Phillip's Story

Phillip's Story Chapter 8 "The Farm Visit"

This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen years.

Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): October, 2012 Read all my stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories

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Two Young Superiors:

This morning, Master informed me that he is to be visited by his brother, Sir Lachlan and his nephew, Sir Jon and that their slave Jem will be accompanying them. I am grateful that Jem will be here to give me a hand to serve Master and his two guests.

It's not beyond my abilities to serve three Superiors - I have done so on many occasions - and any white slave worthy of the calling has to be up to the task. Nevertheless, I will appreciate Jem's presence both as a help in my duties and for his companionship as we serve our three Masters.

The day promises to be very hot and I expect that Master and the other two Superiors will make use of the pool to cool off. And of course, Jem and I will be required to stand alongside the pool ready to serve them.

As always, we must be ready to step forward to serve them cold drinks or refreshments, to apply sunscreen lotion to protect them from the sun or to dry their bodies once they leave the water and to settle them comfortably into their seats in the shade. As slaves, our primary purpose is to ensure their comfort and well-being and it will be most helpful to have Jem working with me.

Sometimes, as I watch Master cooling off in the pool, I feel a twinge of envy at his freedom to do so. As a Black Superior, Master has the freedom - a freedom denied to me as his white slave - to choose what he can and can't do. I, on the other hand, as his slave don't have any freedom of choice; all my decisions are made for me by my Master. He tells me what I can and can't do.

And there are those nostalgic moments when I wistfully think back to the time I was free and how, on a spur of the moment decision, I could just dive into my pool and swim until my heart's content. Now, I must wait for Master's permission to enter his pool; a permission that's not always given.

Mostly, permission to swim is a reward from Master. Some days, after a strenuous and long day of hard labour, Master will tell me I can go for a swim to cool down. Then, there are those other more joyous occasions when Master invites me to join him in the pool for a swim. Mostly these are at night when the temperatures are still high. I have come to look forward to these memorable nights as Master cavorts with me and lustily uses my body in the floodlit waters of his pool.

Whether our Masters swim in the pool or doze off in the shade, we must stand at the modified slave position with our eyes firmly fixed on them and our minds totally focused on their needs. And we must never fidget! No Master will tolerate a slave who impatiently hops from foot to foot or who sighs deeply from his boredom.

Indeed boredom isn't allowed. How can a slave ever be bored if he is devotedly serving his Owner's needs?

But standing idle for long periods of time can be difficult. Often the strain caused by our inactivity places great stress on the unused muscles of our bodies. It's not uncommon for our legs to cramp and of course the loss of body moisture and salts through our copious sweating aggravates the situation.

And this situation is compounded on such a day as this promises to be. Already the sun hangs in the breathless air over the calm waters of the adjacent Bay and the temperature is climbing rapidly.

Essentially, I'm a cool weather slave. I don't really enjoy the heat and I'm always glad when the summer finishes. But my dislike of hot weather is of absolutely no importance. What is important is that I serve my Master and his guests and not show my discomfort.

Master waits to greet his brother and nephew and I stand at the modified display position behind him. Naturally, there are protocols that must be observed despite the heat.

I'd been expecting Sirs Lachlan and Jon with their slave Jem and as their car pulls up, I'm surprised to see there aren't alone. The thought flashes through my mind that there will be extra Superiors to serve and I do a quick, mental inventory of whether or not I have prepared enough food for them. Fortunately, Master keeps a well-stocked food-pantry and refrigerator so I knew there'll be no shortage of steaks for the barbecue luncheon Master has planned.

As Master's guests get out of the car, I see one of them is a young Black Superior and the other is a white slave of approximately the same age. But what really surprises me is that this slave and Jem are slave-naked and had travelled that way from Sir Lachlan's home.

I listen as the young Superior is introduced to Master as Sir Micah, a new college friend of his nephew, Sir Jon. Judging from the young slave accompanying Sir Micah, it would appear that Sir Jon has made friends with another believer in Black Rule.

Once the four Superiors are done with greeting one another it is time for their slaves to greet them. Jem and Sir Micah's slave kneel and kiss my Master's feet as at the same time I pay lip homage to Sir Lachlan , Sir Jon and of course to Sir Micah who I welcome as a first time visitor to my Master's home.

The Superiors retire inside for refreshments served to them by their three slaves. Then inevitably, the Superiors focus their attention on their slaves and we are discussed and inspected. Such inspections are reciprocal in that each Superior examines the slaves of the other Superiors who are present. Master examines Sir Micah's slave - whose name I still don't know - and I, in turn, am examined by Sir Micah. During my fingering, Sir Micah asks Master questions about me and he seems genuinely surprised to hear that I have belonged to Master for eleven years.

Of course, my attention is focused on Sir Jon. I want to see if he's altered much in the time he's been away at college. It is apparent that he's matured and is supremely self-confident. His manner in dealing with we slaves is exemplary - he has become a stern Superior - and he does justice to his Black Rule heritage.

Sir Jon's handling of me is also impressive. I have come to fear him since that memorable day when my real identity was revealed to him. Since that day, Sir Jon treats me as the white slave I am. He strongly disapproves of me and frequently tells Master that I am spoiled and I am allowed too much latitude. He often tells Master that I need to be controlled more rigorously than I am and he suggests that I need a sound whipping to teach me my place. Fortunately, Master has spared me the whip despite Sir Jon's urging.

However, I have noticed that Master is exercising more discipline over me than he once did. Often, I am now punished for my poor workmanship or for other derelictions of duty. Most nights, after I have finished my chores, Master will order me to face the wall for varying periods of time - anything up to two hours - or I am made to kneel on all fours and to remain immobile as I serve as his footstool or an occasional table as he watches television or reads.

How much of this is as a result of Sir Jon's complaints about me is open to conjecture.

But I am immensely gratified with Sir Jon's progression into his new role as a young Black Superior. It's very evident that he is now a force to be reckoned with and I am so proud of him. I'd lovingly watched as he progressed through his boyhood into his teenaged years and I'd always longed for the day when he'd assume his rightful place as a true believer in Black Supremacy and become a strong advocate of Black Rule. In the coming days, I will be exposed to Sir Jon's harsh discipline.

