Date: Mon, 26 Aug 2002 16:09:07 +0000
From: Moore
Subject: Southern Submissive (AUTHORITARIAN, HUMIL: T/T, M/T)

SOUTHERN SUBMISSIVE (AUTHORITARIAN, HUMIL: T/T, M/T)
BY:  MOORE

Part 4

Chapter VII

"Make him beg now, Oliver."

"Okay momma."

Barclay heard nothing of the exchange between Lila and Oliver.
All of his senses, every cell of his body was focused on the
magnificent rod of black flesh thrusting, pulsing, punishing his
mouth...waiting anxiously for the flood of nectar that would soon
fill his mouth. Craving that first powerful spurt of hot sperm
exploding against the roof of his mouth, Barclay sucked wildly
on Oliver's throbbing organ.  He was addicted to the taste of the
rich thick tangy cream produced by this boy, coating his tongue
and gums, mixing with saliva as he swished it around his mouth.
Barclay had sucked cock on five continents. He had tasted the
sperm of many boys and men; white, black, latin and asian. But he
returned again and again to Oliver Carver, degraded and humiliated
himself, for the ultimate pleasure of having this young black boy
cum in his mouth.

"Oh god, no!" Barclay cried out, his mouth suddenly empty.
"Please Oli, Mr. Carver, please in my mouth, please cum in my
mouth." Barclay was whimpering, groveling at Oliver's feet. "Please,
I'm begging you. Cum in my mouth today. Please Mr. Carver, put your
cock back in my mouth, let me suck you, please."

Sometimes, just to torment him, Oliver would deny Bruce his great
pleasure and cum all over his face, neck and chest instead of in his
mouth.

"Fag begs real nice, Lila, real nice."  King looked at Oliver and
said, "Seein' how it's Sunday, the lords day, and the cocksucker is
on his knees prayin'...., you are praying to god, aren't you fag?"

"Yes, yes," Barclay replied. "I'm praying this god will put his
cock in my mouth and let me suck until he cums inside my mouth."

King nodded. "It's cummunion time.  Go ahead Oliver, fuck the
white fag's mouth and drown him with your spunk."

Barclay sighed with contentment as once again his mouth was filled
with twelve inches of dickmeat. Fearing that Oliver might pull out
again, he sucked like a madman for the load of semen he craved.
Eager to finish the blow job and show King how he ass fucked the
white cocksucker, Oliver prepared to cum by thrusting his dick deep
into Barclay's throat three times, pulled back, and unloosed spurts
of his thick creamy semen into Barclay's mouth.

"Up on the table, bitch," Oliver said to Barclay after dumping his
load of spunk in the cocksuckers mouth. "Get your pussy ready."

Reluctantly, not because he didn't want to get fucked, but because
he was still finding drops of cum and piss in Oliver's pubic hair,
Barclay regained his feet on shaky legs.  Turning to face Lila and
King across a specially designed mirror top coffee table, Barclay
presented his white ass to Oliver. The see-thru condom, stuffed
with his erect cock and balls was still held firmly in place by the
cock-ring tight elastic band.  The reservoir tip was filled, almost
to capacity, with Barclay's milky white semen.

Barclay prepared to mount the table which had hand holds, knee
grips and locking wheels.

"No lube today?" Oliver said offhandedly.

Barclay, strangely silent, went to retrieve the tube of lube he
had in his pants pocket.

Oliver never supplied lube. The cries of a white man being dry
fucked brought tears of joy to his mother's face. For Cletus, she
always said.  He didn't object though, if a client brought his own
lube to ease the pain of initial penetration. Lube or no lube,
there were cries enough to please his mother once his twelve inch
black dick started ramming into a white asshole.

Barclay returned empty handed. His clothes, and the lube, were
already gone.  He stuck a finger in his mouth and brought forth
one, and then another, marble size balls of the clotted cum stored
in his cheeks.  King roared with laughter, Lila looked away in
disgust, as Barclay used the slimy stuff to lubricate his asshole
before mounting the table.  Barclay's face was inches from King's
crotch as he positioned himself on the table, ass high, ready and
eager for his fucking.

Oliver stepped forward, placed his twelve inch black dick on the
broad white back and smiled as Lila opened King's pants, exposing
his cock.  King wasn't as long as Oliver, but he was thicker. Oliver
then positioned the head of his cock at the slimy puckered opening
of Barclay's ass and, with one gut splitting thrust, buried his
twelve inch black steel sword, balls deep, into the white man's
bowels. Barclay cried out once, tears of pain welled in his eyes.
His second cry turned into a snort as King buried his thick black
dick balls deep into Barclay's mouth.

