Date: Wed, 20 Feb 2013 19:44:26 -0500
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Droit du Seigneur 3

Droit du Seigneur 3
Lance Kyle

Sam struggled with his resolve to continue his program of visiting the
"droit" upon the slave boys of the plantation.  His experience with Oscar
left him somewhat shaken.  He had felt right in his assertion of ownership,
of mastery, over the unwilling black slave boy, but he quailed internally
at the thought of having to wage such a struggle each time.  Had he been
older than fourteen it might have been different.  Had he been dealing with
slave girls, who might have been expected to go along with his approaches
however unwilling they were, it might have been different.  But he knew
that for many of the boys he intended to seduce, it was an uphill battle to
have his own natural inclinations overpower the hetero preferences of the
boys.  He brooded on these matters that afternoon and evening as he rode
around the plantation, overseeing the work.  His brother noticed the
moodiness but he really did not want to know about Sam's campaign and
thought it best to keep quiet about it.  As for Sam, did the slave men and
boys they passed look at him differently now, or was that his imagination?
He had to steel himself inside: he was their master and would do with any
of them as he pleased.  But still, it was a struggle.

He woke the next morning after a night of broken sleep, his fourteen year
old shaft oozing clear liquid and stiff as iron, but he knew to save it for
the task ahead of him.  Sam had many jobs he could do around the
plantation, and he actually chose to do some of them first before tackling
the fearful task ahead of him, but eventually he forced himself to go to
the study and examine the list of boys eighteen and younger that he had
drawn up with the butler, Hannibal.  He knew there would be one more of the
three eighteen year olds on the plantation.  Perhaps he had not really
studied or thought about the list before, but he was surprised—maybe
even pleasantly—by the third and last name among the eighteen year olds.

It was Lucius, and Sam knew exactly who he was.  The plantation was not so
large that they could afford a household staff dedicated only to waiting
and serving in the main house.  True, some of the slaves were exclusively
field hands, but there were no exclusively "house Negroes."  There was
instead a group of good looking, well mannered, and trained slaves who
performed tasks around the house and outbuildings such as light carpentry,
taking care of the horses, gardening, and mowing—and who were then
pressed into service as footmen or maids when a large dinner or party was
planned.  Lucius was one of these.  Sam had seen him often around the
house, although the difference in their status and age had prevented any
kind of play or close contact when they were young.  Lucius was a handsome
eighteen year old who worked in the flower and vegetable gardens, and
filled in when extra service was required at dinner.

Lucius was also a mulatto, Sam recalled.  And then he realized in a flash
that Lucius was probably his own half-brother, the product of his father's
exercise of the droit with some young slave girl eighteen years ago.  His
brother.  This added some interest, but also hope.  Lucius was well
mannered, and had always maintained a courteous and respectful distance
from his young master.  Maybe he would be more amenable to being...well, to
being deflowered, at least in Sam's imagination.  He knew true deflowering
was unlikely among the eighteen year olds, but he maintained the pretense.
And so it was with a rising sense of hope and confidence that Sam summoned
Hannibal and asked him to have Lucius washed and brought to his room that
afternoon, after lunch.

Once again, Sam stood behind his bedroom curtain as Hannibal accompanied
Lucius, this time by himself, to the wash house and then back to the main
house.  Nervous again, determined to take charge and exercise his rights of
ownership, Sam felt he was taking a stance on a field of battle.  There was
a knock on his door, and when Hannibal ushered the boy in he said, "This is
Lucius, Master," then retreated and closed the door behind him.

Sam paused for a moment to take in the boy before him.  Tall but not too
tall, his hair a medium brown chrysanthemum puff about two inches out from
his head.  Lucius kept his head down but Sam could see that his almond
shaped eyes were a dark green.  His color was coffee and cream, with smooth
flawless skin.  The boy had a strong jaw line and a fine, broad African
nose.  The lips were definitely African, quite full both top and bottom.
He was slim beneath the simple clothes he wore.  "Yes, Masta," Lucius
whispered.

"Take these clothes off," Sam said, stepping up close to Lucius and tugging
on the slave boy's garments.  "Yessuh," he replied, and with
readiness—or was that eagerness?—stripped off immediately. His slim
body described an S curve, thin pads of muscled chest thrust out, a smooth,
muscled but not chiseled belly curving out just a little and then the
typical African bottom, rounded and thrust back, rolling high, strong but
not massive legs.  His body was largely hairless, but there was a puff of
dark brown, waving pubic hair above a very dark penis that, to Sam's
surprise and pleasure, seemed half erect, pointing downward at a forty-five
degree angle.  A very dark sack held heavy balls beneath this.

Sam's surprise at Lucius's incipient erection was confirmed when the slave
boy said, softly, "You want me to help you get undressed, Masta?"  "Yes,"
the white boy croaked, hit with a sudden blast of complex emotions,
principally relief and lust.

That's when the balance between the two boys shifted.  At no point did
Lucius assume command, but he became an equal partner in Sam's project,
helping and suggesting, sometimes with a gesture or a hand placed here or
there, sometimes by moving his own body.  The mulatto slave boy gently
tugged his master out of his own clothing, while the dark erection began to
grow longer and harder.  By the time Sam stood naked, his own fiery pink
shaft standing straight up from the base of his belly, Lucius was also at
full erection, his very dark chocolate rod curving away from his body and
up.

