Just sittin’ in my rockin’ chair thinkin’ back ’bout
those young bucks I used to oversee on the plantation.
This was before the war, of course. Then the Goddam
Yankees came and screwed everything up really good
My Daddy owned a large cotton plantation. I was born
in the big house, a mid-wife helped pop me out. Lived
in that house till I went to war. There was nothing
to return to. The Yanks had burned the mansion down.
At six years old I had my own slave. He was six years
old too. He was called Atwood. Wasn’t real uncommon
for plantation owners children to have their own
playmate slaves. Lots of times the slaves would grow
up serving their master all of their lives. Atwood
stayed as my servant until the war.
Atwood was given to me at my sixth birthday party. He
had been bathed till he shined and was wearing clean
hand-me-downs my brother had cast away. He was led in
just after I had blown out the cake candles. He had
flashing eyes and a sense of awareness.
“Ah’s Atwood. Ah’s your new slave and playmate. You’se
mah new master. What’s yo’ name?”
“You call me Master Jason and I shall play with you
right after the party.”
Atwood was led away unceremoniously. Other than the
housekeepers, a nigger was allowed to stay only
momentarily in the main house living quarters. Another
gift I received was a small whip so I could control my
slave.
After the party, I hurried to find Atwood who would
now stay with the servants. “Come on, Atwood. I want
to show you my fort.”
Atwood looked apprehensively at my whip. “You ain’t
goin’ to whup me, is you?”
“Not unless you get real uppity. My Daddy tells me
if you get real uppity I can whip you all I want.”
“Ah won’t get uppity, Master.”
Atwood followed me as I ran down the path to the log
cabin fort my Daddy had built for me. It was small,
but made from real logs and really looked like a fort.
It had a room below with a ladder to the roof where we
could look for imaginary Indians through the wall
portholes. I would shoot at them with two imaginary
rifles. After firing I would hand each rifle back to
Atwood for reloading.
Atwood and I played this game alot but one day our
imagination sagged and we climbed from the roof into
the main room wondering how we would kill time. A
thought came to me. I wondered what Atwood’s butt
looked like.
“Atwood. I want to see your butt.”
“But Master..”
“I want you to shuck down. My Daddy says I can whup
you if you get uppity.
I giggled as I watched Atwood take off his clothes.
I stared at his hard little black peter then touched
it. I had him turn around and looked at his butt. I
spread his cheeks and looked at his asshole. I dropped
my pants. ” Here, Atwood you can look at me too.”
My little penis was also hard. Atwood put his hand on
it. It felt good.
“Do it some more.”
“Did it feel good when I touched yours?” I asked
Atwood.
“Uh, Huh,” Atwood nodded.
“Then let me touch it again.”
Our sex play had started. We spent a lot of time in
the fort looking, examining and playing with each
other in our childish ways.
Between the ages of thirteen and fourteen things
started to happen to my body. My dick started to
grow. I was seeing signs of fuzz in my crotch. My
dick seemed to be uncomfortably hard much of the
time and every so often in my sleep something would
be happen and my bed would be wet. Atwood was going
through the same experience. Now, when Atwood and I
fondled each other, our touching seemed intensely
stronger. We learned how to jack each other off.
Several years later, one day when I was lonely I
decided to do a little cat fish fishin’. Dug up
a bunch of worms and headed to the creek. Came upon
a white friend of mine. My friend had his young slave
with him. Neither heard my approach. My friend had
his pants down. He was pushing his slaves head into
his crotch.
“Hey! Whatcha doin’?”
“Gettin’ my cock sucked. Come and watch.”
I moved in very close. This was fascinating. I dropped
to my knees and put my head to about six inches to
where the action was. I had to have a real close view.
I watched as the slave opened his mouth and slid his
masters cock inside. He then took it out and licked it,
like it was an ice cream cone, his tongue moving around
over and under the head. Really lapping. My friend
started to moan, he pulled his dick out of the niggers
mouth and started to furiously pull it. The nigger
stayed in front of him with his mouth open. Cum shot
from the white boys dick into his slaves mouth. The
slave swallowed, waited till his master was done pump-
ing, then licked off the white stuff that remained on
his dick. My friend held out his hand which was also
wet with cum. The slave licked his palm and all his
fingers.
“Want to do it?” my friend asked? I was hard as a rock
but too shy to drop my pants and be touched by just
any nigger. I really wanted to but shook my head. I
could hardly wait to find Atwood. I would try it with
him.