Later, as Sir Micah's slave works with Jem and me in the kitchen he tells us his name is Aaron. His story is an interesting one and I have to say I am surprised to hear it. He was born into slavery; the progeny of slave parents who have always belonged to Sir Micah's Family. When Sir Micah turned sixteen, his grandfather gave him the eighteen year old Aaron as a general purpose and body slave. Aaron told us that he is a fulltime slave who serves his Master on a 24/7 basis and lives with his Master who attends the same college as Sir Jon.

Aaron said that his Master and Sir Jon are now close friends and that his Master lives in a Black Rule apartment block which belongs to his mother's family. Aaron believes that Sir Jon is to move into an apartment in the fall and he has heard that Sir Jon will soon have his own white slave - a student - to serve him.

Aaron lives in the building with his Master and is always on hand to serve him. His uncle is the janitor of the building and lives in a small room down in the basement. Like all the other slaves who are domiciled in the building, Aaron's uncle is naked at all times, on call 24/7 to meet the needs of all Black Superiors and is forbidden to ever leave the building.

I am surprised at hearing this. I have been a slave for eleven years and yet as I listen to Aaron, I realize just how little I really know about Black Rule and Black Superiors.

The Superiors spend most of the day swimming in the pool. Their slaves are kept busy running and fetching - bringing sunscreen and fresh towels to them - and serving them cool refreshing drinks and nibbles on demand.

For lunch, I'd already prepared, corn and salads and I am kept busy cooking the four Superiors deliciously thick, juicy steaks that make my mouth water. As the tantalizing odour of steaks sizzling on the hot barbecue waft through the air, I'm sure the same is true for Jem and Aaron. Surely they salivate too. As slaves we don't get to eat such luxuries as barbecued steaks. These rich foods are for our betters and we simply make do on the leftover salads and cheaper quality hamburgers from the self-service store.

Lunch is a leisurely affair and the Superiors relax and talk among themselves while Jem, Aaron and I stand at the modified slave position ready to step forward to assist our Masters. Jem serves his two Masters, Sir Lachlan and Sir Jon; Aaron waits on his Master, Sir Micah and I of course attend to my Master's needs.

Later, after his guests have gone, Master tells me more about Sir Micah's background. He belongs to one of the most prominent and wealthiest Black Rule Families in the country, The Family have owned white slaves for well over a century and their success and great wealth stems from their use of their slaves in a number of successful enterprises. Many of the slaves they own were born into slavery and are the progeny of slave parents. Nevertheless, the Family are always looking for new whites to enslave.

Master also told me how happy and proud he and Sir Lachlan are that Sir Jon and Sir Micah have become close friends and of how pleased they are that their son and nephew has been welcomed into such an illustrious, Black Rule Family

During the day, Jem had told me that his Master and Sir Jon leave the next day for a ten day visit to Master's parents, Sir Terrel and Mistress Laqueta and that he is to go with them. Jem also mentioned that Sir Lachlan had invited Sir Micah and his slave, Aaron to accompany them.

Jem he is very apprehensive about this visit - his first to our Masters' parents - and I can understand his concern. My feeling is that those ten days will be very hard ones for the two slaves, Jem and Aaron.

Next day, I think about Sirs Lachlan, Jon and Micah and their three slaves as they travel the long distance to Master's Parents' farm. Later, Master tells me he has received a phone call from Sir Lachlan to say they have arrived safely.

The thought flashes through my mind that most probably Jem and Aaron are already hard at work. In a way, I am envious and wish I could be with them.

Sometimes wishful thinking has a habit of coming true. For then Master tells me He wants to visit the farm next weekend and that we'll be traveling down on Friday and returning home on the following Monday.

The Farm:

The drive to Master's Parents' farm takes approximately eight hours and Master has decided that he'll leave early; very early in fact. We are to leave before 4.00 AM Friday morning. By leaving so early, Master is hopeful of avoiding the inevitable crush of holiday traffic.

The night before, Master gave me list of what clothing and other items I am to pack for him. He also told me I need pack nothing for my own use; not even a razor. Master told me the only items I'll need are the clothes I'll wear in the car which in this instance were shorts, a t- shirt and sneakers.

This didn't really surprise me; I knew I'd be forbidden to wear any clothing at the farm. But the prohibition of the razor was a surprise. Normally, Master likes me clean-shaven. However, I knew better than to query Master over this. Such decisions are his make and I must obey without question.

We woke at 3.00 AM Friday and I showered Master and then dressed him for the trip. Master wore smart casual dress consisting of khaki shorts, a blue polo shirt and sneakers. And of course, he wore underwear.

After I'd finished dressing Master, I thought how smart and well-turned out he looks. I swelled with pride knowing that I belonged as a slave to such a handsome Master.

Master had told me I wasn't to wear underwear under my two items clothing which I quickly donned after I had loaded Master's luggage into the vehicle.

Master had me drive for the first part of the trip. I drove for four hours until we stopped for breakfast. After that, Master took the wheel and drove the rest of the way to the farm.

As we entered the drive leading up to Master's Parents' farmhouse, Master ordered me to undress. For me to have appeared clothed on his arrival would have been an affront to his Father and Mother. Both are stern Superiors who keep their two slaves naked and expect the same of any visiting slaves.

Immediately, I obeyed Master's command and as I shucked, he ordered me to be on my best behaviour. Master lectured me I was to behave myself, listen to all commands given to me and to obey them instantly and without question.

Master's father, Sir Terrell is always critical of me. He has long told Master that he is too lenient with me and that he should treat me more harshly. These are the views now shared by his Grandson, Sir Jon who has said much the same thing to Master and to me.

So I am well aware that Master wants me to make a good impression in front of his Parents. Any shortcomings on my part will reflect badly on him and fuel his Father's criticism of me. And of course, any poor performance by me would embarrass Master in front of his Parents and cause him to lose face in their eyes.

Master's Parents, Sir Terrell and Mistress Laqueta wait with his Brother, Sir Lachlan to welcome Master. I stand to one side as the Superiors embrace and enthusiastically greet one another. When they finish, it is my turn to greet them. I fall to my knees and crawl to them and kiss their feet.

As the Superiors enter the house, Sir Terrell turns and slaps my face - very hard.