King unloaded first, all over Barclay's face.  Oliver followed with
his load of sperm, deep in Barclay's bowels.  Barclay came too, into
the condom covering his cock, over filling the ballooning reservoir
tip with cum.

"Time for you to go Bruce," Oliver said slipping into his sweats
and taking the seat next to his mother. "Clean up the table and
don't drip on the carpet."

Cum was dripping off Barclay's face and oozing out of his asshole
as he lowered his head and began to shamelessly lap up the cum
from the mirror topped table.  The smell and taste of Oliver's cum
caused Barclay to spurt again into the condom which was beginning
to leak and threatened to burst. Barclay carefully removed the cum
filled latex, grimacing in pain as his pubic hairs got stuck in the
elastic band. With no where else to put it, Barclay popped the scum
bag into his mouth.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" Barclay mumbled as he made ready to
leave.

"Got school," Oliver said.  "Maybe next weekend."

The thick layer of dried cum on his face cracked as Barclay frowned
in disappointment. With all the dignity a naked semen streaked man
could muster, Barclay stepped into the hallway to wait for his
clothes.

"I gotta take a shower now," Oliver said casually, picking up the
cash filled envelope and handing it to his mother. "Profitable
afternoon."

Thirty minutes later, Oliver returned to the living room wearing a
favorite pair of nylon shorts.  Lila was in the kitchen and King
was watching TV.  "You were going to tell me how to improve my cash
flow," King reminded.

Oliver thought for a moment. "Yeah, right. How would you....."

A polite tap on the front door stopped Oliver in mid sentence.
He opened the door to a stricken looking and still naked Bruce
Barclay.  "They won't give me back my clothes," he sobbed. "I gave
them both a blow job like I always do, but they won't give me my
clothes, only my car keys. I can't go outside like this. Can I
borrow..."

"Who's at the door, Oliver," Lila said as she came into the living
room. "Bruce!  Again!  What does the queer want now?"

Between giggles, Oliver managed to say, "Tell her."

"Tell me what?" Lila asked.

"You see Mrs. Carver," Barclay said between sobs. "The two retired,
um, gentlemen who live down the hall took all my clothes, like they
always do when I come here to ah, to um, to, you know...."

"Tell me.  I want to hear you say it," Lila demanded.

"When I come here to, oh god, suck Oli, um, suck Mr. Carver's penis
and have, ayyy, this is so embarrassing, have anal intercourse."

"Anal intercourse!!" Lila shouted. "You mean when you bend over for
my son and he fucks your white ass?"

"Oh god, yes. When Mr. Carver fucks me. Now they won't give me back
my...., they're supposed to give me back my clothes after I suck
them off."  Bruce was rambling now, nervous and scared, he hardly
knew what he was saying. "They laughed at me, said I gave them a
lousy blow job, but that's not true. I'm a good cocksucker. Isn't
that right King?"

"Be better if you had no teeth, fag."

Barclay seemed to think about King's comment before speaking again.
"They told me to go away and closed the door in my face. I need to
borrow some clothes. I can't go outside like this. The streets are
filled with people. Please Mrs. Carver, don't make me go out there
naked. Please give me clothes to wear."

The man was a truly pitiful sight. The light brown hair covering
his chest and pubic area was matted with dried cum.  Black wiry
pubic hairs were stuck in the fresh cum that glistened around his
lips and a few hairs were stuck in his teeth. A long string of
congealed semen mixed with ass juices was hanging between his legs.

Lila was delighted when Oliver stepped forward and Barclay, without
being told, assumed his right place before her son, naked and on his
knees. Between sobs, Barclay continued to beg and plead for clothes
to wear and not to send him out naked for everyone to laugh at him.

"Two minutes," Lila began. "If your not out of here in two minutes
I'm calling the police."

Barclay crawled away wailing like a wounded animal, "Please give me
some clothes to wear."

About to close the door, Lila thought about Cletus and all the
other naked men and women on the plantation so many years ago.
Loud enough to be heard on the street, Lila bellowed, "Only people
wear clothes Barclay, and you're not a person. You're just a fag."

A rousing chorus of fag, fag, fag, greeted Bruce Barclay as he
walked naked on shaky legs from the apartment building to his car
which was parked out front.  As he feared, a group of black boys
were waiting by his car for their blow jobs. Resigned to his task,
and somewhat aroused too, Barclay quickly headed towards the alley.

