Date: Sat, 17 Dec 2011 22:00:29 -0500
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Rue Dauphine 7

Rue Dauphine 7
Lance Kyle

"In my house!" exclaimed Scott, rising from his chair.  He could feel James
shuddering with fright, and yet the boy kept a tight hold on his master,
now with his arm around Scott's waist.  King nodded once and did not break
his gaze with the white man.  Scott sat back down in nearly a collapse.  "I
must think," he said.  And so he did.  For perhaps five minutes he sat
there, James tenderly rubbing his master's shoulders and looking
solicitously into his face, King maintaining a steady gaze.  Scott looked
straight down, deep in thought, for perhaps ten minutes.  Then he shook
himself and sat up straight.

"James," he said gently, "I have some important work for you to do.  But
you must do it faithfully, just as I tell you."  The black boy swelled up
with some sense of importance and shook his head in the affirmative,
vigorously.  Yet, he was speechless.  "Very well," Scott continued.  "I
want you to go to Lawyer Toogood, here at this address," and Scott repeated
it for him, asking the boy to repeat it back.  "Ask for directions in the
street, someone will tell you how to go," he said, for he doubted that the
boy could read a note.  "You are to ask Lawyer Toogood if it would be
convenient for him to can attend me here in..."he consulted his pocket
watch "...one hour.  Can you do that, James?"  The boy nodded manfully
again.  "Then return and tell Niobe everything you have heard."  James
nodded again.  "And James...stay with Niobe in the kitchen until I come for
you.  Do not...do not...come back into this house."

"But Masta—"

"Do not, James.  Stay with Niobe in the kitchen.  She will... Uh...she will
need protection."  Scott had hit on the right formula.  Swelling manfully
again, James now vowed to do so.  Scott stood and looked at him for a
moment then caught him up in his arms and embraced him tightly for a few
seconds.  Then he broke it off, slapped the boy hard on his butt, and said
"Off with you now."  James was out the door in a flash.  Now Scott turned
to King.

"Now, to be clear: My uncle's ring of power and the book that goes with it
are inside his coffin.  And his coffin is in this house.  And Mr. LeRoc and
every voodoo queen in New Orleans will be arrayed against me.  So I need
the ring and book to defend myself and what is mine.  Do I have that
right?" Scott asked.  King had never taken his gaze from the white man.
Now he nodded again, once.

"Why have YOU not taken the ring and book, King?" asked Scott.

"Because it is not mine, Masta, and I fear for what might happen if I took
what is not mine, that wields so much power.  It is yours, Masta.  You are
your uncle's heir."

Scott heaved a great sigh. "Where in the house is the casket?"  Scott
asked.

"In the cellar of the right wing, Masta," said King.  "Masta Balthazar
never used that cellar, Masta.  Oh, he would store things there, but not
for any use.  The cellar under the left wing was enough for wine and such.
The cellar under the right wing had only some old furniture and such in it.
I felt sure Masta LeRoc had never seen it.  That's where I put the coffin,
Masta."

Scott closed his eyes and nodded.  Of course.  The wind, the voices, the
footsteps, the scent of roses, all of it: there was some power centered in
the right wing.

Scott opened his eyes.  "King, I must obtain the ring and book."  Now a
succession of different looks crossed King's face: fear, admiration,
sadness.  But he nodded in the affirmative.  "Will you take me to it," he
asked?  Again King nodded and rose.  Scott obtained a lantern from the
central wing and lit it. He also took the precaution of getting the set of
keys, not all of which he had labeled.  He thought some one of them might
be needed. He stood looking at King, and nodded.

The large slave stood and with an air of determination—even
courage?—led the way from the library to the door to the right wing.  He
paused, then opened it.  All lay still.  But as King led the way into the
ballroom, the slightest bit of wind seemed to swirl around them, the
faintest hint of voices floating in the air.  Scott held the lantern high
and followed King.  He dared not look at the floor to see which other
tracks might be laid in the dust.  King walked straight ahead to the large
portrait at the end of the ballroom.  He tugged on an edge of the
protective sheet, which fell.  Scott held the lantern up to the portrait,
and started.  It looked very much like himself.