The slapping of a slave's face is very commonplace and is standard practice. All Black Superiors routinely slap their slaves over the face. My Master slaps my face when he is angry with me, when he wants to gain my attention or to simply humiliate me.

I suspect these are the three main reasons why our Owners do slap us. For me personally - and I couldn't even begin to say how many times I have been slapped - it is one of the most humiliating things that can happen to me. There is something very degrading about standing mute as you are slapped like a naughty child.

The degree of pain a slave feels from a slap to the face depends on who does the slapping. Some slaps are gentle and are probably given to refocus a slave's wandering attention back onto his Owner's needs. I have been in this situation and the discomfort caused by such a slap is minimal.

However, slaps given in anger or disapproval can be more painful depending on the depth of the Master's anger or dissatisfaction. It can range from a quick, stinging blow to one of "teeth-rattling" severity.

And it is the teeth-rattling type that I receive from Sir Terrell. I know I will carry the red imprint of his hand on my cheek for quite a while.

Sir Terrell wastes no time in putting me to work; I'm not even given any lunch. I have only been here a matter of minutes and he assigns me my first duty. Sir Terrell isn't one to have a slave standing idly around. To his mind a slave must be gainfully employed at all time. I am sure one of his maxims for slave behaviour would be- "an idle slave makes for a lazy slave".

Anyway, I'm not to be idle - or lazy. He gestures to the allotment that surrounds the house and tells me I am to mow the grass and that he expects it to be done by nightfall.

The house stands on a large allotment of land and the grass is long and lush. I look with some dismay at the task that Sir Terrell has given me. I worry that I won't finish by his deadline and I know I'll be punished if I don't.

Sir Terrell tells me where I'll find the hand operated mower and I run off to fetch it and make an immediate start on mowing the grass.

Initially, I'm on my own. There are no others around me and I look to see if I can catch sight of Jem and Aaron but they are nowhere to be seen. I reason that they are working in some other part of the farm - perhaps out in the fields.

The day is warm and very soon I am sweating as I push the mower over the grassed area. The hard work doesn't worry me; as a slave I enjoy hard work. One of my favourite slave duties is the "field-work" I do at Master's home which sits amid six spacious acres of lawns, gardens and trees and where there is always scope for field-duties. Master is fastidious about both his home and grounds and he keeps me busy maintaining both to the highest standards. So cutting Sir Terrell's grassed area isn't a problem for me. My only concern is that I finish by Sir Terrell's deadline and avoid any punishment.

Of course there is no respite from my labours. I know better than to slacken off or to take a rest break. These aren't allowed a slave unless his Master gives him leave to do either. And Sir Terrell has given me neither. So I continue to work at a steady pace and I am left on my own.

Later, and I estimate I have been mowing for several hours, I hear voices and looking towards the house I see that Master, his Parents, Brother and another Superior couple who is unknown to me are relaxing on a patio. They are attended by Master's Parents' white, female slave who I do know. Like me she is naked and she serves the Superiors with cool drinks and other refreshments. In between serving, she stands in the modified slave position waiting for her Master's or Mistress's next command.

As I work in close proximity to the Superiors, I hear Sir Lachlan summon the female slave to where he is sitting. I shouldn't be looking but it is difficult not to observe my Superiors from where I am working and I see Sir Lachlan finger the female slave in front of the other Superiors.

I hear their laughter and the buzz of their conversation; but I am too far away to hear what they are saying. And besides their conversation is of no concern to me; all my attention and energy must be concentrated on pushing the mower forward.

At one point, Sir Terrell comes over to check on my progress and to inspect my work. He is unhappy with me and he uses his crop on my "sorry, white ass" to make me work harder and speed me along. As the crop slashes across my ass, I feel the full weight of his displeasure.

In my mind's eye, I try to picture the scene from the Superiors' viewpoint as they relax and watch me as I work. No doubt, the scene is quite pastoral; the farm's natural beauty and tranquillity lends it an air of almost "old-world" charm.

I think back to the days of institutionalized slavery and make the comparison to my situation. Back then white Master's and Mistresses relaxed in the shade of wide porches and sipped Bourbon and mint juleps as they enjoyed the fruits of their Black slaves' labours. Today, my Black Master and his Family relax as their white slaves toil and sweat for them. It seems to me that Black Rule goes someway to righting the cruel injustices of the past and that my toil is an inadequate atonement for the sins of the white race.

Eventually, Sir Jon and Sir Micah join the older Superiors on the patio and the female slave serves them cool drinks and refreshments. I wonder where they'd come from and what they'd been doing? Had they been with Jem and Aaron on another part of the farm and if so what work employs the two slaves? I am looking forward to speaking with Jem and to finding out how he is faring. His Master had brought him to the farm last Monday which means he has been working for four days.

And I wonder if Jem's apprehension about visiting the farm was justified.

As the afternoon ages and the shadows lengthen, the Superiors move indoors and once more I'm left alone to continue with my grass cutting. I mow until dusk when fortuitously I finish the work that Sir Terrell had given me.

Naturally, I am very dirty, sweaty and smelly after my afternoon's labour and I wash myself under a cold water garden hose. The female slave fetches me some old towels to dry myself and when I am finished I join her in the kitchen.

Tonight, I'm not required to wait on table or to serve the Superiors in the dining-room and so I work with the female slave at the more menial tasks of washing dishes and general tidying up.

Once the Superiors have finished dining it is the turn of the slaves to eat the leftover remnants of their meal. As I eat, Master sends me a note.

In his note, Master orders me to go immediately to Sir Terrell's den and to kneel in the centre of the room in the full display position and to wait for Sir Terrell's arrival. Master tells me that Sir Terrell is to use me sexually and that I am to willingly obey all of his Father's commands and to cheerfully co-operate with him. Tonight, I am to be a loaned slave; given by my Master to his Father for his sexual gratification and pleasure.

I hasten to obey Master's command and hurry to Sir Terrell's den where I take up the position he'd demanded of me. Now I wait nervously on my knees for Sir Terrell's arrival; I have no idea if it will be imminent or later in the night.

