Date: Tue, 18 Oct 2011 15:24:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: Christian Debus <servus4u@ymail.com>
Subject: Changed Circumstances  Chapter 44

CHANGED CIRCUMSTANCES
A Sequel to "A Reversal of Fortune"
Chapter 44: "Taken to the River"

This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of
eighteen years

Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris)
"To see all my stories go to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories

Chapter 44: Taken to the River

Running alongside of Honky proved an enjoyable experience; I really
relished the exercise and the fact that I could stretch out my legs and
take long strides. My body - and my muscles - had been conditioned on the
water-wheel but that was to strengthen my cardio- vascular system and to
build up the strength in my upper body, thighs and legs. And it had
succeeded, for I felt better than I had ever done. I knew instinctively
that I would be proud of the body that lay beneath the grime which
encrusted it.

And while the wheel had served its purpose most admirably, the pace of my
circular perambulations had been slow and had varied very little. That
morning, as I ran, I felt the power surge through my body. My heart beat
with a steady rhythm, my breathing was deep and even, my corded legs and
thighs coiled and uncoiled with clock spring precision and I felt the power
surge through my body. In truth, I felt good and I knew this augured well
for my future role as one of my Master's ponies.

I had run alongside Norge on several occasions and I'd always enjoyed the
close proximity to him. But that day, as I ran alongside Sir Regis's pony,
Honky I had time to scrutinise and admire him. And I liked what I saw.

Honky's physique was that of a true pony. Tall and long-legged, it lacked
the bulk of the heavy duty draft animal and, in fact, I had several
opportunities to make that comparison for myself as we briskly trotted past
the slow, lumbering drays hauled by their teams of twenty, sweating and
straining slaves.

Their wretchedness and their suffering took on new meaning for me; for I
was on my way to join such a team. Soon, the wooden yoke-beam would rest
heavily across my shoulders and my naked back would be exposed to the whips
of my dray's supervisor.

Even though Honky lacked the bulk of a draft, he nevertheless impressed
with his physique.  His superb musculature was highlighted by the taut
leanness of his body and he exuded absolute power and strength. He moved
with easy grace and I matched my steps to his as we ran in tandem.

I was surprised by my ability to do this. In the past, whenever I'd run
with Norge, I'd been hard-pressed to pace my steps to his and often I'd
lagged behind. I'd simply tried to keep up with him - not always
successfully - and perhaps I'd even slowed him down. Certainly, I recall
that our Master had frequently resorted to the whip to spur us along.

That morning, I realised my training on the water-wheel had helped prepare
me for this and there was a measure of satisfaction in knowing that just
six weeks of preparation had raised my fitness to such levels as to allow
me to run effortlessly with Honky. Paradoxically, I even felt a sense of
pride in my new found ability.

                            >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After Claymore Jackson and Colton had taken their leave of them, Sir Regis
and Sir Conn examined my back. As they did so, I sensed a degree of concern
on Regis's part. Obviously, he'd been obliged to carry out Claymore's order
that I be whipped. So in a sense the responsibility for any whip damage
done to me would rest with the chief overseer and not with his junior.

But, Sir Regis was well aware of my Master's instructions that I wasn't to
be permanently marked - and I was aware that all La Foret's overseers knew
of this - but I wasn't aware of their resentment at my 'special treatment'.
I didn't know they saw me as a spoiled slave whose Master was mollycoddling
him.

Of course the real reason for their resentment was that they were denied
access to my charms. Any new slave brought to the plantation is welcomed as
a diversion - to be used sexually - by both the overseers and the older
hands among the slave herd. And, by my Master's strict instructions, they
had been denied that with me.

Indeed, I had seen Pollux sorely abused by my fellow slaves until he fell
under the protection of a dominant slave.  This was fortuitous for Pollux
as, from then on, he was spared the multiple raping that was the hallmark
of his first, few nights in the stables.