"Over here bitch," caused him to stop and turn.  "Over here bitch,"
the speaker repeated.  "Seein's how you is so eager, beein' naked
and all. And seein's how you just a fag, me and my boys gonna do
you here inna street, 'steada the alley."

Right out in the open for all to see, Barclay was put on his knees
and began to suck the first of the many cocks he would suck that
afternoon.  Watching from the window, Lila laughed out loud and
said with satisfaction, "What goes around comes around."

			    ***
 
"I think it just might work and getting them to sign a legal waiver
is pure genius," King said after listening to Oliver's plan to
generate cash from the white college girls willing to trade sex for
drugs. "I'll be doing a community service too."

Oliver's plan worked perfectly.  King wouldn't allow drugs in the
neighborhood, but the two bucks a pop he charged to fuck a pretty
white girl was affordable by every black teen and it kept them happy
without the drugs. So what if the girl had to service twenty guys at
a time to make enough money.  She got the drugs she wanted, King got
paid and the brothers got laid.

With Lila in mind, Oliver found a use for the druggie white college
boys too.  Buck a head for a blow job, but the white boy had to
solicit forty black guys and collect all the money himself before
King would give him any drugs. Initially, the plan didn't generate
much cash, but it was fun watching a white boy humiliate himself by
trying to sell blow jobs for a dollar. That changed when Lila said
that she would gladly pay to watch a white boy swallow his pride,
and a mouthful of semen from a black man's dick. She thought that a
lot of black women felt the same way too.

To test Oliver's plan and Lila's theory, King arranged to have
forty black teenagers agree to "buy" a blow job from Quentin
Sedgeworth, Jr. the next time he asked. Quentin was a daily user
and by the weekend he was out of cash, in need, and quietly going
around the basketball courts in the schoolyard, trying to sell
forty blow jobs. Followed by his "customers", Quentin returned to
King's place to consummate the deal. King had him sign an affidavit
and swear an oath in front of the assembled witnesses, Lila and
twenty women friends who had each paid two dollars to watch, that
he was over 18, of sound mind and a willing cocksucker.

Quentin signed and swore, eager to get the money he needed.  One by
one over the next few hours Quentin serviced his "customers".  The
newly minted cocksucker was great entertainment for the middle aged
women in the audience. They cheered every deep thrust into the white
boy's mouth and applauded each time one of their own climaxed and
shot a load of cum into Quentin's mouth or on his face.  King was
pleased that the show was a big success. He was sorry that Oliver
wasn't there to see it.

Things might have been different had he been there, but Oliver was
otherwise occupied that afternoon.  The blond college girl he was
fucking had picked him up and driven him back to her home in Shaker
Heights.  When her parents came home unexpectedly the proverbial
shit hit the fan. The girl's parents not only found their daughter
in bed with a black boy, riding backwards on his cock, but they
couldn't pull her off. They couldn't disengage the couple who were
fucking like bunnies. They had to listen to their daughter cry out,
begging to be fucked harder and deeper. They had to watch their
daughter finger her soaking wet slit and play with a pair of black
balls, all shiny with pussy juices, nestled between her white legs.
Watch her pinch her pointy nipples and lick pussy juice from her
fingers. Watch Oliver's black testicles rise up between her white
legs and watch her body buck and shake, explode in orgasm, as
Oliver ejaculated a flood of semen into her vagina.

Even after they managed to drag their daughter off the bed, they
watched, frozen in place by shock, as she pulled away and crawled
back between Oliver's legs to lick the mixture of sperm and pussy
juices from his cock, inner thighs and under his balls.  She milked
a single drop of pearlescent sperm from his towering black penis
onto her pink tongue, before wrapping her lips around the engorged
head and sucking another huge load of cum into her mouth.

"She was stuck on my penis," Oliver explained that night to Lila
and King.  "I can make the head get real big and it gets stuck
inside until I cum.  I did it in Barclay's mouth last time he was
here and you should have seen his face when he couldn't pull off my
dick.  It was stuck in his throat.  I'm gonna try it in his ass next
time."

There would be no next time with Barclay, or in Chicago. The girl's
parents were threatening legal action, claiming that Oliver had
seduced their virgin daughter, tricked her into having sex. They
conveniently overlooked the fact that Oliver was a minor and their
daughter was over the age of consent. Oliver wanted to stay and
fight and only with reluctance agreed to live with his father in
Mississippi.


Chapter VIII

I was halfway out of my chair when Carver's kid, Oliver, froze me
with a look, kicked another chair into the pool, and headed my way.
The kid looked a couple of years younger then me, but he carried
himself like a much older and very confident boy. Naked to the
waist, he had satiny black skin, neat afro hair and a cute face.
Cock hound that I am, I couldn't help but notice the big bulge and,
as he got closer, the outline of his prick in the nylon shorts he
was wearing.  I was starring at his dick and soaking the front of
my bathing suit with precum.