One thing a slave must learn - and learn quickly - is to be patient. Everything that happens to him is at the whim of his Master. Time belongs to the Master and not to the slave and so I must wait on Sir Terrell' pleasure. How long I wait is open to conjecture; a slave waiting on his knees for a Superior's arrival has no way of marking the passing of the minutes or the hours. I don't have a watch and there is no clock facing me and therefore, I have no way of knowing how long I am on my knees.

I only know that kneeling immobilized - for I am forbidden to move or to fidget - with my hands clasped behind my head places strain on my taut muscles and cramps my legs. And my fear of Sir Terrell fuels my apprehension.

Suddenly the door opens and Sir Terrell enters the room. He walks slowly around my kneeling form before ordering me to my feet and to present my body for his inspection.

Sir Terrell is an expert at examining a slave's body. This isn't the first time that I have been inspected by him and so I know what to expect. Dispassionately, his well-practised hands roam freely over my nakedness poking and prodding to test the firmness of my body. He hefts my balls and balances them in his cupped hand as though he is weighing them. He stretches my cock to its full length and despite my nervousness, I find myself responding positively to his stimulation. Next he orders me to turn as he examines my rear. His hands grasp my ass-cheeks and he squeezes hard. I am made to "bend and spread" and his finger traverses my asscrack and explores my asshole.

"Boy! You have a nice, tight asshole!"

Sir Terrell compliments me. And I know I must thank him for it.

"Thank you, Sir!"

"Obviously, your Master takes good care of his property, slave."

"Yes Sir! My Master values his property and he does take good care of his slave, Sir!"

Next he orders me to stand and face him as he examines my mouth and teeth. Obviously satisfied, he commands me.

"Let's have you on your hands and knees boy. Spread your knees and open up your white slave's ass. NOW!"

I assume the "all fours" position as commanded and I know that his use of my body for his pleasure is imminent. Sir Terrell positions himself behind me and I feel the hardness and the blood-heat of his erection pushing against my asshole. Conscious of my Master's orders for me to co-operate, I relax and allow Sir Terrell to thrust into me.

Sir Terrell makes good use of my ass several times before he is satisfied! The first time Sir Terrell doesn't lubricate me and his use of me is best described as "hard". I wonder if he is doing this deliberately. Perhaps he is demonstrating his contempt of me as an inferior, white slave or it might just be to humiliate me. Whatever the reason, Sir Terrell's "dry use" of me isn't enjoyable. It hurts and I see starbursts and white lights dancing before my eyes with each powerful lunge of his hips. As his cock penetrates deeper into me, I realise that I'm here for Sir Terrell's sexual gratification and not for my enjoyment. Whether or not I receive any pleasure from Sir's powerful thrusting is immaterial. My Master has sent me here and told me that I must obey without question. I have no recourse other than to submit to Sir Terrell's enthusiastic use of my ass.

Finally, Sir Terrell is finished with me; he slaps my ass and dismisses me.

"Boy, go to the laundry and wait there until an overseer comes to collect you in the morning. He'll give you your duties for tomorrow."

I spend a lonely night lying on the laundry floor. Normally, when Master visits his Parents I sleep on the floor alongside his bed. Tonight, I sleep on the floor of the laundry and I am missing my Master. Despite this, I am bone-weary from my labours and tired from Sir Terrell's use of me and I drift in and out of a fitful sleep.

The long day spent travelling from Master's home to the farm and the hard labour given to me by Sir Terrell on our arrival has obviously tired me and I am sleeping soundly when a young overseer comes to collect me for my day's labour. I am woken by a sharp pain cutting across my sleeping form and I am ordered to my feet.

"Wake Up! Up on your feet, white boy! It's time to get you out of here and into the fields working!"

As I scramble to my feet, I catch a fleeting glimpse of the overseer. And I notice the short whip he carries which explains the sudden pain I'd felt as I was woken up. It's a new day and already I have felt the whip on my body. During the coming days, I will feel this whip many more times.

The overseer is a young Black Superior - as you'd expect on Sir Terrell's farm - and he is dressed in clean shorts and a crisp polo shirt. I estimate his age at about sixteen but he exudes the authority and self-confidence of someone much older.

Later, I am to learn that his name is Sir Jazeel and that he is spending the summer vacation working on Sir Terrell's farm as a slave overseer.

The overseer grabs my cock and leads me outdoors. It is still early - probably not yet 6.00 AM but already the humidity is high and it promises to be a hot day. My bladder is full to bursting and I desperately need to pee. But I'm not given the opportunity to relieve myself.

Instead Sir Jazeel cock-leads me across the farmyard towards a barn and for the first time I see Jem and Aaron working with another naked, white, male slave loading empty boxes onto a farm-wagon. This slave is unknown to me and I estimate his age is about thirty-five. The three slaves are in a sorry state; I barely recognize Jem and Aaron from the clean, immaculate slaves who'd served with me last weekend at Master's home.

All three are filthy; their naked bodies are coated in dirt and dry sweat. They haven't shaved for days and their tired faces are heavily stubbled. Now I know why Master had told me I'll not need a razor. As field slaves the time taken to shave would be time wasted.

But more ominously, their bodies displayed Sir Jazeel's use of his whip. Their torsos and their asses were heavily welted.

Sir Jazeel wastes no time and instructs me to start loading boxes onto the wagon with the other three slaves.

"Get to it boy! Start loading those empty boxes and be quick about it! And there's to be NO TALKING! You're here to work. Now get to it!"

My need to urinate is becoming urgent and I ask the young Overseer's permission to pee.

"Please Sir, may I pee?"

I am unprepared for his re-action to my request. Viciously, he slaps my face with teeth rattling intensity and admonishes me.

"Slave, if you need to piss then you just piss like any other animal. 'Cos that's what you are; you're a white slave animal. And don't you ever forget it!"

My urgent need to pee quickly evaporates and I begin loading the boxes onto the wagon along with Jem, Aaron and the third slave. However, after ten minutes, I can't hold back any longer and I piss where I stand. As my piss splatters noisily on to the ground and the puddle at my feet grows bigger, I am humiliated and look to see if anyone is watching. My fellow slaves - perhaps out of consideration for my feelings -aren't looking in my direction and pay me no attention; they continue to load the empty boxes.

