Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 08:35:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Seaward Plantation chapter 2

This story contains graphic but completely fictional
depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage
boys.  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 2

The boat eventually sailed into a tiny, sandy cove.  Working
feverishly but expertly, Troy and Hector brought the boat to
a gliding stop by the wooden pier that jutted out into the
cove.  Lashing the boat securely to the pier, Troy leaped
out first and turned to offer a hand to Appleby.

"Welcome home, Master Mark," he said.  Appleby grasped the
strong brown hand to pull himself up out of the boat, as the
boy Hector helped from behind--helped by placing one hand on
Appleby's back to steady him and another under his arm to
help him up.  Standing on the pier, Appleby saw a lush green
island rising gently up from the cove, with stone steps laid
into a rising path through the trees.  "Follow me, please
sir," said Troy, and led the way down the pier and up the
steps.  Hector followed, keeping close by Appleby's elbow,
brushing lightly against him as they walked, smiling shyly
up at his master in eagerness at the homecoming.

Making their way up the steps through a dense forest of pine
and oak, the three emerged into a meadow.  They crossed
through the knee-high grass flecked with blue and yellow
flowers.  At one end grazed three cows and a donkey.  "All
mine," said Mark to himself, "all mine."  Through another
stand of trees they went and then out into a clearing where
Appleby first saw his new home:  Seaward.  The party stopped
to take in the view.  Unusually for homes in that part of
the world, it was made of stone--the better to withstand the
occasional hurricane or strong storm that came through, he
would later learn.  It rose two stories with a tile roof and
was surrounded on the lower level by a white-columned wood
porch with white railings that went around the entire
circumference of the house.  Not enormous by Southern
plantation standards, it was nevertheless more space and
more grandeur than Appleby had ever imagined having at his
young age.  As they walked toward the house, he noticed
several paths going off into the surrounding trees, a large
vegetable garden, and within sight down a couple of the
paths were smaller cabins that were, he assumed, for the
slaves.  These cabins were of wood but appeared to be
solidly built and well maintained.  Smoke rose from
fireplace chimneys in some of them.

A cry went up from the house, answered by a couple of
responses from the cabins.  From here and there Appleby
could see people running or walking toward the front
verandah of the house, toward which they were moving.  His
heart skipped a beat as the full reality of his situation
became clearer to him.  He was Master here and was about to
meet his slaves, people he owned, people he had complete
control over.  Not for the first time since leaving Boston,
he wondered how he would be received by these people, and
whether he would be up to the challenges that lay before
him, the only one of his color on the island.  More people
gathered on the lawn just in front of the wide, shallow
steps of the verandah.  Mark and his two slaves walked up to
the group, every eye upon him, and they stopped.

Feeling it incumbent upon him, Troy stepped forward and
raised his strong, deep voice.  "This is Master Mark," he
said, "Master Mark Appleby.  Sir, would you like me to
introduce the people to you?" he asked.

"Yes, please, and thank you, Troy," he replied.  Some of
those assembled exchanged quick looks among themselves, then
bowed their heads slightly once more, sneaking glances at
their young Master who stood before them.

"Well," he said, hesitating, "This.. this is Pa.  Priam," he
said, beginning on the left.  An older version of Troy
stepped forward, a man in his fifties with a full head of
short, white hair.  He smiled confidently and bowed his
head, saying "Master, sir."  "Priam," Appleby replied.  From
a life of physical labor, Priam was still in superb shape,
with the body of a man in his thirties.  Well muscled, a
strong physique was apparent through his clean, rough
clothes.  His chest was not the hard circles that his son
had, but bulged out in well defined lobes, left and right.
Hard muscles corded his strong neck still.  He stood
quietly, his large hands clasped together in front of his
groin.  Quick glances of pride and pleasure towards his sons
were apparent, as were equally quick peaks of appraisal,
interest, and caution towards his new master.

".and this is my Ma, Cassandra," continued Troy.  "We mainly
call her Mama Cass."  Priam's wife stepped forward, smiled,
and bowed her head quickly.  "Master Mark, sir," she said.
"I do laundry and housekeeping here, have for forty years
for Miss Lucy since she came from yonder, up North," she
said.  "Anything you need done, you let me know.  I reckon
maybe your clothes need washing after that long trip from up
yonder."  It was a statement more than a question.  Mark
acknowledged her and smiled to himself, for here was a woman
who was queen of her domain.  Still attractive in her
fiftieth year, she was stocky and strong but trim.

