Sunday, June 19, 2011
By Sir Kinyon
edited by junior wayne
Curtis had a friend who owned a honky that before the take over, had been an
architect. After an hour of bargaining with his friend, a deal was struck For the use of the
architect honky, Curtis would loan his friend six field honkies for two months. It seemed to
Curtis a more than acceptable trade, after all a field honky was extremely replaceable and
should less than six return, Curtis had been given a guarantee from his friend for full
monetary reimbursement of the lost livestock. Curtis had the architect honky design a not-
so-traditional ranch house, THIS house was built on the scale of a mansion. The house was
gorgeous. It stood three stories tall and mimicked an early style of American western
architecture. The ranch house was itself much too large to ever be considered just a ranch
house. It was in fact a sprawling mansion in the fashion of a sensible western ranch. The
elaborate central drive was flanked with large oaks and gave forth like a great delta into a
circular cul de sac that surrounded a fifteen foot spectacle of a statue. Behind the main
house was a great garden of paths and plantings that ran the length of two football fields.
Dotting the garden and creating a natural canopy were dozens of looming shade trees.
Meandering thru this less than modest garden was a small diverted stream that brought green to all it touched. At the center of the garden was a large open area, canopied by a network of shade arbors surrounded by beautifully landscaped hedgerows and fragrant flowers. This vast outdoor entertaining area would grow to become Curtis's favorite spot in all the ranch, but for now it was just beginning to show the promise of what it could be as dozens of naked honkies labored to trim and prune, plant and tend the ever growing garden. Behind the garden, a great expanse of timber land existed that Curtis had set aside as a game hunting area.
Sixty-three hundred square feet, six bedrooms seven baths, a formal dining room,
living room, den, game room... This ranch house was a really huge house. Curtis had become somewhat of an environmentalist, so he wanted to have a house that would seem to blend in with nature. He considered this outlook to be a nod to his tribal ancestors who considered themselves to be one with nature. With this in mind, Curtis made sure that his house was built using only natural materials. It was all wood and natural stone. It looked like a huge log cabin...well, a log mansion. Solar panels covered every inch of roofing and three wind turbines spun in the distance. The ranch even boasted it's own water recycling facility and Curtis was proud of it's nearly 'off grid' status. The ranch house was just the main house, surrounding the mansion from all sides were other buildings necessary for the operation of a proper ranch including three modern honky stables a running track for the pony crackers and a kennel for the dogged down honkies. A facility was also in the works so Curtis could have his own veterinarian on site. The fields in which the crackers would be laboring were well out of site of the main property, but within riding distance. With the honkys working around the clock, the house was built in record time. The two overseers that Curtis had hired were good guys. Curtis liked them, they proved to be very strict and sometimes cruel task masters, but this was fine with Curtis as long as they got the job done. The head overseer, Walford Hays, had worked in the original honky training center before it became outdated when the government turned the breeding and training of slaves over to the private sector. "Wall" as they called him, was built like just that...a wall. At 45, he stood 6'6" and easily weighed 350lbs. And it was all muscle. His skin was black like polished ebony and his large round head shone like an 8-ball.
Whenever he and Curtis were alone together, Curtis noticed that Wall was a really
laid back guy with a quick wit and an easy smile. As soon as a honky came around though, the change in his demeanor was swift and drastic. He instantly became hard. Curtis liked that. It meant that he would take no shit from the honky. The assistant overseer, Irvin James, was almost as tall as his boss, but not nearly as big, but he too was solidly built at 270lbs. He had caramel brown skin and short curly hair. Irvin, in complete contrast to Wall, always seemed to be very sober and serious. Curtis, ever the psychologist, suspected that this serious demeanor was the outward manifestation of the nervousness of his youth. He would eventually grow out of it. Curtis had made it very easy for these two Men to decide to come and work for him on the ranch. In addition to a decent salary, each Man would have a house to live in free of charge and a slave to go with the house. This was especially appealing to Irvin because he was Married with a baby on the way.
Running a honky ranch was easier than Curtis had ever thought. When he first started, Curtis would wake up at the crack of dawn, and within an hour, he would be out in the fields watching over the field honkys, and later in the stables making sure that the ponys were being fed and groomed. Curtis watched over the house honkys as they scurried back and forth, cleaning and making the rooms spotless. He watched the outside crackers tend the grounds, occasionally correcting one, or giving additional commands. Curtis was beginning to take great pride in the landscaping of the property and he kept a close eye on the activities of the gardening crackers, in fact, Curtis took great interest in every aspect of the day to day running of his ranch, there wasn't a single area of the huge estate that he did not visit on his daily 'rounds' of the ranch. One particularly pleasant evening, Curtis and Wall were relaxing by the pool enjoying the cool night air. Curtis suddenly looked at his watch. "It's getting late and I have to get up early in the morning.”
Wall put down his drink and looked quizzically at Curtis. “Why?” was all Wall
uttered in response.
“The vet is coming to look at the ponies around noon, but I want to get up early and
meet them in the field.” Curtis said, the vision of a row of cracker ponies, lined up for
inspection, filled his thoughts for a moment.
"I've been meaning to ask you, Curtis", Wall said between puffs on his stogie. "Why
do you get up at first light in the morning?"
"Well," Curtis said. "It's My responsibility. I need to..."
"That's the point" Wall hefted his huge frame into a sitting position on his patio
lounger. "You're the boss. You own this place and it is up to where it practically runs
itself. You've hired perfectly capable overseers to run both sides of the business for you."
"But the work..." Curtis began.
"Work?" Wall asked "What work? We don't work, the honkys do all the work all we do
is keep them on task. Hell, most of the time Irv is out there sitting under a tree drinking
lemonade, while I'm in the stable workin' the ponies. There's no work"
Curtis furrowed his brow and took a deep breath, "Well what is it you think I should
"Hell, relax a little, man!" Wall said. "You're just about the richest man in these
parts, shoot you definitely own more than anybody else. You need to relax a little. trust
the people you've hired and the honkys you've trained to do their jobs."
Curtis chuckled a bit, "That's easier said than done, My friend"
"No it ain't" Wall said matter-of-factly. "Just take it one day at a time. Starting
tomorrow. The vet isn't coming until noon. Sleep in, enjoy that hot piece of honky ass you
got prancing around that big ol' mansion"
Curtis thought to himself, He had been putting a lot of effort into the daily
running of the Ranch, perhaps it was time to sit back, and turn on the auto pilot for a
while. Wall's words made perfects sense, and Curtis decided he was gonna do just that. It
was good to be King and now Curtis was going to behave like it.
The next morning, because he had turned his alarm clock off the night before, Curtis
woke up at 8:30am. He was used to getting up at five every morning, so this was really
sleeping in for him. He laid there for a few minutes in his huge king-sized bed and allowed
his vision to clear. As Curtis rolled over onto his side, his sleep encrusted gaze was met
by a pair of hazel eyes looking directly into his. Poor cracker, he thought to himself, the
mutt looked confused and even a little worried. It was used to his master getting up before
dawn. Curtis knew that pets like cracker were creatures of habit and they often became
confused and unsure when something out of the ordinary happened.
"Cracker, Piss" Curtis said authoritatively. Immediately the pup leapt into action.
Without a moment's hesitation he was up on the bed with his master's nine inch dick in his
mouth. Because Curtis' morning wood had a gentle upward curve, cracker had to position
himself in such a way so that he could get that precious meat all the way down his throat
without causing his master any discomfort. He did this by straddling his Curtis' body in
what could be mistaken for a 69 position (of course cracker's little dick never got anywhere
near his master's face). This position made it possible for cracker to easily take his
master's long thick cock into his mouth and smoothly down his throat. Seconds after the
honky had achieved the proper position, Curtis relaxed and let loose a powerful stream of piss. He loved the feeling of his piss going directly down cracker's throat. Curtis had spent a lot of time and energy training this honky to be exactly what he wanted him to be. And believe it or not, it took a lot of training to turn a honky into a proper urinal. See, any honky can be made to drink piss, but there is almost always some spillage. It took some time and quite a few severe beatings but now cracker was able to swallow fast enough to take all the piss his master (or anyone else) had to give.
Cracker had once been a human being, although he wouldn't believe it if you told him
so. If you asked him, he would tell you that he was just a dumb honky. He would say (and
believe wholeheartedly) that he had never been human, no mother or father. No family, no
history. The only thing in his life, cracker would honestly affirm, was his Master. And more
still, that his Master was the absolute center of the universe. Making his Master happy was
his only purpose in life.
