The Life of Koru, Chapter 15
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The Day of the Emperor was finally there, the only day in the year when the koru didn't have to work. They had to celebrate. It was a national day for the Black people and a sacred day for the koru. On this day, the koru were rounded up from the plantations, they were brought to marketplaces, arenas, crossroads and to the courtyards of the Massas, where they showed their enthusiasm of being slaves. They danced to the beat of drums, sang hymns of praise to the Emperor, did acrobatic stunts and circus numbers, and basically acted like entertaining monkeys. At exactly 10 AM GMT, they were all required to go into the "obeying monkey" position, with their asses pointed towards the capital of the Black Empire, Maasai Magna. The overseers gave them the precise direction so that all over the world milions and milions of koru asses were offering themselves to the Emperor in this very special day. That day and that hour was when the Treaty of Enslavement was signed centuries ago and when the white population officially became cattle. The koru had to remain in that position for two hours, after which the celebrations resumed.
On Nnamani Plantations, the ceremony started with the slaves standing on either side of the road in order to greet Massa Reginald's carriage. It was a very special moment for the slaves and they were shifting on their feet with anticipation.
For his short trips around the plantations and especially for the Day of the Emperor, Massa Reginald used a practical chariot drawn by two hunky koru, Bruno and Angus, his pony slaves. Being a pony slave was one of the greatest positions a koru could aspire to have. The pony slaves slept on clean straw in a stable, had quality fodder to eat and kept their bodies clean with daily cold showers and oil lotions. Most plantation koru had no chance of ever becoming pony slaves, as they were too ugly and disfigured by the whip.
Like prize animals, Bruno and Angus strutted proudly with their chests puffed forward, their cocks hard and their legs springing high above the ground. They were harnessed to the chariot with leather belts and their perfect muscular bodies glistened with a perfumed oil that was musky and masculine, with a subtle touch of exotic wild flowers. Sir Reginald used a light whip on their backs, the kind of whip that didn't scar their hides permanently:
"Giddy-up! Giddy-up, boys! Uphill is the hardest!"
As soon as Massa's chariot was seen in the distance, the plantation slaves on the road erupted:
"Long live Massa! Praise ye, Massa!"
They went on their knees and kissed the ground in front of the chariot and then the traces left by the wheels on the road.
Then, when the carriage stopped in front of the palace, the plantation slaves immediately threw themselves to the ground in front of it, lying on their bellies with their faces down, as if they were a carpet on which Sir Reginald could step on. This ultimate debasement was so automatic and instinctive for all of them, that it almost needed no instruction from the overseers. You had to consider that the plantations slaves rarely, if ever, saw their Massa. They spent their time toiling in the fields, far away from Massa's residence, and only sometimes caught a glimpse of his magnificent limo or carriage passing by. Their love for their Massa was sincere and absolute. They considered themselves nothing but dirt under Massa's feet.
Another reason why they did this was that they very much believed the touch of their Massa to be holy. It could heal all their ailments: ass pain, muscle pain, itches, sores, rashes, parasitic infections and diarrhea, stomach cramps and bloating, night chills and monkey pox. All of these problems Massa could heal with just the tip of his shoe.
The weather was perfect for celebration. In front of Sir Reginald's palace there was a large improvised circus fair with wooden stages and props for the koru slaves to perform. It was for the entertainment of Sir Reginald and his guests on the Day of the Emperor. On the main stage, the host of the show was none other than Sir Jared.
The koru in this circus climbed poles and ropes, wrestled, fucked, flexed their muscles and did all sorts of entertaining actions. Some used their balancing techniques in the art of ropewalking, while other went as far as to swallow swords and extinguish torches with their mouths.
A lot of the performers were male, but there were also many wummses.
Dumbo looked desperately through the crowd in a vain attempt to see Wummina.
Peon tried to calm Dumbo.
"Yo, Dumbo, stop thinkin' about Wummina, bud! She no good for ye, fellow! She just a big ass bitch and nothin' more!"
"Well, where else can I'se find a big ass like her's? Yer bottom dog is barely there with his beaten-up scrawny ass!"
Mulo felt ashamed to have an ass like this. It made him feel even more inferior to Wummina. He knew his ass was cheap meat. Nevertheless, Dumbo liked to slap it.
"What's wrong with ye, Dumbo? Ye slap Mulo's ass too much! I'se gonna need to fight ye again if ye don't stop!" Peon threatened.
"Calm down, bud! He just a bottom!"
"No, he ain't just a bottom! I'se wanna teach him to rise and one day be a top like us, but ye keep puttin' him down and callin' him Wummina!"
Mulo's eyes showed a lot of gratitude towards Peon. If only he had the courage to talk to Dumbo like that!
"Next on stage: slave Peon!" Sir Jared yelled.
"Wish me luck, guys!" Peon said and moved towards the stage.
Peon was a good gymnast and he really shined on the pommel horse. He mounted the apparatus with cat-like agility and started doing circles and flairs with his legs, while his hands moved swiftly across the wooden beam. Scissor kicks, loops, handstands, swings and rotations, his long legs were energetic tempests of flesh, carving the air around gracefully. Each movement required impeccable timing and coordination, and Peon knew that if he messed up and fell, he would get a beating. After a few minutes of this amazing gymnastic performance, Peon jumped with his feet to the ground and his arms spread wide to meet the cheering of the public.