".and here's my little sister, Helen," said Troy.  From
between Priam and Mama Cass pushed a girl of eleven years
who nodded shyly and remained silent, peering frankly with
dark eyes at Appleby despite her lowered head.  She was
dressed in a simple one piece shift.  The family resemblance
among Priam's family was strong.  Helen was strong and
stocky although not at all fat despite her solid build.
Muscles already rolled along her bare arms, and Mark noted
the outlines of orange-sized breasts beneath the fabric of
her dress.

"Now over here," Troy continued, "We have Mama Juno."  A
large, round woman stepped forward, and Appleby could tell
that the second family of the Seaward Island slaves was
being introduced.  If Priam and Mama Cass's family was all
the same rich, chocolate brown, Mama Juno's family was more
a deep caramel.  There was no doubt that they were African--
Mark doubted there had been much mixing in their past--but
the sun of Africa shone through their skin in highlights of
deep honey and old gold.  Mama Juno was large but solid.
"Master Mark," she said, bobbing her head and rushing on
with energy, "I cook for you mainly, and clean too along
with Mama Cass, work in the garden, a little of everything."
Mark nodded at her, smiling.

".and here's my wife, Athena," said Troy.  Mark's surprise
at this news was evident on his face, as an attractive young
woman of twenty stepped forward around her mother.  She was
quite slim with pert, high breasts--or would have been had
it not been for the rounded belly that betrayed a pregnancy.
For a moment Mark could think of nothing but Troy's naked
figure mounted atop hers, those strong protruding buttocks
pumping back and forth as his penis entered her, creating
the new creature that now grew within her.  Appleby suddenly
realized he was staring at her belly in abstraction, and
turning his gaze quickly on Troy it seemed that the young
black man blushed even darker than he was, as if he knew
what his master was thinking.  Athena, too, seemed to blush
and nodded her head to her master, but did not speak.

"Master Mark, sir, here's the last of us:  Pan and Bacchus,
but we just call him 'Bacch,' sir.  Ummm. they're twins,
sir."

Troy indicated two boys of about thirteen years who came
forward; no, they didn't so much come forward as hopped, or
even skipped.  If Hector was a colt, these two were puppies,
young man puppies.  And they were the most beautiful boys
Appleby had ever seen.  It wasn't just their bright, playful
attitude or the wide smiles on their faces.  They were
simply as beautiful as girls.  Thin, straight, and taught as
whips, their tight, plain clothing revealed thin pads of
square muscle on their chests, smooth flat bellies, long,
thin, well-muscled arms and legs.  Their butts seemed
perfectly round, bubbles of hard flesh that seemed to ask to
be cupped in the hand.  Long, thin necks supported oval
faces of exceptional beauty.  Their dark caramel skin was
flawless and radiant, noses were pear-shaped, rounded and
flattened in the African manner but not too large, long
thick eyelashes curled away from medium brown eyes.  And
their lips were like trumpets or lilies, full top and bottom
and curving out ever so gently that Mark imagined for a
moment you could lay a pearl between the top lip and the
wide nose and it would stay put.  Short caps of hair in
tightly curled peppercorns adorned their heads.  Appleby
didn't stand a chance:  his penis responded instantly,
pressing against his breeches.  It was all he could do to
keep from touching these two boys, and all he could think of
was that they were his, his!

Afraid that he was wetting the front of his trousers with
the clear precum he knew would be leaking from his full
penis, he adjusted his coat around him and cleared his
throat.  "Thank you, thank you all.  I look forward to
living here with you.  I have so much to learn," and with
that last statement the weight of his position and
responsibilities came back to him, damping down his sudden
passion.

Priam stepped forward as the natural leader of the group,
his son Troy stepping back in acknowledgment of that, and
quickly began to get things in order.  The women,
respectfully fussing over Appleby, took him into the house
to feed him lunch, while the men and boys hitched up a
donkey cart and went back to the boat to collect Mark's
luggage and the supplies that had been brought from the
mainland.  Mark could not resist a look over his shoulders
at Hector and Troy walking towards the cove with strength
and purpose in their step, Pan and Bacch running and jumping
around them in excess energy and grace.  And did Hector look
back over his shoulder briefly at Mark and smile?  Perhaps
so.