Cracker was not only Curtis' urinal, but he was his pet pup, his personal valet, his
cum dump and his dick warmer. Anything that Curtis needed or wanted was done without
hesitation. Curtis had toyed with the idea of completely dogging down the honky. He had
considered even going so far as having the pup's vocal cords cut and his body modified to
look more like a dog. Ultimately, Curtis decided against this because he liked the fact that
the honky still looked like a man and could even interact as one when need be. When he stood erect (which he didn't do very often), cracker's full height was about 5'10, his hair was buzzed to almost nothing but it was obvious that his hair was a dark auburn and his hairline was reseeding. The honky's body was slim, but toned with a light dusting of freckles.
One of the things that Curtis loved about this particular honky was his
lightheartedness and his natural ability to entertain. While he pissed down the honky's
throat, the position put the whitey's ass close to his face. Curtis reached up to stick his
finger into the surprisingly still tight pussy hole that was this slave's anus. Cracker
obviously liked it because he moaned a little and gave his hind end a little shake like a
dog wagging his tail.
When Curtis was done pissing, and the honky had gotten that last little drip by
running his tongue along the piss slit, he shooed him away and the pup (on all fours, of
course), bounded off the bed and scurried over to his honky bed in the far corner. Curtis
laid there for a few more minutes. He really didn't know what to do with himself. He
stretched luxuriously in his plush bed. After a few more minutes, he swung his big feet out
of the bed, stood and sort of ambled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
The shower in Curtis' bedroom suite was set off from the sink and separated by a
stained glass door. While he was brushing his teeth, Curtis heard the shower come on and
knew that cracker was on his job. When he had finished brushing his teeth, Curtis entered
the shower area and found cracker on his knees holding a loofah sponge in one hand and a
bottle of shower gel in the other. As Curtis walked in and stood under the perfectly hot
water, cracker sprang into action. He applied gel to the sponge, and began to soap up his
Master's magnificent body. For his part, Curtis stood there and allowed the honky to almost
lovingly explore every inch of his body. This is good, Curtis thought to himself. Most
mornings he is in such a hurry that he didn't take the time to enjoy the pampering that his
personal honky lavished on him. This morning, though was much different. As the mutt
caressed his back with the sponge, Curtis could feel himself become aroused. He turned in
the shower and looked down at cracker who seemed to be totally focused on cleaning his body. Curtis had to stop himself from laughing out loud when he saw the slave's reaction to his massive erection. It was very subtle, just a slight pause and an upward glance, but he knew that the honky was surprised to see it. Curtis chuckled a bit as he brought his hand down to rest his palm on cracker's head.
As if an unspoken signal had been given, the honky opened his mouth and waited. He
didn't have to wait long. Within seconds Curtis had plunged his big black dick balls-deep
into cracker's mouth and down his throat. To his credit, cracker swallowed the head of his
Master's dick like it was second nature. Curtis thought back to a time when the pitiful
honky actually had a gag reflex. Well now that reflex, which had been pretty strong, was a
thing of the past. It was just proof that with proper training just about anything could be
done with these honkys, and this one in particular had been well trained indeed.
Soon, all thoughts of training, the ranch, the past and future had vanished from
Curtis' mind completely as he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment, enjoy the
velvet throat of this honky kneeling before him. Cracker was, without a doubt, the best
cocksucker of all the honkys on the ranch. Curtis knew this to be a fact because he had
sampled them all. He marveled at the way the mutt attacked the dick with all that was in
him. It was as if his life depended on it. Curtis looked down and watched as the water from
the shower cascaded down his own body and onto cracker's head as he went to town on this dick.
Funny, Curtis thought to himself, less than a decade ago, this honky had been a night watchman at a museum that showcased stuffed versions animals that the white devils had driven to extinction. He had been a complete nobody. His life had been perfectly useless. Now, however, his life had purpose. Look at him down there, Curtis thought to himself, nursing on My dick like it is the most precious thing in the world. NOW his life had meaning and purpose. Soon Curtis could feel his own cock begin to grow, he knew that he was getting close. He reached down with two big black hands, covered each of the honkys ears with his palms and wrapped his long thick fingers around the back of cracker's head. Then with long, smooth motions, he began to ram his dick into the honky's mouth and down his throat, over and over again, the bitch never gagged, never tried to resist. He just put his hands down and allowed his Master to use his throat to get off. And get off Curtis did. Without warning the furious face fucking stopped and with his head held totally immobile in his master's vice-like grip, nose to bush and chin to balls, cracker felt that marvelous tool begin to pump the precious seed into his gullet.
Once his balls were drained, Curtis was ready to start his day. He got out of the
shower, allowed the honky to dry him off, and than padded naked back into his bedroom. As he came out of the shower area, Curtis' nose caught the most heavenly scent...BREAKFAST!. And it smelled like cook (he didn't even bother giving his houshold honkies names) was making flapjacks.
By Sir Kinyon
edited by junior wayne
Curtis Johnson stood on the front porch of his grandfather's old dilapidated shack
and thought to himself "Well it's all mine now." The shack was small, faded chips of white
paint still clung to its gray weathered wood and the smell of age had permeated every fiber
it it's worn frame. Time and the elements had done their work with proficiency. Curtis had
just come from the reading of his grandfather's will. Otis, Curtis's grandfather, had been
ninety-three years old when he had died a week ago of lung cancer . Otis had been a chain
smoker since he was eighteen years old, and when he was fifty-three his doctors diagnosed
him with cancer and gave him five years to live...less than that if he didn't quit smoking
immediately. Otis had been an old stubborn cuss and was too pigheaded to quit a life long
vice. Otis would sit at his kitchen table, rolling his own cigarette, his lap littered with
Bull Durham and proclaim to anyone within earshot "Doctors! What do they know! I'm not
gonna let some know nuthin' doctor tell me what to do!" Turns out he wouldn't even die when they told him that he should.
He lived another forty years. Five years ago when the Takeover happened, some men
had tried to convince Otis to leave his shack and expand his little farm into a sprawling
modern ranch. They even offered him the land surrounding his farm. It would have
increased, by almost ten times, the size of his farm. Otis had flat out refused. The old
man had removed the damp nub of his cigarette from the corner of his mouth and tossed it
onto the dusty front porch. He pointed to the men and in a deep gravely voice said "I don't
want nothin' from the white man." And he sure as hell didn't want any honkies on his land.
So for the last 3 years the farm had basically gone to shit, because Otis had gotten too
sick to look after it and was way too stubborn to ask for help. Now old Otis was dead and
had left all his worldly possessions, the shack and surrounding land, to Curtis, his only
Curtis had spent the last five years working as a psychologist for the U.S.
Department of Transition. His job had been to help his fellow citizens acclimate to this
new reality, to accept and be productive in this radically new and wonderful existence .
Believe it or not, after all the white people had been taken and lost their status as Human
beings, many blacks feared the same thing would happen to them. It was Curtis' job to
reassure them. To help them see the benefits of the new system and to learn to trust that
it was all for everyone's own good. Everyone's own good, including that of the honkies.
For if the white man had been allowed to stay in charge, he would surely have destroyed
himself and everyone else as well. Curtis had always known that the time would come when his job would become unnecessary, he just didn't expect it to be so soon. But nothing is forever, and as Curtis kicked at the dusty old floor of the porch his mind raced. He thought optimistically of a future here, on what was his grandfather's modest plot. Now he had been given the opportunity to make something of this little farm.
Of course, Curtis didn't feel any of the mistrust for the government that old Otis
had. And he had absolutely no problem with the use of honkys to achieve his goals. In
fact, he already owned three honkys, himself. Even though he knew nothing about farming,
Curtis was confident that with his common sense and the labor of a good many honkies his
vision for a prosperous ranch could be realized. Curtis viewed it as an opportunity to make
something out of nothing. A chance for personal growth. As soon as the local
representative from the Department of Wealth and Resources found out that Curtis would be
taking over the farm, he paid Curtis a visit and made him the same offer that he had made to
Otis. Curtis,however, accepted the offer gladly and without hesitation. He was eager to get
started. Curtis was not a big man, neither was he small. He stood at an even 6' and
weighed about 200lbs. He had a slight paunch (a result of his fondness for beer), but the
rest of his body was surprisingly taught and muscular.
His late wife used to call him her caramel drop, because of his light brown skin.
Linda had died in a car accident just before the disappearances started seven years ago.
Curtis was thirty-four at the time and had a thriving psychology practice. Linda had been
the love of his life, she had touched the part of him that no one else could reach. His
very spirit was intertwined with hers. She had given him two beautiful sons, twins Jeff and
Jacob, now fifteen. Both were excelling in this new world and looking forward to running
the new family business. Both Jeff and Jacob each owned his own slave. Curtis had given
these gifts to his sons for their thirteenth birthday with only one restriction: NO sex
until they were eighteen. Curtis just felt that it was healthier this way, developmentally
for his sons if they waited, although he suspected that there were things going on that he
didn't know about. Curtis had left the boys at his estate in the city. They would continue
at their school until the ranch was up and running and they could move out to the country.