However, I was unaware that Pollux had also been much used by the
overseers. Pollux's initial appeal to them was understandable. When he'd
first arrived at La Forˆt, he was a most desirable slave. Unmarked and
unsullied, he'd presented an agreeable sight and his cleanness was in sharp
contrast to the unkempt appearances of the longer serving field slaves. Who
then could blame the overseers for using his mouth and his ass for their
gratification?

When first I'd set eyes on Pollux in the slave-pens as my Master examined
him, he'd stirred me. I still remember my Master laughing at my obvious
erection and his admonition to "steady on there, Rafe". I'd burned with
embarrassment but I couldn't deny my lustful attraction for Pollux. The
sight of him provocatively wriggling his ass through the bars of his prison
to arouse my Master's interest had also worked its charm on me.

Later, I'd had time to study Pollux more fully and I never doubted for one
minute that, had I been his owner, I would have fucked him hard and
often. And I'd wondered if, in fact, our Master had done so.

Those first few days in the slave-gang must have been taxing ones for poor
Pollux. As I knelt at the feet of Sir Conn and took his cock into my mouth
or toiled on the water-wheel, I didn't know that somewhere out in the
fields an overseer, in need of urgent sexual relief, would withdraw Pollux
from his labours and order him onto his hands and knees, to spread his legs
and to open his body for an impatient, rampant cock.

Mercifully, as Pollux's body became begrimed by the sweat and dirt of his
labours and he acquired the animal smell of a common work slave, the
overseers soon lost interest in him and he enjoyed a measure of relief.

Yet, I knew from my time as the owner of La Forˆt, there were many
occasions when an overwrought overseer, no longer able to suppress his
need, would select a comely young slave from a work-gang and take him to
the river for cleansing. Once the slave had washed away the accumulated
filth from his body, there on the riverbank, he'd then be used sexually.

How did I know this?

Always, as I drove around on my daily tours of inspection, I would notice
some slaves were cleaner than others and had obviously been - in one of the
many euphemisms of the overseers - "taken to the river".

Claymore Jackson had confirmed this practice to Lucien Barrois on several
occasions declaring it to be a perk of the job. As Lucien, I had found this
to be perfectly acceptable and had never raised any objection.

And I had no doubt the overseers would have treated me no differently to
Pollux had my Master allowed it. That he'd placed me under sexual
quarantine had obviously piqued the overseers. I suppose the prospect of
fucking the man who'd once employed them had some particular appeal and my
Master's edict against them doing so probably frustrated them.

However, as relieved and thankful as I was to my Master for his decision to
keep me free of sexual molestation there was an underlying question that
nagged at me. Were his reasons altruistic or was there another more selfish
reason for my preservation. Was he to exercise his Master's entitlement
under the "ius primae noctis" law - the law of the first night - and take
me into his bed and be the first to fuck me?

As a former Master, I knew this to be a distinct possibility.  My French
heritage reminded me of the ancient concept of "droit de jambage" whereby a
lord had the right to take the virginity of his vassals. Somehow, I knew
that Guy Maratier would take my virginity - after all, in his position I
would do the same.  And as distasteful as this prospect appeared there was
however, some solace in it for me. After my Master grew tired of me and
caste me from his bed, I would be free to submit to Norge and open up my
body to him.

Sir Regis examined my back and commented to Sir Conn.

"No lasting damage has been done to the slave. Mind you, he'll have a sore
back and he'll wear the stripes for a few days. But he'll need to get used
to that. That's a slave's lot. Still I'll play safe and rub some salve into
the welts."  Sir Regis was correct; my back was indeed sore.  That morning,
I had experienced both the cane and the whip. Which was worse?

I had felt the intensity of the cane's pain as Colton, the major domo had
applied it to my shoulders, ass and thighs. The pain was immediate and
terrible to experience. Yet, its intensity was concentrated on my body's
surface and gave way to a dull ache that quickly faded from memory leaving
just the angry red welts as visible evidence of my caning. And over the
next few days, these changed - to blue-black bruising.

