Date: Sun, 4 Jul 2004 06:27:30 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Seaward Plantation chapter sixteen

This story contains graphic but completely fictional
depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage
boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women have begun
appearing.  If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to
read or download this, or if you are under 18, please go
away.

Seaward Plantation

Chapter sixteen

Even on an island of the South, brushed by warm sea
currents, fall brings cool breezes, harvest, and a crispness
in the air.  Autumn snuck up on Seaward Plantation, bright
red and orange leaves surprising the people, clear mornings
bringing unexpected new smells.  Maybe they didn't notice at
first because they were so busy with harvest, care of
livestock, and construction.  Hard work brought completion
to the building projects on the island.  New lofts in the
storage and hay barns held stores carefully hoarded against
the times of trouble that seemed to loom on the horizon.
Three stone armories--squat, stout sheds--now housed
muskets, powder, and shot, one on the northwest corner of
the island, two near the pier on the western side.  A stout
new cabin wore a drying coat of paint, ready to be occupied
by Portia (and whomever wanted or needed to move in with
her).

There had been no more field exercises of the South Carolina
Militia during this period of harvest, when most of the men
would be occupied in fields they owned, rented, or labored
in for others.  That would resume in late winter or early
spring.  During one of his regular trips into Charleston for
supplies, Appleby met Silas Hornsby on the street and passed
a pleasant hour with him in a tavern.  Freed by Appleby's
prediction of love, and by their own encounter that had set
a spark to Silas's sense of possibilities, the youth had
indeed met a fellow laborer, living on the outskirts of
Charleston, with whom he could find passion.  The youth
positively glowed in telling Appleby, in a lowered voice, of
this new chapter in his life, and Appleby was glad for him.

Meetings of the officers of the militia had likewise been
reduced, although there had been one since the field
exercises.  Appleby felt mixed emotions when Carter Ashley
told him that Robert had remained home with a slight cold in
the head.  He still felt a physical attraction for the boy,
but it was balanced with a horror of the lad's quickness to
use people who were not white as objects for his own
purposes.  Appleby accompanied Carter back to their boat at
the end of the meeting to see him off, and had a chance to
nod hello to Rodney--but no more than that.

The weeks had slipped by quickly as good, healthful,
productive work filled the hours on Seaward, and now
everyone agreed that the labor of building was completed.
Portia was still hanging curtains and arranging furniture in
her cabin, but it would be a comfortable home within days--
and in the meantime, there was no shortage of beds on
Seaward where she was welcome.  One morning the people of
Seaward worked until shortly before noon, and then it dawned
on them:  there was nothing left to do, outside of Portia's
domestic puttering.  The whole company of the island stood
in a knot on the grass in front of the storage and hay
barns, hands on shoulders, arms around waists, and looked up
at their handiwork.

"It needs something else," said Appleby.  Groans and
exclamations filled the air.  "What else could it need,
master?" rumbled Priam.  Appleby's tanned face broke into a
huge smile:  "It needs a party!"  Cheers and laughter
erupted, as everyone agreed with him.  The rest of the
afternoon was spent preparing a loft of the storage barn for
a party, hanging lanterns, bringing up blankets to spread
over crates and sacks, bringing up wine from the Seaward
cellar, cooking and baking.  Everyone worked to finish the
day's chores in preparation for a celebration.  Evening came
on, as it seemed to sooner every day now, and the night
turned comfortably cool and crisp.  The loft of the barn was
pleasantly lit by oil lamps, and open windows let in the
fresh night air.

Long plank tables were set up on the ground floor of the
barn, and a sumptuous feast was set out.  Talk, laughter,
food, drink, and friendship abounded.  Little Apple, a
crawler if not yet a toddler, squirmed in every lap, taking
soft, mashed food from every hand--to the delight of her
mother who had been glad to wean her despite her strong
maternal instincts.  The feast completed, everyone worked to
clear away the leftovers and tables, and then the party
moved upstairs to the loft on which they had labored so
hard.

Priam brought his banjo and played many a tune.  People
danced singly, in groups, in every conceivable combination.
Wine flowed, making friendship friendlier, happiness
happier.  Apple was stowed in a bundle of blankets in the
corner, where she slept soundly despite of--or because of--
the music.  The night danced on.  Heaving a sigh of
satisfaction, Priam announced his intention to retire for
the night, seconded by Cass and Juno.  As nobody could play
his instrument, he took it with them as they climbed down
the ladder, waving.  The rest of the party settled back
comfortably on blankets against sacks and crates or
stretched out on the floor, humming tunes together, passing
bottles around.

It was Bundit's doing, really.  Somebody asked him what
songs they had in Siam, and whether they were different, and
what dances they did.  His head buzzing pleasantly, Bundit
began humming to himself softly--then louder--then rose,
swaying, taking a few steps tentatively, then more
assertively. Soon he was singing and dancing in a Siamese
style, his eyes closed, his thoughts floating far away to
his native land.  He bobbed and floated in the middle of the
loft, like a hovering fairy.  People clapped to keep time,
nodding heads and tapping feet.  Heated from the efforts,
Bundit pulled his shirt off in one movement and tossed it
aside, then continued dancing.  Hard, lean muscles on a
small frame moved beneath his persimmon colored skin that
now had a light sheen of sweat.  His beautiful almond eyes
remained closed, his rosebud lips were parted, his thick
bush of black, winged hair bobbed and swirled as he moved.
He was a magician, and his beauty was casting a spell over
the whole, tipsy company.  Clapping died away, but every eye
was on the dancing boy, twirling, singing to himself.