They didn't really want to change schools, but it couldn't be helped. Curtis had watched
his sons as they handled and trained their honkies, and he had no doubt they would grow up
to be perfect examples of superior Black Men, husbands, fathers, Masters.
Curtis gathered up his things, walked slowly off the front porch of the tiny shack
and went out to his Jeep. He was ready to get to work. The farm was in complete disarray,
but Curtis knew that with the purchase and proper use of the right kind of honkies that
situation could be remedied fairly quickly. He had driven the property earlier that week,
inspecting just about every acre, so he had some idea of the sheer vastness of it. And he
also had some idea of what he wanted to do with it. It would not be just a farm. Curtis
decided that he wanted to have a fully functional ranch. With the ban on non-honky animal
labor, there was a huge demand for trained honkies. Along with the crops that he would
grow, he would also train honkies for whatever purpose their owners wanted for them. He
knew that wealthy Americans would pay top dollar for a professionally trained honky. Curtis
was most excited about this aspect of his new endeavor, but he knew that it would not see
it's true fulfillment until the chip had been phased out completely. He also knew that
methods were being developed to train unchipped honkies. Curtis, with his high government
clearance, could keep a close eye on the development of these techniques. But for now he
had a ranch to build.
Curtis drove to the local Honky Administration Office. It was time to start choosing his work force. Curtis had been to the Administration Complex many times, but he was always struck by the immense size of the place. It was like a small city, complete with skyscrapers and an airstrip. It sat on about two square miles of land, and Curtis had heard that honkies were kept in a huge underground compound. He would give just about anything to see that, but since most of the honkys kept there were unchipped, civilian access was strictly forbidden. Curtis could have purchased slaves from a private dealer for a lower price but he had need of a specialized workforce. Plus, the government gave a small discount when you bought honkies in bulk. That, along with his employee discount, meant that it would simply be much smarter to do it this way and buy from the 'administration. Besides, Curtis figured that he would take advantage of the government discounts while could, because within the next few years, the trade of honkies would be completely
privatized, and the prices would go up.
When Curtis reached the Honky Administration Office, he was met at the door by a
tall, thin, pale, blonde honky. The honky was wearing just a heavy metallic collar around
it's neck and an inviting smile on it's lips. The number 472 had been tattooed on it's
forehead. Curtis guessed the slave to be perhaps nineteen or twenty years old and that, up
to this point, the cracker had only been gently used. "Welcome Master Johnson" the slave
said, "Master Perkins is expecting you, he'll be with you in a moment. If it pleases you to
have a seat, Master, there are some very comfortable chairs just this way." The honky
gestured with his open hand to a small seating area.
Curtis sat, and the slave asked if he was comfortable and if he wanted anything to
eat or drink. "Just an ice water" Curtis said. And with that, the lanky honky turned and
sauntered off to get the water. Curtis watched his ass as he walked away a desire stirring
at his core. Curtis made a mental note. He would have to get himself a scandinavian...but
not today. Today was about finding skilled laborers. After what seemed like only a second
or two, the honky returned with Curtis' water and after being assured that his services were
no longer needed, he retired to his corner and knelt on the floor with his head slightly
bowed, but not so much as to keep him from seeing any indication that there was need of his services.
After a wait of only about five minutes, the door opened and Mr Perkins, a squat
very light skinned black man stepped into the room. He looked like he might have been about 5'5" and quite portly. He was red-headed and he even had freckles! Go figure. Must be some honky in his blood somewhere, Curtis thought to himself. The two men introduced themselves while another honky, very similar to the last, but with brown hair and the number 329 on it's forehead, walked into the room carrying a large stack of folders. Mr Perkins explained that he had taken the liberty of doing a search and finding a number of properties that would suit Curtis' needs.
Curtis had decided that he would require about twenty honkys to start with. These
honkys would need to have construction experience because the first thing that needed to be done would be the construction of the necessary buildings for the daily operation of a ranch. . The first of which to be erected, his family residence...The Ranch House. As he looked through the dossiers of the honkies that Mr. Perkins had selected (about one hundred and fifty), Curtis realized that many of the skills these honkies possessed were identical. So he decided that he would save time by selecting his foreman first. Then he could just take any twenty of the others. The choice proved to be quite simple. The one Curtis chose had owned a large and fairly successful construction company before the Takeover. Curtis was very satisfied with his purchase. He was certain that with the skilled labor honkies he had just obtained today, he would be able to realize the architect's vision for his Ranch House. Curtis left the Administration office having paid for his purchase and with the promise of delivery the next day.
By Sir Kinyon
edited by junior wayne
Alex used the next several weeks to not only get used to using his new slave (for whom he had chosen the name "toby", after the slave in "Roots"), but also to get his house in order. The house given to Alex by the government was a large two story colonial, with three bedrooms, three and a half baths a two car garage, a den, a laundry room and a basement that had been converted into a video arcade.
The four slaves, including toby, that Troy had brought that first day had done an excellent job of cleaning the place up. They had not done anything to the yard which, after months of neglect was well overgrown. As a little boy, Alex had always dreamed of having a house with a large front yard where he could lounge and drink lemonade on a hot summers day. Now he had one and Alex planned on making up for lost time. He immediately set toby to the task of cleaning out all the weeds and mowing the lawn. Alex sat on the front porch and watched the cracker toil away on the lawn, a very real sense of vindication filling his heart. After an hour Alex grew tired of watching the honky labor on the lawn and went back inside the house to continue his day, periodically coming out to check on the cracker's progress. It took toby over six hours to tend the front of the house with the hand tools and the little push mower he found in the garage. When he was finished toby was exhausted, sopping with sweat, covered in dirt and grass clippings. Toby stank of honky odor and he sported a sunburn on most of his naked body. Alex hosed toby off and commanded him to drip dry on the porch before he would allow the honky back inside the house. It wasn't until a couple days AFTER the honky had finished the very large front yard, that Alex found a large riding mower in a shed out back. Too bad for toby, but the exercise was good for him. Alex thought. He might just forbid the honky to use the riding mower.
Now, with toby's daily tending, the front lawn had a beautiful, well manicured appearance. Alex noted that from the spacious front porch, it looked like a sea of dark green punctuated by hundred year old oak trees. Between two of these beautiful old trees hung an old fashioned hammock. This is where Alex had come to like having his lemonade.
The back of the house was a beautiful garden, once toby had cleared away all of the weeds. Upon reading more of toby's file, Alex discovered that, as a kid, the honky had worked a number of summers for a landscaping company to make extra money. Those skills came in very handy now. The centerpiece of this backyard garden (which was almost twice the size of the front yard) was a spectacular three leveled swimming pool, with little waterfalls cascading over sculpted natural stone. It was really a sight to behold. Or at least it should have been a sight to behold, after months not having been maintained, the pool's water was murky and thick with clumps of algae and dead leaves and all manner of aquatic insect had decided to make the pool their new homestead. As luck would have it, toby knew nothing about pool cleaning. The honky stood at the edge of the pool, a horrified look on it's face. Alex had to laugh when the honky attempted to make it known that he didn't know how to fix the pool's problems. The cracker stuttered and stammered, trying to avoid words like 'i can't' and 'no'. Clearly the honky was desperate to escape another beating for not performing to Alex's rightfully high standards. His master remedied that quite easily with a book borrowed from the University library. Alex had tossed the oversized aqua marine and orange book at toby and said "Here's what u need honky, I expect that pool to be ready by this week end." Alex added as if an afterthought. "I'm gonna take a dip... in my new pool."
The white family, the Oswalds, who had previously occupied Alex's home had been gathered up and taken rather quickly and of course they had not been allowed to take any of their belongings so the contents of the house were, apparently, just as they had left them. Alex knew it was a whole family, not only because of the decorations, paint colors and bedding styles of each room, but also because of the family photos that littered seemingly every inch of the house. Alex took great pleasure in going through everything they had owned. As expected, none of Harold Oswald's clothes were anywhere near Alex's size, but the quick sale of some of his wife's diamonds, provided Alex with a very nice wardrobe. Alex sorted into piles what he intended to keep. The 'keep' piles contained things Alex wanted for his own use or things he figured would be worth selling. The rest Alex simply discarded. The majority of the Oswald's possessions were tossed into a dumpster, mostly personal, sentimental items, papers and photos. There was ,of course, an immense amount of what Alex could find no other descriptive word for other than 'junk'. Alex was also seriously considering having a decorator come in to completely purge the aftertaste of 'the Oswalds' from his home.