The whip's pain was more intense than the cane's; it was deep seated and
longer lasting.  And I was to find that it lingered far longer in the mind
than the body. The physical pain travelled deep through solid muscle and
flesh and yet it was the emotional pain and the anguish which embedded
itself permanently into my consciousness.

As Lucien, I had heard old hands say that the memory of the lash never
fades and that it lingers forever. That morning, I learned that was
true. The memory of my whipping will be uppermost in my mind for the
remainder of my days.

Mercifully, my whipping had been a light one of only five strokes but its
intensity served to focus my mind on avoiding any future whipping at all
costs. I would, in future, apply myself diligently to all instructions
given to me by my overseers and I would work hard to please my Master.

Over the past six weeks, I'd suffered the occasional blow from Sir Conn's
whip and thinking back on this, I realised that he'd treated me
lightly. True, there had been some pain as his whip fell across my exposed
back but it primary purpose was to rouse me from my inattention to my
duties and startle me into action rather than to punish me.

However, there was a distinction between the occasional cut of the whip
given by Sir Conn and the whipping I'd received from Sir Regis. I won't
exaggerate and call my punishment at Sir Regis's hands a flogging. That
would be to diminish the suffering of all those of my fellow slaves who
have experienced severe flogging.

What I'd experienced from Sir Conn's whip was an incentive to do better;
what I'd suffered under Sir Regis was punishment and there was shame and
humiliation in this for me.

Over the coming days, the whip's pain will diminish but it will be replaced
with a feeling of deep shame. Perhaps that is the whip's true legacy.

At society's instigation, a slave lives a degraded life! It is one of
unremitting hard labour over long hours, strict discipline and harsh
treatment. These are the outward manifestations of slavery and they are
there for all to see.

But what's not obvious to the disinterested observer is the slave's inner
suffering. Within the tumult of his emotions there is the sense of his own
worthlessness at his lowly status together with the deep depression caused
by his condition. And superimposed over these is the forced acceptance of
his utter helplessness!

And a slave's helplessness is never more apparent than when he is tied to
the whipping-post and ritualistically beaten at his master's behest.

After my whipping, as Sir Regis applied the soothing salve to my welted
back, it served as a balm for my pain but not for my soul. I knew the pain
would disappear along with the stripes. But my feelings of shame and
humiliation occasioned my whipping were deeply imbedded into my psyche and
would remain with me throughout my slavery.

It can be said that, for a slave, the whip's pain is a lesson learned but
its true aftermath for him is in the further diminishing of his humanity.

                                    >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

After the more or less sedentary nature of the water-wheel, running
alongside of Honky proved to be an enjoyable experience. It felt so good to
stretch out and to pace myself to his speed. Of course, he is an
experienced pony and his running was effortless. I felt the surge of his
power and I tried to match it. But of course, he was the one in harness and
all the work fell on his shoulders.

But it was an insight into my own future. Within a few months, I would be
in harness, running alongside Norge as we pulled our Master's trap. That
morning, I can truthfully say I looked forward to that day with all my
heart. Uppermost in my mind was my need to be re- united with my beloved
Norge.

But that was in the future; I still had two more phases of my pony training
to complete before I was considered worthy enough to serve as one of Guy
Maratier's personal ponies.

The fact that the two overseers were taking me into the fields to begin the
second part of my conditioning weighed heavily on my mind. Very shortly, I
would be placed in a team of twenty, heavy-duty drafts and I would spend
the next six weeks learning to work as a member of that team. The prospect
of this appalled me not least because I was powerless to stop it.

As Honky and I stepped out, it seemed that both Sir Conn and Sir Regis were
in high spirits. I didn't hear their conversation over the steady pounding
of our feet and the scrunching of the cart's wheels in the gravelled
surface of the track leading out into the fields. But their laughter was
enough to tell me that they were in high spirits.

For my part, my attention was focused on what was happening in the adjacent
fields where the harvest was now underway. I watched as the slaves were
bent to their labours and I heard the load shouting of the overseers and
the sinister hiss and crack of impatient whips as they sought out and found
the back of any slave not giving of his best effort.