Appleby was lost in the Asian youth's swirling, twirling
movements, the soft glow of the lamplight on his lovely
skin.  Then a pressure on his own body brought him
pleasantly back to his surroundings.  He was sitting next to
Hector; indeed, very close to Hector, his arm around the
neck of the fourteen year old black boy--and somehow, his
hand had found its way into the collar and front gap of the
boy's shirt.  Appleby had been lightly rubbing the boy's
padded, hairless chest, then tweaking his prune nipples.  It
was as Hector leaned into the white man, his arm around his
master's lower back, his other hand rubbing up and down the
man's thigh, that Appleby floated back to the here and now.
He pulled Hector closer to him, kissing and nuzzling the
boy's black, kinky skullcap of hair, and the boy responded
by moving his hand to Appleby's crotch, gently manipulating
the erection that was evident through the fabric of his
trousers.  Appleby looked up quickly to see who might be
observing this, and he beheld a wonderful sight.

To his left sat Troy on a low crate, his eyes watching
Bundit's every move.  In front of him, between his legs, on
the floor of the loft sat Athena.  Troy's strong brown hands
were down the loosened front of her blouse, gently massaging
her firm breasts.  Athena had her head to one side, eyes
half-closed, also watching Bundit.... but leaning up against
her, between her legs, was Cassius.  Athena had one hand
running through the mulatto boy's thick, loose black curls,
while her other hand was lodged down the loosened front of
his trousers, slowly kneading.  Cassius had both of his
hands underneath Athena's thighs, slowly slipping up and
down, and he, too was looking at Bundit, breathing through
half-opened lips.  Across from this grouping and to
Appleby's right....

Pan and Bacchus sat on some blanket covered grain sacks,
side by side.  On Pan's lap sat Helen, her head leaning
against Pan's chest, his chin and trumpet lips in her tufted
hair.  His left hand was slowly sliding along the girl's
lean, dark brown thigh from her knee to the rounded curve of
her hip and bottom, visible now that her simple dress was
hitched up to her waist.  Pan's right arm was around his
brother' shoulder.  Between Bacchus's spread legs was
Portia, her head leaning back against the boy's crotch while
he ran the fingers of one hand through her frizzy brown hair
and slid the other hand down the front of her blouse to cup
a pert, taut breast.

Appleby pulled off his shirt as Hector squirmed out of his
own.  The black fourteen year old boy swiveled around onto
his knees between Appleby's legs, facing the white man, and
the two embraced.  Appleby pushed forward and slid to the
floor, now knee to knee with Hector, bare torsos clutched
together.  Their lips met and locked in a long, slow dance,
tongues sliding on lips, lips sucking tongues.  Hector broke
away with a gasp of surprise and looked behind him.  Bundit
had returned from the fairyland in which he was dancing to
see the array of coupling bodies he had created, and he was
joining the fray.  The Asian youth was naked, having shed
his trousers as well as his shirt, and was tugging down
Hector's pants.  Hector rose to assist the process and soon
stood naked before Appleby with Bundit's arms reaching
around him, gold and tan on deep chocolate skin, his rigid
cock sliding in Hector's ass crack.  Hector's large, purple
black penis stuck straight out at Appleby.  The white man
tugged Hector and Bundit forward, then engulfed the organ in
his mouth and began nibbling at the head with his lips,
tugging the top of the hood down with his upper lip as
Hector sighed and writhed with pleasure.  Bundit's hands
slid over the black boy's hairless chest and belly, tugging
at his prune nipples until they stood out in erect points.
The Asian youth gently bit the black boy's neck and
shoulders and nuzzled in his short, crinkly black hair.
Surrounded by pleasure, Hector pumped his hips back and
forth, sliding his penis in and out of his master's mouth,
running his fingers through his long, light brown hair and
holding the white man's head--until a wave of ecstasy
overtook him.  Pushing into Appleby's mouth, his body felt
as if it were merging with his master.  Not an assault, it
was a coupling.  Appleby sucked and bobbed his head until
the wave of pleasure and love had flowed over and through
Hector and his quivering body relaxed.  He brought his lips
down to Appleby's ears as the white man was sucking the
penis clean and whispered words of love and thanks.  Then he
rolled to the floor and away in the direction of the Pan and
Bacchus grouping.

Appleby rose and quickly tossed aside his remaining clothes,
but then a realization came to him--especially as he saw
that the other groupings had similarly progressed.  Surely
someone would want lubrication, but who could tear
themselves away to go get some?  He looked around
desperately, and then saw it among the stored goods nearby.
Leaping quickly to his side, he tore open a crate and pulled
out--udder balm!  "This will do," he said half to himself,
and brought out three or four cans, rolling some in the
direction of the other groupings, keeping one for himself.
Back to Bundit as quick as a wink, he and the Asian boy
ground together still standing, his arms around Bundit's
back, the Asian's fingers clutching the white man's firm
butt, grinding cocks together.  Bundit slowly slid to the
floor, licking, kissing, biting nipples, tonguing the navel
as he went, and ended up on his knees before Appleby, his
hands still clutching the man's butt.  Appleby's rampant
erection slid into the rosebud lips in a flash, and the
youth's mane of thick, bushy black hair bobbed back and
forth as his head rose and fell furiously.  Clutching the
youth's shoulders, now his hair, Appleby moaned and seethed
with pleasure, then threw his head back and howled, pumping
furiously into the Asian's mouth, shooting ropes of sperm
which Bundit greedily swallowed.

