Droit du Seigneur 3 Lance Kyle
Sam struggled with his resolve to continue his program of visiting the "droit" upon the slave boys of the plantation. His experience with Oscar left him somewhat shaken. He had felt right in his assertion of ownership, of mastery, over the unwilling black slave boy, but he quailed internally at the thought of having to wage such a struggle each time. Had he been older than fourteen it might have been different. Had he been dealing with slave girls, who might have been expected to go along with his approaches however unwilling they were, it might have been different. But he knew that for many of the boys he intended to seduce, it was an uphill battle to have his own natural inclinations overpower the hetero preferences of the boys. He brooded on these matters that afternoon and evening as he rode around the plantation, overseeing the work. His brother noticed the moodiness but he really did not want to know about Sam's campaign and thought it best to keep quiet about it. As for Sam, did the slave men and boys they passed look at him differently now, or was that his imagination? He had to steel himself inside: he was their master and would do with any of them as he pleased. But still, it was a struggle.
He woke the next morning after a night of broken sleep, his fourteen year old shaft oozing clear liquid and stiff as iron, but he knew to save it for the task ahead of him. Sam had many jobs he could do around the plantation, and he actually chose to do some of them first before tackling the fearful task ahead of him, but eventually he forced himself to go to the study and examine the list of boys eighteen and younger that he had drawn up with the butler, Hannibal. He knew there would be one more of the three eighteen year olds on the plantation. Perhaps he had not really studied or thought about the list before, but he was surprised—maybe even pleasantly—by the third and last name among the eighteen year olds.
It was Lucius, and Sam knew exactly who he was. The plantation was not so large that they could afford a household staff dedicated only to waiting and serving in the main house. True, some of the slaves were exclusively field hands, but there were no exclusively "house Negroes." There was instead a group of good looking, well mannered, and trained slaves who performed tasks around the house and outbuildings such as light carpentry, taking care of the horses, gardening, and mowing—and who were then pressed into service as footmen or maids when a large dinner or party was planned. Lucius was one of these. Sam had seen him often around the house, although the difference in their status and age had prevented any kind of play or close contact when they were young. Lucius was a handsome eighteen year old who worked in the flower and vegetable gardens, and filled in when extra service was required at dinner.
Lucius was also a mulatto, Sam recalled. And then he realized in a flash that Lucius was probably his own half-brother, the product of his father's exercise of the droit with some young slave girl eighteen years ago. His brother. This added some interest, but also hope. Lucius was well mannered, and had always maintained a courteous and respectful distance from his young master. Maybe he would be more amenable to being...well, to being deflowered, at least in Sam's imagination. He knew true deflowering was unlikely among the eighteen year olds, but he maintained the pretense. And so it was with a rising sense of hope and confidence that Sam summoned Hannibal and asked him to have Lucius washed and brought to his room that afternoon, after lunch.
Once again, Sam stood behind his bedroom curtain as Hannibal accompanied Lucius, this time by himself, to the wash house and then back to the main house. Nervous again, determined to take charge and exercise his rights of ownership, Sam felt he was taking a stance on a field of battle. There was a knock on his door, and when Hannibal ushered the boy in he said, "This is Lucius, Master," then retreated and closed the door behind him.
Sam paused for a moment to take in the boy before him. Tall but not too tall, his hair a medium brown chrysanthemum puff about two inches out from his head. Lucius kept his head down but Sam could see that his almond shaped eyes were a dark green. His color was coffee and cream, with smooth flawless skin. The boy had a strong jaw line and a fine, broad African nose. The lips were definitely African, quite full both top and bottom. He was slim beneath the simple clothes he wore. "Yes, Masta," Lucius whispered.
"Take these clothes off," Sam said, stepping up close to Lucius and tugging on the slave boy's garments. "Yessuh," he replied, and with readiness—or was that eagerness?—stripped off immediately. His slim body described an S curve, thin pads of muscled chest thrust out, a smooth, muscled but not chiseled belly curving out just a little and then the typical African bottom, rounded and thrust back, rolling high, strong but not massive legs. His body was largely hairless, but there was a puff of dark brown, waving pubic hair above a very dark penis that, to Sam's surprise and pleasure, seemed half erect, pointing downward at a forty-five degree angle. A very dark sack held heavy balls beneath this.
Sam's surprise at Lucius's incipient erection was confirmed when the slave boy said, softly, "You want me to help you get undressed, Masta?" "Yes," the white boy croaked, hit with a sudden blast of complex emotions, principally relief and lust.
That's when the balance between the two boys shifted. At no point did Lucius assume command, but he became an equal partner in Sam's project, helping and suggesting, sometimes with a gesture or a hand placed here or there, sometimes by moving his own body. The mulatto slave boy gently tugged his master out of his own clothing, while the dark erection began to grow longer and harder. By the time Sam stood naked, his own fiery pink shaft standing straight up from the base of his belly, Lucius was also at full erection, his very dark chocolate rod curving away from his body and up.