Appleby entered his new home and, as the women hurriedly
prepared a meal, he had a chance to look at the layout of
the house on the ground floor.  Large, spacious rooms were
decorated in a plain, if old-fashioned style that reminded
him of his Aunt.  Everywhere, large French windows stood
open to let in the sea breeze, blowing lace curtains gently.
He found a dining room, a comfortable library, a large
drawing room or salon, a study, and one curious modern
innovation: a brick-floored room at one corner of the house
in which stood a large claw-footed bathtub, a water-pump,
and a small fireplace hung with metal buckets for heating
water.  Evidently one could bathe in comfort inside and, if
he was not mistaken, simply drain the water out through a
pipe into the flowerbed outside.  Such modern marvels!  In
the library he found three or four books out on tables or
down from the shelves, and he wondered who had been reading
them.  From a window he could see barns, a detached kitchen,
storage sheds, and, he noted for future reference, a large
outhouse with a moon (for women?) on one door and a sun
(men?) on the other.

Mama Juno called Appleby into the dining room, where a
simple lunch of soup, bread, and fruit awaited him.  Shy at
first, Mama Juno and Mama Cass slowly warmed up to Mark's
gentle questions as he ate the meal.  Athena smiled shyly
but said little as she helped to serve and clear.  Mama Juno
was widowed, it turned out, "Papa" having been taken by the
sea during a particularly violent storm some ten years ago;
Pan and Bacch barely remembered him.  Mama Juno, Mama Cass,
and Athena had all been born on Seaward Plantation, as
indeed were all of the other slaves except for Priam, who
had been purchased in Charleston as a young boy of ten,
captured and sold from Africa.  Juno and Cass had served the
Huddle family all their lives, and Miss Lucy when
Richardson, the last of the Huddles, died so many years ago.

Appleby was aware of the comings and goings of the male
slaves from the banging and bumping of luggage and parcels
that he could hear in the passageways and around the house.
Mama Cass explained that vegetables and livestock were
raised on the island, which was remarkably self-sufficient,
and that other stores were purchased on the island and
brought over by boat as needed.  "Master Smith kept the
bills paid in the stores since Miss Lucy passed," she said,
"so Troy goes over every so often with Priam or one of the
boys and brings back provisions."

As Appleby thanked the women and stood up from the table,
Priam entered the room and asked after his master's pleasure
for the afternoon.  Priam, it seemed, was a sort of
supervisor of the Plantation, especially buildings, crops,
livestock and so forth outside, and was willing to give
Appleby a tour of the island.  But tired from the journey,
Mark thought it best to explore the house on this first day,
a plan agreed to by all.  He moved into the study, where he
had left the folder of information given to him by Horatio
Smith, settled into a comfortable leather wingback chair,
and opened the packet.  On top of the deeds, lists of
securities, records of estate finances and so forth, Mark
found a letter addressed to him from his Aunt.

"My dearest Mark," it began, "if you are reading this, then
I have departed and you have come home to Seaward
Plantation."  Mark was touched by the dignified tone and
sentiments of family attachment it expressed.  It was a long
letter explaining various details of business and management
related to his properties.  Toward the end of the letter his
personal interest became more aroused.

"You may have observed by now, in even a short while," it
said, "that the slaves of Seaward are somewhat different."
Mark wasn't sure what was different about them since he had
very little experience of black people, or of slaves, or of
the South with which to compare his eventful morning.  He
read on:  "For one thing, they can read and write and do
mathematics.  I advise you not to publicize this fact.  I
don't think even dear Horatio Smith knows.  It was illegal
for me to teach them and it is illegal for them to know all
this, but the deed is done and it can't be helped."  Well!
Appleby had not given much thought to the matter, but now
that he considered this news he realized how extraordinary
it was.  "The servants will know that you know this once you
have read this letter," Lucy's missive continued.  "You will
also note that they speak correctly, and not in any degraded
form of English.  I taught them to do so myself, and I
insisted upon it."  Again, Mark had never heard enough
Africans speaking to have formed an opinion, but he now
seemed to recall a distinctly more "correct" way of speaking
among the slaves of Seaward than what he had heard in
passing among the crowds of slaves and servants in
Charleston.  The letter concluded:  "Finally, Mark, learn to
love these people--I did--and they will learn to respect,
and perhaps love, you in return."  Thoughts of Troy and
Hector, and of the strikingly beautiful boys Pan and
Bacchus, quickly came to Appleby's mind, and whispered "Oh,
yes" softly.

The rest of the afternoon went quickly, it seemed.
Appleby's legal training helped him to understand the
business and financial condition of the estate, which was
good.  Having mastered these details, Appleby rose and
stretched and opened the study doorway into the hall, which
nearly knocked over two people who were just on the other
side:  Pan and Bacchus.  Had they been listening at the
door?  There was nothing to hear but the rustling of papers!
Peeking in at the keyhole?  There was nothing to see but....
but him.  Mark looked at them in wonder.