Oliver was upset and angry about leaving Chicago and his mother and
the blond college girl he was fucking. It was a dumb thing, going to
her house and getting caught in bed by her parents.  He knew he
should've fucked her in the back seat of her car or in the park 
like he usually did, with his friends watching out and taking a
turn between her legs and in her mouth. Leaving Chicago was his
punishment for being selfish, not sharing the white girl with
friends.

Oliver wasn't gay. Bi maybe, but definitely not gay. He'd rather
have sex with pretty young white girls with big tits and juicy
pussies. He let men like Bruce Barclay suck his dick and he fucked
them for two reasons. He needed the money that rich white fags like
Bruce were willing to pay and he enjoyed dominating and enslaving
white men with his cock, white boys too, even if they didn't have
money. It was fun to watch a white boy humiliate himself, degrade
himself, reduce himself to the lowest form of animal life on the
planet...., just to get a taste of his dick.

So Oliver was angry, mostly at his own stupidity, and he was taking
it out on the patio furniture until the asshole on the other side of
the pool started yelling. Had to be Jefferson Davis Winslow, the
owner's son, yelling...., and starring at his dick.  What a fag.
Momma was right, he thought. Up north or down south, gay white boys
are all the same. Show them a little black power, a hint of black
dick and, well, Oliver was ready to have some fun.

			    ***

"What'd you say?"

"I said you better stop throwing stuff in the pool or I'll...."

"You'll what? Tell?" Oliver interrupted me and said in a quiet, but
commanding voice. "You won't tell cause if you do you're never going
to see or touch what you've been starring at, BOY.  In fact, YOU are
going to clean up the mess I made in the pool....., after YOU get
me a cold drink, BOY."

I looked up from Oliver's crotch, inches from my face, into his
eyes, but only for a second, before lowering my head again. This
kid, this colored kid whose ancestors might have been slaves on
this very plantation, was calling me boy and giving me orders.
I had to set him straight.  I had to let this black kid know who
was the master and who was the slave on the Winslow plantation.
There was only one thing to do, one thing I could say to this black
kid....., to let him know who was boss.

I got up slowly from my chair and we stood face to face. Oliver
didn't move when I put my hands on his chest and rubbed his pink
nipples.  He didn't make a sound when I dropped to my knees, kissed
the nylon covered bulge and said, "Will coke be ok?"

I heard him laughing as I ran to the house as fast as I could to
fetch his drink. I don't remember taking off my bathing suit, but
when I returned to the pool with his drink, Oliver was comfortably
stretched out on my lounge chair and I was naked. There was no
doubt about it. The picture was as clear as the old photos my daddy
had of Winslow slaves. I was naked, a naked slave boy, a personal
slave, on the Winslow plantation and the young black boy was my
master. He kept me standing at his side, in the hot sun, looking me
over for what seemed like a very long time.  It was probably just
a minute or two, time is nothing to a personal slave boy whose only
purpose in life is to please his master, before he took the coke
from my hand and ordered me to clean the pool.

The fire in my hand, from where he touched me, radiated throughout
my body. My dick snapped to rigid attention, thumped loudly against
my belly and began to drip. His touch was magic.  What Tim's cock
did to me two years ago Oliver did with the touch of a finger. I
began to shiver. My knees were shaking so bad I could hardly stand
up. I wanted to see his cock; smell it, kiss it, suck it, but first
I had to obey my new master.

Oliver's eyes were closed when I returned from cleaning the pool
and knelt at the foot of his chair. His smooth black body, shiny
with sweat, lay stretched out before me. I thought he might be
asleep.  "Oliver," I said softly. He opened his eyes, smiled
knowingly, and raised his foot to my face. Without being told,
like a good slave boy, I kissed his foot and licked the pink sole
before opening wide to fill my slave mouth with his big toe. I
eagerly sucked each toe and then, daringly, uncertain of his
reaction, leaned over and stuck my face in his crotch.

It had been two years since I'd had a master to service, since I'd
had a cock in my mouth and I was hungry for it. Hungry to be used
by a dominant male for his pleasure.... and mine.  Hungry to feel
the smooth flesh of a dick pass between my lips, grow large in my
sucking mouth and fill me up with cum. Hungry for warm creamy cum
squirting into my mouth, coating my tongue and sliding down my
throat.

