Date: Fri, 9 Sep 2005 06:36:14 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dad And Me, Part 8

Dad And Me   by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories in
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  8

After I'd watched dad fuck the nigga girl, I don't
know what happened to him as Andy signed to me that
we'd better get out of the place before we were
spotted.  Dad didn't appear for supper, either,
although it was clear that the niggas knew what had
been going on, as the girl who served us now started
nudging me and making remarks about what a BIG man my
dad was!

After I'd eaten I went back to our shed and stripped
off and lay there on the narrow mattress - I had asked
dad why we couldn't sleep in our shorts, and he told
me that Mr Stryker had said that it wasn't good for
men to have their dicks constricted when they slept,
and that anyway it crumpled the shorts to have us lie
in them all night.  Consequently Stryker had decreed
that we had to sleep naked, and dad had just given a
kind of shrug when I looked a bit shocked, as if to
say "well those are the rules".  I was worried,
really, about how dad had changed to being this kind
of subservient guy, who now meekly obeyed them, and
did as he was told, and the more I thought about it,
the more I just knew that "my" dad, the one who'd
looked after me for the last four years, just wouldn't
do that.  He'd argue, and refuse to obey, even if it
did mean he was punished for it.

It was good to be able to jerk off without dad lying
next to me, though, and I took the opportunity to
really enjoy myself, not being inhibited by worrying
that dad would hear my hand slapping on my dick, and
feel my body move as I climaxed.   Just as I'd almost
finished, dad came in, though, dropped his shorts, but
instead of just lying down, he sat on the edge of the
mattress, his head resting in his hands, and looking
really upset.

"Dad, what's the problem?"

"Nothing, Steve.  You wouldn't understand."

"Well I might, dad.  Come on, you always said us two
guys had to look out for each other after mom died.
What's happened?"

"Nothing, I said!".  Dad sounded a bit peeved now.

"Was it having to stud that nigga girl, dad?"

He sat upright then, and glared at me.  "Who told
you?"

"No one told me, dad..."

"So how did you know?"

I decided to lie, as I didn't want Andy getting into
trouble.  "I was walking past that big barn place, and
looked in....  Dad, why did you do it?"

"Because I'm a slave, and they'd punish me if I
didn't!  Why are you so fucking thick, Steve?  Don't
you get it yet?  Slaves do as they're told, or else
they suffer.  And they told me to do it."

"But dad, it's not right.... You were fucking that
nigga to make babies.... They'll be my half-brothers
and sisters...."

"So?"

"But dad,  it's disgusting...."

"Steve, let me spell it out for you one more time.
Slaves do as they're commanded, or else they are
punished. Punished severely."

"But dad, you always told me to do the right thing,
whatever the consequences.  And if you know it's not
right, why did you do it?  You should have told them
to fuck themselves, and taken whatever they dished
out.... You were never like this, dad - you always
argued and did the right thing...."

"That was before I was a slave, Steve.  Things are
different now."

"No they're not.  Right is still right, and wrong is
still wrong.  And what you did isn't right, fucking a
nigga girl like that.  And it wasn't right when you
fucked me, either - you know that too..."

Dad's anger blazed now.   He leapt to his feet,
grabbed me by the arm and dragged me up from where I
was lying so that we were facing each other.  I was
still boned up from where I'd been jerking off, and my
dick brushed against his thigh, an then stabbed into
his groin, we were standing so close.  "You little
fucker!  Don't criticise me...!  You've no idea what
you're talking about."

"Why not?  It's all your fault!  If you hadn't
defrauded the IRS you wouldn't be a slave, and then I
wouldn't be a slave....  It is your fault, dad...."

He hit me then.  Slapped me hard right across the
face, and I staggered sideways and stumbled down onto
the mattress.  Dad stood over me, his fists clenched.
"Don't you dare speak to me like that, Steve....!"

I was horrified  Other than that one time when I was a
kid, dad never physically punished me, and now he'd
hit me.  I got to my feet slowly, and stood glaring at
him, my fists clenching.  That was what my genes
dictated: I felt my fists tightly clenched as I
wondered whether I should take him on.  My breathing
was hard and deep, and my heart was racing as I got
ready to fight.  But something stopped me, and instead
I almost screamed out " I'll speak to you anyway I
like!  You're not my dad any more, you're just a
fucking slave, literally!  My dad would never fuck a
nigga girl, never fuck his son...  You're something
else...."