Sir Jazeel however laughs loudly at my very public humiliation. But it is a humiliation I must soon lose. Over the next few days it will be common practise for me to piss in situ as I work.

I'm learning that Sir Jazeel is an impatient overseer. He is determined to make us work as quickly as possible and he shouts at us to.

"Hurry up! We haven't all day to waste. There's a crop to harvest. Move your lazy, white asses or you'll feel my whip. NOW MOVE YOURSELVES!"

I notice that my three fellow slaves speed up the pace of their work and I decide that I must follow their lead. Soon we have the wagon fully loaded with empty crates and I wonder what is to happen next. I don't have long to wait. Sir Jazeel pairs us off and orders us to the front of the wagon. Once we are in position, he orders us to pull the wagon out into the fields. All four of us strain to keep the wagon moving and Sir Jazeel enthusiastically encourages us with his whip. He walks beside us and crosses from side to side so that he can put his whip to our straining backs and shoulders. For the second time I feel his whip on my body. It certainly has the desired effect and I lunge forward and pull even harder than before.

I and my three fellow slaves serve as beasts-of-burden as we pull the partially laden wagon behind us. Already I feel the cart's weight dragging on me and I realize that the boxes are empty. It occurs to me that when the crates are filled with whatever produce is being harvested our task will become that much harder.

Since my arrival I haven't spoken to Jem or Aaron as Sir Jazeel has specifically forbidden us to speak and I don't know what work they are employed at. But their dishevelled state tells me that it is onerous and the whip marks on their upper bodies and asses tells me they are driven hard. I guess I'm soon to find out for myself.

We are driven out to a distant field and ordered by Sir Jazeel to - "Stop!"

I see we are in a field of tomato plants and obviously we are to harvest the ripened fruit. I look at the orderly, straight rows stretching away into the distance; there is something almost regimented in how the plants grow. Like soldiers standing at attention on a parade- ground, they stand tall in very precise rows. The rich earth between these rows is weed-free and made dark -damp from the overnight dew and recent rains. The pleasant aroma that one associates with tomato plants hangs in the humid, early morning air. Already, the temperature is climbing and today promises to be very hot.

In keeping with our true status as naked slaves we aren't permitted to wear sunhats or sun glasses. However, we are allowed to wear sunscreen to protect us against serious sunburn. I suppose this is done so that our productivity isn't adversely affected; a badly burned slave would naturally be slowed down by this painful condition.

To protect us from the sun's burning rays, the overseer hands us tubes of sunblock of the highest SPF factor. This gives us the maximum protection against sunburn and we are told to apply it liberally to our own and each other's' bodies; Sir Jazeel supervises as we apply it to one another in those hard to reach places like the back and shoulders. And he laughingly reminds us to generously coat our cocks and balls to safeguard against painful burning.

I'm reminded of the recent incident when working with Jem and another slave at Master's home. On that occasion, Jem, through his newness to slavery and his inexperience as a naked slave never thought to coat his cock and balls with sunscreen and he'd been badly sunburned. This had angered his Master, Sir Lachlan who'd been forced to take Jem to the Vet for treatment. It had also angered my Master who blamed me for Jem's condition. He told me that in not ensuring that Jem was adequately protected against sunburn, I'd not taken proper care of his Brother's property.

Both Jem and I paid a high price for his sunburned cock. The following Saturday night, Master took me to Sir Lachlan's home where both Jem and I were severely caned by our Masters. It was a lesson well-learned by both of us. Jem now knows that he must ensure that his body - which rightfully is his Master's property - is at all times treated with respect and for my part, I learned that I must always be aware that I have a responsibility to see that Jem takes all precautions to safeguard his Owner's property.

Sir Jazeel orders us to each take an empty box from the wagon and assigns us a row of tomato plants. Then, no doubt as a demonstration to me, he stoops and picks a ripened tomato. He shows it to me and tells me.

"Boy, you only pick ripened tomatoes this size and above. You don't pick any that are smaller than this. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes Sir!"

"Good! Make sure you pick them carefully and place them gently in your crate. Don't squeeze or bruise them and don't just throw them or drop them into the box. Do you get that slave?"

"Yes Sir!"

"These are special tomatoes. Because they are organically grown and hand-harvested, you can only buy them in top-end food stores. They are over-priced but your white friends don't seem to care about that."

This is all news to me. I'd never thought about where our food or farm produce comes from. But who does? Do city customers really concern themselves where the fruit and vegetables that stock the display stands in the supermarkets and stores are grown or how they are harvested? Of course not! They have a vague notion that it comes from a farm but that is the extent of their knowledge - or interest. The things that bother them the most are the freshness and availability of their produce. And today, I am to learn more about this at first hand.

Suddenly, Sir Jazeel begins to laugh.

"Here's something for you to think about as you work, slave. What would your whitey family and friends think if they could see you working as a naked slave picking these overpriced tomatoes? And how many would know that buying them advances the cause of Black Rule?"

I take the overseer's point. None of my family or former white friends would have the remotest idea that these tomatoes are hand-picked by white slaves who are owned by Black Superiors. Such a thought would never occur to them and they'd only have the vaguest - if any - interest in Black Rule.

"That's enough talking from me! It's time you boys got to work. Now get to it!"

My three companions know what is expected of them. But I don't and I look to take my lead from Jem, Aaron and the other slave. But the young overseer, recognizing my inexperience, gives me instructions.

"Boy, you work on all fours. You crawl on your hands and knees and drag your box along with you as you move from bush to bush. You pick the ripe tomatoes and carefully place them in your box. Once your box is full you take it to the end of the row and collect another empty box and start over. Are you with me so far, slave?"

"Yes Sir!"

Something tells me to keep my answers brief. I'm in awe of this young Black Superior, who, at just sixteen years is already capable of controlling slaves who are much older than he is. He has an air of authority that tells you not to argue with him or to defy him. His manner is intimidating and I see him as a proud example of Black Supremacy.

"Boy, you stay on your hands and knees as you work. You don't stand up until I tell you that you can. And that won't be until you break for lunch at midday. As I said you don't stand for any reason - not even to piss. If you do need to piss then piss where you work just like the work animal that you are. Now get to it and work fast!"