But of more interest to me were the flat-top drays slowly lumbering to and
from the fields delivering the harvest into the central mill.

I saw the straining, stressed bodies of the wretched drafts as they hauled
their impossibly heavy loads out of the fields and into the mills and I
noted their brief respite as they quickly trundled the empty drays back out
for a return load.

And I fully expected that Sir Regis would soon draw Honky to a halt and
harness me into one of those teams.

But the overseers had one more stop to make before that
happened. Temporarily, I'd forgotten that Honky and I were to provide them
with 'relief' in some quiet secluded spot.

After running for some twenty minutes, I noted the gradual slowing down in
Honky's pace; almost as though we'd reached our destination.  I hadn't
heard Sir Regis instruct him to "slow down" and it seemed to me that he'd
acted on his own initiative. If I'd been familiar with the pattern of Sir
Regis's and Honky's first run of the morning, I would know that this was a
regular occurrence for them. And as I glanced sideways at Honky, I detected
an air of eagerness in his demeanour; almost one of anticipation.

We had reached a secluded spot by the broad river - isolated from the work
gangs - and one obviously well known to Honky. He and Sir Regis were
frequent visitors and had spent much time here.

Honky turned of the roadway and stopped in a cleared grove of tall, stately
willows lining the river bank. The spot was idyllic. The overhang of the
trees caste dappled shade onto the lush green grass of the
river-bank. Here, all was silent save for the gentle rush of the flowing
water, the bird chorus high up in the overhead, green canopy and the
honking of waterfowl as they splashed and fed in the rushes growing at the
river's edge.

I could see that Honky was in a heightened state of excitement. His chest
heaved from his accelerated breathing and his body quivered in anticipation
of his driver's use of his body.

Earlier, I'd overheard Sir Regis's offer to allow Sir Conn to use Honky's
ass for his sexual gratification. In return, Sir Regis was to use
me. However, by my Master's orders, my ass was inviolate and so Sir Regis
could only use my mouth.

Fondly, I recalled the secluded spot close to the water-wheel where Sir
Conn had taken me each morning and where I had honed my skills of giving
him oral sex. At first, I'd resented being used in this way but my
opposition quickly evaporated in the face of the intense pleasure I
received from servicing Sir Conn's cock. Very soon, I'd looked forward to
those clandestine moments away from prying eyes when I could pay homage to
him. Now it appeared I was to pay similar homage to Sir Regis.

I had mixed feelings about this. After all I'd only ever used my mouth to
give pleasure to few others. Among these were Sir Conn and of course
Norge. Sir Regis was new to me and I'd met him for the first time that
morning and I was in fear and awe of him. And less than an hour ago, he'd
whipped me. My concern was that somehow I would disappoint him and make him
angry.

Both overseers tumbled out of the trap and quickly stripped naked before
plunging into the river. As they splashed playfully in the cool water,
Honky and I could only watch enviously at the freedom our overseers enjoyed
but which was denied us.

I remember how as a boy, a youth and a man, I had once enjoyed the sheer
delight of stripping naked in the heat of the day and cooling down in the
waters of this same river.

I watched as Sir Conn and Sir Regis splashed and frolicked in the water and
it highlighted the bitter loss of freedom I had suffered the day I became a
slave. All the spontaneity had been taken from me and I was made totally
dependent on my superiors for even the most trivial things that free men
don't give second thought.

Their noisy cavorting scattered the waterfowl and stilled the birds in the
tree canopy but their joy of life was so evident. It was a joy that neither
Honky nor I shared.

After a while both men grew tired of their water frolics and climbed out
onto the river-bank and as I watched, I was reminded of two water gods
emerging from the ocean's depths.  Briefly they stood side by side and
shook the excess water from their bodies. The sun caste dappled shade on
their water glistening bodies and their magnificent torsos gave the
impression they were carved from the exquisite black marble so popular with
Renaissance sculptors.

I felt the first stirrings of my erection and a quick look at Honky showed
that he was already rampantly erect.

