Droit du Seigneur 5 Lance Kyle
The next day, fourteen year old Sam was in the study, where he was doing some of the paperwork that was tasked to him since his father, Talmadge Rice, had passed away. His eighteen year old brother Phillip was riding the estate, overseeing the field work. Sam was feeling confident about his plan to exercise the droit du seigneur over the boys of the plantation, having successfully taken the slave boy Cato yesterday. Since Cato was the sole seventeen year old boy on the plantation, it was on to the sixteen year olds. Sam could not remember how many were on the list, but he was sticking to his regimen and not looking at the list until after lunch.
He was momentarily distracted by something at the window nearby. He looked, but could see nothing. Sam returned to his paperwork, but there it was again, something in the corner of his eye at the window. He rose quickly and went to look out but could see nothing. He was sitting back down at the desk when he heard a faint knock at the library door. He bade whomever it was to enter.
In slipped a slight black boy who looked quickly behind himself into the hall and then shut the door. The slave boy stood there, eyes averted. Sam thought he was trembling slightly.
"Yes, what is it? You are...I think you are Joseph, are you not?" Sam asked.
"Yassuh, tha's right, I is Joseph. I, uh...I is heah to ask you somethin', Masta." Sam was surprised. This was not usual behavior in the slaves not assigned to the house. "How old are you, Joseph?" he asked.
"I is thirteen, Masta," the boy replied, his voice reedy from puberty. Yes, he was definitely trembling. Sam now placed him as one of the slaves assigned to work around the house and gardens, not inside the house but in tasks requiring some skills. He might continue that way or be sent to the fields when older, as his aptitude developed or not. "Come closer, Joseph," said Sam.
The body came closer, but not too close. He seemed anxious, looking around at any little sound in the house. "Don't be afraid, Joseph," he added kindly, "tell me what you came here for. How...how did you get in? Did Hannibal let you?"
"Aw, nassuh, Hannibal, he be mad if'n he know I is heah," said Joseph. Sam had an inspiration. "And that was you looking in the window to discover where I was, right?"
If Joseph's dark brown skin could blush darker, it blushed then. He could only hang his head and nod it in the affirmative. The boy was now wringing his hands and seemed in great anxiety about something. "Tell me what you came for, Joseph, you won't get in trouble with Hannibal," said Sam, softly.
This gentle invitation seemed to throw Joseph into even more anxiety. His face worked with emotion, his mouth formed words once or twice without success. And then in a rush he told it:
"Masta, my sistah, Eva, she thirteen too, we twins. Masta Phillip, he take her last week, you know, like de white men take de wenches de firs' time. He come to our cabin ta do it. I lef' but went aroun' and looked through a crack in the logs. I...I saw him do it, Masta. On top of her, they were nekkid. Masta Phillip...oh, Masta Sam, he was so pretty." Sam began to be astonished at this admission and the direction it had just taken. Joseph began speeding up, the words tumbling out now, his eyes almost squinted shut. "He so pretty, Masta, an' I...I wisht it was me instead o' Eva...I pleasured myself as I watched, Masta." He stopped to catch breath, sighing at the recollection. "An' then I hear you was doin' that fo' the bucks, not jus' the wenches, Masta Sam. I...I hear you was pleasurin' the bucks fo' the firs' time. An' I come...I come to ask you ta do dat ta me." Joseph ended on a note of despair, as if he had no hope of such a grace, as if he had likely offended his master in even suggesting it.
Sam sat there in astonishment. He never dreamed that during his project a slave boy would actually offer himself up, would nearly beg him to take him. There was the consideration that Joseph was not "next in line," among the sixteen year olds, that in fact it might be some time before Sam worked his way down to that age group. There was also the fact that Sam found some pleasure in forcing a dark brown boy to do his sexual bidding. But Sam was intrigued, and in a moment decided to throw his careful plan out the door...at least this time, at least for today. Sam looked at the slave boy appraisingly.
He was thin, and a little shorter than Sam. Although but a year younger, at thirteen, it seemed as if Sam was considerably ahead of Joseph in physical development. A close cap of dense black wool was on his head. His nose and lips seemed to have grown a little ahead of the rest of him, the nose being rather broad and the full lips very full. His eyes had an almost Asian almond shape with black pupils. Clean but old clothes covered up the rest of his body.
Sam rose abruptly and said "Come with me," then strode with a sense of purpose out the door and up the stairs to his room, Joseph scrambling to keep up behind him. Sam entered his bedroom, shutting and locking the door right after Joseph entered, and then walked over to his bed. Joseph stopped a respectful distance away, head down, panting slightly—from the run up the stairs or from anticipation, one could not tell.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed and extended a leg. "Remove my boot," he ordered. Glad to have something familiar to occupy the strangeness of the moment, Joseph hussled over and kneeled to perform the task, then removed the other boot, and then remained kneeling from confusion at not knowing what to do next. Sam stood up silently and quickly removed his shirt, dropping it to the floor. Joseph darted a quick glance at it, as if an eagle had landed next to him. Sam let a second or two pass and then loosened and dropped his trousers, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side. Now Joseph looked intently at that garment, not daring to look any higher, seeing the cream colored legs within touching distance of him.