"Oh, Master Mark!" said one breathlessly, and the other
continued, "We were just now coming to tell you," obviously
lying.  The first went on, "Mr. Priam says that we are to be
the inside boys and take care of you!"  Both beamed with
pride, their lovely faces lighting up, trumpet lips parting
to reveal perfect, white teeth.  A light, puppyish energy
animated each boy's body.

"Wait!" said Appleby.... "Which of you is Pan and which is
Bacchus?  How can I tell?"

One boy put his finger to the side of his soft, wide, pear-
shaped nose.  "Pan has a mole there," said the other boy.
Mark bent closer to see the small, dark brown spot.  Inches
away from Pan's face, he could smell a breath sweet with
bread and mint; his eyes shifted abruptly to Pan's, locked
there for a minute, and then recollecting himself he pulled
away and straightened up, a swelling feeling evident in his
groin.  "We are your inside-the-house boys, Mr. Priam says,
Master Mark!" contined Bacch.  "Miss Lucy had Athena to take
care of her, but she's a girl," added Pan, with a hint of
distaste.

"So we're going to show you the upstairs and your room!"
Bacch continued, and without asking or commenting, and as
naturally as could be, he took Appleby's large white hand in
his smaller honey-brown hand and began leading him toward
the stairs to the second floor.  Pan darted ahead, looking
back with a mischievous smile at Appleby and Bacchus and, in
a couple of pointed glances, at their clasped hands.

Mark's head was full of questions about this latest of
strange, happy experiences.  He was walking hand in hand
with a thirteen year old black boy to his bedroom.  Wasn't
this as strange as it was delightful?  More important, what
did it mean to the slim boy next to him?  He nodded
distractedly as the boys showed him each of the six bedrooms
upstairs, each with a small, attached dressing chamber.  Pan
jumped ahead to open each door and describe, with the
flourish of a thirteen year old tour guide, the attractions
of each room.  Bacchus held tight to his master's hand and
simply guided him in and out of each chamber as they moved
through the house.

Pan opened the last door:  "This is your room, Master Mark!"
It was pleasant and comfortably furnished, although plainly
so.  The masculine objects in it--hairbrush, old shaving
kit, bottle of bay rhum--made Appleby wonder if this were
Richardson Huddle's old room.  He noted with pleased
surprise that many of his belongings from his luggage lay
around the room.  "We put your things away, except your
clothes are being washed, Master sir" said Pan, quickly
opening a few dresser drawers and a tall wardrobe in the
corner.  "And you get a nice view from here," said Bacchus
who led Mark, still grasping his hand, to a window opposite
the foot of a large four-poster bed, where the lawn and the
sea could be seen below.  Breaking his grasp, Bacchus ran
ahead to open the window, letting in a cool sea breeze.  He
remained in front of the window, so that when Appleby came
up to it to see the view he had to stand directly behind
Bacchus.  And as naturally as could be, Appleby put his
hands on the shoulders of the boy and gently pulled him
back.  Bacch came back easily, and even his boyish
bounciness eased as he relaxed against Appleby's hard,
grownup torso.  Each twin was no more than five feet tall,
maybe even a shade less.  Looking down quickly from the sea
view, Mark was lost in the beauty, difference, and
strangeness of the tightly curled peppercorns of hair that
covered Bacch's caramel scalp.  How long did they stand like
that?  Probably not long, but Mark was completely lost in
the moment.  What had previously been an ominous swelling in
his groin turned instantly into a full fledged erection,
straining against the cloth of his trousers.  How could
Bacchus not feel that even through the coat which Appleby
still wore?

The moment was broken as Pan burst into Mark's
consciousness, insistently tugging on his sleeve, pulling
him away from the window and the near embrace of his boy
slave.  "Bacch and I are going to sleep right next door to
you, Master Mark, come and see!" and he pulled Appleby to
the door of the adjoining dressing room.  "See?" he said,
pointing out a double-wide pallet that had been recently
assembled on the floor, "I sleep on the left and Bacch
sleeps on the right."  "Hmmmph," said Bacchus, coming up
beside them, "sometimes he sleeps on the bottom and I sleep
on the top."  Appleby looked at the boys quickly, wondering
if he had just heard what he heard.  Pan gave Bacch a
friendly if annoyed jab in the arm, to which his brother
replied with an even stronger push.  This shove sent Pan
back a step against Appleby's right side, nearly under his
arm.  Instinctively, Mark put that arm around Pan, his open
hand naturally coming to rest over the thin square pad of
flesh on the left side of Pan's chest.  "Now boys, no rough-
housing" he said, chuckling.  "Yeah!" said Pan, as if
chastising his brother, and like Bacchus before him sank
back gently into his master's torso.  The boys smiled at
each other--was it in a sly, knowing way?--and for a moment
Mark's open palm glided over the rough cloth between him and
the slave boy's chest.  He felt a protruding nipple, and
pinched it playfully.  The raging erection in his breeches
that had somewhat subsided returned in full force.  "Ouch"
said Pan, with no real pain, and bounded away a step,
smiling back at his master.