"You pretty, Masta," breathed Lucius. Sam swallowed hard and immediately forgot all his fantasies and plans. Sensing this, the mulatto boy gently stepped into what became the white boy's embrace, even as he slid his own brown hands around to the back and buttocks of the white master. Then their lips naturally found each other. Lucius showed no hesitation or reticence, and Sam was simply lost in the full lips, as full as any he had ever seen, nibbling them, sucking them into his own mouth, letting the mulatto suck up his own lips, tongues thrusting as far as they would go from one mouth to another, all the while the cream colored and coffee and cream colored bodies straining against each other, arms and hands holding them together closely. Both boys sighed, whispered, and giggled all the while.
"What you want me to do, Masta?" asked the mulatto slave boy. Sam for a moment was clearly at a loss, so taken up was he in the moment of splendid improvisation. Lucius waited but a moment and then gently took over. Seizing his master by the hand, he led him to the bed and both boys crawled up on it. Looking around quickly, Lucius picked up a small pot of lubricant and quickly oiled his master's rampant red cock, then put the oil on Sam's fingers and flinging himself back on the bed, his knees up against his chest, he guided the white boy to squat before his buttocks, before the wrinkled anus, and to insert a finger in. Sam did so quite willingly as Lucius gasped. The white boy played with the orifice for a few minutes, moving one and then two fingers in and out, feeling and exploring the inside, as Lucius gasped and squirmed. As the lubricant began rubbing off, Sam oiled his fingers again with the clear fluid from his own penis, which was drooling out liberally.
It was when Lucius bent up and forward a little and drew Sam closer to him that the white boy understood what he was to do. Placing the tip of his red, rigid cock at the anus, he thrust in. It went in quite easily, the opening well dilated by his fingers. A look of surprise spread on Sam's face and his mouth formed an O. Then Lucius wrapped his legs around the white boy's back, locking his ankles, and began encouraging Sam to pump. The white boy did, his eyes looking frantically from the brown boy beneath him to the sight of his rod plunging in and out to the kind face of the mulatto boy. It took no time at all before Sam threw his head back, shut his eyes, tensed and pushed hard with his pelvis and cried out, shivering and bucking as he shot his load into the mulatto boy's guts.
Sam continued to squat there, swaying a little, breathing hard, and then tears began squeezing out of his closed eyelids, then streaming down, and he simply moaned; a moan of relief, of gratitude. Sam pulled out of Lucius with a plop and collapsed forward, gently sobbing against the mulatto slave's brown chest, while Lucius murmured words of comfort and rubbed the white boy's back and buttocks with his hands.
Sam continued like that for a few minutes. When he had recovered himself and given a deep, soul wracking sigh, the white boy suddenly pushed himself up off of the mulatto slave beneath him and with a kind of fierce urgency slid down the brown body and engulfed the still rigid dark brown cock in his mouth. Sam began sucking and pumping with his head for all he was worth, his hands rubbing the chest and abdomen of the older boy. Lucius surrendered to his master's urgency, his fingers entwined in the white boy's hair as he began gently pumping with his own hips to match the white boy's rhythm. A few more moments of this and Lucius whispered urgently, "I'se coming, Masta," to which Sam replied with a grunt and a more determined sucking. With a high pitched keening Lucius came, shooting his load straight up and into the white boy's mouth, where it was swallowed eagerly.
Once Lucius was done, his warm dark shaft cleaned and drained by the white boy master, Sam slid up beside him and enveloped him tightly in an embrace. Lucius returned the gesture, and the two drifted off in a doze for perhaps a half an hour. Then Sam woke with a start, which also brought Lucius out of his sleep. Sam looked around wildly as if it took a second or two to reorient himself. The instant he recognized the mulatto slave boy beside him, Sam was seized by another wave of fierce urgency.
Needing no instruction from Lucius, Sam rolled the slave boy over onto his belly and positioned his penis, suddenly rampant again, at the still-relaxed anus. The white boy pushed in with one smooth motion, the slave boy grunting. With no further ceremony Sam set up a furious pounding, first holding himself up off of the light brown body, then lowering himself onto the mulatto's back and sliding his arms beneath the slave's chest to grasp him tightly. Frantically Sam pounded and before long he came again, this time crying out as if a full release was forcing itself out from his body through his lungs, from his mouth. Sam stayed there shuddering, twitching, breathing heavily, until he recovered. And then he slipped off to the side.
Lucius had his own needs, but this was a moment for Sam. Lucius held the white boy in his arms until Sam drifted off to sleep again, sexually exhausted, emotionally drained. And then the mulatto boy slipped out. When Sam awoke again, an hour later, he was alone on the bed, a soft warm breeze blowing through the window.
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