Date: Sat, 26 Jan 2013 22:04:50 -0800 (PST)
From: Christian Debus <servus4u@ymail.com>
Subject: Wickus  Chapter 3

WICKUS
"A Tale of Black Masters and white slaves"
Chapter 3: Master Thandiwe

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

Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): January, 2013
Read all my stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories

"The characters and ideas in this story are purely fictitious and belong to
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Chapter 3: Master Thandiwe

"I ordered you to undress me boy! Now move yourself or I'll add extra
strokes of the cane to your sorry ass over and above the ten your Master
has already ordered for you."

The threat of extra punishment obviously frightens Wickus. I see from the
widening of his eyes and the blanching of his face that Wickus is
terrified. And to emphasise this, his magnificent frame trembles
violently. Through his tear-filled eyed, he pleads with me.

"Please Master, forgive me! I am sorry Master that your slave has
displeased you. I will do better, Master, But please Master spare me any
extra strokes of the cane."

Poor Wickus! The slave looks so crestfallen and his youthful vulnerability
is painfully obvious. He has the body and physique of a mature male and it
is easy to forget that he is little more than a boy. But his boyish charm
and youthful wistfulness remind me that he has the emotional outlook of a
teenager. Momentarily, I put myself in his place and try to imagine how it
would be to suddenly find yourself ripped away from the life you'd always
lived and torn from the comforting bosom of your loving family and
enslaved. How frightening and bewildering that must be for this new
slave. But this is the "new order" of things - we blacks rule supreme and
our former white overlords are now our servants. I must never forget that;
anyway I know my father won't allow me to.

Wickus and I were born into vastly different worlds and we are governed by
two different sets of rules. Our destinies are interconnected but widely
divergent. It is my destiny to rule as a black master and it is Wickus's
destiny to serve me as a white slave. Nothing I can ever do will change
that.  And to be truthful I wouldn't want this to change. Black Rule is too
entrenched in my psyche to see me ever abandon its concepts.

Nevertheless I feel some sympathy for this young, vulnerable slave whose
tearstained face looks imploringly into my own begging for mercy.  Not
unkindly, I ask him.

"The cane frightens you that much, Wickus?"

"Yes Master!"

"Why is that slave? Is the pain of it so terrible?"

Wickus bites his lip and hesitates to answer and I sense his
reluctance. Perhaps he's afraid of angering me by giving me the wrong
reply. But I expect complete honesty from him. For the next two months he
is to serve me both as my personal body slave and as my bed-buck.
Therefore, there can be no secrets between us; I will expect and demand the
absolute truth from my slave at all times. As his Master, I have to have
confidence that he is being completely honest with me. The relationship
between a Master and his slave has to be built on the slave's unstinting
loyalty and unquestioning obedience to his Master and the Master's ability
to trust his slave implicitly. And that is the type of relationship I want
with my slave, Wickus.

I spell this out to him.

"Wickus, as you are to serve me as my personal slave while I am home from
university, I need to set some ground rules for your behaviour. The first
is that you are to serve me loyally and obediently.  Whenever, I give you
an order I expect instant obedience and no questions asked. A slave doesn't
need to know the reason behind any order his Master gives him. He need only
know that the order is to be carried out immediately. Similarly, whenever,
I ask you anything, you are to answer me without hesitation and truthfully
even if you fear that your answer will offend me. Do you understand what
I'm saying to you, slave?"

"Yes Master Thandiwe, I understand!"

"Remember always that I am the Master and you are the slave and all will be
well between us. You'll find me to be a just but firm Master. I will praise
you when it's deserved but equally I won't hesitate to punish you if you
disappoint me. Do you understand me, Wickus?"

"I understand Master and I promise to be a good slave!"

"Good boy! Your answer pleases me. I'm sure we'll get along just fine. Now
I'll ask you again and you will answer truthfully. Does the threat of the
cane really frighten you?"

"Yes Master!"