I thought he was going to hit me again, but instead he
seemed to snap, and sag.  He flopped down onto the
mattress, and sat there, his knees pulled up and his
head almost buried between them. If I hadn't known
that dad was a real tough guy, I'd have thought he was
in tears.  This was almost worse than having been hit,
seeing him like that.  I sat next to him, and put my
arm around his bare shoulders.  "Dad, I'm sorry", I
whispered.  "I didn't mean it, dad...."

"No, Steve, you're right.  I shouldn't be fucking
nigga girls for them, so they can breed. And I
shouldn't have fucked you, son, whatever the
punishment I'd have got.  But you'll learn, Steve,
what they can do to you.   And I was trying to protect
you, trying to prevent them taking you off to be
'broken', as they 'broke' me."

"Dad, they can't make you fuck people against your
will, especially not your son!  It's against the
Universal Declaration Of Human Rights, that the USA is
signed up to..."

"Listen, Steve, in case you don't realise it, just
think for a minute, will you?  You're supposed to be
intelligent - I was saving to send you to college,
which is why we're in this mess.  The Declaration Of
Human Rights applies to humans - and we're slaves!
When they reintroduced slavery as a way of keeping
criminals out of prison, the Government went to the UN
and got a special abrogation from the Declaration, so
that slaves aren't covered.  Slaves aren't human, you
see - we're like some sort of animal:  a pretty clever
one, that can understand and obey orders, and all that
crap.  But definitely not human, like free men.  So it
doesn't apply to us.  So if they tell me I've got to
fuck a nigga girl as they want to breed big, tall,
strong slaves from her with nice caramel-coloured
skins, then if I don't do it, there's nothing to stop
them punishing me:  they're within their rights, as
they own me, own me totally..."

"But dad, they can't make a guy fuck someone!  I mean,
just don't let your dick get hard..."

"They'd punish me."

"Dad, what's a bit of punishment, compared to having
to fuck in public, fuck some poor young nigga...  And
me, remember?"

"You don't understand.  You won't understand, unless
they 'break' you, and I'm trying my best to prevent
that from happening."

"Dad, it can't be that bad..."

"You saw that nigga coffle I showed you!  Twenty of
those big, strong bucks with big strong dicks?  After
you've been coffled with them and they've decided that
as a whitey it's your fault that they're nigga slaves,
so you should be punished as a symbol of the evils the
whiteys are inflicting on the niggas... what do you
think happens to you?  Every night, Steve, every
night... All twenty of them.... Fucking my ass,
fucking my throat, hitting me, pissing on me....  Wise
up, Steve:  if they tell you to do something, just do
it, as you don't want to go through that.  Please,
Steve... Listen to me and do the sensible thing, for
once:  it was bad enough for me as a big, mature guy,
but if they got hold of you, when you're still growing
and couldn't even try to defend yourself..."

I couldn't really believe that dad had 'broken' just
because he'd been constantly fucked like that, but, on
the other hand, he just wasn't the dad I used to know.
 But there didn't seem to be much else to say, so I
slipped sideways and lay down, and pulled dad down
beside me.  Instead of having him spoon up against me,
I deliberately turned to face him and we lay there
rather uncomfortably, our faces close together.

"Dad, look, I'm sorry.... You went through it, and
only you know what it was like..... Do you have to do
this 'stud' thing very often?"

"About once a week... But it varies - sometimes I have
to do it twice in a week if there's a bitch on heat
somewhere, or if they're having a dinner party, and
want a little entertainment with the coffee..."

We were lying so close that I could feel dad's dick
beginning to stir, and for some reason this made me
feel excited, too, and I began to bone up again.  Dad
shifted slightly, and we both felt our hard dicks
touch the other at the same time.  I felt pretty
desperate, as I was almost at the point of cumming
when dad had got back, and now I was really ready for
sex.  I could feel pre-cum drooling out of the end of
my dick, and as I moved slightly to get more
comfortable it slid over dad's hairy belly as we lay
there.  It was too much - I didn't even touch my dick,
honest, but I felt my balls start to do that
contraction thing as you know that you're about to
shoot, and the next moment I was pumping cum out, all
over dad's belly, his trimmed pubes, and his dick and
balls.