"You pretty, Masta," breathed Lucius.  Sam swallowed hard and immediately
forgot all his fantasies and plans.  Sensing this, the mulatto boy gently
stepped into what became the white boy's embrace, even as he slid his own
brown hands around to the back and buttocks of the white master.  Then
their lips naturally found each other.  Lucius showed no hesitation or
reticence, and Sam was simply lost in the full lips, as full as any he had
ever seen, nibbling them, sucking them into his own mouth, letting the
mulatto suck up his own lips, tongues thrusting as far as they would go
from one mouth to another, all the while the cream colored and coffee and
cream colored bodies straining against each other, arms and hands holding
them together closely. Both boys sighed, whispered, and giggled all the
while.

"What you want me to do, Masta?" asked the mulatto slave boy.  Sam for a
moment was clearly at a loss, so taken up was he in the moment of splendid
improvisation.  Lucius waited but a moment and then gently took over.
Seizing his master by the hand, he led him to the bed and both boys crawled
up on it.  Looking around quickly, Lucius picked up a small pot of
lubricant and quickly oiled his master's rampant red cock, then put the oil
on Sam's fingers and flinging himself back on the bed, his knees up against
his chest, he guided the white boy to squat before his buttocks, before the
wrinkled anus, and to insert a finger in.  Sam did so quite willingly as
Lucius gasped.  The white boy played with the orifice for a few minutes,
moving one and then two fingers in and out, feeling and exploring the
inside, as Lucius gasped and squirmed.  As the lubricant began rubbing off,
Sam oiled his fingers again with the clear fluid from his own penis, which
was drooling out liberally.

It was when Lucius bent up and forward a little and drew Sam closer to him
that the white boy understood what he was to do.  Placing the tip of his
red, rigid cock at the anus, he thrust in.  It went in quite easily, the
opening well dilated by his fingers.  A look of surprise spread on Sam's
face and his mouth formed an O.  Then Lucius wrapped his legs around the
white boy's back, locking his ankles, and began encouraging Sam to pump.
The white boy did, his eyes looking frantically from the brown boy beneath
him to the sight of his rod plunging in and out to the kind face of the
mulatto boy.  It took no time at all before Sam threw his head back, shut
his eyes, tensed and pushed hard with his pelvis and cried out, shivering
and bucking as he shot his load into the mulatto boy's guts.

Sam continued to squat there, swaying a little, breathing hard, and then
tears began squeezing out of his closed eyelids, then streaming down, and
he simply moaned; a moan of relief, of gratitude.  Sam pulled out of Lucius
with a plop and collapsed forward, gently sobbing against the mulatto
slave's brown chest, while Lucius murmured words of comfort and rubbed the
white boy's back and buttocks with his hands.

Sam continued like that for a few minutes.  When he had recovered himself
and given a deep, soul wracking sigh, the white boy suddenly pushed himself
up off of the mulatto slave beneath him and with a kind of fierce urgency
slid down the brown body and engulfed the still rigid dark brown cock in
his mouth.  Sam began sucking and pumping with his head for all he was
worth, his hands rubbing the chest and abdomen of the older boy.  Lucius
surrendered to his master's urgency, his fingers entwined in the white
boy's hair as he began gently pumping with his own hips to match the white
boy's rhythm.  A few more moments of this and Lucius whispered urgently,
"I'se coming, Masta," to which Sam replied with a grunt and a more
determined sucking.  With a high pitched keening Lucius came, shooting his
load straight up and into the white boy's mouth, where it was swallowed
eagerly.

Once Lucius was done, his warm dark shaft cleaned and drained by the white
boy master, Sam slid up beside him and enveloped him tightly in an embrace.
Lucius returned the gesture, and the two drifted off in a doze for perhaps
a half an hour.  Then Sam woke with a start, which also brought Lucius out
of his sleep.  Sam looked around wildly as if it took a second or two to
reorient himself.  The instant he recognized the mulatto slave boy beside
him, Sam was seized by another wave of fierce urgency.

Needing no instruction from Lucius, Sam rolled the slave boy over onto his
belly and positioned his penis, suddenly rampant again, at the
still-relaxed anus.  The white boy pushed in with one smooth motion, the
slave boy grunting.  With no further ceremony Sam set up a furious
pounding, first holding himself up off of the light brown body, then
lowering himself onto the mulatto's back and sliding his arms beneath the
slave's chest to grasp him tightly.  Frantically Sam pounded and before
long he came again, this time crying out as if a full release was forcing
itself out from his body through his lungs, from his mouth.  Sam stayed
there shuddering, twitching, breathing heavily, until he recovered.  And
then he slipped off to the side.

Lucius had his own needs, but this was a moment for Sam.  Lucius held the
white boy in his arms until Sam drifted off to sleep again, sexually
exhausted, emotionally drained.  And then the mulatto boy slipped out.
When Sam awoke again, an hour later, he was alone on the bed, a soft warm
breeze blowing through the window.



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