"And why is that, Wickus?"

"Master, it's the pain that the cane inflicts especially when the Master
administers it. Master has a powerful arm and all his slaves fear him,
Master."

This comes as no surprise to me. I know my father is a stern
disciplinarian. He was with both his black sons and I can imagine how much
more so he is with his white slaves. I don't envy them; they have every
reason to be very afraid of my father.

"Describe the pain, Wickus."

"Master it is excruciating. I can't put into words how it feels.  But as
the cane cuts into your ass you experience the most dreadful pain. You
can't stop yourself from screaming and even though you know that the Master
can't show you any mercy you still beg for it."

"But the pain soon dissipates, does it not, slave?"

"No Master! The pain lingers for some days. At first you feel your ass is
aflame but that does ease until you are left with a dull ache. But those
first few days your ass is so sore that you can't sit on it and you have to
sleep on your belly."

"I see! Then the incentive is to perform your duties and not to anger your
betters. Is that not so slave?"

"Yes Master!"

"I will expect as much from you Wickus."

"Yes Master Thandiwe. I will be a good slave."

"Then be a good slave and undress me ready for my shower. After which you
will dress me before I go down to dinner with my parents and brother."

I see the look of uncertainty in my slave's eyes; something is troubling
Wickus. Then, I recall how a short time ago, he'd mentioned that he must
report to Gerd at 6.30 PM for inspection and the allocation of his
dining-room duties.

I look at my watch and see that it is 6.25 PM. Obviously Wickus can't be in
two places at once. He can't be showering and dressing me and reporting to
Gerd. I decide that Wickus is my slave and therefore his first
responsibility is to me. My father has loaned him to me for the duration of
my vacation and I will decide what duties he'll perform and when he'll
perform them.

I won't have Gerd dictate what my slave will do.

"You may make a start and undress me, boy!"

Wickus is unused to being a body slave and is uncertain as to where he
should start. He looks askance at me and I direct him.

"Remove my shirt first!"

The slave stands just inches away from me as he unbuttons my shirt
beginning at the top and works downwards. At first he is nervous - his body
is quivering - and he is all fingers as he fumbles his way through this
simple task.

I reach out and touch his chest and tell him to.

"Relax boy! I'm not going to punish you."

Shyly, he looks at me with just a hint of a smile and thanks me most
profusely.

"Thank you Master! I'm sorry Master but this is all so new to me and I am
very nervous."

"Why are you nervous, Wickus?"

"I don't want to displease you Master.  I want you to be happy with your
slave, Master."

"I know you are new to this Wickus and I will cut you some slack. But you
must relax and learn your duties quickly. I don't want to be forever
instructing you in what you must do. But this first time, I will guide you
through the routine of undressing me, showering me and then dressing
me. But after that, I will expect you to know."

"Yes Master! I will learn Master."

"Good boy! Now ease the shirt off my upper body. Do it slowly and
carefully."

It feels so good to have this young, white slave undress me. Of course, he
is inexperienced - and nervous - but he very gently slides the shirt from
my shoulders and down my arms as he eases it from my torso. I watch the
sensuous play of his firm muscles as he does so. And I am gratified to see
that he is rampantly erect. Obviously his close proximity to me is
affecting him.

For my part, the closeness of Wickus's naked body to my own is similarly
affecting me. My own cock is straining to break free from the constricting
confines of my clothing and is tent poling my denims. I order him to kneel
before me and to remove my shoes and socks.  As he does so, I look down on
the wide shoulders, the broad sweep of his naked back and the rounded
curves of his ass. The stainless steel slave collar around his neck
reflects the honey-gold of his tanned body.

He really is a beautiful slave!

As I stand bare chested and barefooted, Wickus removes the belt from my
denims and unzips the fly.  He slides the trousers down my legs into a
crumpled heap around my ankles and lifts my feet free of them. Now, all
that separates me from total nudity are my colourful, boxer shorts. Wickus
hesitates unsure of his next move.