Already my three fellow slaves are on their hands and knees searching among the plants for suitable tomatoes to pick. I drop to my knees and make a hesitant start as I rummage through my first tomato bush looking for the right sized fruit to pick. It's not easy. The fruit is at varying stages of development; some are small and still green. Others are of a size or a ripeness that isn't yet ready to pluck from the bush. I suppose I am being overly cautious but I'm conscious that I must do as Sir Jazeel has instructed.

I guess my hesitancy has made me too careful. Above me I hear a whistling sound followed by a loud 'thwack" as Sir Jazeel's whip cuts across my back. I yelp with the sudden unexpectedness of this and I wince with the pain it causes me.

"Get moving, boy! Get your lazy, white boy ass into gear." The overseer's words have the desired effect and I do move quicker. Then, Sir Jazeel tells me.

"Spread your legs, slave! I want to see your balls hanging low and swinging free between your thighs. And I want to see your asshole exposed at all times. Whenever, I look at you I want to see your asshole winking at me. Give me some 'eye-candy', boy!"

And to emphasize his command, he applies his whip to me once more.

My reaction is immediate and responsive. I move my knees apart and I am very conscious that my balls are hanging low between my outstretched legs. I have low-hanging balls - something that Black Superiors often comment about - and one hangs slightly lower than the other. As I move from bush to bush, I do feel them "swinging" from side to side. I will find that as the heat of the day increases then my balls will hang correspondingly lower.

And the other consequence of having to spread my legs is that my asshole is now on prominent display. I feel the stretching apart of my ass-cheeks and the opening up of my anus which of course adds to my humiliation.

All Black Superiors like their white slaves to prominently "display" their genitals and assholes. Its incumbent on a white slave to make sure that when he is with his Master that his cock and balls are always thrust forward and that his asshole is open to scrutiny. It is one of the first lessons taught to a new white slave by his Master.

Suddenly, I am very conscious of my animal status. Today, I truly am a field-slave!

I can't describe how hard the work is. Crawling on all fours, dragging a partially full box along behind me from bush to bush and searching for the right sized tomatoes to pick is harder than I suppose. Add to this the sun's increasing heat constantly beating down on my naked body; my copious sweating and the constant sting of Sir Jazeel's whip are pure torture.

Crawling through the damp earth and the lingering rain puddles just adds to my discomfort. Soon my knees are raw from the constant crawling and my legs are covered in dirt. I know that I am well on the way to becoming as filthy and as dishevelled as my three fellow slaves.

Time drags and I long for a rest. But hadn't my overseer said I am to stay on all fours until our midday meal. I have no way of knowing the time, but I estimate it would be no later than 8.00 AM. Midday - and my lunch break - looms like an eternity before me.

I notice a pavilion type structure at the edge of the field. It is about ten feet square and open sided - no doubt to catch any cool breezes - and it has a colourful canvas roof to provide shade. Within the pavilion, I see a table and two chairs. I wonder about it purpose. Is it here for Sir Jazeel's use?

Suddenly there is relief - of a sort - to the morning's oppressive heat. A sudden, short, heavy shower of rain - the first of the intermittent ones that are to plague us throughout the day - cools me down but adds to my discomfort. It leaves me cold, damp and shivering and as I look at the other three slaves I see they share my misery as we continue working. The earth beneath me turns to mud and as I crawl forward dragging my box behind me my body- and even my balls - become mud-splattered.

Then, as suddenly as the rain had started it stops and the sun breaks through with greater heat than before the shower. The rain has added to the humidity and the working conditions become sauna-like; now my shivering gives way to copious sweating. I feel the beads of perspiration trickling down my ass-crack and dripping from the end of my nose and from my chest and belly.

And I am thirsty. How do I convey that to Sir Jazeel? He has forbidden us to speak and I am afraid to ask for water.

But providentially, he gives each of us a bottle of water to drink. As I gulp mine it feels like nectar from heaven. Never has water tasted so sweet and refreshing. And I am to discover that each hour; we will be given more water to slake our thirst and to replace the body moisture we lose through our constant sweating. How grateful I am to my Superiors for their consideration to us.

After I have worked for several hours - I estimate from the sun's position that is now mid- morning - I hear voices approaching and I see Sir Jon and Sir Micah walk past where I am working. They ignore us and don't pay us any attention as they move into the shade of the pavilion.

They are followed by a young, white teenager and judging by his nudity and his demeanour he is obviously a slave. He waits patiently and silently as both Sir Jon and Sir Micah take their seats at the table. Then, the young slave steps forwards and sets out a chessboard for his two Superiors. He serves them cool drinks and then he stands slightly behind them and fans them to keep them cool. I am reminded of something from the Arabian Nights or a scene from some movie epic that portrays Masters and slaves in ancient Egypt or Rome.

Apart from yesterday afternoon, this is the first time I have seen either Sir Jon or Sir Micah since last Sunday when I served them lunch at Master's home. I wonder what activities they have been involved with over the intervening five days.

For the rest of the morning, I continue to work with my head down and my ass up. I'm mindful of Sir Jazeel's instruction to keep my legs spread so that my cock and balls and my asshole are displayed at all times. Surprisingly, picking the tomatoes becomes easier but the work is onerous. I guess I'm learning the routine of my labour and I am gaining in confidence.

But even so, I am not spared the whip and soon my body is welted like the other three slaves.

After what seems an interminably lengthy time, our overseer calls a halt to our work -it is lunch time - and he allows the four of us to rest in the shade of a nearby tree as we eat our lunch. I am ready for food - my belly is rumbling - and I wonder what food will be given to us. Obviously, we are on light rations for we are given nothing more substantial than energy bars and water for our lunch.

I read in a slave story once that some owners don't believe in feeding their slaves during the working hours as a full belly makes a slave sluggish. I doubt very much that my meal will make me sluggish. I think ahead to my next meal and I hope that it will be more substantial than this one.

There is one concession given to us as we rest and eat our lunches. We are allowed to talk. I hear that Jem and Aaron were put to work as soon as they arrived at the farm last Monday and they have been labouring in the fields since then. And I hear that the other slave has been working on the farm since the beginning of the summer vacation.

