You sure pretty, Masta," said one twin.  "Masta McGillicuddy, he nevah let
us look much, but we wuz lookin' at you," said the other twin.

"That's quite alright," replied Scott, "look and touch as much as you
like."  Giggling in response, the boys set to work surveying the white
body.  Of course they had seen white people before, but even with the
Marshall, this kind of intimate exploration of skin color, hair texture,
facial features had been forbidden to them.  Now they set to work eagerly,
which of course aroused Sampson.  Used to dark chocolate and also cream
colored skin and features of all kinds, the mulatto boy nevertheless joined
in by examining Remus.  Scott likewise touched, kissed, and nuzzled first
one dark brown boy and then the other.  Although he was also used to their
features, he never tired of them.  He thought their few, thin, wiry pubic
hairs particularly amusing, bespeaking the dawning of hormones and potency
inside their tight, coal black, wrinkled ballsacks.

Of course all this exploration quickly led to four morning erections, and
the surveying of bodies soon turned to kissing, fondling, sucking, and
pumping.  What better way to explore different fullness of lips than to
kiss them, to see different skin colors closely than to lick them?  It was
not long before four rampant erections: one rosie pink, two midnight dark,
one medium brown were thrusting urgently out from bodies.

Romulus, lying on top of Scott and rubbing his small but stiff little
erection against the white man's own, whispered to him, "Masta, we want you
inside us, Remus and me."  Remus, moaning as Scott had a finger well up his
anus, nodded in agreement.

"Are you certain?" asked Scott.  The boys nodded.  "We done had Masta
McGillicuddy, we can take you, Masta.  It be our way to show you thanks."
Scott nodded yes and the boys immediately rearranged the foursome on the
bed so that they lay on their bellies, pillows shoved beneath their
pelvises so as to raise their firm rounded bottoms up.  Scott, with
Sampson's help, lubricated each boy well, and then motioned Sampson to
enter one boy while he mounted the other.  But Sampson demurred.  "They
want you, Master Scott, I can wait," he said.  Nodding, Scott placed his
rampant dick at the anus of Remus and with a push entered him in three easy
pushes. Remus gasped and moaned, but thrust his little bottom back and up
to receive the white man.

Scott covered the dark brown boy entirely, his belly and chest pressed
tightly against the slim back, his arms completely around the boy's chest
so that his fingers could squeeze the boy's nipples.  Scott buried his face
in the crisp black wool of the slave boy's hair, nibbling his ear, biting
his neck and shoulder as he pumped, pumped, pumped.  Inches away, Romulus
looked open mouthed at the spectacle of the white man taking his brother.
Holding himself back, Scott spent but a few more minutes atop Remus and
then reluctantly pulled out and shifted over to Romulus.  He saw that
Sampson had obligingly been lubricating the boy slave's anus, and so Scott
pushed his iron hard rod directly in, Romulus now gasping and moaning but
likewise holding his bottom up in offering to the white man.

Grasping this brown slave boy tightly, skin tight against skin, Scott
resumed the rhythm of frantic pumping that he began with Remus.  He had to
climax inside one boy or the other, and so when he felt the wave of
pleasure began he stayed inside Romulus and squeezing the boy tightly with
all his might, his face pressed tightly in the boy's hair, pushed forward
with all his might and in one long spasm emptied himself inside the slave
boy.  He lay there shuddering, recovering breath, when he noticed that
Sampson had mounted Remus, just inches away from him, and was just sliding
his stiff brown rod into the slave boy.  Smaller than Scott, he slid right
in, readily accommodated by Remus, and began a furious pounding.  It did
not take long for the mulatto boy to climax as well, and in a moment he was
moaning with a high pitched keening sound as the drained his thirteen year
old ballsack into the brown boy beneath him.

At a cue from Scott, Sampson and he pulled out of the twin slave boys and
turned them over, their hard little dicks pointing straight up in the air.
Scott and Sampson each took a rampant rod in his mouth and began sucking
mightily, while the twins thrashed on the bed, occasionally curling up
their heads to see themselves being sucked, and then at the same time they
came, shooting a watery squirt up into the waiting mouths of Scott and
Sampson.  Exhausted, the four snuggled together on the bed for a while
until they were rested up.  Then, hand in hand, they went to the shower
bath and helped each other to clean up.

They were all just getting dressed when a cry split the morning calm.  They
rushed into the hall to find the other males coming out from the rooms they
had slept in to see what was the matter.  Then there was another cry, and
another.  Cleopatra came bursting out of a room and shouted at the men,
"The babies are coming!  Send for help!"

Of course, notice was sent to Mama Désirée immediately, and it did
not take long for her to arrive with a troop of midwives.  It was true:
Niobe, Delilah, all the women were delivering at the same time.  The males
were tasked with fetching this and that supply, and strangely dressed
blacks appeared at the door from time to time to hand mysterious and
pungent packages over to the Rue Dauphine household, with instructions to
take it to the midwives immediately.  Labor lasted throughout the day, and
towards dusk they began delivering the babies: first Elsie, then the others
in short order.  The males crowded around doorways, fear, wonder, and tears
alternating on their faces, uproarious applause and prayers of thanks being
offered up at the sound of each baby's screams and the pronouncement of the
midwife that a girl or a boy had been born.  The males tried to see in but
were shooed away for now—the women all had more important work to do.

Scott and Cloud conferred as to what seemed like the extraordinary
circumstances of all the women delivering at once.  Cloud stared into the
far distance for long moments, using the sixth sense of his people, and
finally concluded that some powerful force was at work to make this come
about, which they had already suspected from the fact of the pregnancies
occurring together.