Obviously, both overseers were comfortable in their common nudity; there
were no signs of any inhibitions on their part.  Of course, they ignored us
and we had no part to play in their sensibilities. Honky and I, as slaves,
were non-persons and so they thought no more of disporting naked in front
of us than they would in front of a family pet or any other of the
domesticated livestock on the plantation.

Honky waited expectantly; always this was a scheduled break in his daily
routine with Sir Regis and one he eagerly anticipated. However this
morning, there was to be a change in this routine. Sir Conn - and nor Sir
Regis - was to fuck him.

But the overseers were in no hurry to use us and we were left to stand
quietly as they boisterously wrestled with one another.

I stood entranced by the activities of both Black overseers. Their nude
bodies twisted and writhed in one another's strong embrace as each tried to
get the upper hand. The contortions of their water gleaming bodies and the
intertwining of their limbs playing out before Honky and me were
reminiscent of an erotic Olympian tableau on some ancient Grecian urn or an
ornament carved from shining ebony.

Together Honky and I watched the play of their strong muscles rippling
under the warm mahogany of their skins and the flexing of their powerful
buttocks as each sought to secure his footing against the thrusts of his
opponent's upper body.

And as they duelled, I caught tantalising glimpses of their straining asses
and of their pendulous balls swinging freely between their strong thighs.

I'm not sure how long their jousting continued. But it finished as quickly
as it had begun with neither declaring himself the winner. Both Sir Conn
and Sir Regis collapsed laughing onto the grass and lay side by side to
recover from their exertions. Both rested with their bodies outstretched;
Sir Regis reclined on his back using his elbows as support and Sir Conn on
his front with his folded arms serving as a cushion for his head.

This gave Honky and me an unimpeded view of Sir Regis's prodigious cock
lying at rest on top of his balls and an exquisite view of the rounded orbs
of Sir Conn's curvaceous ass.

I was enthralled by the erotic spectacle of these two proudly naked Black
overseers who were quite obviously my physical superiors.

Lying side by side, their conversation was interspersed with ribald
laughter and I wondered if Honky and I were the subjects of their humour.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by Sir Conn's startled cry of
surprise as Sir Regis playfully slapped his ass and I heard his comment.

"Right then, Conn! Let's have you up on your feet. It's time we attended to
these two white boys and give them what they're both panting for."

Hastily, Sir Conn scrambled to his feet and with Sir Regis, he walked
towards Honky and me.  As they approached, my eyes were transfixed on their
cocks which showed their burgeoning interest in the two of us.

Regis wasted no time in unfastening us. As he was unharnessed, Honky, as
though he was acting on cue, fell to the ground, placed himself on all
fours and positioned his ass ready for his coupling. Obviously, his driver
had trained him well.

Unsure of what to do, I stood hesitantly and waited for Sir Regis's
instruction.

As he surveyed me, His nose wrinkled in disgust at the unsavoury condition
of my body.

"You stink to high heaven, boy! Get into the river and clean yourself up."

I needed no second bidding; I ran to the river and took a high, flying jump
into the water.  Eagerly, I splashed around - oh how good it felt - but my
high-spirits earned me a stern rebuke from Sir Regis.

"Stop fooling around, Dumbass. I told you to clean yourself up. Now get to
it."

Subdued, I stood waist-deep in the water and washed my body. I used my
hands both as soap and sponge and washed away the accumulated sweat, filth
and other detritus of the past six weeks. Several times, I plunged beneath
the water, resurfaced and rubbed my hands through the stubbled hair on my
scalp. I palmed my hands down over my chest and belly and I paid particular
attention to my genitals and ass-crack. How pleasant it felt.

Momentarily, I had a sense of the freedom I'd once enjoyed and taken for
granted. As I cavorted in the river, I was like a small boy or an exuberant
youth and I was content to luxuriate in the almost sensuous feel of the
water's coolness against my naked flesh. Once more I was called back to the
grim reality of my day by Sir Regis's angry shout to.

"Get out of the water, NOW!"