Alex had never really liked college. In fact, the only reason he had gone in the first place was because that was what Nana had wanted for him. So instead of trying to get a college degree, now, he opted for the new government career training center. He learned that with the rebirth of slavery, there would be more than a few government agencies created in order to make sure that everything ran smoothly. These agencies would be very well funded and they would need people to run them. Alex, read that one of these agencies would be called the "Wealth Distribution Agency". The removal of the white man from society had left many openings in the job market, it also left the white man's money to fill government coffers. The people responsible for this whole "power shift" had envisioned a model society...a utopia as it were. They knew that the superior Black Race could do an infinitely better job at providing a quality life for it's citizens. The wealth confiscated from whitey would go a long way toward reaching that goal. Of course the new leaders were realists and they knew it would still not be easy or quickly done. They knew the actual realization of this dream was still many, many years off. But, Alex comprehended almost immediately, that the Wealth Distribution Agency, would be at the forefront of this endeavor and that's where he wanted to be.
Now, after only four weeks of intensive training, Alex had taken his place as a local distribution agent. It was his job, to pour over deeds and maps to decide what confiscated properties were available, and also to help decide who to put with each property. He decided that the way he and many like him had been chosen for the training program was not the most efficient way to go about it. Alex decided to use a needs-based model. One of the things that the government was most concerned with was the ghetto. Alex compiled a list of single mothers from his old neighborhood. Then he selected from this list the mothers who were not able to work for one reason or another. These mothers along with their children were then placed onto a large farming complex outside the city. There they would live a basically communal existence. It reminded Alex of the tribal life that many Africans had lived before the intrusion of the white man. Of course these women and their families were well taken care of, their community, their village, if you will, wanted for nothing and enjoyed every modern convenience. They were even given a good number of neutered honkys to serve them. The first test of this style of community was conducted over a six month period. It went so well that not only was it extended but it was adopted by other cities.
Alex's boss was so impressed by his foresight and vision to say nothing of his initiative, that Alex was given a promotion and a substantial raise. Of course Alex enjoyed all of the honors and praise and the added benefits that went along with his promotion, but his true joy came when he saw his old neighborhood being razed to make room for farmland.
Now, five years since the mass distribution of slaves, Alex could definitely see a change in his beloved city. Everything was cleaner somehow. Even the air smelled cleaner, due, no doubt, to the fact that many of the factories that had churned out air pollution were shut down. The significant reduction in population simply rendered many of these factories redundant. Alex was very proud of what his people had accomplished in such a short time. Alex took the most personal pride, however, in the fact that there was no homelessness. In fact, it seemed that old dirty street people had been replaced by naked honkys waiting for their Black Masters to come out of one store or another, squatting silently next to shop doors that had clearly posted signs on their smudge-less glass windows reading 'no honky allowed'. Other honkys, wearing the now familiar orange rubberized collars of state owned honkys, picking up litter and sweeping sidewalks, the reflective band running through the middle of their collars periodically catching the light and glowing like electric moonlight. The New Government had taken great pains to insure that Black People got used to treating whitey exactly like what he was, the scum of the earth.
The new, duly elected, Black President of the United States appeared on television one evening. He was sitting, not in the oval office, but fireside, in a very comfortable leather wing-backed chair. The fire popped and cracked and threw dancing yellow light into the room. At the Presidents feet, crouched the former white president, naked, collared, and on his knees. This image was seared into the mind's of the American people. The president was a commanding figure with deep set eyes as dark as the night, his proud, broad nose, prominent lips and blue-black skin. He spoke in a deep baritone voice and addressed his people. He told the people that it was high time that a change had come. "The white man had his time, and he made a mess of the entire world. Now it is time for the Black Man to take his rightful leadership role." The President stated straightforwardly.
"Other countries, with help from the US, have been making similar changes." The President continued. "We, in the USA, are simply at the forefront. For years Black leaders the world over, have been secretly trained." The president paused for a beat to emphasize his next statement. "Trained to take their god given right, when the time came, as rulers and sovereigns over what has historically been considered white countries. Countries that are governed and populated by other non- Black races have naturally been unaffected. Countries such as China, Japan, Mexico, Brazil, and others like them will continue to remain autonomous and will of course maintain their own sovereignty, governing themselves as they see fit." The President allowed his forehead to crease and he took a measured breath. "But countries such as Great Britain, Russia, The European Union will see much change in the following months. Wherever a honky now holds an illegitimate office of power, soon Black men and women will govern, and these lands will be under their control" The president folded his hands together and explained. "It is a genetic flaw in all honkys that makes it possible." The President went on, explaining the basic function of the chip and it's implementation and the genetic inferiority of the white race.
"The takeover is happening right now, even as I speak with you tonight, it is underway." As the president spoke, he absentmindedly rubbed the salt and pepper crop of stubble that was the remains of the former president's thick head of hair. The President stroked his honky's head and introduced the country to his new pet . His pet that he had named "potus", an abbreviation of President of the United States. The President went on to express the importance of firmly and unalterably defining the honky's new nature and status. He explained that future generations of honkies would likely not be chipped. "It will be vital that they grow up knowing nothing but their non-human status." The president stated. To help ensure this future tranquility, the president announced that ALL animal labor would be outlawed for the foreseeable future. This law would be implemented gradually of course to allow the population to get used to it. But soon, there would be no work horses, but work honkies. No pack mules, instead, pack peckerwoods. "And just as I have potus here" The president looked affectionately down at his predecessor and continued. "You too will have pet honkies fetching sticks in the park for your entertainment."
All of the President's predictions were coming true before Alex's very eyes. In fact, Alex was prospering, as was the country. He had even bought a couple more honkies for himself from a private dealer. These were slaves that would, in the future, serve a very specific purpose. All perfectly legal of course, they were just honkies after all, and what a Black man chose to do with or to his property was his decision and his alone Alex, like all Black Men, had completely accepted this new society and the honky's place in it. They were in fact finding all sorts of uses and purposes for honkys. The demand for top quality slaves was opening up vast new sectors of industry and trade while simultaneously amassing great wealth for the nation. As for his new property, Alex was eager to get started, the world had opened up to him and with the world, new ideas and desires had blossomed and these two honkys would be instrumental in helping Alex realize some of his more...extreme fantasies. But those thoughts were best put aside for later, right now, he was taking toby to the vet, for his annual vaccinations.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
By Sir Kinyon
edited by junior wayne
After Alex closed the door, he turned around to see his new slave kneeling on the floor just where Troy had left him. He wondered what he wanted to do first, explore his new home or play with his new toy. The growing erection in his groin made the decision for him. He walked up to the still kneeling slave and sat in the chair that Troy had been sitting in. "On your feet, slave" he said. The honky stood. "Now stand back a few feet and let Me get a good look at you." The slave stepped back a few feet. Alex was very happy with his choice. The honky stood about 5'9" tall and looked to weigh about 180lbs. His sandy red hair was buzzed with about 3 day's growth. There was a light sprinkling of freckles across his nose and over his shoulders. The rest of his skin was a smooth alabaster. When Alex directed the honky to turn around, he was greeted with a beautiful bubble butt that looked as if a quarter could be bounced off of it. Alex wanted to get in that ass badly, but he wanted to learn more about the slave first. Besides, there would be plenty of time for fucking, and plenty of time for a whole lot more as well. "On your knees, honky" The slave complied without hesitation. "What's your name, slave?"
"You have yet to give me a name, Master." The honky answered, eyes still cast to the floor. Alex figured that the slave had received at least some minimal training, before it left the facility.
"What was your name before you became a slave?" The honky paused for a beat, then replied.
"Alfred McCoy, Master."
"And what kind of work did you do?" Alex inquired.
"I was a law school student, Master, but I worked as an intern at a law firm." Alex digested this information for a moment and continued.
"And how did you become a slave?"
The honky's brow furrowed and it's lower lip quivered slightly, as if remembering caused it some bit of anguish. "I was taken from my bed in the night, Master."
"And you remember all of this? Everything that happened?" Alex asked, intrigued.
"Yes Master, I remember everything."
"How does it make you feel to be a slave?" Alex asked, not really knowing where this line of questioning was going, but he found himself completely fascinated.
"It is completely humiliating, Master." As the honky said this, he lifted his eyes from the floor to meet Alex's gaze. "I was raised to believe that I was superior to any black man. My parents are..." the honky paused and again a look of pain crossed it's face. "My parents were card carrying members of the KKK. I don't suppose that organization exists anymore. The honky almost laughed as he said this. "At the center, the Masters there told us that it was a genetic flaw in all caucasians that made it possible for the chip to control us so completely. Blacks do not have this genetic flaw." The honky looked back to the floor and added. "You are superior."