Once James was sent to the cellar wine store actually to fetch up some
brandy.  He delivered it directly to the midwife and then tugged urgently
on Scott's and Cloud's sleeves.  "Come!" he said, and went running back to
the cellar, the white and the Indian man close behind him.  They did not
need to ask.  Singing filled the tunnel, and the sound of voices was very
clear now, but speaking a language, or languages, nobody recognized.  Not
knowing what else to do, and with duty calling above, the three rushed back
upstairs but vowed to return periodically.  In whispers they spread the
news of the strange occurrences in the tunnel to the other members of the
household.

The hours wore on into the night and before long the exhausted midwives
announced the births of four health babies, two boys and two girls, to
Elsie, Mary, Delilah, and Niobe.  At last the males were invited to take a
tour and visit each mother and child asleep.  The men and boys crowded
around, searching infant faces for clues as to who the father was, teasing
each other with allegations and denials of paternity, but in truth it was
impossible to tell.  Everyone worked throughout the night, the men pitching
in to prepare food in the kitchen and to help with the laundry, which was a
fearsome load given all the deliveries.  Scott or Cloud slipped down to the
cellar from time to time; the singing and voices continued, neither louder
nor softer.

A few days passed as the infants grew stronger and the mothers recovered.
Except for nursing duties, there were so many people in the house willing
to help the new mothers and babies, with the males even washing soiled
diapers, that there was a great deal more joy and recovery than stress.
And then Sampson came running back from an errand to the wine cellar to
call Scott down.  Scott summoned Cloud to join him and down the stairs they
went.  The singing and voices were no louder, no softer, but there seemed a
strain of meaning in them.  Scott and Cloud conferred and agreed, they
could just barely make it out, sometimes from intuition more than actual
words, but sometimes the words did seem to form: "Bring the children."

They returned and called the group together.  The mothers were all able to
get about, and they hugged their infants tightly on hearing this
news...bring the children.  Mama Désirée was summoned so as to get
her advice.  She went quickly down to the cellar, stayed a moment, and came
back up.  "It is not evil," she said, "but it is time to go.  The
voices—they mean it this time."

And so it was that everyone, the new mothers and babies warmly wrapped and
supported on the left, right, and behind, made their way down into the
tunnel and turned in the direction of the underground pool where the
mysterious figure had been seen before.  Now as they advanced, with mingled
fear and hope, in that direction they each thought they could hear distinct
voices in the singing, in the wind that came toward them, and that they
seemed like voices of welcome.  Step by step, and the household of Rue
Dauphine arrived at the underground pool.  The surface seemed to simmer
slightly, and in the middle of the pool stood or hovered the hooded figure
in black.  Sparkles as of the nighttime stars flashed out from its
garments.  As the household stood there, it seemed to spread its arms and
the wind and singing died down to a murmur.  Then it spoke in a voice
without sex, a voice like a stone flute, a voice both very present but far
away.

"You are blessed," it said, "with these children."  Everybody nodded their
agreement.  The group felt—well, yes, some fear, but also confusion and
wonder.  Predictably, it was Mama Désirée who stepped forward.

"Ancient one," she said, "what is this place? This pool? And what sort of
spirit are you?  Why have you summoned us?"

The murmur of song and wind seemed to shift into a minor key, voices of
sadness joining the chorus.  The hooded figure spoke.

"This is the end of a long path," it said. "From here the path goes down
and down, through the water, under the great river and lake, down into the
ocean and across the ocean.  The path goes to Africa.  Many and many were
the lives lost in bringing most of you here," and it seemed to wave an arm
in the direction of the household.  "The spirits of those lost still walk
that path, for they and their descendants have unfinished business in this
New World.  Debts to pay and to collect, and destinies to be fulfilled."
The wind and songs swirled louder, then back down again.  And then the
figure began gliding toward the group.  Many of them recoiled, but they
felt deeply within themselves that running away would not do, that
something important was about to happen.

Within touching distance of the tightly huddled household the figure
stopped and seemed to spread arms within its sparkling, flashing black
substance.  It spoke.

"These children will be blessed, and their descendants will be blessed.
Soon this land will see a great, great war.  Slaves will be freed, but the
road to freedom will be long.  These children's children, and their
children, and down into distant generations will have special, anointed
tasks for the next hundred, O! two and three hundred years.  Freedom begins
here," said the figure, and then one at a time the arms seemed to bless
each baby, seemed to drop a shower of stars on each face as the babies
slept soundly.  "Go now," said the figure, "go back to life.  To the
struggle.  To the war that will be.  Let the children and their descendants
know of their destiny to lead and inspire. Let them never forget their
sanctified destiny."

Then tunnel went completely dark and the members of the household called
out in confusion, groping for each other, milling around trying to find the
walls of the tunnel, anything that could give them their bearings.  And
then light returned to the tunnel but to everyone's surprise they were
standing back at the tunnel entrance to their own house.  King wanted to go
back to the pool to see what had become of the figure, but Scott, Cloud,
and Mama Désirée advised against it, at least for now.

That night, and for every night thereafter, the members of that household
whispered to the little ones of the blessings they had received and the
tasks before them and their descendants.  It was a reassurance that would
sustain them in the coming hard times and good times as well.  The children
grew up and multiplied, creating a large clan of people of many hues.  Each
generation kept its secret, and each generation was a bright light to
others around them.  Maybe some of you are among them, yes?  And long years
afterwards, descendants of those children would still return—and they
return even now, perhaps you can find the house in New Orleans and see for
yourself—to celebrate their secret bonds and to move their shared
destinies forward.

THE END

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lokiaga@austin.rr.com