Spent, Appleby dropped to the floor, kissed Bundit, then
took up the udder balm and anointed the youth's reddish
gold, rampant cock with it.  Smearing some in his own anus,
Appleby turned around onto his hands and knees.  Bundit
positioned himself behind Appleby's ass and pushed first the
head and then the whole shaft of his dick in.  Appleby
gasped, but heedless of the discomfort he immediately began
pushing his ass back into the youth, hungering for the feel
of that reddish gold penis moving inside of him.  As Bundit
began moving in and out of Appleby's ass very quickly,
almost fluttering his hips, Hector moved around behind
Bundit to enclose the Asian youth's boxy chest in his dark
chocolate arms.  Caressed from behind and fucking in front,
Bundit began crying out and moaning in some unintelligible
language, his body frantically pistoning back and forth,
then slammed forward into Appleby so hard he pushed the
strong man to the floor, following him down with bucking
hips, pulling Hector down behind him.  Sandwiched between
the two, Bundit quivered and shook as the last of his semen
drained down into the white man beneath him.

Floating on a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, mashed beneath
two beautiful, panting, warm bodies, Appleby did not exactly
doze--and it took but a few minutes in real time--but his
thoughts drifted to another moment of sweet afterglow a
month or so ago.  He was lying on a similar happy cloud
following a long session of sexual intimacy, on his back in
his bed in the main house.  Troy, panting, was lying half on
top of him.  Troy's dark chocolate skin covered the rolling
mounds of muscle in his shoulders and arms, and Appleby ran
his palms over that shiny dark skin, squeezing lightly.
Appleby's face nuzzled Troy's tight, short, black hair as it
lay at the white man's chin level.  Troy's cheek lay against
Appleby's padded chest, now rising and falling with a more
even breath.  Troy's right arm was up, his fingers caressing
Appleby's hair, while his left hand twined itself in the
small patch of hair at the center of the white man's chest,
sliding over to tweak his pink nipples.

Troy propped himself up to look closely at the hair on
Appleby's chest, twirling and pulling it.  Bringing his eyes
close to the man's tanned white skin, he brushed it lightly,
licked it, then rolled the nipples, again looking closely as
pink shifted to red and back as blood came and went in the
tissues.  Then he scooted up to Appleby's shoulder length,
light brown hair and ran strands of it through his fingers,
sniffing it, tasting it.  A low, throaty chuckled rolled out
into the room.

"People sure are different, aren't they, master?  All these
colors, all these kinds of hair."

Appleby smiled and agreed, then put his own hand to Troy's
hair, running his fingers across the crinkly, crisp texture.
He moved an index finger to Troy's plum-like lips, the lower
one large and glistening.

"Bundit's different, too.  I like his skin, kind of like a
peach, and his hair, too," said Troy.

Appleby nodded, and then a serious look came over his face.
He pushed himself up on an elbow.  Troy did the same, the
two lying side by side, relaxing penises drooling their last
silver lines into a puddle on the sheet between them.
Appleby spoke in a soft, troubled voice.

"But Troy.... would you be here with me if my skin was your
color?  Would I be with you, would I be at Seaward at all if
I weren't white?  How can we know?"

Troy smiled and placed a hand on Appleby's cheek.  He
thought for a moment, considering the matter carefully.

"Well, master.... I don't know.  I love you; you know that.
That means I love the things about you that are you.  That
includes how you look, but it's also how you are inside.
This.... this is about those things you were thinking about
when you came back from soldier camp, isn't it?"  Appleby
nodded, casting his eyes down.  Troy flopped onto his back
and looked at the ceiling.

"Maybe... maybe some people LIKE to do it with others
because they HAVE to.  Maybe I do sometimes.  Every now and
then," he said, grinning and turning back toward Appleby, "I
get some soft cloth and tie up Athena when we do it.  Man, I
get so hard when I do that!  It's like I can make her do
what I want her to do, and.... ah!" he rolled luxuriantly on
the bed, an incipient erection returning to his penis at the
very thought.  "I don't think she minds.  Maybe she likes
it.  She never said not to.  Sometimes... sometimes she
likes me to swat her butt, too," he said, grinning.

"But that's not like being a master and slave, that's not
like really and legally owning someone."

Troy thought for a minute.  "No," he said, shaking his head,
"no, you're right, it's not."

Appleby groaned.  "I wish I'd never come to Seaward.... as a
white master.  On the other hand, I never lived until I came
to Seaward.  And... I like being who I am. And now I
couldn't live without Seaward."  He shook his head in
thought.  A moment passed, then Troy spoke again.

"Now that I think about it.... master, I think it's just
human nature.  We need to give a little pain, we need to get
a little pain.  It's when things get out of balance that you
have trouble."  Appleby listened carefully, nodding slowly.
"Some of those other plantations, master, I know.... the
white folks give pain all the time and the black folks get
it all the time.  That's not right.  There's no balance."

The two lay side by side some moments longer, processing
these thoughts.  Troy spoke up again:  "The same with color,
master.  If anybody, black or white, liked somebody only for
their color, or their hair.... or didn't like somebody for
the same reasons... or that was the only reason they had to
be with them, or not to be with them, well that would be
bad.  You need balance.  If someone's color isn't part of
what you like about them, that's too bad.  Look, master," he
said, propping himself up by his elbow, "It's just color and
hair and all that, it doesn't matter.  But oh!  master!
it's all this wonderful color and all these kinds of hair,
and that sure does matter!  Aw, we are who we are, master,
and we can't get away from that.  We'll never figure this
out, master!  We just have to find people to love and love
them in the ways we can do it."