We were outgrowing the small fort, but it was still
useful for our purpose. I took Atwood up the next day
for more jackoff and peter play. Atwood didn’t know I
had new ideas.
Both of our bodies had now developed into those of
young men. I looked at Atwood. Contours of muscle
development showed. Black hair surrounded his dick
and balls. Fat from his butt had been replaced by
muscular buns. He was a fine looking buck. One regret,
his peter was bigger than mine.
I stood still as Atwood’s black hand felt and played
with my balls, tickled my tip, and pulled my peter. I
did the same to him. Atwood was down on his knees
fondling me. I moved my cock closer to his face. “I
want you to put my cock in your mouth and suck on it.”
“But Mass’ah, I’ve never done anything like that.”
“Put it in your mouth, Atwood.”
“But Mass’ah…”
“Have I ever given you a real good whippin'”
“No, suh, Mass’ah.”
“Then put my cock in your mouth.”
Atwood reluctantly moved towards my cock. I gripped
the back of his head and pulled it forward breaking
what resistance was left. Atwood pulled back my fore-
skin. Testing, his tongue came out and gave my tip
a quick lick. He paused before trying it a second
time. His next lick was longer. His lips parted
making somewhat of a round “O”. He slipped my tip
inside the “O”. I could feel the warmness of his
saliva lubricant. The roughness of his tongue pro-
ceeded to cause intense, pleasurable, new strange
feelings. In a sense of frenzy, I pushed his head
farther against me, my cock slipping to the back of
his mouth and down his throat. Atwood gagged but
did not push me away.
With automatic reflexes my hips started pushing back
and forth as I held his head in a firm grip. It seemed
like everything was spontaneous. The feelings were so
intense I could not stop. An explosion of cum made
me feel I had momentarily lost my mind. Atwood removed
his mouth, my cum running from his lips.
“Did that feel good, Massah’? Did I do it right?”
A tree house is a boys realm. What a boy does in his
tree house is no one’s business but his own. My fort
served as my tree house. Now I was older I used my
fort for one purpose only. Sex. Atwood was my usual
guest.
Since I had found the joys of Atwood’s mouth, here
was the perfect private place to go to get jacked off
and get a blow job. Atwood was becoming an expert with
his tongue.
One day, I really had Atwood turned on. I had been
giving him a real slow hand job…extra slow. As one
hand slowly pumped his black dick, my other hand
gently fondled his balls. I would stop for a moment,
then start again, gently touching his sensitive
private places, then resume, slowly pulling his prick.
Atwood was squirming uncomfortably with his stored
load. He was on the verge of coming, but I wouldn’t
let him get it off. His body was wiggling, his face
contorted. I could see him flexing and working every
muscle possible to relieve his distress by shooting
his cum.
“Oh, please, Massah’, oh please make me come. Oh,
please, Massah’………… SUCK ME!”
A look of horror came over Atwood’s face when he
realized what he had blurted out. . Asking a white
man to suck his black cock? What had he said? He
knew he would be severely whipped.
“Oh please, Suh’, Ah didn’t mean to say that. Honest
I didn’t.”
Anger surged over me. How could this slave think of
such a thing. I glared into his pleading eyes. I
reached for the whip and stood over him. His naked
ebony body was prone on the floor, his legs drawn up
and spread. My eyes passed down over his young rippl-
ing stomach muscles, and then moved to his crotch.
His black pouch held two, firm, walnut size balls.
His large erected prick stood hard and throbbing. I
stared with fixed eyes. I dropped my whip. I knelt
down. I was hypnotically being drawn closer to this
display of ready black male anatomy. I grasped him.
I pulled the skin of his dick back until it was
tightly stretched. Its head grew even larger. I
grasped his balls. In a uncontrollable trance, my
mouth opened and my head dropped down. His large
throbbing muscle slipped into my mouth being quickly
lubricated with my saliva. My tongue licked with un-
controllable frenzy. I pushed his prick to the back
of my mouth, far down my throat. The gush came. The
pumping and pumping of warm cum mixing with my saliva.
I swallowed and swallowed. My head blanketed his
crotch until his dick was limp. Even then I did not
want to move my mouth from of his soft, limp stem. I
snapped out of it. I drew up realizing what I had
done.