I am introduced to the other slave and his name is Ralph. He tells me he is the property of a friend of Mistress Laqueta, my Master's Mother, that he is aged thirty-six and is a high school teacher. His Master is away on a business trip and had sent him to work on the farm for the entire summer.

Ralph tells me his story and I am interested to hear he has been a white slave to the Black Race for fourteen years and was first enslaved by the Black Principal of the school where he began his teaching career.

During our lunch break, the young slave who is attending to Sir Jon and Sir Micah runs over to where we are resting and tells us that the two "Sirs" command slave phillip's immediate presence.

I scramble to my feet and run with the young slave back to the pavilion where Sir Jon and Sir Micah are eating lunch. I assume the full display position and wait for them to acknowledge my presence.

I look enviously at the Superiors' lunch. They are dining on thick, juicy steaks - the smell of which taunts me after my own uninspiring lunch of energy bars and water - and delicious, crisp salads. As I watch the two Superiors heartily eat their lunch, I am acutely aware of the disparity between what a Black Superior eats and what he gives his slave to eat and this sets my stomach rumbling.

I'm still standing in the full slave display position and I wait as Sir Jon and Sir Micah finish eating. Eventually, Sir Jon stands and walks over to where I'm standing. He walks around me several times, no doubt perusing my body and then, without a word, he grabs my balls and holds them in his cupped hand. Releasing them, he contemptuously slaps my balls - hard. The shock of my balls being hit so hard makes me gasp and I have that awful, sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach that always accompanies any sudden, unexpected trauma to the testicles.

"Are you having as good time, boy?"

Sir Jon's question taunts me but I have just one answer that I can give in reply.

"Yes Sir!"

"Then tell me, slave! Why are you so dirty?"

Sir Jon's questions continue to mock me.

"Sir, I'm just a slave working hard to please my Superiors."

Obviously, my answer displeases Sir Jon and delivers two, stinging slaps to my face.

"That was the wrong answer, boy. When a Superior asks you a question think before you answer and make sure your reply is the correct one. Now I'll ask you again. Why are you so dirty, slave?"

"Sir, because I am an inferior, white slave to the Black Race and working like an animal in the mud for my Superiors' benefit."

"Slave, it seems to me that you're not working hard enough. You're here to work hard. What do you think this is - a vacation?"

"No Sir! I'm here to work hard for your Grandfather, Sir!"

"Slave, you need to be punished. I'm going to cane your ass - HARD! Turn around and bend over."

Sir Jon retrieves a cane from somewhere - I'm not sure from where - and he gives me ten cuts across my ass with it. There is viciousness in Sir Jon's use of the cane and He delivers each blow with the full force of his strength. Each strike is given slowly and methodically so that I can savour the pain. I grit my teeth and try not to cry out. After about the fourth strike, my eyes are swimming with tears.

Once Sir Jon has finished caning my ass I stand and face him once more.

"Slave, your Master is too lenient with you and you take advantage of his good nature. What you need is a stronger hand to remind you constantly of your true, white slave status."

"Yes Sir! Thank you Sir for reminding me of what I am. Thank you, Sir!"

I hope my contrite answer is humble enough to mollify Sir Jon's displeasure with me.

Sir Jon dismisses me and sends me back to work. But as he does so he instructs Sir Jazeel to make sure I don't slacken off in my labours and to use his whip to lash me and drive me to work harder.

I have to say that Sir Jazeel takes Sir Jon at his word quite literally and for the rest of the day, I am lashed continuously. I become better acquainted with the whip as it cuts across my back, shoulders and ass. The whip is six feet in length and it has a long reach; it coils itself around the trunk of my body and tears at my chest and belly and before long I am as striped and welted as Jem, Aaron and Ralph. In novels, you read that the sound a leather whip makes is like a loud "crack". This isn't the case with Sir Jazeel's whip; the sound it makes is more of a "whistle" and I soon learn to recognize this ominous, warning as the overseer aims it at my back.

My three slave companions have obviously suffered the whip much longer than I have. Nevertheless, as they see the whip used on me it serves to make them work harder and quicker. No doubt, they are most anxious to avoid additional punishment.

My energies are taken up with my work but my thoughts are with my Master. I haven't seen him since we arrived at the farm yesterday and I miss his presence. I missed sleeping on the floor alongside his bed last night and I miss serving him. I wonder how my Master is spending his day. Most probably, he is relaxing with his Parents and his Brother, Sir Lachlan. I know my Master had looked forward to this weekend and to spending time with his Family.

I do however see Master's Father, Sir Terrell. At one stage, I catch a glimpse of him mounted on horseback riding around his farm. Eventually, he rides over to the field where I am working and he pauses to watch his slaves as they work. His presence is intimidating and if it's possible all four slaves increase the pace of our work to please him. None of us want to anger him. Sir Terrell towers over us as he gazes down on our crouching forms from his saddle. He doesn't speak to us but he does question Sir Jazeel on our productivity and the progress of the harvest. Before riding off, he compliments the young overseer for his diligence to his duties and for his strict discipline of the slaves under his control. Sir Terrell tells Sir Jazeel not to be afraid to use his whip on us to encourage to greater effort.

This then is the pattern for the remainder of the day; unremitting hard labour, Sir Jazeel's constant haranguing of us to work harder and faster, the sting of his lash to make us do so and the alternating cold of the rain and the searing heat of the sun. Add to this our shivering in the wet, our copious sweating in the heat and the constant crawling through the mud and you have some idea of our misery.

The day proves to be a long one. It is the height of summer; the days are long and our Superiors make full use of every daylight hour. It was 6.00 AM when we began our labours and it is 8.00 PM when we cease them. At dusk our overseer calls a halt to our labours and orders us to haul the heavily laden wagon back to a distant shed. I'd thought pulling the empty wagon into the field was hard work; but this return trip with a full load of freshly harvested tomatoes really taxes my strength. All four of us strain to pull the heavy wagon behind us. The wet earth and the mud make our task that much harder as our bare feet slip and slither beneath us.

If I thought my day's work would cease once we were back at the shed I am mistaken. There is still an hour's work to be completed before we are dismissed, hosed down, fed and watered and allowed to rest for the night.