Sheepishly, I scrambled out of the water and up the steep incline of the
river's bank to where Sir Regis stood waiting with his cane in his hand. As
I crawled onto the grassy verge Sir Regis playfully swiped my ass with his
cane and ordered me to my knees.

As I knelt, I looked to where Honky was crouching. His ass faced towards me
and I could see his low hanging balls suspended between his strong
thighs. Expectantly, his head was turned to his rear waiting for
developments.

"What are you waiting for Conn?" Sir Regis asked. "Can't you see Honky is
ready and rearing to go?  It's time for you to get stuck in!"

I'm not sure if Sir Regis comment about "getting stuck in" was a deliberate
play on words or the first thing that came to mind. But Sir Conn needed no
second bidding and he took Sir Regis's injunction ... literally.

I watched - with just a touch of envy - as Sir Conn positioned himself
behind the kneeling pony and placed the head of his cock at the entrance to
Honky's body. Honky's response was both enthusiastic and immediate. He
relaxed his body as he pushed his ass back against Sir Conn's engorged
member and his willingness to take it into the warm recess of his body was
clearly evident.

Sir Conn's enthusiasm equalled that of Honky's; he dispensed with all
niceties and with several mighty thrusts of his hips his swollen cock was
soon buried deep within the pony's rectum. Honky's initial gasp of surprise
at this invasion of his body soon gave way to appreciative grunts and softs
moans of pleasure.

I was envious of the sight being played out before me and I was jealous of
Honky. Each morning for the past six weeks, I'd knelt before Sir Conn and
I'd taken his prodigious member into my mouth. In some foolish way, I felt
I had some claim on my handler's cock and I was resentful of it being used
on Honky. To date, I'd only ever taken it into my mouth but that morning I
wished I was in Honky's place.

As I watched Sir Conn fucking the pony, I was fascinated by the
co-ordinated play of his back muscles, the thrusting of his powerful hips
and the flexing and tightening of his ass-cheeks supported by the two
columns of his corded thighs. The early morning sunlight filtering down
through the trees caste dancing shadows on his body and his sex induced
sweat beaded on the rich mahogany of his skin.

I heard Sir Conn's heightened breathing and the slapping of his hard, black
flesh against the pony's yielding, white ass and enviously, I heard Honky's
vocalising of his mounting passion.

I was entranced by the erotic spectacle of their rutting and all my
attention was focused on Sir Conn's powerful riding of the slave beneath
him. The young overseer's demeanour was one of total disregard for the
slave. Leaning forward, he took hold of Honky's grotesque mane and used it
to steady the pony's body against the increasing violence of his thrusting.

All of this distracted me and I'd forgotten why I was on my knees. However,
Sir Regis hadn't forgotten and his sudden cuff to my right ear re-focused
my attention on him. He tapped the side of my mouth with cock and ordered
me to.

"Open your mouth, boy! You have a job to do. Stay focused and don't concern
yourself with what's happening to Honky."

My world was centred on Sir Regis and I gazed with awe at his cock. Even in
its flaccid state it was impressive. His was only the second black man's
I'd ever seen and yet I wasn't altogether a stranger to black cock. After
all, I'd been servicing Sir Conn's on a daily basis for the past six weeks.

As I knelt at Sir Regis's feet, the thought uppermost in my mind was about
the enormity of the task in front of me and how fortunate I was to have had
those six weeks of practise.  Without them, I doubt that I would have been
equal to the task.

I remembered back over those six weeks and how difficult it had been at
first for me to take Sir Conn's cock into my mouth. I recalled my initial
inability to do so and of my desperate struggles against the unaccustomed
invasion of my throat.  Sir Conn was annoyed with me and he'd cuffed my
head before grabbing hold of my ears and using them as handles to hold my
face against his groin. There was no escaping his insistence and yet I
struggled in his firm grasp. I recalled my gagging and spluttering as I
tried desperately to meet his impatient demands and of my panicky belief
that my air supply had been choked off.