Appleby looked at Troy for a minute, taking it all in.  Then
he smiled, and Troy broke out in a huge grin.  "Troy," he
began,"are you... are you always going to call me 'master'?
Shouldn't we move away from that?"

"NO!" shouted Troy, grinning ferociously, and then arced
over the white man and planted a ringing slap on his bare
bottom, "and you can't make me!"  Appleby howled in pain and
delight, grabbed the squirming chocolate body next to him
and.....  but that scene faded back into memory as Appleby
floated into the present and, looking straight ahead, saw
what had been developing with Pan and Bacchus's grouping.

All four were naked by now:  the caramel chocolate thirteen
year old twins, the dark chocolate eleven year old girl, the
seventeen year old mulatto girl.  Pan was still sitting on
some blanket covered sacks of grain, leaning back, his legs
now straight out in front of him with his heels dug into the
loft floor.  Eleven year old Helen straddled his lap facing
him, her legs splayed out on both sides of his thighs.  Her
orange size, pert breasts were at Pan's face level, and he
was greedily sucking them, tonguing and biting her round,
prune colored nipples.  His caramel brown hands were cupped
around each dark, round globe of her buttocks.  Helen had
one hand on Pan's shoulder and the other around the boy's
dark chocolate cock.  She was moving just the head of his
rampant penis up and down in the entrance to her vagina, the
slick precum coating the lips and clitoris while she slowly
rocked her hips back and forth.  Appleby was struck once
more by how much she looked like a boy.... a boy with
breasts and a vagina.  Her resemblance to her brothers, Troy
and Hector, was powerfully attractive at that moment, as if
she were a younger, feminine brother to the two.  As he
watched, Helen lowered herself onto Pan's rigid cock,
bringing a gasp to his lips.  She began a steady rise and
fall as he leaned back at an angle against the stack of
grain sacks, his hands now grasping her small breasts and
kneading them.

Bacchus, close by, was standing up in front of Portia, who
was on her knees in front of him--his hands buried in her
cloud of frizzy brown hair, his engorged penis completely
swallowed inside her rosebud mouth.  He was slowly gyrating
his hips, his eyes closed and head back, as Portia bobbed
her head up and down.  In the boy's mind, was it Portia, or
a female at all, who was servicing him in this way?  The two
held that position for a moment longer, then Bacchus pulled
out.  His rampant cock bobbing in the air, arching out and
up at an angle, he directed the taller, seventeen year old
mulatto girl to swivel around onto her elbows and knees.
Bacchus quickly slipped behind her, placed his swollen dick
at the entrance to her love tunnel, and pushed in.  Portia
moaned with pleasure, swinging her head from side to side,
pushing her hips back greedily to receive him.  The two were
placed so that, once locked together, they were both facing
Appleby.  Bacchus began pumping in and out, his hands
grasping the girl's hips, but his eyes were communing with
Appleby.  Portia was swinging her hips back and forth in
time to Bacchus's pumping, her head hanging down some of the
time, but when she brought it up her eyes locked onto
Appleby's.

Appleby's gaze, however, was distracted by a gasp and cry
from Helen.  In the throes of her own orgasm, she was
shuddering, grasping Pan tightly by the neck even as she
continued to bob up and down on his rampant dick.  As her
cries subsided, Pan's began.  His fingers tightened
painfully on the flesh of the girl's bottom as his hips
thrust upward and he howled, head thrown back, breath
seething.  The long muscles of his thighs popped and flexed
beneath caramel skin as he pushed his semen into the dark
brown girl.

But then Appleby's eyes were drawn to the other couple, for
Bacchus, pistoning his hips rapidly back and forth, sliding
his rampant cock in and out of Portia, was crying "Ah! Ah!
Ah!" and then his torso curled forward as an orgasm slammed
through him and into the mulatto girl, bellowing, grasping
her shoulders and pulling himself into her.  Her vagina
bathed in the thirteen year old's warm, slimy flow, Portia
moaned and writhed beneath him, her own orgasm a steady
thrumming of passion that matched the boy's wild clenching
thrusts.  They held that position for a minute longer,
quivering and shaking, then rolled together onto the floor
at the feet of Pan who still held Helen in his arms, both of
them spent, his arms around her as she lay her head on his
heaving chest.

Appleby felt as if he had come again, although it was only
the stimulation of his imagination. He rolled over onto his
back, panting, staring at the pointed arch of the barn roof
above.  Recovering himself from the sights, sounds, and feel
of all that was around him, he saw in his imagination a
recent scene play out in the shadows of the roof.  It was
only two weeks ago, and he had returned to Ashley Plantation
for another social weekend of dancing, shooting, and meeting
the local gentry.  His thoughts drifted back....

The visit was much like his earlier experience.  Victoria
and Virginia continued to ply him with their charms,
although his continued masquerade of widowerhood kept them
at bay.  There was another ball with many of the same gentry
in attendance.  Mrs. Reynolds, the recent owner of Portia
and Cassius, was also there, still her sour self in black
weeds.  Appleby enjoyed renewing the personal and sexual
contacts he had with the slaves of Ashley Plantation,
especially the strong, manly Rodney and the exotic Aaron--
and of course with Robert....  The blonde boy still exerted
a strong attraction on Appleby, but he understood the youth
to be ultimately toxic.  In the midst of their most
passionate couplings Appleby could keep an emotional
distance, knowing the potential for evil within that golden
head, behind the crystal blue eyes, beneath the strawberries
and cream complexion.  Or was it... was it that Appleby saw
himself hiding within the boy, and feared for what the lad
might call out in him if he followed him too closely in his
games?  One remarkable afternoon from that visit now came
flooding back to Appleby as he lay on his back in the loft,
listening to the carnal sounds around him.