"Stand up, Joseph," the white boy commanded. Trembling now, Joseph stood, his gaze averted downward, but he could plainly see his master's young body, naked except for his underpants. "Remove your clothing, Joseph," Sam commanded. With a sigh, Joseph breathed "yes Masta" and removed his shirt, then his pants, tossing them a little distance away. He wore no undergarments but in a reflex covered his groin with his hand. Deliberately, in no hurry, now Sam removed and dropped his own underwear and the two boys stood naked within touching distance. Sam made no attempt to cover himself, and was fully aware that Joseph was now staring frankly at the fourteen year old white boy's rosie cock that was slowly rising in anticipation from beneath its shock of dirty blonde pubic hair.
"Give me your hands," Sam said, holding both his out. Hesitating, having never heard of a white who wanted to hold his hands, Joseph uncovered his groin and extended his hands toward his young white master, who seized them with his own. Sam looked appraisingly at this dark brown boy who was his slave, his property. Joseph was thin but not gaunt, a tube of muscle with the first hints of development. His body made a sinuous S, the chest held up and back, the curve continuing down the slightly rounded but firm belly, then back through the typical African buttocks that were slab sided but very rounded and, in back, riding high. Thin but strong legs displayed some muscular development. Thin but defined muscles chased down from the brown boy's rounded shoulders through his arms to the long fingers of his hands, now entwined with the white boy's. The black boy's midnight dark cock, smaller than Sam's, was rising in full erection and now stood up and out at a forty-five degree angle, the lighter colored head pushing out from the foreskin. A small field of peppercorn black hair scattered above the penis, and balls that were a little larger than the proportion seemed to call for.
Joseph stood trembling with his eyes cast down, but even with that respectful stance he was staring directly at his young master's rampant cock. Sam released the boy's hands and seized Joseph's head with both his hands, fingers dug into the crisp wool, and pulling the boy to him by the head covered the full lips with his own. Joseph stifled a gasp but was completely caught up by the gesture. Instinctively, he put his arms around his master, his hands splayed on the white boy's hips, their rosie and midnight purple black penises now mashed against each other straight up between their abdomens, leaking clear fluid. Sam invaded the black slave boy's mouth, pushing his tongue in as far as he could, sucking the boy's tongue into his own mouth. Panting now, sharing breath, the boys grappled with each other, pushing groins passionately into groins. Then Sam broke it off and pulled the black boy tightly to himself while he caught his breath. Each boy could feel the beating heart of the other as light skin and dark skin pressed tightly together.
This was the first boy that Sam was actually larger than, and the physical advantage he had added to his sense of control that came from owning this dark body. He intended to take this boy, and in his own way. He pushed Joseph down by the shoulders so that the black boy was kneeling in front of him. "Suck it," he commanded, pushing his swollen penis against the full lips of the slave. Joseph opened up and began literally sucking. Holding the boy's head on each side with his hands in the crisp cap of black wool, Sam began pumping back and forth, Joseph gagging as the white boy's fourteen year old cock hit the back of his throat. In a few minutes, though, Sam pulled out, afraid of climaxing too soon.
He pulled the black boy up now and pushed him back onto the bed, quickly stepping to one side to seize the pot of lubricant in the process. Forcefully, Sam pushed Joseph's knees up to his chest and lubricated his rosie, hard dick. Sam thrust his oiled fingers quickly in and out of the black boy's wrinkled anus, Joseph gasping as he did so and then Sam, his feet still on the floor, his knees against the edge of the bed, pushed his penis against the black slave boy's anus and in one push entered him entirely.
Joseph was not prepared and he cried out, writhing. Sam leaned forward against the black boy's legs and reached out to pin the slave boy's wrists to the bed. Now arched over Joseph at a forty-five degree angle, Sam began pumping in and out in a fury of lust and control. He stared down at the dark brown body he was violating, stared deeply into the slave boy's eyes who forgot all his training and returned the stare, tears rolling from the corners of his eyes in pain. Back and forth Sam pistoned and then with a cry pushed forward, shuddering, emptying his semen into the black slave boy's guts. He remained there panting and shivering until the wave of ecstasy passed.
Then, staying inside the slave boy, still standing at the edge of his bed, Sam bent down as far as he could go and managed to take the light tan head of the slave boy's midnight dark cock into his mouth. With one hand Sam steadied himself on Joseph's heaving chest, with his other hand he began pumping the slave boy's iron hard cock as he sucked the knob. It did not take long at all. With cries of "Masta! Masta!" Joseph began thrashing and pushing. Sam could taste the ribbon of seeming shooting into his mouth and he swallowed it, sucking the boy dry. Finally Sam pulled out and stood there as Joseph's legs stretched out, the slave boy's rounded belly and chest still panting, the white boy looking intently at this dark brown body he had just ravished. Had his brother taken Joseph's twin sister in much the same way?
Sam stepped away to the washbowl on the nearby nightstand and cleaned himself, then dressed himself as Joseph slowly, gingerly rose from the bed. The slave boy was still naked as Sam sat in a chair and demanded that Joseph put his boots back on his feet. Then Sam rose and regarded the naked body in front of him. Reaching over the smacked the slave boy's bottom hard and said, "That was good Joseph. We will do this again some time. Now dress and go about your chores." Joseph smiled, still wiping tears from his rough violation, but dressed quickly and whispering "Thank you, Masta," he slipped from the room.
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