"This was your uncle, Masta Balthazar," said King.  He reached out a hand
and oh so gently touched the portrait.  He kept his face from Scott's
sight.  Moving the lantern, Scott could see that his uncle had been painted
wearing the clothing of a gentleman of much earlier in the century.
And...and that he wore a ring with a stone in the shape of a heart and a
flame within.  King stroked the painting lightly, remembering, and then
brushed the painted ring with his fingers.  Here he paused and pressed
harder on the image of the ring.  There was an audible Snick! and the
painting seemed to shift.  Now King pressed one edge of the portrait and it
pivoted on its center axis.  It had covered a hidden door.  King motioned
Scott forward and stepped into the darkness beyond.

There were no stairs up, only a narrow flight of stairs straight down.  Now
the wind seemed a little stronger, and Scott could almost make out some of
the words that floated on it.  Scott handed the lantern to King, who went
first, down a short flight.  At the bottom was a crowded landing and a
massive oak door in a stone wall.

"The key, Masta," said King.  Scott tried some of them, the third one
working.  He noted carefully which one it was.  King pushed the door, which
creaked mightily but moved inward.  King could not hold the lantern high,
for the ceiling was low, but he held it as high as he could and stepped
into the cellar.  Scott quickly joined him.

The cellar was about the same size as that in the left wing.  Some pieces
of broken furniture, some old trunks..and in the middle, a coffin.  Now the
wind really did pick up, the voices were louder although still not
distinct.  But Scott felt that the tone of the voices was not of danger or
warning, but of comfort.  They were the murmurings a lover might say into
the ear of a beloved.  And then the busy air filled with the sweetest scent
of roses.  King took two steps in the direction of the coffin.  Scott kept
pace, now putting his hand on the massive shoulder of the black man,
perhaps to keep himself from collapse, perhaps to steady King.  The coffin
was six feet away.  And lying on top of it were a closed book and a ring.

King gasped.  Scott looked at the book and ring and then at King.  "King,"
he began, in a shaking voice, "you did bury the book and ring INSIDE the
coffin with my uncle's body?"  King could not speak, but nodded vigorously
in the affirmative.  "You have not returned here, nor has anyone, nor I
suppose has LeRoc, or book and ring would be gone."  Again King nodded.
And now Scott could feel, his hand on the man's shoulder, that the black
man was shaking.  He risked tearing his gaze from the coffin and looked at
King's face.  Tears were streaming down the strong brown cheeks of the man.
He was shaking from grief.  King was crying as only a strong man can cry
who finally allows himself to do so.

In the twilight Scott, no longer afraid, stepped forward and picked up the
book and ring.  He touched the coffin with his hand.  "Thank you, uncle,"
he said.  "I know you have caused these to be here.  We will not disturb
your rest.  Thank you."  And then a wail pierced the gloom and he saw King
fall to his knees near the casket, touching it as he might touch a lover's
body, weeping without consolation.  This lasted only a moment, but it rent
Scott's heart.  Gasping and sniffling, soon King rose, his hand still on
the casket.

"Don't open it, King," said Scott.  "Let us just take this gift from my
uncle.  From your master.  From...from one I know loved you."  King sobbed
once, nodded his head yes, paused once more and then turned, holding the
lantern high.  Both men stepped back through the door, King turning to look
back once, then Scott locking the door.  He did not mark which key it was,
but remembered it well.

The two men stood there for a moment.  The wind and the voices had ceased,
but the sweet, intoxicating smell of roses remained.  Leaning on each
other, they made it up the stairs and into the ballroom.  King secured the
secret door again, and threw the sheet back up over the painting as well as
he could.  The room was now still, a real sense of peace descending upon
it.  Scott and King walked out of the ballroom and back into the library.
Here Scott procured a bottle of brandy he kept there and without even
asking poured two glasses, giving one to King.  Both men down their
portions quickly and looked at one another, nodding with satisfaction,
King's eyes were still red.  The ring and book had never left Scott's hand.
He now looked down at them.