The company had finished a pleasant lunch and were
dispersing for separate pursuits in the afternoon.  Some
were to take strolls through the well tended gardens of
Ashley, others to nap, and some were organizing a card game
in the parlor.  Appleby had just risen from the table and
walked into the hallway, thinking of what he would do, when
Robert slid up to him and whispered beneath his breath,
"Come with me, sir.  I have a duty to perform this afternoon
and I think you would like to help me do it."

Mystified, Appleby nodded his agreement, and the two left
the house.  They took a path away from the house, gardens,
and river toward some utility buildings in the distance.
Appleby thought he could see a smokehouse and perhaps a hay
barn among other structures.  Robert kept quiet, smiling to
himself, as they walked along.  Going past the smokehouse,
Robert gave a low whistle.  From behind the back of the
smokehouse there slipped three black boys--the same three,
Appleby now saw, he had seen Robert fucking on the banks of
the stream that memorable afternoon some months ago:  First
came the ten year old boy Appleby had fondled at
McGillicuddy's soon after arriving at Seaward.  Appleby
still did not know his name, but he remembered his muscular
build on a small frame, his dark chocolate color with a
wide, turned up nose and knots and whorls of black hair on
his head.  Next came Aaron, the twelve year old leopard
faced boy, who smiled a welcome which Appleby returned with
feeling.  Finally Hammond, the somewhat fleshy, dark-skinned
thirteen year old whose trousers hid, Appleby knew, a
surprisingly large penis for his age.  Hammond likewise
recognized Appleby, a wide, white grin splitting his round
face, and Appleby nodded and smiled back.

"You know Aaron," said Robert.  "This is Hammond," he said,
gesturing at the grinning thirteen year old, "and Samuel,"
indicating the ten year old.  Samuel nodded at Appleby and
softly said, "Masta," then hung his head.  He betrayed no
memory of their meeting at McGillicuddy's, for which Appleby
was grateful.  Appleby smiled all around and then asked
Robert, "Well, sir, what duty is this you are to perform?"

"One of the servants was caught stealing a ham.  Father
asked me to punish him, as I am old enough to learn my
duties as the future master of Ashley," said Robert, his
chin tilted up.

Appleby's smile vanished in an instant.  "I shall not stand
by while you whip a servant, sir," he said, "I will not
allow it."

Robert looked at him curiously, his head cocked to one side.
"Whipping?  Hmmm... that's an idea.  But no, no sir, not
whipping.  Another kind of penalty.  A kind of punishment.
Although I do wonder whether they come to enjoy it.  We are
missing several hams lately."  Turning on his heel he led
the way to a nearby hay barn.  Open mouthed but now
intrigued, Appleby followed--if nothing else he could at
least attempt to head off the worst of Robert's excesses.

As they approached the hay barn, two adult male slaves rose
from where they had been sitting outside the door.  "Is
everything ready?" asked Robert.  The men nodded, mumbling
"Yes, masta," eyes averted.  "Good.  You may go now.  We
will release him later."  The men hurried off, but Appleby
detected some curious backward glances from them.  Whatever
lay within, how many such scenes had they arranged for their
young master?

Robert pushed open the barn door and led the way in.  It was
shaded but not dark, light coming in from open windows in
the loft and from between ill-fitting boards in the siding.
Stacks of hay bales filled the barn, a sweet aroma baking
out of them in the afternoon sun.  The group followed Robert
around the corner of a tower of bales and found four
stacked, rectangular bales covered with an old, dirty, but
soft blanket.  On top of that blanket was a slave, his feet
planted on the ground, his torso stretched out belly-down on
the blanketed hay pile, his butt a little lower than waist
high and presented for all the world to see.  Appleby could
see that soft but strong cloths secured his ankles to stakes
in the ground--his wrists were likewise tied by soft cloths
that looped under a hay bale, keeping him pinned to the
stack.  His head was turned to see the group as they came
in.  "Masta," he said softly, "I'se sorry.... please don'
whip me, masta," he said.

"Whipping, what's all this talk of whipping," said Robert,
who walked over to the bale and then actually did pick up a
short whip that was lying beside the bound black man.
"Maybe some day, sir, if you make a habit of this sort of
thing.  For now," he said, tossing the whip aside, "we have
another sort of punishment in mind for you."  The man's eyes
grew wide in both fear and hope.

Appleby was completely on edge.  He was ready to intervene
in an instant, determined not to see the man suffer.  This
spectacle of bondage was repellent to him, and yet.... his
eyes could not help but drink it in.  The man was powerfully
built and would stand six feet or more upright.  Sculpted
muscles on his arms, shoulders, and legs rolled in hills and
valleys beneath a dark chocolate skin that shone with a thin
layer of sweat.  His short, kinky cap of hair had bits of
straw in it.  Taking a few steps to his side, Appleby could
see that the man had been arranged so that his scrotum and
penis hung down the front of the stack of hay on which he
was trussed, a heavy ballsack dangling down against a large
but flaccid penis pressed up against the blanket over the
side of the hay.  His bottom was the typical muscular black
man's butt, and in this position it described almost a sharp
angle as it stuck out into the air.  His feet were staked
widely enough apart so that a dark reddish brown anus could
be seen in the ass crack just above the sack of testicles.
Appleby's penis stiffened immediately.  The pointed hills of
the slave's black butt sloped down to long rolls of muscles
up both sides of his back.  Appleby saw with relief that his
skin betrayed no scars or marks of whips.  "God help me; God
help us all," he thought to himself as desire warred with
conscience.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke to Robert.  "You... you
are not hurt him, sir, I won't stand for it."  Robert
smirked:  "Hurt him?  Well, no more than he might enjoy--
afterward if not at the time.  But at any rate, he must
learn not to steal, don't you agree?"  Then the boy snapped
his fingers at the three slave boys who were with him.
Grinning, all three immediately dropped their clothing and
stepped barefoot away from their bunched trousers.  Robert
reached between some bales and pulled out a pot of some sort
of lubricant, grease or oil, which he had evidently put
there for the purpose.  This he set on the top of the hay
stack right beside the slave's upraised bottom.  Looking at
the spectacle for a moment, Robert raised his hand and
brought it down with a ringing smack on the black skin of
the butt, eliciting a gasp and "Ah!" from the slave.  Robert
did it again, then stepped back and began removing his own
clothing.  Naked, he leered at Appleby and, nodding at the
upturned bottom, said "Join us?"  Then he stepped up to the
naked, bound slave to begin the "punishment."