Each fully loaded crate must be unloaded, weighed and then loaded onto a waiting truck. I follow the lead of my fellow slaves - obviously they have done this each night since their arrival and know what to do - and I remove a crate from the wagon and place it on a set of industrial scales where it is weighed and numbered by Sir Jazeel who then records these in a book. This proves to be hard work; each box is heavy and after an hour of constantly unloading, weighing and reloading the crates my muscles begin to ache from the strain.

It takes an hour for us to complete this job after which we are taken to a compost heap where we are told to relieve ourselves before we are hosed down under a cold water tap to remove the worst of today's grime from our bodies. Our Masters are present as we are hosed down. They comment on us and after the hose is turned off they inspect our bodies; satisfied that we are none the worse for wear - apart from our whip stripes and welts - they dismiss us for the night and send us to a barn to sleep.

Here we are given our evening meal of cold hamburgers and water. As I eat my evening meal, I think of Master and the other Superiors eating in the dining-room up at the farmhouse. I remember the nights I have served in that same dining-room and of the sumptuous meals that are routinely served to our Superiors. Sir Terrell always provides well for his guests.

After we have eaten our simple meal, we are shown into a stall with freshly strewn straw on the floor and ordered to settle down for the night.

All four of us are bone-weary, miserable and tired beyond relief. Yet, after the enforced silence of our work-day, we welcome this opportunity to speak together. The topics range over the subjects of Black Rule, our white slavery to Black Superiors, our working conditions and how tired our aching bodies are.

Inevitably our talk turns to Sir Terrell. We all agree that he is a stern Black Superior and a hard taskmaster who demands much from a white slave and will spare the slave nothing in obtaining every ounce of effort from him. Obviously, all four of us live in fear of angering Sir Terrell and as we talk about him, I learn that Jem, Aaron and Ralph have all been used sexually by him in the same way he'd used me last night in his den.

Perhaps his use of us in this manner is an expression of his contempt for the white race in general and for his Family's white slaves in particular!

Soon, all four of us drift into a heavy sleep that will partly recuperate our tired bodies and prepare us for a similar day tomorrow.

Promptly at 6.00 AM the next morning, Sunday, Sir Jazeel wakes us with the liberal use of his whip and orders us to our feet.

He drives us back to the compost heap where we relieve ourselves. Once we have finished, we are given out breakfast of cold cereal and water. Then it is time to load up the wagon with empty boxes and to haul it into the fields for another day's labour.

However, today there is a small change to our routine. Instead of picking tomatoes we harvest cucumbers. But in all other aspects, today is a repeat of yesterday.

This is my last day labouring at the farm. Tomorrow Master is returning home with me. I guess this helps get me through the day. Unhappily for them, the other three slaves are to labour on.

I hear that Sir Lachlan is staying until next Saturday when he'll return home taking Jem with him

Sir Jon and Sir Micah will remain at the farm for another week after that before returning to the city.

Poor Ralph! He will remain at the farm until his Master returns from his business trip at the end of the summer vacation. I don't envy Ralph; the intensity of his slave duties will continue unabated until he is collected by his Owner.

As I said today is a repeat of yesterday. All four of us suffer the same damp coldness from the intermittent rain showers, the enervating, energy-sapping heat of a remorseless sun that breaks through between those showers, the continual crawling through the mud dragging our quickly filling boxes behind us and the whip. Sir Jazeel continues to whip us urging us to work harder and increase the productivity of our labours.

Midway through the day, Master and his Brother, Sir Lachlan pay us a visit. They watch us as we work and then talk to Sir Jazeel. I don't hear their conversation but I suspect that Master asks about our productivity. However, I do hear Sir Jazeel's reply.

"No, the slaves aren't working to their full capacity. I believe they could work harder."

"Jazeel, just use your whip on them!" I hear Master tell the young overseer. "Use it and make them work harder and faster."

Then, I hear Master's shouted command to me.

"Slave, get your lazy ass over here. NOW!"

I run to Master and assume the full display position. Master slowly looks at me and I must present him with a very sorry sight. My whip-lashed body is coated in dirt, my legs are caked with mud - even my cock and balls are mud-splattered - and I am unshaven. I know I am malodorous for I can smell my sourness - a mixture of my stale sweat and the grime that clings to me. I must stink to "high heaven". I know this is so because I have smelt my three, fellow slaves who have worked in the fields much longer than I have and they are, to put it delicately, "on the nose".

My body also shows the evidence of Sir Jazeel's whip; my shoulders, back and ass are covered in red stripes and these even extend around to my front. There is one particular welt that troubles me. At some stage the whip had wrapped itself around me and cut across my nipples. The angry welt is raised and very red. Master surveys me for several moments and dismisses me with a curt command.

"Get back to work!"

I hasten to obey and work conscientiously and industriously for the remainder of the day. Then at dusk, we haul the results of our labour into the shed where the boxes of freshly harvested cucumbers are unloaded, weighed and placed on the waiting truck.

I spend my last night in the barn stall with Jem, Aaron and Ralph. We are given our evening meal of cold hotdogs and water. Then it is time to sleep.

Next morning, when I awake, Master collects me and we return home. Master is clean and dressed in fresh clean clothes. In contrast, I am dirty and dishevelled from my three days labouring as a field-slave on Sir Terrell's farm. It is only when we arrive home that Master gives me permission to clean myself.

How I appreciate the chance to clean away the grime and stale sweat of my labours and to shave. Never has a razor been more appreciated or a shower enjoyed so much.

It feels good to home again with just my Master. Now I can give him my undivided attention and I can lavish all my devotion on him and to serve him as he deserves to be served.

Over the next few days, the whip welt on my chest continues to bother me - it's very painful - and Master is keeping a close watch on it. Finally, he takes to the Vet for an examination.

The Vet examines me and decides my injuries are just superficial and no lasting damage has been done to me. The Vet tells Master that, despite my discomfort, they'll heal within days and I'll be "as good as new" in no time at all.

The Vet listens as Master tells him of my time working as a field-slave and the he gives his wholehearted approval of what had happened to me. Of course, the Vet owns white slaves and I have heard that he doesn't spare them the whip in his training and handling of them.

Naturally, it follows that he'd heartily approve of my treatment at the hands of Sir Jazeel.

To be continued ....

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