Date: Wed, 8 Aug 2012 1:22:11 +0000
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Visit to the Plantation 6

Visit to the Plantation 6
Lance Kyle

Montford Jackson rose early the next morning to head off to Hundred Oaks,
to settle the estate of his friend and client, Martin Merriweather.  He had
an important errand to do on the way, one for which he had already
prepared.  He stopped at the government court house to register the sale of
three slaves--the boys Paris and Pompei, and their mother--by himself as
executor of the estate to himself as private purchaser.  He paid a fair
price for them, and the estate was that much the richer.  Jackson wanted to
arrive at the plantation as the clear and legal owner of those slaves.  He
really didn't care about the mother, but he knew that the boys would be
happier if she were with them, and besides, if he were setting up a regular
staff back in his home, she would be handy for cooking and cleaning and the
like.

It was a long ride, but he pressed on, pausing only long enough to rest and
feed his horse.  Evening shadows were gathering as he rode into the yard of
the old plantation house.  Slaves came to take his horse away and to carry
his luggage up to the room.  The butler was on the steps to greet him
obsequiously.  Most of all, though, he noticed the boys Paris and Pompei,
shyly casting grins in his direction as they took over the luggage and
bustled up the stairs with it.  The butler offered Jackson a drink, which
he accepted, and then the lawyer announced his intention to retire for the
evening, as the next day promised to be busy.  The butler quietly asked if
he wanted the slave girl Cassandra sent to his room.  This time, Jackson
felt he could afford a polite refusal; he did not care what the butler
thought and Merriweather was no longer there.  Bidding the butler good
evening, he mounted the stairs.

He entered his room and locked it.  The slave boys Paris and Pompei were
smiling, eyes averted, and greeted him with subdued warmth.  Walking up to
them, without ceremony he commanded them to undress.  When they were naked,
penises half erect in anticipation, he began what he had been fantasizing
about for days.

He knew that when slaves were sold on the auction block they were often
examined, naked, by prospective owners.  It served the practical purpose of
showing whether there were any visible deformities, whip marks, and the
like that would warn a buyer off.  But he also knew that the examinations
served the purpose of reminding the slaves that they were property, to be
used at the whim of white men, that they had no status of their own from
which to refuse.  He wanted that experience for himself now.  Although he
had already seen and touched every inch of these boys, he now wanted to
experience that full control over another that slavery gave, and that an
examination would signal.

"You boys should know that I have bought you...and your mother.  You will
be coming back to my home," he told them first. Delighted grins broke out
on their faces as they exchanged glances.  "But when slaves are bought they
must first be examined.  I have never examined either of you, and I aim to
do that now."  A puzzled but accepting look now crossed their faces.
"Paris, you first, step over here," he commanded.

The sixteen year old chocolate brown boy did so readily and stood before
the white man, his midnight purple shaft still bobbing semi-erect before
him.  Jackson began.  He ran his fingers through the crisp cap of black
crinkly hair, looking for scars or swellings, all over the boy's head.  He
turned the head to one side and then the other, fingering the ears and
looking inside, rubbing the lobes as he did so.  With his thumbs he
massaged the face, the forehead and cheeks, while the boy kept his eyes
downcast.  He tilted the head back, pushing the nose up a little to look
into it.  The nose had the typical African broad, flat bridge and wide
nostrils, with a little bit of a button to the very end.  Jackson pushed up
on the eyelids that gave an almost almond slant to examine the eyes, pulled
down on the rounded lower lids with slightly sagging skin.  He held the
boy's thick, full, flaring lips in his fingers and pulled them out and up
or down, then pulled the jaw down to open the mouth and look inside at the
tongue and the rows of even teeth.