Voices were heard calling from below.  Between his work in
the study and his tour of the upstairs, the entire afternoon
had passed.  As if roused from a dream, the boys ran quickly
out of the room and down the stairs, followed by their
master who was struggling to recover his composure.  Pan and
Bacchus, full of their new importance as house boys,
attempted to serve dinner to their master, but Mama Juno,
Mama Cass, and Athena once again took over to set before him
a delicious meal of chicken, potatoes, and vegetables grown
there on the island.  After dinner Appleby sat on the
verandah, rocking gently in one of the many rocking chairs
that graced the wrap-around porch.  Twice he waved at Troy
going about his business, and Troy returned a short bow.
Twice more he thought he glimpsed Hector at the corner of
first one outbuilding and then another; the boy seemed to be
peeking at him.  A wave from Appleby only made the boy, if
Hector it was indeed, slip back behind the building.

A pleasant hour passed as twilight deepened into night.  The
women, reminding Appleby that country people go early to
bed, departed from the house, wishing him a good night.
Feeling the tiredness of his journey and the strangeness of
the day, Appleby rose to go into the house.  But before he
could go up the stairs, his boy slaves appeared as if from
nowhere, Bacchus with a bundle of cloth in his arms.

"We have your bath ready, Master Mark sir!" announced Pan
with a note of triumph.  Surprised but pleased at their
thoughtfulness, Mark followed Pan into the brick-floored
bathroom, where he saw that the claw-foot tub had been
filled with steaming water.  Bacchus put down his burden,
revealing towels and a bathrobe.

"Mama Cass says she wants to wash your clothes, so dirty
from travel," said Pan, "so we have to take them to her."
Moving quickly before Mark could say a thing, Pan slid off
his master's coat, in a few deft tugs untied his tie, and
began unbuttoning his shirt.  Not to be outdone, Bacchus
kneeled down and pulled off first one boot and then another,
then Appleby's thick woolen socks.  Both boys paused,
standing together in front of their master, a pile of his
clothing and boots beside them.   Mark was so surprised he
did not know how to react.  He stood there shirtless,
revealing a well muscled chest and abdomen.  A light nest of
hair grew in the center of his chest between two solid slabs
of muscle, then ran in a line of light hair that disappeared
into his trousers.  Appleby's surprise was compounded when
he realized that each boy was staring at his chest and
muscled stomach, full, thick lips parted slightly, brown
eyes staring.  Almost absent-mindedly, Pan reached out and
undid Appleby's belt--half a second later, Bacchus did the
same for the buttons on his trousers.  In one motion, they
pulled down their master's pants and underwear.

Time stood still.  Both boys looked, open-mouthed now and
breathing with soft excitement.  A seven inch uncircumcised
penis sprang from Appleby's groin, with two heavy testicles
in the sack of skin beneath.  Appleby could feel an
impending erection, and he knew that he would soon be fully
erect once the surprise of his disrobing was over.  The
moment was broken in near-comedy however, for he was really
not at his cleanest after two days since his last stopover
at an inn in Virginia, and Bacchus now acknowledged this
evident fact by saying, "Master Mark, you do need a bath!"
then, "Oh! sorry sir!" when he realized what he had said.
Man and boys chuckled--was it in relief, for all of them?
Appleby stepped quickly to the tub, over the side, and
lowered himself into the steaming water.

Bacchus quickly scooped up Appleby's clothes and boots,
bundled them up, and ran from the room to take them to Mama
Cass who was waiting for them in the nearby laundry
building.  Pan stood by the tub alone for a moment, his eyes
hungrily taking in the vision of his master's white body,
now submerged and distorted by the water.  If he and
Bacchus, like Hector, rarely saw white men, this was
certainly the first time he had ever seen a white man naked.
Thinking quickly, Pan decided to offer his services.