"I can see I have a lot of studying to do, and quickly," he said.  King
nodded.  Scott checked his watch, half an hour had elapsed.  "But first let
us see if James was successful, and if he has told Niobe everything, and if
Toogood is coming.  Perhaps also some nourishment."  Scott carefully locked
the book and ring in a stout drawer of the library desk, then led the way
to the kitchen.  James was just returning; the lawyer had agreed, but it
would be another hour before he could attend.  Niobe had prepared some food
and so they all shared it, while James told her all he knew with great
animation, drama, and theatrics.  But to be fair, Scott noted, he
embellished not a bit; the truth was stark enough.

Niobe mechanically chewed her food as she stared at James, then at Scott
and King, shivering from time to time.  When James was finished Niobe
looked at Scott and King quizzically; both men nodded as if to say yes.
The four returned to their lunch, full of thoughts.  And then James leapt
straight up from his chair.

"But Masta Scott! You gonna have to go get the book and ring, suh! Lemme
help!"  In answer Scott drew him closer in a quick embrace.

"You have already helped, more than you know, James," he said.  "King and I
have already obtained the book and the ring."  James looked dumbfounded.
"They were on top of the coffin," Scott said.  "I think...I am sure...my
uncle caused them to be there so as to help us."  Here the two youngstesr
both shivered visibly, open mouthed. A brief discussion of how these
wonders had come to pass ensued. Then they all returned to finishing their
meal, full of their own thoughts and feelings.

Niobe was cleaning up as the sound came to them of the front door ringing.
James remembered that answering the door was one of his duties and ran off,
but Scott and King hurried after him, unsure who might be there.  It was
Lawyer Toogood. Pleasantries were exchanged.

James and King knew how to act their parts perfectly, respectfully
withdrawing, shuffling, doing the servile slave performance.  Scott
restrained himself from guffawing; they were slaves, yes, but he could tell
an act when he saw one.  Scott ushered Toogood into the library, and then
asked King to follow them.  James came as far as the library door.

Scott got right to the point.  "Mister Toogood, when my uncle's estate was
settled, by you, sir, and I thank you again for your help—" both men
nodded courteously—"it seems as if this servant," and here he indicated
King, "was sold as part of settling the estate.  And yet I would not have
wished it to happen, sir.  Not all the estate was sold.  The household
effects, nor the house, were not.  Why this and the other servants?"

Toogood thought for a moment.  "When your uncle passed, God rest his soul,"
he began, and Scott was SURE a light breeze rustled through the library,
"we did not know which of his kinfolk would come to claim the property.
You were his sole heir.  But some property needed to be disposed of, as it
would go untended and unused.  Your uncle had a carriage and horse that he
kept down on Royal Street at Stroheimer's, and then there were the
servants.  Who was to manage them?  That's why they were sold."

Scott nodded.  It made sense within the context of slavery.  Inhumane
perhaps, but Scott accepted the peculiar institution wholeheartedly.  He
continued.

"Yes, I understand, and you did right.  But I would not have wished for
King, here," and he gestured toward the tall black man standing just within
the library, his eyes downcast, "to be sold.  Is there any way to nullify
the sale legally?  I understand he was purchased by Mr. LeRoc, but can that
be nullified?  Failing that, can you negotiate my purchasing this servant
back.  He, uh...he knows the house and his knowledge will be useful to me,"
said Scott, by way of explanation.

Toogood thought deeply for a moment.  "I am not sure we can cancel the
sale.  However, let me approach Mr. LeRoc and try first sweet persuasion,
then a threat of cancellation, and finally...how high are you willing to
go, sir?"  Scott named a price that was well above market.  Toogood nodded
thoughtfully.  "I see.  I may not tell Mr. LeRoc that you are the proposed
buyer.  Let me think how to work this out, sir, and I will report back to
you."  He turned to King.  "Is your master at home?"

"No sir," said King, his eyes carefully cast down, "He will be back
tomorrow."  Toogood nodded.  He rose and shook Scott's hand.  "I am at work
on this matter, sir, never fear!" he said.  Scott thanked him and showed
him the door.  Scott stood in thought for a moment and then turned to King
and James.

"I am going to spend the afternoon studying the book," he said.  "King;
what happens when one puts on the ring?"

"I don't know, Masta," King replied.  "I saw Masta Balthazar with it on
many a time, but it didn't seem to bother him.  Although...seemed like he
saw and heard things others didn't.  But it isn't like he disappeared or
flew around or anything."