Robert beckoned the ten year old Samuel to come forward.  He
did, a hungry, expectant look on his features.  He (and the
other boys?) had evidently joined with their young master in
this exercise before.  Robert scooped a hunk of goo out of
the pot of lubricant and smeared it on the boy's small,
stiff erection...but not on the waiting anus beside them.
Samuel turned to the upraised bottom of the black slave on
the hay bale, but he was a little short to reach.  Robert
stepped around behind him and, grasping him around the
chest, lifted the boy up a few inches.  Samuel spread the
black ass cheeks with one hand and with another placed his
stiff little penis at the anus.  Robert pushed forward,
leaning into the boy, his own hard cock mashed against the
boy's thighs, and Samuel's penis slipped right into the
waiting butt.

The bound black slave grunted out an exclamation of surprise-
-"uh?"  Samuel's legs hooked around the bound slave's legs
and his hands were splayed out on the man's hips, supporting
the boy's body.  Hanging off the back of the slave, plugged
into his butt, Samuel now began a furious fanning of his
hips back and forth.  His soft, high voice began breathing a
rhythm of "unh, unh, unh, unh" as he moved in and out, in
and out.  Moments passed as the tempo of his pumping
increased.  The muscles of his young butt flexed
rhythmically, then clenched, and he froze, quivering, a high
pitched squeal coming from his throat.  The boy hung there a
moment more in the throes of his dry orgasm, then his head
lolled forward.  Pushing off the slave's butt with his
hands, he bounded back and down four inches to land on the
barn floor.  Turning, he absolutely strutted away in the
direction of the other slave boys, a huge grin on his face,
greeted by back slaps and cheers from his fellows.

Robert beckoned twelve year old Aaron to come forward, which
he did, his thick shaft bobbing.  Greased well by his young
white master, Aaron stepped forward, just able to reach his
target.  With no ceremony he put the head of his rampant
black cock to the man's relaxed anus and pushed.  The bound
slave did gasp this time, and craned his head around to see
who was inside of him.  Aaron began moving back and forth,
in and out, and twice brought his palm down with a hard slap
onto the hills of buttocks that rose up in front of him, but
the bound slave did not protest.  Faster Aaron pumped, and
then slammed forward, head back, crying out, clenching into
the man's bottom.  Then Aaron's knees buckled and he slumped
forward, holding himself up with his hands on the man's
back.  But a moment passed, and he stood, pulling his penis
from the black behind in front of him, trailing a thin
thread of semen.  Like a conquering hero, he also was hailed
by his fellows.

Thirteen year old Hammond did not have to be coaxed to come
forward.  He eagerly stuck out his large, purple black penis
to be greased by his master, then stepped up behind the
bound black slave and with quick efficiency impaled him with
the rigid shaft.  The man caught his breath, but by now his
anus was well enlarged and lubricated.  Hammond put the
whole strength of his legs into bucking back and forth, back
and forth, also spanking the black bottom in front of him,
calling out "Yeah! that'll teach ya!  Learn that!"  When he
came his feet did a brief little drumming dance on the floor
and he pushed forward, rocking on the balls of his feet, his
torso curling forward and down, pushing his semen into the
waiting rectum to join the load that was already there.
Panting, he held the position for a moment, then withdrew to
walk with a proud look on his face to join the knot of slave
boy admirers.

Appleby simply did not know what to do or think during this
tableau.  Was he witnessing a rape?  Certainly the black
man, tied down as he was, could not have been a willing
participant.  Yet not once had he protested, except against
what he feared would be a whipping at the start.  More
amazing still, it was clear that his once flaccid penis,
hanging down against the soft blanket in front of the hay,
was now fully erect, a thin line of precum hanging to the
floor.  The man's heavy breathing...was it from pain or
passion?  Or could he tell the difference?  Appleby's own
rigid cock was painfully erect, straining against his
trousers from within.

Young Samuel, smiling at his master, stepped up again to the
bound slave, but this time he sat on the ground by one of
his tied-down legs.  The ten year old put one arm around
that leg and with his other hand he grasped the dangling,
rigid penis of the bound man and began pumping it, running
his fist up and down the hanging shaft.  The slave began to
groan and, to the extent he could, to move his hips up and
down.