"Whoa, son!", dad said, "Is it all this talk of
studding?"

If it had been light in there I know dad would have
seen that my face was a bright red with the
embarrassment of what I'd just done.  I went to try to
wipe it off him, but as I did I touched dad's dick and
he in gave a low moan.  "Dad, I'm sorry, dad... I
didn't..."

"It's OK, Steve.  Calm down.  You're still only a kid
really, and guys at your age are just so horny that it
doesn't take much to turn you on... I  remember how I
was when I was sixteen, and I was always in danger of
shooting into my shorts!!

"But dad, I'm sorry..."

"Steve, I said leave it, OK?  Look, you and I are
going to live a strange life here, as slaves.  If you
weren't my son, and I wasn't your dad, I guess we'd be
fucking away like ferrets every night - after all,
there's no other entertainment, is there?  Men in
prisons, and army barracks, and warships, and other
places like that have always fucked each other and if
things were 'normal', that's what we'd be doing.
That's what the coffles of niggas do all the time, as
I've told you. It's bad enough being a slave, I know,
but it's harder for us two - so we have to be
tolerant, and make allowances.  You couldn't help
cumming then, you were just excited - it's perfectly
natural, it happens to young guys all the time, and if
you were living a normal life I guess you'd have had
chance to jerk off, or fuck some girl, or
something....  Now, let's get some sleep....."

It seemed odd to be that close to dad, as he put one
of his big strong arms around me and we snuggled
together.  I could smell the scent of his body - the
manly odour of his sweat, mixed with that of my cum as
it wafted up from between us, and feel dad's warmth
all against me as we lay there.  At one level it felt
safe, and secure.  And yet in another way, it didn't
seem right, somehow.  I wanted to be close to dad,
wanted him to protect me, and yet I didn't really want
this complete intimacy that being slaves was driving
us to.  My thoughts were all confused as I drifted
into sleep, but I must have been so exhausted that I
didn't wake during the night, and it was only the
banging of Mr Stryker's whip handle on the bars of our
cell that caused me to wake up.

Stryker laughed as he saw that both dad and I had
morning hard-ons, and mine just wouldn't go away as he
watched as we both went off to the shower - I felt so
self conscious as he looked at the way my dick bobbed
up and down, but there was nothing I could do about
it, after all.

After breakfast dad was told to go and get on with the
normal work on the estate, but Mr Stryker ordered me
over to the pool house and enclosure.  "This can be
your job, every morning from now on", he told me.
"Amos or Andy does it normally, but it's not really
convenient when the house is full as it is on most
weekends as they're meant to be personal slaves to
assist the guests. So you can take over - use this
session to really get to understand the chemicals, and
all the other stuff you need to know to keep the water
sparkling.  If I ever find it less that perfect, I'll
beat you, is that clear?"

"Yes, boss", I answered, as this didn't seem such a
bad deal.  I mean, I loved swimming, and having to
clean the pool seemed a small price to pay.

"Right, cut along.  And make sure the whole area is
impeccably neat and tidy:  I like to see all the
furniture in its proper groups - the guests tend to
move it around - and all the leaves and stray grass
clippings must be removed every morning."

"Yes, boss".  Hey, this slavery stuff wasn't all that
hard, it seemed.

I jogged across the yard to the pool enclosure, just
as Amos, or was it Andy, arrived.  It turned out to be
Amos, and I told him what Mr Stryker had said about me
taking over.  "And a good thing, too", he answered.
"Sometimes, on the weekends, Andy and me are really
busy, and when one of us has to come out and do pool
duty, the guests complain.  And then Mr Hawthorne
beats us, for not taking care of the guests..."

He opened the gate to the pool enclosure, and we went
in.  To my amazement, the first thing he did was to
pull off the T shirt he wore, then drop his shorts, to
stand there naked.  His black skin glistened in the
morning sun, and he reached down and gave his dick a
little shake to free it from his low-hanging sac. He
saw me looking at him, and laughed. "Oh come on, Steve
- shuck those shorts and let's get started."