Scott nodded.  So he announced his intention to study the book for the
remainder of the afternoon.  King had to return to LeRoc's house to perform
certain duties, but he promised to return before the end of the afternoon.
James had plenty to do with household duties.  The three dispersed.

Scott sat at the desk in the library and unlocked the drawer.  He placed
the ring to one side and opened the book.  He saw immediately that it was
quite old, and was in Latin, and he thanked the classical education that
would have led the eighteen year old son of a minister to have been taught
Latin.  He began to read, stopping from time to time to pick up the ring
and look at it. After about an hour of concentrated study he stopped,
looked at the ring, and with deliberation put it on.

From what he had learned in the book he knew not to expect the heavens
opening and the earth yawning.  He felt...he felt sharper.  He felt he
could hear and see better.  He felt...extended.  Scott had learned this
from the book.  First and foremost, the ring extended the natural powers
that a person had.  Second, it could be combined with some spells and
charms to achieve powerful effects.  Scott simply sat, hearing Niobe and
James at work much more clearly than he otherwise could.  He could hear,
and now could even picture, Mrs. L'Enfant and her crew as they completed
the second level of the left wing and moved to the attic servants' rooms.
Everything was sharper.

A fly buzzed by and landed on his nose.  Unthinkingly, he simply swatted it
away.  It returned and he did the same.  When it returned a third time he
felt a fair bit of annoyance and, distracted from his studies, he swatted
hard at the fly.  It exploded in the air before his hand even touched it.
Gasping, he sat back.  The ring amplified what one already had in one's
brain or heart.  He removed the ring and returned to his study of the book.

He was still at it when the front door bell rang.  James rushed from the
second floor, where he was helping Niobe clean, and opened it.  It was
King.  Instead of entering, the large black called Scott: "Masta, would you
please come and look?"

Scott went to the door and saw, on his front step, a twisted skein of
twigs, hair, a stone or two, and some other material that seemed vaguely
unsavory.  King walked around it but kept his distance.

"It is voodoo, Masta Scott," he said.  "Can you...can you use the ring?" he
asked.  Scott had spent about an hour on charms and spells of protection.
Returning quickly to the library he put on the ring and came back to the
step with the book.  King and James's eyes widened, looking at the ring and
then at Scott.  Remembering what he had learned from the book, Scott held
out his hand over the voodoo charm and said a few words.  Nothing happened
for a few seconds, and then the voodoo charm simply scooted, trailing a
little smoke, into the center of the street.  James gasped, but King shook
his head in the affirmative.

"I have seen this before, Masta," he said.  "It is a protection against
these and other spells."

Scott lost no time in looking up spells of protection in the book, and then
he walked around the entire perimeter of his house placing such a spell on
every door and window, on the walls connecting the kitchen to the wings,
and then on Niobe, James, and King.  At the end of this he paused, lost in
thought.  He turned to King.

"King, do you know who may have placed this spell?" he asked, pointing to
the hunk of material that seemed to have decayed with remarkable speed in
the middle of the street.  King nodded.

"I think I do, Masta.  I recognize the work."

"Can...can you arrange for me to meet with these people...with these
queens?" He asked.  "I have no quarrel with them and do not wish them harm.
I think...I think they and I have more common cause against LeRoc than they
have against me."  King nodded thoughtfully for a moment, and then said
that he would make some inquiries about a meeting.  They were in the
courtyard now, and Scott sat down with King and James.  Niobe came down
from the central wing to join them.

"The ring gives power, but it seems to amplify power that people already
have," Scott said, "and King...if someone is evil, it amplifies evil.  If
they are good, or whatever is not evil, it amplifies that."  King nodded,
thoughtfully.  Then King leapt up.

"May I try something, Masta Scott?" he asked.  Scott nodded yes.  King ran
to the kitchen and brought back an ordinary bowl of water.  This he placed
in the center of the heart and flame stones in the middle of the courtyard.
He waited until the water was still and then said to Scott, "please put the
ring on, Masta, and look."