Robert now stepped up to this humping butt, his pink, rigid
cock bouncing, drooling precum.  He made no effort to
lubricate it, nor was any needed in truth.  The brown black
anus was fully relaxed, winking open, a thin stream of mixed
semen oozing down onto the back of his ballsack.  Robert
slapped the upraised bottom once more, hard, then asked in a
loud voice, "Will you steal again?"  The bound man, panting,
gasped and gave the right answer:  "Naw, suh, nevah agin'"
Did he mean it, Appleby wondered?  Was this an experience to
avoid or to be courted?  Robert nodded, then quickly rammed
his rigid cock into the anus.  Back and forth he slammed
violently, his tight scrotum banging against the ballsack of
the black slave.  A reddish tinge crept over his
strawberries and cream complexion.  The dimpled hollow in
the flat of each hip flexed as his groin pumped in and out,
and then he threw his head back, cried out, and pushed into
the slave's buttocks, even as he grasped the man's hips and
pulled them back to him.  Quivering, shaking, he held that
position for a moment, his breath seething and ragged.  Then
his body slumped, his knees bending slightly.  Another
moment and he pulled out, this time a larger stream of semen
trickling from the anus.  But suddenly the anus closed as
the bound slave's butt muscles clenched, for Samuel's
ministrations had brought him to his own orgasm.  Shots and
ropes of white semen poured down from his rigid penis with a
force that made them splatter on the barn floor.

Robert stood, his organ wilting somewhat, and regarded this
discharge with interest.  Then he turned to Appleby, smiling
triumphantly.  "Your turn," he said, pointing to the waiting
butt.  Appleby was breathing heavily, conflicting emotions
warring in his chest.  With a tremendous struggle he said,
"I think not," wheeled, and marched from the barn.  As he
slammed the door behind him he heard Robert's peal of
raucous laughter.  Looking down, he saw that a thin line of
precum oozed from the front of his trousers and was swinging
as he walked.  Embarrassed, furious at himself yet still
containing high volts of unreleased sexual energy, he dabbed
away the liquid with his handkerchief, shifted his garments,
buttoned up his jacket, and walked away from that scene as
fast as he could.

Appleby sought the peacefulness of the stream, walking
alongside of it, trying to sort out his thoughts and
emotions.  The fall air, full of woodsmoke, moss, and the
sea, helped to calm his thoughts.  Walking on a path by the
water, he passed one of the many breaks in the undergrowth
that had been cut to allow access to the stream.  He
noticed, looking through this cut that someone was sitting
on the banks of the stream.  Appleby turned, scrambled down
the bank, and found that it was Rodney, fishing.  The man
welcomed him warmly.  Yearning for Rodney's calm
centeredness, Appleby asked if he could sit down and watch
him fish.

"O' course, masta, sit heah.  Wish I had a pole fo' you!"

Appleby gratefully sat next to him, briefly rubbing the
black man's shoulder companionably.  Moments of quiet peace
passed.  Then Rodney's wooden bobber ducked once, twice, and
disappeared beneath the surface of the water.  Quickly he
jerked the rod, setting the hook, and soon pulled in a
catfish, twisting and jumping on the line.  Appleby
congratulated him, patting him on the back, then grew
thoughtful as Rodney added the fish to a line on which he
was keeping his catch.

"Do you think the fish minds, Rodney?" he asked, a smile on
his lips.

"Reckon so, masta.  Course, the fish, he don' care about the
worm that was on that hook neither!  So, what goes aroun'
comes aroun', masta!"

Appleby nodded.  "But Rodney, shouldn't we care?  I know you
want that fish for your dinner, but is it right to use the
fish, to make it suffer, for your pleasure?"

Rodney looked at the white man as if he had landed from the
moon.  "Why, masta, what did y'all have fo' lunch?"

Appleby laughed and hung his head.  "Chicken."

"Well, suh.... reckon the chicken minded it?"  Rodney asked.
Appleby laughed again.

"I suppose he did, Rodney, I suppose he did."

A few more thoughtful moments passed, and Rodney spoke
again.  "I dunno masta, mebbe somehow the fish DID like the
fight.  Now, when I skins him and fries him, then he'll
mind, cuz that's goin' too fa'!  But not fo' me.  Got to
eat.  You do too, masta."

Appleby nodded.  "How about people, Rodney?  Do you think
people ever want to be used, want to be hurt?  Or, from the
other side, is it always bad to use other people if it makes
you feel good?"

Rodney looked directly at Appleby.  He began slowly.  "Well,
masta... you an' me, we has had some good times together,
right?"  Appleby smiled and nodded, rubbing Rodney's
shoulder again.  "Masta, I know you used me sometimes, but I
didn't mind, cuz like with the catfish, you didn' skin me!
Know what?  Sometimes I used you!  Beggin' yo' pardon,
masta, but I did.  I liked the way you looked and felt....."
his voice trailed off. Then he smiled and continued:  "It's
jes'.... some people use people too much.  Balance.  You
gotta have balance."

That word again, "balance."  Troy had said much the same to
him.  It was beginning to make sense.  All these torments of
control, race, power... you just try to pick your way
through the minefield the best you can.  You balance.
Appleby nodded at Rodney and smiled at him, then the two sat
together companionably, Appleby's hand resting lightly on
Rodney's muscular shoulder, for the rest of the afternoon.