The heat from Oliver's crotch and the feel of his nylon covered
dick against my face was making my head swim and my balls ache with
longing. I had to get his cock in my mouth. "Please," I blurted out,
unable to contain myself any longer. "Please let me suck your dick.
I'll do anything you want to make you feel good. Suck you off till
you cum inside me, in my mouth, and I'll swallow it all. Please."

Oliver grabbed my ears, forced me to look up at him, and said,
"You gonna be my boy?"

"Yes, yes. Your boy."

"My slave?"

"Oh god...., yes."

"Yes what, slave boy?"

"Yes master, yes master. Your slave boy, master."

"Good boy. Quickly now, get me another coke.  And boy?"

"Yes master?"

"Keep your hands off that puny little hardon. You hear me boy?"

My face turned red with shame as I realized that I had been slowly
jerking my cock. "Yes sir," I answered meekly.

In my haste to obey I stubbed my toe and limped painfully to the
house to fulfill my master's wishes.  Once again the sound of his
laughter followed me all the way.

The pain in my toe was overshadowed by the pain in my balls as I
refilled my master's glass with coke and rushed back to the pool.
He was standing over by the kennel, my daddy used to breed german
shepards, examining a training collar and leash.

"Over here, boy," brought me running to his side.  He took the
glass from my hand, my dick pulsed and twitched at his touch, and
handed me the dog collar.

"Put it on."

The collar was old, about an inch wide.  The leather was worn smooth
and it smelled like dog.  I buckled it snugly around my neck and
looked at my master for approval. He patted my head and attached the
metal leash so it hung down my back and rubbed between my ass cheeks.
Sit, heel, down, beg, speak; I was beginning to feel like a dog in
training.  Oliver jerked hard on my leash each time I made a mistake
or failed to respond quickly enough to his spoken commands or hand
signals. One bark was yes, two was no. Heel was at his side, head
down submissively. Beg was on my knees at his feet. On two legs and
on all fours, I learned to follow my master's commands.

Like my daddy told me years earlier, slaves were naked because only
humans wore clothes and a slave was not human, not a person.  I no
longer felt like a person. I felt like a naked slave boy, an animal,
and my master was training me to be obedient and to do his bidding.

Oliver's "fetch" sent me running across the yard to retrieve a stick,
bring it back in my mouth and drop it at my master's feet. We played
fetch over and over until I collapsed on my back, exhausted, all
sweaty and dirt streaked.  Oliver put his foot on my face and though
my mouth was dry as dust, like a good slave boy, like a frisky puppy,
I happily sniffed and licked my master's flesh.

At his command I rose to a begging position between his legs. The
yank on my leash was hardly necessary, my head was already moving to
his groin.  My mouth was already seeking the treasure beneath his
nylon shorts.  Like a moth to a flame, my slave boy cocksucker mouth
was drawn to my master's cock.

"Stay," Oliver commanded as he dropped the leash and stepped back.

Ever so slowly Oliver peeled off his damp shorts. A patch of boyish
pubic hair, surrounding the fat root of his dick, came into view. I
leaned forward, panting, ready to pounce. Inch by inch he lowered
his shorts, revealing more of his thick and very black shaft. Only
the sound of my dick thumping against my belly broke the stillness
of the hot afternoon. Finally the shorts were gone and Oliver, drink
in hand, stood proudly over me.

I gasped. Five, maybe six inches of thick black dick, topped by a
large head, hung down between his legs and nestled softly against a
generous set of balls. He wasn't even hard....and he was huge. My
puny little five inch hardon looked even smaller in comparison.
Oliver was my superior, my master, in every way. We were both naked
now, but Oliver was naked like a greek god, upright and proud. I was
naked and on my knees, where slave boys like me belong, ready to
serve my master.

At his signal I crawled forward, closing the space between master
and slave, his cock and my mouth. When he touched the tip of his
dick to my parched lips, I shuddered once and came.  With volcanic
force my balls released spurt after spurt of red hot lava. My
untouched dick danced wildly, cum spewed in all directions.  Two
years of pent up slavish desires, gay desires, added fuel to my
orgasm.

Laughter ringing in my ears and several tugs on the dog collar
around my neck brought me back to reality. I looked up at Oliver
and followed his eyes to the streaks of cum, my cum, running down
his lower leg. No command was necessary, a personal slave boy knows
to keep his master clean. I went to work with my tongue, licking up
all traces of my sperm, and no small amount of sweat, from his
smooth black skin.  I took his spread legs as an invitation to go
higher and after much licking, nipping and kissing, at last I had
his cock, master's cock, in my slave boy mouth.