"But why...?"

"I don't know.   It's traditional, I think.  Pool boys
always work naked.  There's a big buck comes in once a
month to check the status professionally, and the
moment he gets in here he strips off, and he says tat
all pool owners insist on it.  So come on...."

I let my shorts drop and flicked at my dick to free it
from where the morning humidity had plastered it to my
sac - I suppose that's one of the problems of having
your balls shaved, as it makes your dick even more
likely to stick to them with sweat.  Amos then showed
me how to connect the sweeper to the pump system, and
we walked up and down the edge together - him a deep
black, and me tanned on my upper half, with a very
white ass!

Amos grinned as he saw the bands of colour across me,
and said that a few mornings like this and I'd soon
start to turn a nice shade of brown.  "These masters
are really funny, when you think about it, Steve -
they pay huge prices to get you and your dad as white
slaves, and then the want to see you get all nice and
tanned and brown!  They might just as well have bought
an octoroon in the first place, and saved money.  But
then, I guess they wouldn't have got that handsome
face of yours.... And you and your dad are both so
well hung that you might as well be niggas...."

He laughed as he said this,  and stroked his own dick
suggestively.  "There's no one much looking ", he
whispered, "Let's go into the pool house, and after
I've shown you where all the chemicals and stuff are
stored, we could see whether your dick is a good as a
real nigga's...  I fancy a good jerk off, or maybe you
want to fuck?"

"Hey, no way... I'm no fag..."

He just laughed.  "You've got a lot to learn, Steve!
Haven't you ever been with another guy?"

"No way!"

"Well, you will!  Didn't Mr Hawthorne fuck you the
first day?"

"Yes."  I mumbled this out, as I was still embarrassed
to think about it.

"Look, Steve, that's the real reason owners down here
buy whiteys - they like the idea of fucking a man just
like them, rather than a nigga.  So you're going to be
fucked lots and lots, so why don't you loosen up a
bit, and get some practice in..."

As he said this, Amos had kind of sidled up to me and
put his arm around my shoulders.  Before I could stop
him, his other hand had gone down and taken hold of my
dick.

"Hey, cut that out...."  My words were cut off as Amos
tightened his arm and pulled me towards him, then
pressed his lips to mine.  I was so startled that I
didn't know how to react.  I'd never had another guy
try to kiss me before, and even as my brain struggled
with what was going on, Amos's strong tongue was in my
mouth, almost forcing itself down my throat.  I
started to gasp and almost struggle, but his grip on
my dick, which had disloyally reacted by sporting an
erection, tightened and he began to gently stroke me.
Somehow I found myself responding - well, before, when
I'd been kissing, it had always been me trying to get
my tongue down a girl's throat, and now it seemed
exotic, and really erotic, to have this big strong
nigga doing it to me.  I found myself almost trembling
with excitement as his tongue beat against mine, and I
couldn't help it, somehow - My own arms went around
him, and I ran my hands up and down his back, feeling
his lovely skin texture, and running my fingers up and
down the prominent ridges of his backbone.

As our bodies came together I realised he was erect,
too, and he stopped stroking at my dick for a moment
to take hold of my hand and move it down to take hold
of his own erection - I'd never felt another guy's
dick before, and at first it felt odd - so firm and
yet so soft.  He was rampantly erect, and yet it
wasn't like holding a broom handle or anything - no,
as you all know, there's something very special about
gripping an erect dick:  it's firm, and yet you
somehow know you can bend it.  And it's warm, and
moist.... I moved my fingers along it almost in awe at
what I was doing, and it was odd not to feel a 'skin
as  I sort of bumped into the flange around his dick
head.  Even though our mouths were locked together I
heard him moan as my finger scraped over his piss
slit, and then he began to stroke my dick, very slowly
and gently, teasing my 'skin back as he did so.  I
found myself repeating his gestures - his tongue was
thrusting in and out of me, and mine in turn thrashed
against his;  his hand was stroking and teasing my
dick, and I was mirroring his actions on his;  and his
other hand now rested on my ass, and then started to
probe down my ass cheeks.... And almost to my
surprise, I found myself doing the same to his, almost
revelling in the hard, firm muscle slicked with his
sweat.