“Ah’s sorry, Massah’. Ah’s sorry,” Atwood moaned.
A feeling of utter guilt came over me. I had sucked a
dirty nigger slaves cock. Doing such a thing meant tar
and feathers and being run out of town. This was White
peoples punishment. I wanted to panic. I was angered.
I wanted to whip Atwood within an inch of his life,
maybe even kill him. This was serious. I blamed Atwood.
It was all his fault. I yanked Atwood to his feet and
slapped him. Atwood was wide eyed. I grabbed him by
the shoulders and shook him. “You tell anybody about
this and I will tie you up and personally cut your
balls off.”
“Ah’s sorry, Massah”. Ah’s sorry,” Atwood kept repeat-
ing. “Don’t whip me, Massah”, please don’t cut me.” My
mind was spinning. My sexual arousal rose to match my
anger. I looked at the naked nigger standing scared
and helpless with his now limp ugly cock. I was really
going to show him who his Master was.. He was going to
be sorry for what he made me do.
“Down on all fours.”
Atwood complied. I backed up and put my butt in his
face. “Lick it!”
Atwood feared for his life. He grabbed my hips and
started rapidly moving his tongue up and down my crack.
“Inside!. Deeper!. Lick my asshole!.” Atwood’s hard
tongue splashing with saliva pushed firmly against my
hole with rapid circular motions.
“Get it inside.”
Atwood’s gyrating long tongue pressed inward. He moved
far up, his warm wet working tongue causing new sen-
sations.
“In and out!. Keep doing it!.”
I finally pulled away. I had fondled myself all of
this time. I was hard as a rock.
“Don’t move Atwood.”
Atwood stayed on all fours.
I walked around to his bare ass. “It’s a sin to suck
a nigger,” I thought. “But it’s not a sin to fuck a
nigger. I spittled my cock. “Reach back and spread
your cheeks.” Atwood’s hands came back, grasped each
cheek, pulling them apart.
“Wider.”
Atwood stretched them further. His black asshole was
in full view. I placed the head of my cock on his
target and pushed. Surprising, my dick easily slid in.
Atwood had a loose asshole. I wondered if all niggers
had loose assholes. I moved Atwood’s legs wider then
repositioned my own legs. I grabbed Atwood’s hips and
started to thrust. With anger, my dick drove in and
out, my hard snapping pelvis thrusts snapped his butt
as I rammed with all of my might. I came in his ass.
My body was sweating. I was breathing rapidly.
I clung to him until I felt I could move again. I
stood, put one foot against his dripping butt and
pushed him to the floor. Atwood rolled back and forth.
“Oh, please, Massah’. Oh please!.”
I sat down spent and exhausted. I tried to clear my
brain. There had to be a way to silence Atwood so he
would never tell. I had to put a scare into him. I
tied his hands behind him. I ordered him to lie on
his back and to draw and spread his legs. I removed a
shoelace and gripped his balls, pulling them downward.
I took the shoelace and wrapped it around its narrow
area. Pulling tight, I knotted the lace. His balls
were squeezed downward, tightly against his outside
skin. They profiled clearly. Two big, firm nuts.
Atwood looked on with wide eyed apprehension.
I reached to my side and removed my knife from its
leather sheath. I had just honed and polished it the
night before. I put the knife in front of Atwood’s
face.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m gonna cut your balls off
right now.” I moved down to his crotch. Atwood became
hysterical, thrashing, screaming and pleading.
“Oh, please, Massah’ Jason, don’t cut my balls off.
Don’t cut me.”
I held the knife, slowly turning it in front of
Atwood’s horror filled eyes. Atwood kept pleading.
“Please, Massah. Please!”.
“Then you’ll never tell anyone I sucked your black
dick?”
“No, Massah’. Honest! I’ll never tell. I’ll be your
best slave ever. Oh, Lordy! Please don’t cut my balls
off.”
“You’ll never tell?”
“I promise, Massah’, never tell. Oh, please, put that
knife away. Oh, lordy!”
I reinserted the knife in its sheath.
“Thank you, Massah’. Oh, thank you!”
Atwood sobbed loudly.
“You’ll never, never tell?”
“No Suh. Never. Never!”
I again became sexually aroused. I wanted Atwood’s
asshole a second time. Since Atwood still wore his
balls, he was more than cooperative.
He dropped on all fours, put his head to the ground
and poked his ass way out to receive me. As I pumped,
Atwood was saying, “Oh, Massah’ that feels so good.