Scott did so.  He stared at the still, flat water and then quickly it
changed, showing him pictures of other men with similar rings, going about
their everyday business.  And then he saw LeRoc, speaking earnestly to the
proprietors of an old curiosity shop. With one hand the wizened old man
fondled the hilt of a dagger he had concealed, but Scott could see it.
Scott started, and the vision vanished.  "Did you see that?" he asked.  His
three companions replied no, they had seen nothing.  So he described what
he had seen.  King nodded and said, "Masta Balthazar could always see in
this way, when he wore the ring.  So can Masta LeRoc.  It's how Masta LeRoc
knows when a ring might be found somewhere, perhaps somebody dies or it is
lost.  It's why he goes on these voyages, to find them.  So far he has
not," and the large black man shivered at this.  Scott nodded.

Mrs. L'Enfant's crew came down, declaring they would complete their
cleaning tomorrow.  Twilight was fast approaching.  Niobe returned to the
kitchen to prepare a simple meal.  King returned briefly to LeRoc's
residence to secure it for the night, and to send out some inquiries about
the voodoo queens, and then came back to the house.  The four shared a
simple meal in the kitchen as darkness fell in earnest outside.  They
talked companionably for a while, and then by lantern light Scott studied
the book for another hour, and then it was time to retire.

Scott and King agreed to keep watch until after midnight; Scott had
learned, and King knew from experience, that any magical threat would come
by then, and if it had not, likely would not.  Scott had confidence in the
spells he had set, but also thought keeping watch a good idea.  He thought
for a moment.

"James and Niobe, take the bed in my room," he said.  "King and I will keep
watch until late, and then will find other places to sleep so as not to
disturb you."  A huge smile spread across James's face as the randy
thirteen year old thought of what the night alone with Niobe would bring.
Niobe lowered her head and the faintest smile crossed her lips, but she
nodded in agreement.  Off the two went to wash up and then to bed.

Into the early hours, Scott and King patrolled the house.  The occasional
sound in the street brought one or both to a window to look out, but there
was nothing.  Only once did they see a dark figure dart through the streets
to scoop up the decayed spell and then run off, but nobody lingered.
Midnight struck on the bell at the St. Louis cathedral, then half past the
hour, and Scott and King met in the central wing entry hall.  They agreed
that all was at peace.  Scott had even dared to walk through the dusty
ballroom of the right wing, but felt only peace and silence.

"Come upstairs," Scott said, and King followed him to the second floor.
They peeked into the master bedroom where they found Niobe and James
entwined, fast asleep, the obvious scents of sex floating lightly in the
air.  They smiled at each other.  Then Scott said, "come," and led the way
to the guest bedroom nearest the master bedroom.  Scott said, "We can sleep
here; the bed is large, and we won't disturb James and Niobe."  King nodded
agreement.

The two disrobed together, casting furtive glances at each other.  And then
they stood in only their undergarments before each other.  King gasped.

"Masta Scott," he said, "you look so much like your uncle."

Scott nodded.  He was momentarily confused.  Eighteen, he had been used to
being the "adult" in the house, to dominating James and Niobe as their
senior as well as master.  But in the presence of King, it was something
entirely different. King was a man in the prime of his mature manhood. The
lantern cast enough light for Scott to be able to admire the large black
slave's beautiful body.  Although in his forties, and with a dusting of
grey hair in his tight curls, his muscles were still taut.  His chest
muscles were pads of steel, his abdomen finely chiseled.  King's arms and
legs were powerfully muscled, but everything flowed in perfect proportion.
The light played on his strong African face, strong chiseled cheekbones,
full lips, broad nose.

Scott took a tentative step, and then another, and then he was close enough
to reach out and simply lay a hand on King's chest, to press his palm
against the thick pillow of muscle, to rub a thumb over a nipple.  The two
men stared into each other's eyes and King sighed deeply.  "So much like
your uncle," he said, with mingled delight and loss.  Scott nodded and took
another half step closer and then loosened his own undergarment.  His dusky
rose penis, now rising quickly, sprang out, standing straight out.  King
gasped and a sigh escaped his lips.  He slid his dark brown hands down and
dropped his own undergarment.  A massive, thick, purple black penis sprang
out from beneath a thick and wide patch of pubic hair, above two heavy and
pendulous balls.  The two men drank in the sight of each other for a moment
and rushed into a tight embrace, arms clutching the other body to them,
hands slipping up and down muscled backs.  Their lips met and a long, long
kiss ensued, slow and delighted discovery of tongue and teeth.  Both were
gasping.