"Would you like for me to wash your back, Master, sir?"  he
asked, and even before Mark could answer with a smiling nod,
he rushed to grab a brush and a bar of soap.  Holding the
soap tightly in one hand, but so his fingers extended around
it, Pan moved the bar around his master's broad, hairless
back, sly fingers secretly following the movement of the
bar.  When he could not pretend to be simply soaping the
white man's back any more, he applied the brush in the same
way, fingertips gliding over white skin as it went.  By this
time Bacchus had come running back and stood slightly
panting in the doorway.  "Uhh... want me to wash your front,
Master, sir?" he asked?  It was a brilliant gambit, and for
a moment it succeeded.  Snatching up the bar of soap, he
gently moved it in circles around his master's broad chest,
lingering ever so slightly over the rose colored nipples.
It was when Bacch's hand began to move lower, over Appleby's
muscled belly, following the line of light brown hair
downwards, that an old shyness, even fear, took Appleby over
for a moment.

"Thanks, boys," said Mark, and disappeared under the water,
his sudden movement and the swell of water pushing both boys
back for a moment.  All three laughed as Mark emerged from
the soapy water, shoulder-length hair streaming wet.  "Time
to get out," he said.  "Is there a towel?"  When Bacchus
brought one and held it out unfolded from arm to arm,
Appleby quickly rose from the tub and took over, taking the
towel for himself and drying with it, being careful to keep
it over his swelling member.

"But where are my clothes?" he asked.  "The change of
clothes from my valise?"

"All being washed, Master Mark," said Pan.  "But we brought
you this old bathrobe we found," said Bacchus, "and Mama
Cass says your clothes will be ready tomorrow.  He handed
his master an ancient masculine bathroom, clean and whole
but smelling slightly of camphor and cedarwood.  Appleby
quickly realized it must have been Richardson Huddle's, and
decades old.  He wrapped it around himself quickly, then
stopped to take in the scene of a still nearly-filled tub
and his two boy slaves, who stood nearby awaiting the next
instructions.  Some deeply hidden spirit of desire awoke and
spoke through him, inspiring his next words.

"Your turn," he said, "you two take a bath."

Pan and Bacchus looked at each other, whether in joy or
triumph Appleby could not tell.  Pan shrugged, Bacchus
nodded, and they undressed quickly, not caring that they
threw their clothes down on the water-soaked brick.  Shirts
came off quickly revealing slim, straight, hard young bodies
with thin but tough muscled pads on their chests, the
beginnings of washboard bellies, and navels that coiled like
snails even with the skin of their stomachs.  Down came
trousers, flung aside.  Like a chef will pause before
lifting the cover to a spectacular dish, the boys flashed
brilliant grins at each other, then cast aside the thin
loincloths that served them as underwear.  The thirteen year
old boys stood naked before their master, who stood stunned
by their beauty.  An even deep caramel all over, with
highlights of honey and darker valleys of chocolate, their
skin was smooth and flawless.  Round bubbles of hips formed
bottoms that Appleby could hardly resist cupping with his
hands.  Small sprinklings of peppercorn hair dotted their
groins just above six inch long uncut penises that, half-
erect, curved out and downward.  They were very dark, darker
than the boys' caramel skin, and like large flower buds, the
shafts not too thick and the heads long, hooded buds waiting
to open and reveal their nectar.  These were the first naked
blacks Appleby had ever seen, and he was stunned by their
flawless perfection.  Both boys looked, not at each other or
themselves, but at him, and in that moment they knew what he
felt, and they were proud.

The evil spirit of slavery overtook Appleby for just a
moment.  These delicious young boys were his, he owned them
and could do with them what he wanted.  He could beat them,
he could possess them sexually, he could eat them alive.  In
that moment, he very nearly wanted to fall upon their candy
skin and bite it, licking their sweetness.  He barely
resisted.

"In the tub with you," he said, but it came out as just more
than a whisper.  The boys complied, sitting face to face as
the water rose nearly to overflowing.  Ignoring their master
for a moment, they laughed and splashed, each one soaping
himself up before passing the bar to his brother.  Legs
intertwined in the tub.  Water flowed over dark shiny skin,
making the hills and valleys of their adolescent muscles
stand out more clearly.  Appleby simply stood and stared,
grateful for the robe which hid what was now a towering
erection.