For my part I just want to get naked and up close to my new slave's
body. His upturned face looks at me and asks the unspoken question.

"What am I do now Master?"

I nod at him and instruct him.

"Continue boy!"

Wickus hooks his fingers into the waistband of my underpants and almost
seductively eases them over my ass and down my legs until like him, I stand
totally nude.

Released from its prison my cock springs free and pokes directly towards my
slave's face. Then shyly, he leans forward and kisses the glans of my
cock. The touch of his moist lips is electrifying and sparks of
unimaginable pleasure surge through my body.  As my breathing becomes more
ragged, my body arches backwards and I hear my soft moan of appreciation as
the tip of his tongue flicks provocatively at my piss-slit. Time stands
still and Wickus's actions seem to last for long minutes rather than the
briefest of seconds.

Then, unexpectedly, the slave lowers his head and kisses my bare feet in
servile homage.

"Thank you, Master Thandiwe!"

"Why are you thanking me Wickus?"  My voice is hoarse from my lust filled
emotions.

"Why, Master for making me your slave and allowing me to serve you. Thank
you, Master for being so patient with me.'

Wickus's answer is genuine and heartfelt. But I wonder what I have done to
earn such affection so early in our relationship. After all we have known
each other for less than two hours and yet he enthusiastically pays homage
to me. This slave is an enigma.

However, it appears that he is a willing pupil and a fast learner. And I
can't complain about that.

Nevertheless, I am touched by Wickus's devotion and his words of
gratitude. Again, I think on how devastating it must be for such a young
man to be enslaved so unexpectedly. Once more he spontaneously leans
forward to kiss my feet in supplication. Then with lightning clarity, I see
the reason for his gratitude. His upturned ass is marked with the
bluish-yellow bruises of his older beatings and superimposed over these are
the angry red stripes of his more recent caning. And his bowed shoulders
carry the marks of our Xhosa housekeeper, Mistress Mandisa's slave-crop.

Dad had mentioned that he'd bought Wickus two weeks ago. Obviously in those
two weeks, the slave had been punished often - as part of his learning to
be a dutiful slave - and he'd suffered much. I try and put myself in
Wickus's place and imagine his new life as he settled into slavery. This
was a forlorn task as I could only guess at his feelings of hopelessness
and misery as he adjusted his mindset to that of a slave as, at the same
time, his body was cruelly punished by my father and Mandisa.

Quite obviously, Wickus deprived of the love of family and friends, has
been denied any displays of human compassion or kindness.  I'd not treated
him unkindly, although I now recall, with just a twinge of guilt, that I'd
slapped his face when he'd hesitated to remove his loincloth. But that's
normal practice between a Master and his slave and it's simply meant to
focus the slave's attention on his duties. And no doubt, I will slap his
face and ass many times over the next two months of my vacation. But that
is just par for the course!

It would seem that my benign handling of Wickus has paid an unintentional
dividend. In his gratitude to me, he has accepted me as his Master and he
promises to serve me well. Most assuredly, I will keep the slave to his
word.

But time is moving on and I still need to shower and dress for dinner. I
look at my watch and see I still have thirty minutes before I have to
appear in the dining-room. I order Wickus to his feet and tell him to
follow me into the shower.

I wait as Wickus turns on the faucets and adjusts the water temperature
until it is just right. As he does so, I watch the warm water spray onto
his tangled mass of blond curls before it flows down over the plains and
valleys of his body. I watch as the water beads on the honey-gold of his
flawless skin before joining into little rivulets that trickle down through
the dividing line of his pectoral muscles and over the ridges of his
abdominals before cascading like a waterfall from the end of his now
semi-flaccid cock.

Wickus truly is a beautiful slave and I salivate at the sight of his naked
perfection, Would that I had time to have him kneel before me and to take
my hungry cock into the warm embrace of his moist mouth. How I long to have
his ruby-red lips encircle the shaft of my cock and to use them to slowly
massage my erection to an eruption and to feel the muscular contractions of
his throat as he swallows hard to consume my manly seed.