My desperation was matched by Sir Conn's impatience and it would have to be
said my first attempts at giving oral satisfaction to a Black man was a
dismal failure. Certainly Sir Conn believed so and in his frustration, he
berated me and told me I must do better or suffer the consequences of my
disobedience.

Consequently, the remainder of that first day was filled with trepidation
for what awaited me the next morning should I fail to give Sir Conn the
satisfaction he demanded from me.

But it has to be said that all things can be mastered and with perseverance
and my determination to do better, I did improve to such an extent that Sir
Conn often affectionately referred to me as his "white cocksucker".

Sir Regis was impatient for me to start and he pushed my head down onto his
cock. Yet I did have time to do a quick appraisal of his prodigious
genitalia and his cock even exceeded Sir Conn's in both length and
girth. This was confirmation of a thought that had been running through my
mind these past few weeks, namely - "were all Black men as well-endowed as
my handler?"

Sir Regis gave an eloquent answer to my question. Indeed they are!

 Sir Regis was circumcised - as was Sir Conn - and I wondered if that was
accepted practice among the Black Race. But the question was academic and I
wasn't there to consider such matters. Sir Regis required more urgent and
practical things of me.

Even in its semi-aroused state his cock was notable for its length and
thickness. As I noted the swelling of the heavy veins on the surface of the
blue-black shaft, I felt a stirring in my own loins and the flaring
mushroom shaped glans beckoned for my attention.

Eagerly, I leant forward and began to caress it with my moist tongue. As I
did so, I felt a slight shiver run through Sir Regis's body and I heard his
soft sigh of anticipation.  Emboldened, I ran the tip of my tongue down
along the underside of his shaft to his scrotum where I paused long enough
to take each ball into my mouth and suckle on it. I savoured both the scent
and taste of his manhood and my own cock responded in the only way it
could.

But Sir Regis was becoming impatient and he grabbed my head to guide my
mouth to his cockhead. Once more, he used his prick to tap the side of my
mouth and once more I was commanded to.

"Open wide Dumbass! Take my cock into your mouth."

As I looked hesitantly at Sir Regis, it wasn't my ability to satisfy him
that worried me. Rather it was my ability to take his massive, thickly
veined prick into my mouth and throat.

I tried to obey but I struggled to take the massive organ into my mouth's
embrace. Over the past six weeks the muscles of my jaws and throat had been
exercised extensively by Sir Conn and they were relaxed. Yet, try as hard
as I might to accommodate Sir Regis, I failed.  And I failed dismally.

Sir Regis held my head in a vice-like grip and forced my head down on to
his cock. Then with a powerful thrust, he rammed it deep within my mouth.

I battled during those first few moments; the bulbous cockhead filled my
mouth and my throat muscles closed up in an attempt to stop any further
intrusion. Impatiently, Sir Regis grabbed hold of my ears and slammed into
me and berated me for my poor performance.  He called me a useless,
worthless white slave and told me of the great honour he - a Black man -
was paying me in allowing me to suck his cock.  And as he scolded me, he
continued to box my ears as ordered me to.

"Try harder, Dumbass or I'll whip your sorry white ass. Now open up and
take it all!"

He ignored my gagging and my spluttering and through my struggling panic I
heard him tell me to relax and breath through my nose. Mercifully, he
paused with his thrusting long enough to allow me to settle into a pattern
of deep rhythmic, nasal breathing. With each breathe, my panic subsided and
the muscles of my throat relaxed enough to allow me to swallow a little
more of his cock into its depths.

Dutifully, I applied myself to giving Sir Regis the pleasure he demanded of
me. I drew on my past experiences with Sir Conn, Norge and my Master's
guests at his soiree and worked hard to please the Black overseer. And I
had to admit to myself that it felt good. Very Good! It was becoming more
pleasurable for me and I hoped it was proving so for him.

And it was soon obvious that I was pleasing him. I felt the tightening of
Sir Regis's body, the arching of his back and the clenching of his ass as
he continued to thrust into me. I listened to his soft moans of pleasure
and noted his rising passion. My bobbing head kept time with the to and fro
thrusts of his hips and we were lost to all around us.