Thank you, Massah. Oh, Massah, don’t stop. I’se here
to serve you, Massah’. Thank you so much Massah’.”
Finishing, Atwood licked my dick clean. I turned, he
spread my cheeks and again moved his tongue up my
asshole. I stood and let him do it to me for a long
time..
When I left the fort, Atwood was still muttering. “I’se
here to serve you, Massah’. I’ll do anything for you,
Massah’. I’ll please you in any way. I’se here to serve
you.”
Walking down the path, I now felt I could depend on
Atwood to never tell our secret.
*
Time moved fast at the plantation. I and Atwood were
now in our mid 20’s. My daddy had made me a full time
overseer in the cotton fields. As was the custom,
dependable slaves could be made assistant overseers.
I had made Atwood my assistant.
Atwood still catered to my sexual enjoyment, but we
were both now engaging in outside sexual activity,
sometimes together and sometimes singly.
There were always young, second generation, husky
ebony male bodies to be used. We’d pick them out as
they worked in the fields. Lots only wore loin cloths
that only covered their dick and balls. We’d view them
from atop of our horses as they bent over exposing
their ass while they hoed cotton. Any that presented
attractive butts, had long, well shaped muscular legs
and flowing biceps were carefully eyed. We’d find
which shanty they lived in and take them to the barn
during the evening hours. But, that is another story.
Ours was one of the larger plantations. My daddy was
very wealthy. He insisted on only the very best slaves
be bought at the auctions. He let me do the buying.
First, let me explain about our slaves. We bought them
to work. In Africa, before they were brought over on
the boats, they survived on roots and grub worms. Maybe
some raw or half cooked animal meat. They killed their
enemies with spears, clubs, or blow guns. The whippings
we give them is nothing to the ways they were treated
if captured, or the torture they performed on their
prisoners. As far as we whites are concerned, they are
animals in human form. No brains, but strong, usable
muscles.
As like other buyers, I inspected the merchandise
before it was put on the block. The slaves were well
chained, some still wild as Brahman bulls. It was very
common for buyers to feel the slaves balls to make
sure they were getting a buck with a large enough set
to service the females and produce an abundance of
little “suckers”. The other buyers paid no attention
when I’d pull back a foreskin and tickled a tip and
watched a young buck squirm as his black cock slowly
grew into a stiff, upward standing pole.
“Hey, Jason! That boy’s really got a big one.”
I’d grin and say, “Gotta make sure it’ll go in real
deep so it’ll sprout a bunch of new little bucks.”
I’d open the slaves butts, checked their assholes,
supposedly for hemorrhoids. The new male arrivals
could really flex tight. Sometimes it took a lot of
effort to pry those black cheeks open.
At auction time, I always got my bid. Money was no
object. I’d head home with three or four slaves
chained to the buckboard and present them to my daddy.
My daddy always approved my pick. He always asked how
I could find such handsome ones.
The new slaves would be taken away, staked down and
their training would start the next day, Atwood being
in charge.
Watching Atwood’s training was always exciting. He’d
bring a new slave in the barn cuffed hobbled and naked.
He’d snap his whip ordering the young black to follow
simple various commands. It was something like a lion
trainer in an arena. “Stand up. Sit down. Lie down,
Roll over. Atwood’s whip would wrap around the slaves
body if he did not obey. I had ordered Atwood to only
inflict welts, not leave any permanent marks. I would
want their bodies Free from scars.
Days later, after the initial subduing, Atwood would
start sexual obedience. Submit to your master. I’d
always get a hard-on watching.
Up in the barns loft, Atwood had cleared away enough
hay bales to make a working area. He ordered a black
boy up the ladder. I watched his young naked ass as
he climbed the rungs with some hindrance from the hand
cuffs and leg shackles. Atwood followed with me being
the last to climb.
Atwood had built a crude stock with three holes. This
would hold the slaves head and hands, the rest of his
body being in a bent over position. However, Atwood
had preliminaries to take care of.
He ordered the naked slave to the floor on his back.
Reaching in his pocket he pulled out a rabbit snare
made of flexible wire. Rabbit snares are made so the
noose only locks tighter when tugged. Atwood put the
loop above the young slaves balls and tightened. He
allowed several inches of slack and tied the remainder
to an eye-hook which had been screwed into the floor.