Without their master saying a word, the boys leaped out of
the tub and each one grabbed a towel damp from their
master's use.  Drying themselves as much as possible, and
quickly, they wrapped the towels around their slim waists
and gathered up their damp clothing from the floor.  "Time
for rest, Master Mark," said Bacchus.  The boys leading the
way, they made a strange parade up through the darkened
hallway and stairs to the second floor.  The boys went to
their quarters in the dressing room while Appleby walked to
the window of his room and collect his thoughts.  Strong
emotions warred with his utter exhaustion from travel and
the tiring day.  Hearing bumps and giggles from the dressing
room next door as the boys hung out their clothing to dry,
he looked out the open window at the moonlit sea and the
lawn below.  And there he saw.. now he was sure of it.
Hector, standing on the lawn with no attempt at concealment,
looking up at his window and at him.  Was there a look of
yearning on his face?  It was hard to tell from that
distance.  Appleby waved to him and this time, instead of
running to hide, Hector waved back, then turned and slowly
walked in the direction of the slave cabins, head slightly
bowed.

"Master Mark, sir, do you need anything else tonight?  Maybe
you should rest, sir."  Pan stood in the doorway between
Appleby's room and the boys' chamber, the towel still
loosely wrapped around his waist, gaping forward a bit to
reveal a few curls of kinky hair.  "No, thank you, Pan, I
believe I will rest now," said Appleby.  Nodding, Pan
retreated.  Hesitating for a moment, Mark realized he had no
clothing at all in the room besides the borrowed robe; it
was all being washed by Mama Cass.  Uncaring, he cast it
aside, slid naked under the cool sheets of the four-poster
bed, and fell asleep the instant his head came to rest.

Who could not have powerful dreams after a day like that?
Appleby's dreaming mind wandered through strange passageways
where dark hands, dark bodies, beautiful dark shining skin
was all around him, caressing him, rubbing him.  Enormous
flower buds burst open, spraying him with fragrant dew.
Faster and faster the images came, until the dream broke
with a snap and he woke up, starting up onto one elbow.  It
was then that he realized three things.  First, that he had
been shouting in his sleep.  Second, that his penis was
enormously erect, nearly pushing back up against his belly,
and glistening with clear liquid.  Third, that a naked boy
had one foot on the floor, one knee on his moonlit bed, and
with both hands was shaking his forearm.

"Master Mark, Master Mark!  Are you alright?  You were
shouting."  It was Pan.

It took no more than a second for Mark to decide what he
would do, what he must do, powered by a mighty desire built
up by his dreams.  In one quick, fluid motion he pushed up
from his elbow to his hand, arching his body off the bed,
and with the other hand he cupped the black boy's whole
butt.  Mark didn't ask and he didn't tell, he simply scooped
the slim young body underneath his own, positioning Pan on
his back beneath him, then plunged downward onto the slim
brown boy.

Years of longing and a whole day of desire came flooding
out.  Two rampant cocks, one deep pink and the other deep
brown, pointing straight up between their bodies and slick
with clear precum, slid up and down against each other.
Appleby's strong male body ground into his slave.  Pan
whimpered in pleasure and put both arms around the strong
white back of his master, pulling him closer, willing man
and boy to merge through the white and brown skins.  Both
Appleby's hands grasped the boy's rounded muscular
shoulders, while his mouth sought the full, moist lips of
the slave.  He sucked first one lip and then the other into
his mouth, tasting and kneading them with his own.  Appleby
thrust his tongue into the boy's mouth, running it slowly
along the ridges of his perfect teeth, slipping and sliding
against the boy's tongue all the while.  Then, with a gasp,
he broke off and twisted his head to look behind him.

There was Bacchus, awakened by the sounds from the bedroom,
already up onto the bed.  "Oh, Master Mark sir," he breathed
with passionate desire, and before Appleby could say
anything in response, Bacchus climbed onto his back.  His
dark brown cock, slick with precum, slid through the ass
groove between Appleby's muscular buttocks, while his brown
hands grabbed his master's strong shoulders and held on for
dear life.  First Bacchus purred with pleasure deep in his
throat, but as his thrusts increased in energy an animal
grunting, "Unh unh unh unh" took over.  Mark Appleby was now
sandwiched between his two thirteen year old slave boys.
All reason and restraint were gone.  Returning his attention
to the boy beneath him, Appleby moved both hands to his
head, cupping his scalp and reveling in the feel of the
crisp, springy peppercorn curls that covered it.  He kissed
and licked the boy's face, gently pulling the soft pillow of
his nose between his lips, and then looked directly into the
boy's eyes.  He and Pan's eyes remained locked together,
piercing deep into each other's secret, as they rutted
together in heat, while Bacchus pumped his young butt like a
locomotive engine to slide his cock in the slippery groove
of his master's butt cheeks.