His hands slid down the strong but narrow neck, down the triangles of
muscles above the collarbones that promised a man's growth yet to come.  He
cupped the rounded, smooth shoulders, ran his hands along the collarbones,
the boy's dark chocolate skin shining of its natural oils.  He slid his
hands down the boy's dark arms, following the long muscles that rose and
fell in long hills down his arms, to the boy's hands, a little large for
his body, strong, promising a man's future growth, then turned the boy's
hands over and examined the light tan palms, noting the clear ridge where
dark chocolate turned to light tan between the top of the hand and the
palm.  Pushing the boy's arms up he rubbed with his thumbs the small bush
of peppercorn tight hair in the boy's armpit, then slid his hands down the
muscular sides and around to the belly, muscled but still with a bit of a
boy's curve, then up over the man-boy's circles of developing chest
muscles, pinching the penny sized nipples as he did so.

Now Jackson called for a chair, which Pompei brought.  He could see
Pompei's thirteen year old penis was in full erection from witnessing his
brother's examination.  Jackson sat in front of Paris, the sixteen year
old's midnight black shaft now also in full erection, and worked his hands
down the boy's thick but slim thighs, squeezing the muscle groups gently as
they rolled to his knees then again to his feet.  Paris sighed in pleasure
at all this.  Jackson commanded the boy to turn around and bend over, and
spreading the boy's thick, slab sided buttocks he examined the anus for
piles; he well knew there would be none.  Again his hands kneaded the back
of the boy's legs all the way down, as Paris moaned again in pleasure.

Jackson commanded the boy to turn around again and told Pompei to bring a
towel, which he spread on the floor between them.  "Now I must see whether
you will make a breeder," he said.  He knew it was absurd, he had seen,
felt, and tasted the boy's semen before, but he was determined to go
through with the ritual.  "Have you been with a girl...other than
Cassandra?" he asked as he cupped the boy's ballsack, heavy and wrinkled
but now tightening up against his body in anticipation.  "Yessuh," breathed
the sixteen year old.  "You make a baby?" he asked, now seizing the boy's
fully erect, painfully straining penis in his white hand.  "No suh"
breathed Paris, now almost panting.  Jackson nodded and began pumping.  "I
have to see if you are a likely breeder," he said, and Paris could only nod
in agreement, now pushing his groin out and up a little as the white man's
hand slid up and down, tightly grasping the thick, warm, pulsing black rod.
It did not take long.  The black slave boy began to moan as the crisis came
on him.  His thirteen year old brother slid up beside him to steady him as
with a strangled cry he threw his head back, pushed his groin forward, and
sent one and then two long ropes of semen straight up into the air, white
drops splattering his dark chocolate, heaving abdomen and then running down
his shaft and the white hand that was slowing in its pumping.  Pompei
steadied him, his eyes on the flow of white from his brother's penis.  The
eruption ended up dripping onto the towel on the floor between them.
Jackson released the penis, which slowly began a curve downward, a silver
thread of fluid falling to dangle a few inches from the end.

"Yes, that will do," said Jackson, then rose and turned to Pompei and said,
"You next."  Paris stepped aside and Pompei took his brother's place, his
toes on the towel in his brother's semen, as the white man went through the
same motions with him.  The boy also declared he had been with a girl
before Cassandra, as indeed he might have; there were plenty of willing
young black girls in nearby plantations and he might well have been
thrusting his hard little rod into them from a young age.  His body was a
younger, slimmer, less developed version of Paris's and Jackson touched
every inch of it, sliding over the thinner muscles.  Then he also seized
the boy's penis and began pumping while Paris stood just behind his brother
to support him.  He had waited longer in a state of erection and so it took
very little time at all for Pompei to cry out, curl his torso and splash
out a couple of dollops of his thirteen year old's semen on his own dark
chocolate abdomen and running down the white fist that was pumping him,
dribbling down below onto the towel.  Jackson nodded again and, drying his
hand on the towel, proceeded directly to undress, the boys helping him.