Wow, Alex thought to himself, so THAT'S what did it. A genetic flaw. "Are you gay, slave?" Alex asked, then quickly amended his question. "WERE you gay before you became a slave?" A perplexed look came over the slave's face, as if he was not sure how to answer. Noticing the honky's hesitation, Alex decided to try something. "You may speak freely, slave." The slave looked a bit surprised but he recovered quickly.
"No, Master," he said in measured tones, "I was not gay, I hate niggers and faggots."
As if by reflex, Alex reared his big hand back and before he knew it, had slapped the slave across his face so hard that he not only fell to the floor but he slid a few feet. Ah, there it is, Alex thought to himself, a slight crooked smile forming in the corner of his mouth and a sparkle dotting his narrowed eyes. that was exactly what I needed in order to treat this bitch like the slave he is. "Get up, bitch and get back over here on your knees!" Alex commanded as he pointed to a spot on the floor just at his feet. Now the slave had not only a hurt look on his face but there was also a definite fear. "You know you fucked up, don't you bitch?" Alex said, in an almost lighthearted tone.
"Yes Master, please don't hurt me, Master" The honky sincerely pleaded. Alex realized at that moment that the REAL Alfred McCoy was still in there, the chip was just controlling his ability to resist. I'm gonna enjoy this, Alex thought to himself.
"Have you ever been fucked in your ass, white boy?"
"No Master." The honky replied, trembling at Alex's feet. There was definitely fear in the slave's face now.
"Well, I'm gonna fuck you in your ass, bitch." The honky looked as if he wanted to cry, as if all the fear and anger the chip was repressing could only manifest itself in tears.
"Master! Please!..." Before the honky could finish his plea, Alex landed another brutal slap to his face. The force of the blow knocked him to the floor again, but this time before he could recover, Alex was on him. Even if the slave COULD resist, he would have been no match for a man of Alex's size. Alex jumped onto the slave's back as he laid prostrate on the floor.
"That's right, you honky bitch, struggle all you want!" As if on command, the slave began to buck and flail, but was completely powerless under the weight of this 260lb Man. Alex placed his big hand on the back of his slave's head and pushed his face hard onto the marble floor of the foyer, with his other hand, he reached back and began to finger the slave's hole. It was extremely tight, but Alex knew deep down that it wouldn't stay that way for long. He put the first two fingers of his free hand into his own mouth to wet them just a bit. Then with all the force he could, he plunged his two thick fingers deep into the slave's asshole.
The honky let out a scream, but it was music to Alex's years. "Yeah, bitch. This ass belongs to Me now." Alex laughed. He took his fingers out and then without warning, pushed them back in. "You like that, bitch? Tell the truth."
"No Master" came the muffled response.
"Too bad, honky boy, because I'm gonna fuck you like a bitch! Lay claim to this pussy ass of yours." With that, Alex popped his fingers out of his new found play hole. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants in one quick motion, then pushed down on the top edge of his boxers exposing his hardening dick and furry balls and tucking the top edge of his boxers behind his heavy nutsack with a second equally quick motion. Alex maneuvered, his body so that he could force the honky's legs open with his own knees while still pushing the boy's face into the marble tile. He placed the engorged head of his rock hard ten inch dick right at the opening of the honky's newly abused hole. Then without warning, he plunged in, balls deep. The honky bitch screamed again and this time attempted to buck Alex off of his back and out of his ass. Of course it was no use. Alex was firmly planted, deep in the honky's guts. Alex took a moment to savor the warmth of the slave's asshole. Alex looked down at his pubes, resting on the honky's pale, plump ass, he pulled his dick out an inch and reveled in the contrast between his thick black dick and the honky's stretched and angry looking dark pink fuck hole. He had fucked plenty of white boys before, but he had never raped one. This was a new experience and he was thoroughly enjoying it.
He discovered that the honky's struggling was causing it's asshole to clench and release. For Alex, It was pure ecstasy. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the conquest. Then, between thrusts, an idea of pure brilliance occurred to Alex. He decided that every time he fucked this slave it would be this way. It would be rape. He knew that the chip also makes the slave extremely susceptible to suggestion, so if he understood it correctly, he could make sure that this slave would ALWAYS hate getting fucked. "You hate this don't you, bitch" Alex said into the slave's ear.
"Yes Master." the slave said through clenched teeth.
"It is a violation of everything you know isn't it, you fucking cunt?"
"You will always hate it. You'll never get used to it, even though you are powerless to prevent or stop it. But you will always struggle against it, won't you boy?" Alex continued to manipulate the honky's mind and will with his words. "You will NEVER get used to the pain." Alex spat these words into the honky's ear like shotgun blasts of venom. "Your mind will always rebel against it." As he was saying this over and over again, Alex began to withdraw his dick from the slave's ass until just the tip of the head was still inside, then he would stab at the slave's insides again with his massive black dick. Alex new that anal sex was often painful for the bottom the first time, but that pain would soon be replaced by pleasure. Not in this case, he wanted anal sex to ALWAYS be painful for this slave, and with his words, he insured that it always would be.
The brutal rape lasted for a good half hour. With Alex pushing and pulling, maneuvering and manhandling the slave in order to fuck him in many different positions. Alex had the honky on his back, on his stomach, on his side, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, and every other position he could think of. And all the while, the white bitch never stopped struggling. Soon, though, Alex began to feel that familiar tightening in his balls, he knew that he was about to cum. It occurred to him that this honky was his personal property, he didn't have to try to prolong the experience, he could fuck his honky's awesome ass anytime he wanted. With that thought, Alex relaxed and let himself go. Within seconds, he was unleashing cord after cord of steaming hot cum into this beautiful honky. It was, by far, the best orgasm Alex had ever felt in his life. He knew that he owed much of this to the fact that the slave was struggling to get free and therefore involuntarily clenching his ass muscles, but he was also aware that the sheer power of his complete and total domination of this racist mother fucker had increased Alex's enjoyment tenfold and made the act pleasurable beyond what he could have imagined.
Once he had blown his huge load into the slave's asshole, Alex collapsed onto the honky's back and rested for a bit. Alex laid there and felt his turgid dick, slowly softening inside the honky's pussy hole. Alex and the honky were slick with sweat and Alex could smell the honky's odor steaming up from his now ruddy skin. The honky had stopped struggling and was laying there under the weight of his Master. The honky's face was wet with tears and his face was flushed red, either from exertion or humiliation or perhaps both. The honky was keenly aware of the fact that getting fucked would always be an awful ordeal for him, but at the same time, he also was aware that he felt a certain satisfaction in the fact that he had given his Master such bliss. Once he had recovered a bit, Alex pulled his still semi-hard dick out of the whitey's plundered hole. Alex rose to his feet and stood over his bruised and bloodied slave.
"Get up and clean My dick off with your mouth, bitch." Alex commanded as he smiled with satisfaction. The slave was obviously still in pain, but he got to his knees and began to move his mouth toward his Master's dick. Before the whitey could put his mouth on it though, Alex grabbed him firmly by the chin and bent slightly to look the honky straight in the eye and said, "Do NOT bite Me, bitch." Alex said with great authority. Don't EVER allow your teeth to touch My dick. Do you understand Me, honky?" With these last words Alex jerked the whitey's chin up and down for emphasis, causing it's jaw to flap comically.
The cracker didn't hesitate. "Yes Master." It sounded thoroughly defeated.
Alex thought for a second then added, "In fact, even though getting fucked in the ass will always be painful and humiliating, you will thoroughly love sucking My dick. Alex released his grip on the honky's chin and grabbed his own stiffening dick and pointed it at the cracker's pitiful face. "You will treat it as if it is the most precious thing in your world, and you will always want more." Alex couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he watched the expression on his honky's face change to reflect his commands.
"Now get to it, bitch." Alex declared. The slave opened his mouth wide and followed his Master's orders as best he could, and as he curled his tongue under Alex's swelling dickhead, the honky found it was the most enjoyable experience he had ever had. The taste of his Master's cum, mixed with the residue from the mess that had been made of his own asshole, was like a sweet nectar that he was certain he would crave forever. The honky couldn't help himself and he began to grunt and moan a guttural expression of delight. As he licked and slurped away on Alex's dick, the cracker couldn't understand how he had lived without it for this long. When his dick was thoroughly clean, Alex pondered on the fact that it was obvious that this bitch had never sucked dick before. Alex looked down at his honky and felt a stirring of amusement. What the slave lacked in skill, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. Still, the honky would have to be trained. Alex kicked at the honky and in a dismissive tone, commanded him again. "Now go clean yourself up, bitch. When you're done, come and find Me."