Pushing his torso up off of Pan with both hands, Appleby
pushed harder into the boy slave's groin with his slick
cock.  Pan held his master's chest up with both palms open,
his thumbs flicking at Appleby's rose colored nipples.
Bacchus picked up the pace of his frantic humping, as he
reached one arm around his maser's chest and with the other
hand ran his fingers through his master's long, soft hair,
marveling at its silky texture, so different from anything
he had ever known.  For perhaps a minute the three held this
position, pushing into each other with furious passion.

"Oh, Master, Oh Master, Oh.. Ooooooooo!" cried Bacchus.
Appleby could feel Bacch's whole body spasm with the
pleasure of his orgasm, and what felt like a lake of warm
fluid began spreading across Appleby's back as his slave
shot great gouts of white cum between them.  Bacchus wrapped
both arms around Appleby's heaving chest and pull tight as
he continued bucking.  When the last shudder had run through
the boy's body, he rolled off to the side of the bed.
Appleby also rolled off in that direction, lying on his back
between his two boy slaves, moving Pan with him in one fluid
motion.  Pan was now lying on top of his master, cocks
grinding together, but not for long.  Appleby grasped Pan
just at the base of the butt, just where his strong brown
thighs began, and with one long pull moved the boy's entire
body up in the direction of his head.  Scrambling to keep
from hitting the headboard of the four-poster bed, Pan
grasped the wood with both hands at the same time that his
long, slim brown penis slid into his master's mouth.
Gasping with surprise and pleasure--for he never dreamed
that a white man would do such a thing--Pan began pumping
his cock in and out of his master's mouth.

Appleby was overwhelmed with this new experienced and sucked
hard on his boy slave's dick.  The sweet salty taste of
precum filled his mouth.  Each of his hands cupped one of
the firm brown bubbles of the boy's ass and with the rhythm
that Pan set, helped to pump his loins back and forth,
pistoning the boy's dick within his mouth.  Suddenly, a
moment of sweetness that Appleby had never felt before and
never expected to feel overcame him.  Bacchus, recovered
from his wild orgasm, had flopped over onto his master and
taken the deep pink, slick cock fully into his own mouth.
Sucking hard, he bobbed his head up and down, fighting down
the need to gag when the rampant cock touched the back of
his throat.

Suddenly, with an animal wail in no language ever heard, Pan
slammed his pelvis hard against his master's face, mashing
his master's nose and upper lip with his wiry pubic hair,
and began shooting great ropes of semen down his master's
throat.  He pulled his cock halfway out of his master's
mouth, then slammed forward again, hard.  Appleby had given
no thought to this moment, caught up in passion as he was,
so he had given himself no time to be squeamish about it.
Giving way to the intensity of Pan's frantic slamming into
his face, Appleby swallowed frantically, nearly taking the
hooded tip of Pan's cock down his throat.  Then, just as the
slave boy's buckings ceased, his peppercorn pubic hair
pressed firmly against his master's nose, Appleby felt
something unimaginably strong begin to move through him.
Called by the powerful sucking and bobbing of Bacchus, it
was not just an orgasm.  Years of denial and longing boiled
up in his chest, moved through his heaving belly, and
erupted out of his iron-hard cock into the mouth of his
slave boy.  Bacchus grunted with pleasure and satisfaction
and pushed his face aggressively into the soft pubic hairs
of his master, taking the explosive flood of white cum that
was erupting from the penis he held in his mouth.  Appleby,
his mouth full of Pan's hard, still penis, could only roar
deep down in his throat, moaning like a wild beast at the
moment of its death.

It seemed to last forever, but eventually a peace descended
upon the man and his boys there on the bed.  Pan slipped his
penis, now wilting slightly, out of his master's mouth, slid
down along Appleby's side, and flopped one arm over his
master's chest.  Bacchus swallowed the last of his master's
cum, licked the penis clean, and stretched out on the other
side from Pan, putting his arm around his master's belly.
One arm around the back of each slave boy, Appleby pulled
them tight to him and stared straight up.  Silently, tears
of relief and release welled up and overflowed his eyes,
running down his cheeks.  But what came out of his chest and
mouth was a deep, hearty laugh.  He was rewarded with
answering giggles from each boy, and each boy softly rubbed
and patted his chest and belly.  Turning to the left and
then to the right, he planted a loving kiss on the kinky
hair at the top of each boy's scalp, as they each snuggled
in closer to their master.  Now utterly exhausted and at
peace, Mark Appleby drifted away into sleep.