Jackson had great need, but he also intended to take the boys without
ceremony or discussion, again an assertion of his status as master over
these black boys.  The moment he was undressed, his own man's organ
springing out fully erect, he positioned Paris at the end of the bed, still
standing, and bade the boy lean over against the bed.  Jackson thrust an
oiled finger into the boy's anus, causing him to gasp, then oiled his own
shaft and in one move forced it into the boy's anus then plunging all the
way in.  Paris cried out but did not move.  Jackson began pumping with a
sense of purpose, his hands clutching the boy's muscular hips, fingers
clawing deeply into the butt muscles, pumping hard, pounding, grunting now
with every collision, every forcing of his penis inside the boy, and then
with a cry he slammed forward, pushing the boy against the bed, his hands
now against the boy's muscular shoulders as he emptied himself into the
black bottom.

He had just finished shuddering when he withdrew, his penis still hard, and
commanded Pompei to take his brother's place.  Paris moved to the side, not
complaining but with a few tears in his eyes, and Jackson quickly oiled the
boy's anus, then plunged into him before he could lose his erection.
Pompei cried out but held his ground, feet on the floor and elbows on the
bed, as Jackson landed fully within hm.  The white man pumped slowly at
first, then as he felt a full erection return he began to pump more
vigorously.  Jackson's sexual ardor was inflamed but it still took him
longer than it did with Paris, pumping vigorously while Pompei whimpered
and gasped but held his ground.  But eventually a second orgasm came on and
he slammed forward, pushing the black thirteen year old to the bed,
covering him as he drained the last of his semen into him.  Then he
withdrew in a long, single, motion, with a sucking sound.

The three washed up quietly, the boys not angry but subdued, looking
expectantly at Jackson as will dogs that have been whipped.  Jackson
remained carefully neutral, and even when he piled into the middle of the
bed, a black slave boy on either side, his arms around them, it was in a
quiet and matter of fact way.  There would be time for emotions later.
They drifted off to sleep as master and slaves, with no doubt as to those
statuses.

It was a different matter, although still rich with the taste of slavery,
the next morning.  Part of owning another person, owning their whole body,
their total allegiance, is that one develops a kind of affection or
attraction, based on the fact that this body, this face, this penis, it all
belongs to you.  When Jackson awoke the next morning he found Pompei, on
his right side, was stirring also.  The slave boy startled awake and looked
at his master, expectantly.  Jackson turned some to his right and wrapped
the boy's slim brown body in his arms, now kissing him fully on the lips.
The boy returned the kiss, and they were soon pressing urgently against one
another, mouths fully engaged, Jackson sucking and tonguing those full lips
so different from his own and yet fully his own now.  Behind him he felt
Paris stirring and then a brown arm flop over his torso from behind, a
fully erect penis press against his buttocks as Paris joined in the
embrace.  He turned and left Pompei to hug him from behind, to press a
morning erection against his buttocks, as he took Paris in his arms and
kissed his full lips deeply.

Jackson rolled onto his back and pulled his legs up, motioning Pompei to
squat behind his anus, greasing the black boy's penis, and then pulling the
boy forward as the midnight black thirteen year old's penis slid into him.
He wanted this not because he thought he owed the slave boy anything for
his forceful violation of him the night before but because he simply wanted
a purple black penis inside of him.  Pompei slid in and then held himself
up off the white man with his tan palms splayed against Jackson's cream
chest, looking deeply and longingly into his master's eyes as he pumped
back and forth, back and forth, whimpering now not with pain from his own
violation but with pleasure, and then he groaned, curled forward, and
spasmed as he emptied himself into the white man.  He was shuddering and
gasping when Jackson pushed him off and tugged Paris into place for the
same thing, placing the thick sixteen year old coal black dick at his anus
and with his heels pulling the black boy forward so that Paris slid into
the white man's anus on a slick of his brother's semen.  He sat there on
his haunches, pumping back and forth, his heaving torso straight up above
the white man so that Jackson could see the beating of his heart beneath
the skin of his chest, could see his belly muscles working as he labored
back and forth, back and forth, and then Paris also moaned and bucked,
twice and then three times, as he emptied a load into the white man.  He
stayed motionless, tall, for a moment, then gave a last shudder and toppled
back to Jackson's side.