Alex stood there and watched his beautiful slave limp away to lick his wounds. Now it was time to explore his new world. He was gonna enjoy this...a lot.
Monday, February 28, 2011
The day had arrived! Alex had waited for two weeks and now it was finally here.
Alex sat in the now empty living room of his dinky little apartment. An apartment that,
after today, he will never see again. He sat waiting for his ride. Two weeks ago when
Agent Harrison left his apartment, Alex made a beeline for his telephone. He had a million
questions to ask. Through his telephone conversation, Alex learned that "certain
individuals" had developed a microchip that when introduced into the bloodstream is able
inhibit the function of some very specific areas of the brain, and stimulate the function of
others. There was a lot of medical mumbo jumbo that he didn't understand, but what he
gathered was that the honky injected with the microchip would still remember most things
from his former life. He would remember his education, his life experiences, even his
family and relationships. The latter, however, will simply be much less important. They
know what has been done to them, but because of the chip, they are powerless to do anything
about it. A chipped slave will find it utterly impossible to disobey a directive, even if
that directive would cause him bodily harm. Alex also learned that these chips were first
delivered to the white members of the military, who of course, continued to perform their
duties as usual. Second was the supreme court and then congress. Alex was curious to note
that the president's situation had been deemed classified. Alex also had questions about the white man's new status. He had difficulty understanding the fact that honkys would no longer be considered human. He learned that, not only was it true, but that honkys (their new official name) would have a status lower than the animals. Alex still wasn't sure how that would work, so he just decided not to worry about it.
Alex was woken from his revery by a knock at the door. He literally leaped to his
feet and answered the door. A representative of the Transition Authority was standing
there, a handsome black man of about 35. He introduced himself as Troy. Without
hesitation, Alex handed one suitcase to Troy, grabbed his other two bags and bounded down
the stairs. On the way to the new house, Troy explained to Alex that his new house and car
were once owned by a mid level executive at a fortune 500 company. As they turned into the
gated community (still largely deserted), Alex was in awe. He had only seen neighborhoods
like this in magazines. Even though, most of the lawns were overgrown and some of the
houses in disrepair, Alex could tell that this was a rich white people's neighborhood. He
suddenly felt out of place. Usually when two black men were seen driving around in a
neighborhood like this, they could count on being arrested. As they drove, Troy pointed to
several freshly painted houses where the lawns had been cut and neatly tended. He explained
that there were many other members of the program that had already settled in and these were now their homes.
The house that Troy pulled up in front of was, without a doubt, the largest house
that Alex had ever seen up close. The front yard was at least half an acre in itself. The
house was red brick with two stories and a two car garage. This is MY house? Alex thought
to himself. If only Nana could see Me now. When the two black men entered the door, they
were met by four of the best looking honkys that Alex had ever seen. He immediately noticed
that each one was completely different. There was a tall, thin one with blonde hair, a
shorter, very fit one with red hair, a very short thick one with brown hair, and a hulking
specimen that had been shaved bald. Each was completely naked except for a silver metal
collar on around his neck. "Have the four of you finished cleaning?" Troy asked.
"Yes Master" the four white slaves responded almost in unison. Alex was in awe,
especially when Troy informed him that he could choose his slave from among these four. If
he didn't like any of these, he was welcome to drive down to headquarters the next day and
take his pick from a larger selection of merchandise.
"No," Alex said almost too quickly. "I want that one" he pointed at the redhead.
"You certain this is the one you want, Mr. Sebastian?" Troy said looking at Alex
pointedly. "Once I register and band him, that's it." Troy continued. "Any other honky you
want will have to be purchased from the government, or a private dealer once we start mass
"Yes," Alex said looking over his choice. "This is the one. I've always liked
redheads. What's his name?"
"Oh, he doesn't have one yet," Troy opened his briefcase and pulled out a file.
"It will be up to you to name him. Here's his file. In it you will find everything you
need to know about your property, including his complete history...even medical. All of the
slaves that we distribute in this first wave are perfect specimens of good health and
intelligence, we can't vouch for the ones that will be mass distributed. Just think of it
as a little 'thank you' for all of your help." As he was speaking, Troy was removing
several things from his briefcase. "You." he pointed to the redhead. "Stay, this is your
new home. Say hello to your new Master."
The slave looked at Alex, bowed his head and said in a deep but subdued voice, "Hello Master."
"You other three go and wait in the car" Troy commanded. With that, the other three honkys headed to the door.
"Aren't you afraid that they'll get away?" Alex said slightly worried.
"Of course not Mr. Sebastian, the microchip insures that they follow every command.
When I get out there, the three of them will be waiting for Me in the car. The chip has
suppressed their ego, so they won't even argue over who get's to ride shotgun, hehe. Now,
there is just one more thing." Troy picked up a strange looking device that he had just
pulled out of his briefcase. Noticing the bewildered look on Alex's face, he began to
explain. "This is a bander, Mr. Sebastian." It looked like a weird set of pliers with a
fist sized box on the business end. On one side of the box there was a numeric keypad, and
there was a good sized hole in the end. "Every slave walking the street will be banded"
This was said as he bent down in front of the slave and began to stuff the honky's goose egg
sized balls into the hole at the end of the bander. He was not making any attempt
whatsoever to be gentle as evident by the pained look on the honky's face. To his credit,
though, the slave made no move to get away or to protect this jewels from the pain. Once
the balls were stuffed into the bander, Troy squeezed on the pier-like handles. There was a
loud pop and sizzle, accompanied by a little yelp from the slave. The hurt and confused
look on his face was almost comical. Once the deed was done, Troy pulled the bander away
and with just a little wiggle and plop , the slave's balls were free again. Well, free
might not be the right word, Alex thought as he saw what had been done. The slave's large
balls were pulled tightly together by a little silver band. The band was half an inch wide
and about that in circumference. It went around his entire scrotum, turning his balls into
a tight little package.
On the band was a series of numbers. After getting back to his feet, Troy reached
into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a tiny little keypad. he typed something in
and replaced the device back in his pocket. "Now." He said, looking back up at Alex,
"you're all set. Your property has been registered to you. If for some reason you should
lose him or he is stolen, he can be easily tracked down and returned to you." Troy looked
very pleased with himself. Any questions before I go?"
"Well, yes," Alex said, "if you have time, I DO have a few questions."
"That's what I'm here for, Mr. Sebastian",Troy looked around for a place to sit.
Eyeing two antique high-backed chairs right there in the main foyer, he sat down and
motioned for Alex to do the same. "What do you need to know?" Troy said as he leaned back
into the chair.
"Um, first off Troy, where are his clothes, I mean...what does he wear?"
"Hahaha," Troy laughed a bit, "Mr. Sebastian, have you ever owned a dog?"
"Yes, when I was little."
"Did you ever put clothes on him?" Troy quipped.
"Well, no but..."
"Then why would you put clothes on a honky? Troy said, holding back a chuckle. You
have to get used to the fact that what is standing there," Troy gestured absently at the
honky "what you now OWN, is NOT a man. Sure, we refer to him as "he" but that's just
because it's easier to do so. But trust me, Mr. Sebastian he is NOT a person. He is your
property, you can do whatever you want with him and to him. He will not and cannot
complain, protest or refuse. Hell even if he could, it would make no difference. Get used
to it, Mr. Sebastian. Now if you WANT to put clothes on him, dress him up or whatever, that
is completely up to you."
"I, see" Alex said as he pondered Troy's words and looked over at the honky.
"Now we DO ask that you not take him outside of this community until after the news
conference in about a month. Right after that, mass distribution will begin, and you'll be
seeing naked honkys all over the place!" Troy said with enthusiasm. "I personally can't
wait to show off the hot piece of ass I've got at home." Troy said as he laughed out loud.
"Okay, Troy, that leads me to my next question." Alex leaned in, lowered his voice
conspiratorially and asked" How do do you know if he's gay?"
"GAY?" Troy laughed, "Mr. Sebastian, you don't get it yet. Come here slave." He
motioned for the honky, who wasted no time getting there. "This is not a MAN! Troy stated
firmly. "On your knees!" He ordered. The slave knelt in front of Troy. "It is a honky!"