"One moment," Scott said with very little breath, and quickly but quietly
darted back to his bedroom.  Niobe and James were still asleep.  He picked
up the pot of goose grease and came running back.  King saw it and
immediately understood its purpose.

Frantic now with lust, eager to give himself to King and to take the
massive black man in his turn, Scott threw himself on the bed, on his back.
He raised his knees up to his chest and began inserting dollops of goose
grease into his anus.  King came immediately to the bed and crouched in
position, towering above the white eighteen year old on the bed.  Scott
greased King's massive penis, relishing the touch of the heavy, hot organ,
and then lay back again, pulling his legs up

Slowly, slowly, King inserted first the head and then an inch and then
another of his thick, midnight black shaft.  Scott gasped and cried out,
but instead of pushing the big black man off he put one hand up to cup the
black slave's neck, his hand brushing his crisp, kinky hair, to pull the
black slave in toward him.  King looked at him with mingled desire and
concern.  "You alright, Masta?" he asked.  By answer Scott nodded once and
then thrust his bottom up toward the waiting black shaft, swallowing it by
another inch, while pulling King down toward him even more.

The black slave then slowly but completely plunged his massive shaft into
the white man beneath him.  He was in heaven, for the white man looked so
much like his departed lover, Balthazar.  He was being given another chance
that he thought he had lost forever.  Completely in, the black waited while
both he and the white man panted, arms grasping, and then he began to pump.
Slowly and then more quickly and then in wide swings, King rammed his
massive black rod into and out of Scott's white bottom.  Scott's pain
subsided and the most intensely erotic feeling of being completely filled
enveloped him.  The white man's dusky rose penis bobbed between them, never
losing its erection.  King arched up over the white man, palms on the bed,
his sweat dripping down now onto the white man's face and chest, harder and
harder, faster and faster, until he slammed forward, clenching his buttocks
and roaring like a lion.  Months of unspent seed exploded out of him to
fill the white man's anus.  It was such a flow that Scott could actually
feel it in his bowels.  King finally stopped, shuddering and giving little
half bucks, and then collapsed directly on top of the white man beneath
him.  Scott held him there for a while, kissing the black man's neck,
pushing his nose into his crisp hair.  Then Scott pushed him off and, as
King looked for directions, positioned the massive black slave to lie on
his belly, his wilting shaft leaking the last of its semen onto the bed
beneath him.

Scott paused for a minute to admire the massive back, the deep valley of
the spine between the hills of muscles, the strong rolls of muscles across
his shoulder and down his arms under the lightly oiled, chocolate black
skin in the dark.  Scott grasped the slab sided but rounded buttocks and
kneaded them, bringing a chuckle of delight from the prostrate black slave.
He dug his fingers deeply into the strong muscles of the black man's
thighs.  Then cramming goose grease into the crack between his buttocks,
and over his own still rampant cock, Scott entered the black man in one
push.

King groaned but, as Scott suspected, it was easier for him.  And Scott was
likewise sure that King was eagerly anticipating a simulation of what he
had enjoyed with Balthazar.  Fully landed, Scott stretched the rest of
himself on the black man's back and pushed his arms beneath the man's body,
palms against the massive chest muscles, pulling himself into the dark
chocolate body beneath him.  Scott began pumping, his ballsack slapping
against the buttocks of the black man, in and out, in and out, in and out,
kissing and chewing the black man's neck and shoulders, tweaking his
nipples hard beneath them, and then with a furious explosion he came,
shooting his white man's seed completely into the anus of the black slave
beneath him.  Scott lay there for what seemed like a long time, shuddering,
fighting for his breath, but neither man wanted to move.  Finally, drained
of energy, Scott slid off.  King turned to pull him into a soft embrace and
arms in arms, legs entwined, the two men slipped off to sleep.

A soft wind moved through the house, the scent of roses exploded sweetly in
every room, and stars twinkled where no window was open.  A sentinel of
pure light wandered the hallways sprinkling blessings, ensuring
peace. There was no safer, nor more blessed house in the Quarter that
night.


Donate to Nifty to keep stories like this accessible:
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Comments welcome: lokiaga@austin.rr.com