The white man simply indicated his towering dusky rose erection and said,
"Suck it."  Pompei, recovered from his orgasm, leapt to it and began
sucking vigorously, while Paris helped by wrapping a chocolate fist around
the white man's shaft.  In but a moment Jackson groaned, pushed his groin
straight up, and shot a fountain into Pompei.  He collapsed back and Paris
pushed his brother off the oozing dick, taking it into his own mouth in
time for a second fountain from Jackson.  Between the two black slave boys
they cleaned the organ off completely.

After they had cleaned up, as they were getting dressed, Jackson explained
the day's procedure to them, confident that word would get around among the
slave community.  He was to meet with Alexander Wendell and his son Wallace
today.  Wallace was getting married, and Alexander was eager to set his son
up with a complete establishment, lock, stock and barrel...including human
stock.  Jackson casually mentioned his desire to sell the property whole,
splitting up the slave community as little as possible, and his idea that
this sale would achieve that objective.  He reiterated again that the boys
and their mother were his property, however, and should prepare to come
with him.  As soon as he went down to breakfast the boys scampered off,
Jackson knew they were going to spread the news to all the other slaves.

The Wendells arrived, by appointment, shortly after breakfast.  Jackson,
with the help of the butler, gave them a tour of the property.  Many of the
fields were under lease to others, but the rents would accrue to the estate
and once the leases were up the lands could be reclaimed.  The buildings
and equipment were examined, and seemed satisfactory.

After the tour, the Wendells asked about the "servants," by which they
meant the slaves.  Jackson read off a list of the slaves to be gathered to
the butler, a list including all but the three he had already purchased.
Soon they were all, the butler included, gathered inside a nearby barn.
The Wendells and Jackson walked over to inspect them.  There were only
about nine or ten of them.  The older men and women were given cursory
examinations, but the younger men and women were told to strip, and one by
one each stood naked in front of the rest of the community to be fingered
in detail.  Jackson watched with particular interest as young Wendell
fondled and fingered Cassandra, who stood naked, her orange sized breasts
pert and taut, a look of careful detachment on her face.  The young men,
whom Jackson knew as footmen and stable hands, were rubbed and examined
closely, and yes they also were masturbated, showing with rich streams of
white semen their suitability to breed.

The examination of the property complete, the Wendells withdrew apart a few
feet and discussed the matter among themselves.  When they came back, they
had an offer of money for the whole parcel.  Jackson countered, they
countered, but before long the matter was settled.  The slaves heard enough
of the transaction, which deeply affected their lives, to know exactly what
was transpiring, and they whispered among themselves.  The deal struck,
Jackson turned to them to announce that the whole estate remaining after
the sale of three slaves to himself, and they all knew who those three
were, was to be sold to the Wendells, who intended to establish young
Master Wallace as owner of the plantation.  Wallace was brought forward and
introduced as their new master.  The slaves smiled and nodded, muttering
their welcomes to the white man, and Cassandra looked at him with special
interest.

The white men repaired to the house to finish the paperwork, while now a
real conversation sprang up among the slaves.  They bade farewell to Paris,
Pompei, and their mother, but they all felt a great deal of relief that the
sale of the estate had occurred without further dissolution, and that most
friendships and family bonds would survive.

Inside, the white men finished paperwork and then all three mounted horses
to ride to the nearest county seat, where the documents would be entered
into the records of the court.  They enjoyed a meal in a local pub
together, and then Jackson rode back alone.  For the rest of the day he
labored over getting all the paperwork in order, preparing documents to be
filed with the court for disbursement of the estate, making sure everything
was in proper form.  He interrupted his work with a light, solitary supper,
and finished just as evening shadows were darkening.  He put everything in
order to take to the courthouse the next day.  Leaving the butler to turn
out the light and lock the doors, he mounted the stairs to his room, and
his property.

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