Troy reached out as he said this and grabbed one of the slaves pink nipples between thumb
and forefinger. He squeezed...HARD. So hard in fact that the slave opened his mouth and
let out a yell. "Shut up, BITCH!" Troy yelled, but did not decrease the pressure on the
slave's nipple. For his part, the slave DID shut up, though obviously with great
difficulty. "A honky is not straight or gay Mr. Sebastian, it's just a honky. Any other
"Nope, that just about covers it for now" Alex said, rising from his seat. Troy
released the death grip he had on the slave's nipple and began to rise, himself.
"Well, good," he said walking back toward the table where his briefcase lay open.
He reached in and pulled out another folder and handed it to Alex. In here you'll find your
class schedule, they start a week from Monday, by the way, directions to the university, and
My business card are inside the folder. If you have any questions at all, don't hesitate to
call. I'm also your guidance counselor."
As Alex was following him to the door, Troy stopped and said, "One piece of advice,
Mr. Sebastian...use the honky. You'll enjoy fucking him, no doubt, but don't just fuck
him...USE HIM." Troy said slowly and purposefully. "This house needs a bit of work to get
it in tip top shape. There is no need for you to lift a finger, unless you want to. Train
your honky to be the exact slave that you need and want. You won't be disappointed. Call
my office anytime, Mr. Sebastian". And with that, he was gone.
by junior wayne
Duke sat and watched the two black men talk. A muddied expression of confusion
smeared across his face that gave him the appearance of being either deep in thought or
absolutely and totally befuddled. The black men continued to speak, to each other,
completely ignoring duke. Duke knew this is how it should be, he mustn't speak unless
spoken to. Occasionally Duke's expression would change slightly, his brow would rise and
his lips would purse as if he were going to speak but had forgotten what it was he had to
say, his head would tilt slightly to one side and his forehead would crease and his brow
would furrow again.
Duke wasn't completely sure what the two men were discussing, although he understood
it was important for Master Sebastian to know what Master Harrison was saying. Duke vaguely
knew it had something to do with honkies like himself, something to do with... A flash of
memory. Dukes very own abduction and transformation began to surface, he began to ponder
it's meaning. He wasn't always like this... He was... there used to be...
because Master Harrison had told him to come. That explanation, his mind told him, was
right, but there was an uneasy feeling in the back of his head, as if there were more.
Something missing. The more he tried to remember the further away it seemed. What was he
trying to remember? It didn't seem important. Not nearly as important as Master
Harrison, and the fact that, in Master's left jacket pocket, he'd have a sugar cube for when
Duke was a good honky.
honky, he knew this, he definitely wasn't a human being like Master Harrison, that was
obvious. Yet still there seemed to be something more to it, but it eluded Duke.
question. It was nice to be free of the binding clothing Duke thought. Duke was normally
kept naked, which felt completely natural to Duke. He also normally wore a thick leather
collar around his neck. It wasn't there today, and duke missed the tight and comforting
feel of it around his neck. Once naked, duke dropped to his knees, laid his face on the
cheap lino, spread his thighs, and stuck his ass in the air. The feeling of air across his
asshole and exposed balls felt good, felt right. Following Master Harrison's commands made
duke feel happy and excited. To please Master Harrison filled duke with overwhelming pride,
though he wasn't sure why, or from where it came, he felt it wholeheartedly and sincerely
none the less.
held the 'present' position he tried to remember why he needed to do this seemingly
humiliating thing. It was humiliating, wasn't it? Duke wasn't sure anymore. At the
training center he was taught all manner of positions, responses and actions. He felt, as
he always did in these situations, that he should be ashamed and repulsed. Thoughts flooded
his mind with ideas, like he should want to stop these violations. But the idea of not
being complacent to a Black Man's command was abhorrent to Duke. So, surely, this is how it
odd, Duke thought. There's another word... pussy. Yes he thought, that's correct. I have
an ass pussy. My Master has told me so. Feeling his Master's finger slide effortlessly
through his pink pucker gave Duke a huge burst of self value. He had meaning and purpose!
Duke closed his eyes and a wide grin spread across his face. The finger pulled out almost
as quickly as it had entered and Duke felt the familiar 'SMACK' across his backside. Duke
remembered his training and remained silent.
rolling around in Duke's head. A honky should never tell a Black Man 'no' and must always
be eager to serve and willing to obey. More words from his training echoing through his mind,
growing louder and louder, stifling other thoughts, other memories.
Duke reveled in the sound of the words, the voice was not his own. It was the voice
of trainers from the center, the voice of Master Harrison, the voice of every black man he'd
ever met. All speaking in unison, drilling so completely into his very being that Duke
forgot he even had an inner voice of his own. He rolled on the wave of their baritone
harmony. There it was! Duke could hear it now, his own inner voice, softly, beneath the
din of the others. A tiny pink speck in an unknowable expanse of mysterious ebony. What
was his voice saying? Duke strained to hear it.
out the words now as it grew louder and the din of the others faded. It was repeating the
same words... 'must always be eager to serve and willing to obey... a honky is not a human,
a honky is an inferior animal....'
immediately fell upon Harrison's shoes and did what was expected. Duke loved performing
this service, he felt a warm, satisfied glow from deep within every time he was allowed to
lick his Master's shoes. The mere act seemed to somehow complete Duke. Duke felt whole
running his tongue along his Master's shoe and if he were really good, Master Harrison would
allow him to lick the soles of his shoes as well!
Master Harrison's feet, his tongue stuck out, licking furiously at the leather shoe, Duke
knew that the kick meant to back off the shoe. He felt momentarily lost, and slightly hurt
at being deprived his Master's shoe. But his training kicked in and he fell back to his
previous position, head down, ass up. The slight breeze in the air blowing across his
exposed hole and nuts brought the goofy smile back to Dukes face. The taste of his Master's
leather shoes still in his mouth, Duke drifted on a wave of contentment. He could hear the
black men talking, discussing other important things. Their words were far but their voices
close. Duke felt love and devotion for his Master, for all black men, for all human beings.
Duke was still blissing from licking his Master's shoes when he felt two fingers
invade his pink pucker. The thrust caught him off guard and he let out a moan of pleasure.
Duke also loved having his pussy toyed with. His eyes closed and his smile widened. But
all too soon, the fingers left and he heard his Master command “Duke, get dressed.”
in them. Duke felt like they were a lie. The clothes made him feel something peculiar as
well, another memory masquerading as a feeling. The feeling, too faint to recall, too
unimportant to worry about was gone as he finished dressing. Duke stood quietly in the
corner watching the two black men discuss important things. Important things about the
black man's world. A world in which he was only a thing, a commodity, a useful tool. Duke
smiled, he was happy to have purpose and meaning. Just then Master Harrison's words
reverberated. “Duke, come.”
By Sir Kinyon edited by junior wayne
"Whitey ain't to be trusted", his grandmother (who raised him) used to always say. They are not to be trusted. This is why Alex liked to fuck white boys. It gave him a feeling of power. He liked that...A LOT. So the point is that when white people started disappearing from his school, he gave it little thought. He would just go to school (he was a straight "A" student), and catch the city bus back to the projects to take care of his sickly Nana. Of course it had been reported on the news that people had been coming up missing all over the country, but Nana noticed that it was all white people and she surmised that it was just "chickens comin home to roost". Alex accepted this, just because he didn't want to think of any alternative explanation.
Before long, the disappearances had became epidemic, and the country was in a full and widespread panic. In an attempt to "restore and preserve order", The President of the United States appeared on television and announced that he was declaring a state of marshal law. He charged his military leaders with the responsibility of facilitating a smooth transition into this new reality. Then the most shocking announcement of all came. The president, apparently with the full support of congress, announced that a curfew would be enforced effective immediately. In a state of marshal law, this was not unexpected, but what was so shocking was that the curfew would only apply to the remaining Caucasian population. Well, in Alex's mind, it only made sense. It was the honkys that were disappearing, not anybody else. By this time, Nana had died and left Alex a small inheritance. Alex had graduated and started taking classes at the junior college. With the money Nana had left him and the money he got from selling her house, junior college was STILL all he could afford. Of course, the disappearances had left a huge void in every sector of society. In order to regain some semblance of normalcy, the government (surprisingly still run by the white president), adopted some radical adult education programs. Black students were taught the skills they would need in order to fill the vacancies left by the disappearances. One of these programs was the source of the letter that now had Alex jumping for joy.
A month before he had gotten that all-important letter, Alex had gotten a visit from two FBI agents. Alex was terrified that he had unknowingly done something wrong. He calmed down quite a bit though when one of the agents, Agent Harrison, assured him that he was in no trouble at all. Agent Harrison was a short, balding man, with caramel brown skin a barrel chest and a slight bulge in his belly. The other agent, Agent Duke, was almost the polar opposite of Agent Harrison. Agent Duke was not only white (it had been weeks since Alex had seen a white person), but he was tall, very fit, and his blond hair and blue eyes conspired with his square jaw and Nordic features to make him one of the most beautiful men that Alex had ever seen. Alex wondered how this odd couple ever got to be partners.