But that will have to wait! I can't be late for dinner on my first night at
home - it would anger my father and no doubt he'd take out his anger on
Wickus. I don't want that to happen and so I don't have time to linger in
the shower.  My lust will have to wait until later. However, I know that as
I talk with my parents and brother over dinner, my thoughts will be
elsewhere; they will be centred on Wickus and my need to fuck him.

Our time in the shower is necessarily brief. And when we are both dry, I
have Wickus dress me in fresh clothes. Then I order him to don his
loincloth and to present himself to Gerd in the kitchen while I join my
parents and Isivile for pre-dinner drinks.

My father plies me with questions about my academic studies and my life as
a student at the country's leading university. He is inordinately proud of
me for breaking into what were once the hallowed halls of white
privilege. Back in his student days, he was denied access to this same
university because of his skin colour - the only non-whites permitted
within the College worked as labourers, porters, cleaners, cooks or
waiters.

Despite his impressive intellect, Dad was only permitted to study at a
poorly rated and more poorly equipped technical college for blacks and
coloureds. Despite these handicaps, my father excelled at his studies and
yet he was denied access to any areas of authority. He was doomed to spend
his days working under mediocre and less educated whites like his former
boss and now slave, Gerd.

And speaking of Gerd, he enters the room and falls to his knees before my
parents and waits for permission to speak. I dislike Gerd
intensely. Despite his obsequiousness he retains a carefully concealed
disdain for all blacks and I don't trust him. At first, he is ignored and
he waits until he is given permission to approach my mother. She is of
course, the Mistress of the house and all matters relating to its running
fall within her area of responsibility. It is my mother who receives the
complaints about her house slaves and it is she who decides if they are to
be punished. But it is my father - as the absolute Master - who administers
those punishments.  And I can only assume that Gerd has a complaint to make
against some unfortunate, young slave.  And I am right.

"Yes Gerd, what is it?"  My mother asks brusquely.

Gerd crawls to her feet and kisses them in humiliating supplication before
speaking.

"Mistress, I have a complaint to make against the new slave, Wickus. He was
late in reporting to me for his duties."

I am taken aback to hear Gerd complain about Wickus. At first I regard it
as frivolous but then I see a more cunning aspect to his complaint. He knew
the young slave was with me and I suspect he is resentful of my father
allocating Wickus to my service for the duration of my vacation. Perhaps he
sees this as a direct challenge to his very limited control over the junior
slaves - Gerd is answerable in the first instance to Mandisa and Uuka - and
he is moving to re-assert his authority over them.  Knowing Gerd as I do,
he would resent losing any control over the junior slaves. This would be
especially so with Wickus being assigned to me and I see his complaint as
spiteful and designed to see my slave punished further.

"Why was he late?" My father roars. "What reason did he give? "

"Master, the slave didn't offer any excuse." Gerd slyly answers.  "When I
asked, he remained sullen and silent and refused to answer."

"Did he? Then, he has just earned himself a whipping after dinner. I have
been patient with him for too long. It is time that he learned to be a
slave and to do as he is told."

"Yes Master," Gerd's words are ingratiating and I see the malicious gleam
in his eye as he speaks them, "this new slave needs to be disciplined."

My dislike for Gerd intensifies. My opinion is that he is ingratiating
himself into my father's good books. I seethe at the injustice of what he
is doing and I am determined to thwart him by intervening on Wickus's
behalf.

"Dad, I'm afraid I am the reason why Wickus was late in reporting to Gerd
for his duties. I thought you'd allocated him as my slave and I used him to
unpack my clothing and to help me shower and dress for dinner. So if anyone
is at fault it is me.  If Wickus is to be my body slave during my vacation
can I ask that he be answerable to me and not to another slave?"