We carried on, stroking at each other and jerking each
others dicks, all the time kissing deeply, then we
both screamed - we leaped apart, and I stood there
feeling the pain where a tawse had been slashed across
my shoulders.  My Stryker was there, looking at both
of us.

"So... You fucking slaves can't be trusted for an
instant to get on with your assigned work without
starting in on the sex!  I should have expected it
from Amos, as niggas just can't control themselves
sexually, but you, Steve.... You were supposed to be a
well brought up white boy from a good home... I should
have known better:  no father who allowed himself and
his son to be enslaved could possibly have brought his
kid up properly!  Look at you - another minute, and
you'd have been rutting away.

"Please, boss, I didn't..."

"Silence!  There's no excuse, not even for a horny
sixteen year old.  Slaves are not allowed to indulge
themselves sexually unless it's to please their
owners.  Now, both of you - bend over that lounger."

"No, Mr  Stryker, boss, please...."  It was Amos now,
and he sounded terrified.

"Fucking slave, do as you're told!  You're in enough
trouble already...."

Very reluctantly, Amos went down on his knees, and
then spread his chest and belly over the mattress on
one of the heavy teak loungers that was in the pool
house.  Mr Stryker tapped his foot impatiently, and I
did the same, feeling the cotton fabric against my
nipples, and the warmth of Amos's body beside me as
out thighs and shoulders touched.

"You two are lucky I came in when I did", Mr Stryker
said.  "If I'd found you fucking without permission,
the punishment would have been severe.  As it is, I'm
just going to warm your asses to remind you that I
won't tolerate messing around, especially when it's
preventing you doing your work!"

As he said this, I heard a kind of swishing noise, and
then a scream from Amos.  Another swish, and I too
shouted out, quite involuntarily, as Mr Stryker's
tawse cut across my bare ass.

He gave us six strokes each, in all, and every one
hurt more than the last - if anyone had asked, I'd
have said that your ass got numbed as punishment like
that went on, and that subsequent strokes wouldn't
hurt as much.  But either that's not so, or else Mr
Stryker just gauged the power of the lashes so exactly
that they inflicted the maximum hurt as they landed
without desensitising the nerve endings for the next
one!

When he'd finished, both Amos and I just stood there,
eyes cast down.  I had a huge desire, no, need, to rub
at my ass, but I saw Amos had adopted to "slave rest"
position, and so I did the same, so as not to upset Mr
Stryker more.  "Let that be a lesson to you, and to
you especially, Steve!  Now, both of you, get on with
your work:  I want to see this pool sparkling, and you
both off to your other jobs...."

So for the next hour both Amos and I were very subdued
as he showed me the controls for the pool filters, the
chemical store and the tests that had to be done every
day, and all the other stuff needed to keep everything
in good order.  I couldn't help noticing that even
though he had dark black skin you could see that his
ass had been punished as the red soreness showed
through, and I wondered how I looked:  on my pure
white butt, the lash marks must really be showing up,
I thought!

When we were done, Amos loped off back to the house,
waving suggestively at me, and I bent down to put my
shorts back on.  It felt so odd - I mean, I'm not a
fag or anything, and yet when Amos had been kissing me
and stroking at my dick, I'd really wanted him to go
on and on.  There was something good about feeling
another guy against you like that, being able to touch
his hard muscles, and feel his dick....  I might have
stood there for some time thinking about it, when Mr
Stryker appeared again.

"I told you to run off and get on with your normal
work when you were finished", he snapped.  "Or are you
one of those slaves who actually likes the feel of the
lash on his butt?  Now, run back to the mower shed -
it's time to cut the grass again, and you'll be really
useful to that father of yours - it's really just too
much for one slave alone.  You'll find the uniform
there - he'll show you."