In a flash, the vision from Ashley came tumbling down in
pieces, and Appleby was on the floor of the loft again.  A
cry of ecstasy had recalled him to where he was.  Turning to
his other side, he saw what Troy, Athena, and Cassius had
been up to.
Cassius lay on his back on the floor; it was he who had just
cried out.  Troy still sat nearby on a crate, naked, his
dark body a symphony of muscled hills and valleys, his
chocolate skin shining in the lamplight.  His big, erect
cock stood straight up out of his lap as he slid his fist up
and down it while he surveyed the spectacle on the floor.
Athena had just lowered herself onto Cassius's rigid brown
dickhead and was slowly describing circles with her hips,
tantalizing the panting mulatto boy who lay beneath her.
Athena looked to her side and saw Appleby.  Her hair stood
out in all directions in short, braided tufts, pieces of
straw stuck in it here and there.  She was breathing through
her mouth in her passion.  And in her passion she looked
straight into Appleby's eyes, smiled, and beckoned with her
head.

Appleby crawled the few feet needed to reach the couple on
the floor, arriving just as Athena lowered herself entirely
onto Cassius's rod, bringing another gasp of pleasure to his
lips.  There was no mistaking Athena's femininity, but
Appleby found her family resemblance to Pan and Bacchus
irresistible, as he had with Helen's and Portia's
resemblance to their brothers.  Her caramel skin shone with
a light wash of sweat in the lamplight.  Appleby moved
around behind her to see Cassius's brown dick buried
entirely within her, his tight, wide ballsack just outside
her vagina.  The white man's penis sprang into life again,
powerfully erect.  He looked up at Troy, who smiled hungrily
back at him, running his brown hand up and down his black
dick.

While remaining impaled on Cassius, Athena cocked her hips
up and back toward Appleby; it was unmistakably an
invitation.  Reaching for the nearby pot of lubricant,
Appleby smeared his dick with it, then inserted some in
Athena's waiting anus.  She gasped but held still for the
coming onslaught.  Two fingers entered her, describing slow
circles.  Then Appleby positioned his straining cockhead
against her anus and pushed.  She gasped, but pushed back,
and his reddish dick slid all the way in.  Scrambling on his
knees, the white man pushed his groin all the way into the
caramel colored ass in front of him.  In that moment, he
looked up and saw Troy.  The black man was on his knees in
front of Athena's face, feeding her his mammoth cock.  She
took it into her mouth and began bobbing her head up and
down.  Below, Cassius began pushing his hips up and down in
a determined rhythym.

It was an experience that simply took Appleby away to a new
level.  He and Troy were each on their knees, serviced at
two different ends of Athena, but they were looking deep
into each other's eyes, lips parted, gasping.  All the love
and passion the two men felt for each other was channeled
through the willing body that joined them.  They were
fucking her and they were fucking each other, face to face,
three feet apart.  But at the same time, Appleby could feel
Cassius's rigid dick sliding in and out of Athena through
the thin layer of flesh that divided rectum and vagina.  As
Appleby slid in and out his penis was also caressing
Cassius's brown dick as it did the same but an inch or so
away.  Appleby's full ballsack slapped against Cassius's
tight, drawn-up nuts as the two lay against each other
beneath their sliding dicks.  The mulatto boy pushed Athena
up with his hands over her full, tight breasts, and he could
look up and see Troy's mammoth dick sliding in and out of
her mouth, a thin line of drool and precum hanging down from
her lips onto the boy's cheek.

The four were so tightly connected it seemed as if they
could feel the ecstasy within each others' bodies, knowing
the pleasure each other one felt.  For as long as they could
they held their positions, pumping, sucking, moaning,
panting.  And then the dam could hold no longer.  Athena,
her mouth full, moaned loudly with a high pitched keening,
quivering and shaking.  Her jerking vagina sent Cassius over
the edge.  He bucked his hips up repeatedly, crying out as
he tilted his head back toward Troy's thighs, shooting long
ropes of sperm up into Athena.  Appleby could feel the
mulatto boy's cock swell and stiffen through the wall of
Athena's flesh as it pulsed out its seed; it was too much,
and he himself now slammed forward, emptying his sperm into
the waiting rectum in front of him.  But he kept his eyes
locked on Troy's eyes--in spirit he was emptying his love
into the black man, who knew it--and then Troy's passion
came pouring out into Athena as he cried out, pushing
forward, sending a wave of ecstasy and love back toward
Appleby.

The four held their positions a moment longer, panting,
gasping--then first Troy pulled back and collapsed to the
floor, Appleby pulled his penis out with a plop, and Athena
rolled off of Cassius and to the side.  The four entangled
themselves, laughing softly, recovering breath.  Then they
felt more arms, more legs, more gentle caresses:  the others
in the party, who had witnessed their passion, were piling
in with them to share in the joy of their afterglow.  Soon
there was a mat of intertwined, caressing bodies of many
colors comfortably entangled on the floor of the loft.  Soft
laughter gave way to sighs which gave way to slow, regular
breathing.  First one and then another fell deeply asleep.

Some time after midnight, rising to urinate, Priam saw the
lamps still glowing through the windows of the loft.
Climbing quietly up the sturdy ladder, he beheld the
wondrous sight.  Chuckling softly to himself, he gathered up
some folded blankets nearby and tip-toed to the group.  Some
of them he caressed:  softly touching Helen's forehead and
hair, gently squeezing Hector's upturned butt, laying his
hand as a blessing on Appleby's naked chest as it slowly
rose and fell.  Last he stopped by Troy, where he gently
squeezed his son's flaccid penis and bent down and kissed
him lightly on the lips.  Rising, Priam covered the group
with blankets.  Still they slept.  Then he extinguished the
lamps one by one and returned to his cabin.  The peace of
the night settled over Seaward.

........................
........................

Greetings, gentle readers!  In the next episodes we will
fast forward to 1861 and all of its troubles and
challenges.... just as soon as the characters of Seaward
tell me what they have been doing in the meantime.  Thanks
for your supportive comments, they are always welcome.