He was secured and ready for his first feel and peter
pull.
Atwood took the black dick, pulled back the foreskin
and started stroking. The peter started to grow. The
slave squirmed. He jerked, pulling the noose tighter
down on his balls, letting out a cry of pain.
“Shut-up, said Atwood,.”and don’t you try to move no
mo’.”
The slave kept still. Atwood continued to knead his
balls, pump his dick and push his wet thumb over and
around the slaves pee hole.
I watched, awaiting the cum. Black newcomers, fresh
off the boat, don’t know how to jack off, or if they
do, it’s completely taboo. This virgin buck must have
a huge load. Atwood kept stroking and fondling. The
black dick was at now at its maximum, swollen and
throbbing. The slave was squirming but kept from
pulling his anchored balls tighter.
Atwood kept pumping and playing until the buck let out
a startled cry, and tried to lift his crotch. The
snare pulled tighter on his balls. He came at the same
time, gushing and shooting. Gushing and shooting cum
like it was milk pouring out of a cows tit. It flew
everywhere, covering his body, running down his sides,
making small pools on the floor. Atwood grinned at me.
“How was that, Massah’.”
Atwood untied the noose at the anchor ring, let the
slave roll around a bit then snapped his whip with a
loud crack, its tip raising dust on the floor by the
slaves side. Atwood undid the restraints on his hands.
“Now yo’ crawl over to that thing I build and put yo’
head and hands in those holes. Atwood snapped the whip
again. “Hurry!”
The slave crawled across the floor and did as he was
told Atwood slid down the top bar, securely locking
his hands and head in place. The slave was bent over,
his butt exposed and protruding for Atwood’s complete
pleasure. The noose was still locked tightly around
his balls, the anchor wire swinging loose..
Atwood reached for a can of lard, jammed his fingers
deep, swirled them, withdrawing two heavily coated
fingers. He spread the slaves cheeks and slapped his
fingers up and down against his asshole leaving the
lube around and in its black crevice. With another
swirling motion of his index finger he entered the
slaves butt hole. The slave yelled. Atwood grabbed
the snare, and gave several hard yanks as his finger
continued to rapidly move in and out of the asshole,
twisting and turning. Two fingers were inserted. They
easily slid all of the way into the wiggling young
black bottom.
“Yessah,” said Atwood. “Yo’s gonna make a good butt
fuck. The Massah’ will be pleased, but I’se going to
loosen you up mo’. Atwood reached for and greased a
ten inch piece of broom stick. He put it against the
black hole, pushed slowly, sliding it in half way. The
slave cursed in African tribal language.
“Yo’s goin’ to learn to like it,” Atwood said, shoving
it up another two inches. “And yo’s going to wear it
till yo’ learn to suck my cock real good.”
He moved to the slaves head, held immobile in the
stocks. Dropping his pants, Atwood stroked his dick
to make sure it was at its hardest. “Now yo’ open yo’
mouth. I’s gonna put this big thing inside and yo’s
goin’ to start workin’ your tongue fast as yo’ can.”
The slave kept his teeth clenched.
“So yo’s gittin’ uppity?”
Atwood returned to the slaves butt, angrily swirled
the broomstick in wide circles, grasped the snare,
and again jerked the slaves balls downward.
“I’s gonna continue till yo’ open your mouth, nigger.”
He gave two more jerks.
Atwood moved to the slaves mouth. It had opened. He
shoved his cock inside, pushing further and further
until it caused gagging.
I stayed until I saw Atwood shoot his creamy wad, then
I had to leave. I had to get ready for a business trip
to Durham. On my departure I kept wondering what else
Atwood could have done that I had missed.
I was gone a week. When I got back, Atwood was very
much in command. Nothing had gone awry in the cotton
fields in my absence.
“And, Massah’ I got a present fo’ you. I’ll be right
back”. Atwood returned leading one of my purchases, a
boy in his late teens. He was a light tan.
“I trained him as a special gift just fo’ you,
Massah'”. He trained easy. His name is Ivory.”
Looking at Ivory’s body, my dick instantly became hard.
I couldn’t wait. Ivory followed me obediently as I
headed up the path to the log fort. We entered, I
closed the door. Ivory knew what to do. Atwood had
really trained him well. He shucked down immediately.
I did not have to order him.
My eyes feasted on his beautiful ebony naked body. He
was new. He was fresh. He was all mine.