Quite deliberately, I have referred to Gerd as "another slave" and
hopefully this will point out to Gerd that he holds no special standing in
my eyes.  Fortunately, my father seems to be in partial agreement with me -
perhaps out of his long standing animosity to his former white boss.

"Son, for as long as you are at home, Wickus is answerable to you for his
actions. But you have to convince me that you can handle a slave before I
give you full control over him. Remember, this is the first time I have
given you this responsibility and I have to be sure that you are up to the
task."

"Well then Dad, how do I prove myself?"

"By demonstrating to me that you can handle your slave with resolute
firmness and that you are capable of severely disciplining him when the
need arises."

"I can do that Dad!"

"I'm pleased to hear it, Thandiwe. And you'll have an opportunity after
dinner to show me that you can. As you know I sentenced Wickus to ten
strokes of the cane. It will be up to you to cane him and I'll judge
whether or not you are severe enough in administering that punishment. If
I'm satisfied that you are, then Wickus will be under your control and Gerd
will have no more say over him."

My father has called my bluff! He has placed the onus back onto me. Before
giving me complete mastery over Wickus I have to prove to him that I am
capable of controlling the slave and to punish him when necessary. Earlier
on I'd salivated at the thought of Wickus's caning. In my mind's eye, I'd
seen him bent double over the flogging trestle with his ass positioned for
the cane. The image of this had been powerfully erotic and I'd looked
forward to witnessing it. But I'd thought it would be my father who'd
administer the ten strokes and I would be an aroused witness to the
event. Now it is I who must cane Wickus and I must do so in a way that
satisfies my father's need for sternness.

I look at Gerd and see the smug look on his face and the malevolence in his
eyes. My father hasn't exactly endorsed Gerd's authority over Wickus but
then he hasn't repudiated it either. Gerd is quick to note this and
obviously he doubts that I can meet my father's conditions.

I will have to prove Gerd wrong! Which is most unfortunate for Wickus; I
must cane him and I must do so most severely. But I console myself with the
thought nothing can spare Wickus from the cane.  If I don't administer his
punishment then my father will. Whatever happens, Wickus will be caned and
punished hard whether by my hand or that of my father,

In the final analysis, there's no alternative. If I am to have complete and
sole mastery of Wickus then I must demonstrate to my father that I have the
will and resolve to rule my slave with firmness. I will have to cane Wickus
- and severely - after dinner to prove my mettle.

However, I have always disliked Gerd. He always struck me as being sly and
cunning and I'd never been taken in his sickening obsequiousness. But now
my dislike has turned to loathing and I plot my revenge. Somehow, I will
have to create a situation whereby Gerd offends me and I will call for his
own punishment. And it will be a punishment that I will gladly administer.

I will see Gerd strung up by his heels and his ass beaten with a leather
paddle.

The thought of Gerd's naked body grotesquely hanging upside down swinging
back and forth after each stroke of the paddle and his cries of outraged
pain energize me. My cock is rock solid hard.

Dad looks at his watch and impatiently orders Gerd back to the kitchen.

"You're dismissed Gerd! Return to the kitchen and start serving our
dinner."

Gerd scrambles to his feet and slowly backs out of the room. Evidently, he
is moving too slowly as my father angrily tells him.

"Quickly slave! Hurry up or you'll find yourself joining Wickus in the
punishment room after dinner for a caning."

My father's threat to Gerd is not lost on me. Neither he nor Gerd are aware
of my plans. But Gerd most certainly will be joining Wickus in the
punishment-room after dinner. I will contrive to make this so. Wickus's
caning will be severe but I am determined that Gerd's suffering will be the
greater of the two slaves.

As Gerd disappears through the door my father sighs.

"I don't know what it is about white slaves but they are just so
troublesome?  Thandiwe, Isivile you must learn to harden your hearts to
them and treat with firm resolution. Otherwise, they'll try and take
advantage of your good natures. Remember, you never give a white an inch or
he'll try and take the whole yard."


To be continued......

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