He gave me a dismissive gesture, and I jogged away,
back to the building that housed the mowers and all
the outdoor machinery, and where dad and me slept.  He
was crouched down sharpening the blades of a big
rotary mower as I went in, and he pointed at a big
strimmer and told me to make sure it was full of the
plastic wire it used, and was properly gassed up.
"I'm sure glad you're here to help, Steve", he told
me.  "There's a lot to do, and Stryker only allows one
afternoon for it - if you do the edges and around the
shrubs, we'll get through it easily.  That strimmer's
a bit bigger than the one you used to help me with at
home, but it's the same principle:  fill it up with
gas before we leave...."

It was almost being in our garage at home again as dad
and I got ready for the grass cutting ritual, but just
before we went out, he went over to a cupboard and
came out with a couple of pieces of cloth.  "Here....
This is grass cutting uniform...."

I looked at the piece of stained cloth he was holding:
 it had been white once, evidently, but now it was
streaked with dirt, and grass stains.  As I watched,
dad dropped his shorts and folded them neatly, then
held the piece of cloth in front of him, fumbled for a
moment, then tied a bow on his left hip.  "Come on,
Steve.... Put it on...."

I looked at dad standing there with this scrap of
cloth just covering his dick and balls, his whole body
otherwise naked.  "Dad, what is this...?"

"It's the way Stryker has the grass cut, Steve.  You
know how the mower and strimmer throws up dust, grass
and muck:  well, he doesn't like the shorts to get all
stained.  He told me that it's easier to wash grass
stains off a slave's hide than it is to get them out
of the fabric of slave shorts, and I guess he's
right.... You'll get covered in muck as we work, and
afterwards it will all wash off in the shower."

I looked at dad, and saw that the scrap of cloth
barely covered his dick and balls.  And as he turned,
the big "M" seared into his butt was clearly visible.
I began to understand now why dad was so tanned all
over.  "Dad, I can't wear this... I'll be naked...."

"No, Steve.  Nearly naked, to be accurate.  But so
what?  We're slaves, remember?  And if Mr Stryker
ordered us to cut the grass absolutely in the nude,
we'd have to do it, wouldn't we?  As it is, he lets us
cover our dicks and balls, and that's better as
sometimes there can be small pebbles and stuff flying
up, and that's really awful when they hit your
balls..."

"But dad, it's not right... Making men work naked..."

"Steve, you saw all the niggas in the coffles on the
plantation.  They live all their lives bare-assed, so
what's the problem with you and me going outthere and
cutting the grass just showing our butts?"

"But dad..."

"There's no arguing, Steve.  Those are Mr Stryker's
orders.  Now, come on.... "

I dropped my shorts, and dad whistled.  "I see
Stryker's lashed you already... What did you do?"

I blushed as  I didn't want to tell dad about me and
Amos, and just mumbled "I guess I wasn't quick
enough..."

"So you'd better hurry up now, or else he may do the
same again...."

I tied the string holding the scrap of cloth around my
waist, and dad smiled at me.  "Now, it won't hurt you
to get a bit dirty - in fact, make sure you get a load
of dirt on that ass of yours as soon as you can:  I
don't want you moaning and groaning with sunburn
tonight, and you've not been exposed before down
there..."

"Dad, it's still not right.... I mean, making us go
out like this....  What if someone sees?"

"So, someone sees.  Look, when I first came here it
was explained to me that things like that don't matter
any more.  An owner has total responsibility for his
slave, and if the owner tells the slave to go around
butt naked, then that's what the slave does.  He's not
responsible for disporting himself naked, not like if
you deliberately waved your dick around on a public
beach or something.  Don't you remember?  When we went
to the beach we wore swimming shorts, and so did all
the other free guys.  But the niggas who did the beach
cleaning were always naked, weren't they?  And no one
thought that was odd.  Well, we're like those niggas
now, Steve - if our owner tells us to work naked, we
do.  Only free men can fell embarrassed about being
naked - slaves just know that if they do as their
owner orders, then that's OK."

Dad saw me staring at him almost in disbelief, but
shrugged, smiled, and added "Anyway, this turns out
not to be so bad!  Cutting the grass in this heat and
humidity is pretty unpleasant, and at least doing it
this way helps to keep you cool and stops the sweat
making your shorts so wet that they chafe!  Now, come
on....", he gave me a friendly slap on the butt, and
we went out into the bright sunshine.

End Of Part Eight.