And yet, vaguely, in the background, I did heard Honky's loud, appreciative
grunting as Sir Conn plunged deep into him, but I paid them scant
attention.

Temporarily, I forgot that I was a slave and that Sir Regis was my
superior. Then, I began to feel the first small bursts of his impending
ejaculation and to taste the sweetness of his essence.

With our rising ardour, we quickened our pace. Simultaneously, my mouth
siphoned and my throat muscles massaged his cock; stimulating and coaxing
it into a final, climactic eruption.  Once more, I felt the arching of his
back and the tight clenching of his buttocks; my ears rang from his loud,
exultant cry as the floodgates of his passion opened to overwhelm me.  Wave
after wave filled my mouth to overflowing and in my eagerness to please him
I swallowed hard. I owed it to him not to allow one drop of his precious
semen to spill on the ground.

I waited patiently as his cock wilted in my mouth and for our laboured
breathing to subside.  I looked up into his face and I was rewarded with a
pat on the head. I saw the beads of sweat trickling down his chest and over
his belly and I found the heady scent of his perspiration intoxicating.

I remained on my knees and maintained a respectful silence as I waited for
Sir Regis's next command.

I watched intently while Sir Conn continued his hard riding of Honky and I
heard his loud, exultant cry of satisfaction as he climaxed inside the
pony's quivering body. Breathing heavily, he lay prone along Honky's sweat
covered back as his cock wilted and his breathing returned to normal.

Obviously, Honky had pleased Sir Conn. By way of satisfaction he gave Honky
a series of hard slaps on the ass as he expressed his thanks to Sir Regis.

"Man! That was so good! Regis, your pony is one helluva fuck!"

"I told you he was, Conn. I said you'd enjoy him. And your boy is a great
cocksucker by the way. We'll have to do this again if you're up for it?"

"YES! YES! Please Regis. Tomorrow?"

"Conn! Your enthusiasm shows your satisfaction with my pony. I'm glad Honky
gave you a good ride. I've never had a complaint with him. He's always
ready and rearing to go. What a pity we can't use Dumbass here. I'd love to
find out if his ass is as half as good as his mouth.  It's a pity his ass
is out of bounds."

I listened as the two overseers discussed Honky and me. It was obvious both
were pleased with our performances. I wondered whether these interactions
would become a regular feature of my day and would they continue to use
Honky and me for their sexual gratification.

Then I remembered that I am to work in a team of drafts and that most
likely this would limit Sir Regis's access to me. Still, I hoped that
somehow he'd find a way around this. I hope so!

"Tell me Regis. Did Dumbass satisfy you too?"

"Yes eventually. But he started out badly though. Coughing and spluttering
as though he was choking. But a few cuffs to the ears soon brought him into
line. However, once I got him started I had no complaints. I have to hand
it to you, Conn. You have trained him well. I love his tongue action by the
way. Did you train him or does that come naturally?"

"Dumbass is a natural cocksucker, Regis.  It's one of his better features."

"I'd have to agree with you on that Conn. Are we are both satisfied with
the two slaves? If so, do you think we should reward them? What do you say
Conn? Have they earned it?"

"Well I'm happy with Honky's efforts and obviously Dumbass pleased you. But
what type of a reward do you have in mind Regis? I would think allowing
them to service our cocks is reward enough for them."

"It's nothing too generous. I thought a portion of apple would show that we
are pleased with them. I sometimes give Honky a slither of apple as a
reward after I've used him. He's always very appreciative and I think it
makes him perform better the next time in the hope for further reward."

"I'm ok with that Regis. Look, I'm sorry to break up the party, but
shouldn't we be moving on? I mean we need to get Rafe out and into a team
before Claymore shows up. I think he'd be unhappy if Dumbass isn't in
harness and hitched to a cart on his next round of inspection."

"You're right Conn! We should get a move on. Look, will you hitch Honky to
the cart and secure Rafe?  I'll cut an apple and they can chew on it as
they run."

To be continued.......