"It's a good number, koru!" Sir Reginald said. "I want you to repeat it in the background of the stage until Massa Reginald leaves. Just keep it spinning is what I mean!"
"Yessuh!" Peon said and hastened to repeat the performance.
The next one was Dumbo. Dumbo had a bodybuilder's physique and he lifted weights from the ground. A barbell of no less than 500 kg waited for him on the stage. It was no secret that the koru were really good at lifting weights. They were basically doing it all their lives.
One time, a Black Olympic world champion who just broke the world record in weightlifting was very angry when someone told him that they had seen koru lift larger weights than him. "Yeah and?" he said. "Are you going to compare me to elephants and gorillas as well? What do the koru have to do with the Olympics?" Indeed the koru could lift very high weights because they were instructed to do so at work, but it was not like anyone felt the need to give them medals for that. In fact their records were barely kept. In the koru world there were no champions and no Olympics.
Dumbo was not considered a champion for being able to lift. He was seen just a performing ape.
He stood there stretching his back, he spitted in his large palms and grabbed the heavy barbell. With a deep inhale, shoulders squared, feet planted firmly on the ground, he braced himself, summoning the strength within. The barbell jumped at the level of his chest, but it was not over. He slowly used his entire body to bring that barbell way above his head in a triumphant pose -- a 500 kg barbell which was basically almost five time heavier than his own weight! He stood like this a few seconds with his muscles tense, his veins bulging beneath his skin, briskly breathing. It was a tensioned moment. The wooden planks underneath his feet almost threatened to break under him. But he released the barbell just in time.
"Nicely done, slave!" Sir Jared exclaimed. "I want you to draw your breath and keep on lifting that barbell here in the background!"
"Yessuh!" Dumbo said.
Then with a broad smile, Sir Jared announced:
"And now, for your amusement, Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you a pack of bottom slaves from the plantation. They will dance to the new song A.P.E. by BBC Syndicate!"
Mulo climbed on the stage together with three other ass-lackeys like him, while the loudspeakers started playing the rhythmic song. Their "coregraphy" consisted of showing their asses to the public, bumping them into each other, slapping them, shaking them, jumping in the air and being as ridiculous as possible.
Some assistant slaves on the stage kept circular hoops in the air through which the four bottoms jumped like trained dogs. Then they had to crawl on their bellies through a barrel while an assistant slave whipped their asses to hurry.
During this time, baskets of banana peels were provided to the audience, so that they could pelt the dancers with "positive feedback". By the end of the song, the floor was full of banana peels and the slaves started to slip on them with their bare feet, to the point where it was hard to know whether their falls were part of the coregraphy or just spontaneous accidents. The audience was laughing and cheering.
"Good job, boys!" Sir Jared said. "Now let me ask each one of you something! How do you like taking a cock in your ass?"
And he pointed the microphone for each slave to respond.
"Best thing, suh!" one bottom said.
"Wonderful, suh!"
"I'se want it, suh!"
Then the microphone came to Mulo's mouth and he exploded:
"I'se fuckin' hate it!"
In that moment everyone glanced at Mulo as if he were a dead koru. He could literally feel the chills of death. He knew that he had to modify his answer immediately or taste the whip for his insolence.
"I'se fuckin' hate it when I'se have no cock in my ass, suh!"
Everyone started to laugh and everything seemed okay for a while. But then Sir Jared said:
"And do you want to show us here how you take cock in your ass?"
"Um... Yessuh?"
"Of course you want! Already, boy, on all fours, take the obeying monkey position there at the middle of the stage, so that the audience can see you!"
Then he turned to Dumbo and said:
"You let that barbell down and come here to fuck this slave! Come on! Don't be shy! His ass is waiting!"
So Mulo stood there on stage on all fours and was about to be fucked in the ass by Dumbo. It was a special occasion for Mulo. He knew Massa was watching and Massa was the most important person in his life -- he owned him! Mulo tried to relax and present himself as an eager monkey for his Massa's entertainment. He bent his back, raised his ass in the air and waited there with his nose pressed to the stage. Dumbo took him from behind and started ramming his hole with his massive cock.
"How does this feel, slave?" Sir Jared asked Mulo, pressing his microphone to his face while Mulo was fucked.
"Very good, suh!" Mulo said.
"Can you say it again while you suck this?" Sir Jared asked while moving the microphone closer to his mouth. "Come on, see it as a cock!"
Mulo took the microphone in his mouth, started sucking and mumbled:
"Ehry ghooth, huh!"
"We can't understand what you say, ape!"
"EHRY GHOOTH, HUH!"
"That's better!"
And during all this time, Dumbo was enjoying himself and started moaning again:
"Oh... Wummina... Wummina..."
"Who is Wummina, slave?" Sir Jared said, pointing the microphone to him.
"She my love, suh! She the fire of my heart! Wummina, if ye hear me, if ye're here, I'se say that I'se dream of ye every night!"
"AHAHAHA!" the audience was laughing. The spectacle was better than they expected.
The night following the Day of the Emperor, many slaves came back to their mud huts totally exhausted. Peon and Mulo were the same, they had to perform so much in front of the Black Lords to the point where Peon couldn't feel his arms anymore and Mulo couldn't feel his ass. They cuddled on the ground, their bodies pressed to each other and feeling very sleepy. At one point, Mulo noticed that Dumbo was not there:
"Where's bossuh?"
"I'se don't know," Peon said. "He not here? I'se think he be comin' soon..." and he fell asleep.