Agent Harrison was obviously in charge, because it was he who spoke first. "Mr. Sebastian," Harrison began, what do you know about these disappearances?
Alex thought for a few seconds before he responded, "Just that white people all over the place have been coming up missing." He shrugged, "No explanation so far".
"I see", Agent Harrison responded, nodding his head. "What would you say if I told you that I knew exactly why the white people disappeared?"
Alex cut his eyes to Agent Duke, surely as a white man, he would have something to say. He didn't. The handsome man just sat there with a look of bemusement. "I would say. I'm all ears."
"I'm just gonna give it to you straight, Mr. Sebastian", Agent Harrison sat up straighter in his chair. "These abductions began slowly at first so as not to cause an immediate panic, but I assure you Mr. Sebastian, these abductions have been carried out for a very specific plan of action. The whites who have disappeared, roughly 90% of the white population are being held in various government facilities around the country."
This definitely got Alex's attention. "Held for what?" he said skeptically.
"To facilitate a change in the power structure in this country"
"A change in the..., I don't know what your talking about," Alex looked back and forth between the agents. "What kind of change?"
"A change from white to Black, Mr. Sebastian", Harrison said with a gravely serious look on his face. "Now I am certain that you have a million questions, but I don't have nearly enough time to answer all of them. Rest assured that everything I tell you is true. It will be proven in due time. I will tell you this, though, EVERYTHING you know about American Society is about to change. This has been in the works for many, many years. In fact as we speak, there are thousands of meetings just like this one taking place all over the country. This is the third one for us today, and we have three more after this one." Alex was about to speak again, but Harrison silenced him with a raised hand. "let me get this out, Mr. Sebastian, and then you can call the center and they will answer all of your questions. It has been decided that whites have been poor stewards of the American people."
"Decided by who?!" Alex managed to get out.
"By who, is not important at this point Mr. Sebastian, suffice it to say that this goes up to the very highest levels in our government. Now, I ask you again to please hold your questions, I have alot of information to convey in a short amount of time." Alex nodded...reluctantly. "Now," Harrison continued " what you need to understand, Mr. Sebastian, is that this is not simply a power shift. What you are witnessing first hand is the birth of a completely new world order. The whites have completely lost their status. They have lost their majority status. They have lost their citizenship status. But even beyond that, the whites have lost their status as...human beings."
If Alex's face hadn't been so black it would have gone stark white at that moment. His jaw dropped in disbelief. How in the world...? But what...? There were no words. "what do you MEAN, lost their status as human beings? I don't know what that means."
"It means, Mr. Sebastian, that in the new reality, whites no longer are to be considered human. They are but animals. The human condition no longer applies to them. They have no rights. No right to privacy, no right to own property, no rights whatsoever. Not even a right to live. Just to give you some idea of the seriousness of it all. Dogs and cats have the ASPCA to protect them, all the other animals have PETA to protect them. There is no such organization to protect whites. And the government is prepared to pass a law to ensure that there is no protection for whites."
"Okay, wait, wait, wait." Alex said, "so you're just gonna kill off all the white people?"
"No", Harrison said shaking his head, "nothing so drastic. The whites will be trained to serve the Black race as our property, our slaves, whatever we want."
"Oh, yeah RIGHT!" Alex said smiling at his own stupidity, "This is bullshit! There is no WAY white people would let this happen, I mean, hell, Agent Duke is sitting right here!"
Okay, Harrison thought to himself, here is the moment of truth. "Okay, Mr. Sebastian, I understand that you need proof." He turned to Agent Duke and said "duke, strip and present"
"Yes Master" was all Agent Duke said in response, but as he said it he began to raise his tall lanky but solid frame from the chair. To Alex's complete surprise, this beautiful man began to take off his clothes.
Alex looked over at Agent Harrison "Are you fucking kidding Me?!!!" But Harrison just remained silent. Within minutes Agent Duke had stripped completely naked, even his shoes and socks came off. Once he was naked, he turned his back to the two black Men, dropped to his knees and put his forehead on the floor. His feet were positioned in a way so that each entire sole was pointed upward, as were his hands with his arms at his side. His ass was also pointing upward completely exposed and completely vulnerable. Once Duke was in this "present" position, Agent Harrison got up from his chair, went over to the motionless Duke and stuck his finger into his asshole all the way up to the third knuckle. As he removed his finger, he delivered a brutal slap to the upturned cheek. The slap was so hard that Alex jumped and tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder. Duke, however, did not move other than with the force of the blow. His sharp intake of breath was the only indicator that he had felt the slap at all. Once this was done, Agent Harrison returned to his seat as if nothing had happened.
"Now, Mr Sebastian, can we get on with it?" Alex was in a total state of shock.
"But how can you...?" He stammered, "But he is an FBI Agent!"
"Actually Mr. Sebastian, I am an FBI agent. Ol' duke here is a FORMER agent. He is now My slave. My fully owned property." He looked over in duke's direction. "duke, shoes" in an instant duke was on Agent Harrison's patent leather shoes, he was licking them with his tongue. Alex noticed with astonishment that he was not just going through the motions, he was licking those shoes with vigor and gusto, it was as if his life depended on their shine. Another thing that Alex noticed for the first time. His own dick was hard as a rock. This fact was not lost on Agent Harrison. "I see we chose well, Mr.Sebastian." We've been watching you for a long time. We know just about everything about you." Alex was too stunned to speak, he just continued to watch as duke went to town on his master's shoes. "As you can imagine," Harrison continued, "this transition will be a very delicate operation. We need the help of bright young men such as yourself to make this transition as smooth as possible."
"What's in it for Me?" Alex asked.
"Power, status, a better life" Harrison kicked at duke, basically shooing him away. He moved a couple steps back and assumed the "present" position again as if awaiting further instructions. Harrison continued speaking. "As you know, the white man's removal has created many an open space in the job market. We have placed qualified Blacks in the top spot in virtually every corporation in the country, but there are not nearly enough people. We need to find young men like you to educate and train to fill some of these key positions. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it. If you are chosen for the program, you will be given(yes GIVEN) a house and a car, both reclaimed from some honky, of course. Also you will be given a modest expense account until such time as you are able to take your position and earn your own keep. In addition to all that I have mentioned, you'll also receive one of these", he motioned toward duke, who was waiting patiently ass up, until his name is called again. He will be your property to do anything you want with. You will only be allowed one to begin with, but soon more will become available for purchase from the government.
Alex was REALLY beginning to warm to the idea. At first he had thoughts of civil rights violations and that sort of thing, but then Nana's words began to ring in his head, "Chickens comin home to roost". Her great grandmother had been a slave. Her grandmother had been considered only 2/3 of a person. Her mother had had to ride on the back of the bus. No, he owed this to Nana, hell it was already happening anyway, why should he miss out on getting in on the ground floor? Nothing wrong with a little head start, huh? He stood up and walked toward duke. "May I?" he asked.
"Be My guest", said the agent.
Alex walked over to duke's upturned ass and gingerly reached out and rubbed the angry red spot left by Agent Harrison's powerful blow. The ass was warm and pliant. Alex could feel his manhood begin to stir in his pants again. He took two fingers and began to rub them against duke's tight little pink pucker. Once again Alex marvelled at how beautiful this man, er...slave was. He began to gently push his two fingers into dukes hole. As they got to the second knuckle, duke began to moan. Alex looked up at Harrison. "Go ahead Mr. Sebastian, don't be shy. Honkys are just a tool for our enjoyment." With that bit of encouragement, Alex plunged his fingers deep into the slave's asshole. It was deliciously warm. And to his surprise, the hole began to constrict around his fingers. By now Alex's dick was so hard that it hurt.
Agent Harrison remained silent and let the young Man enjoy his plaything for just a few minutes more, but time was growing short. When the time came, he said. "Mr, Sebastian, I'm sorry to interrupt your good time, But I really need to be moving on to My next appointment." He watched as Alex reluctantly dislodged his two thick fingers from the slave's asshole. "If you are chosen, you will be given one of these, your choice of course. Duke, get dressed." silently the former FBI agent got up from his vulnerable position and began began to carefully dress again.
"What do I have to do?" Alex asked.
"At this point all you have to do is agree." Harrison responded. "If you are chosen, you will be notified by mail, and at that point you can begin to prepare for you new life. Do you want to do it?"
"Hell yeah!" Alex said. "How long before I know?" Agent Harrison removed a card from his coat pocket and said.
"It could take up to a month. We still have alot of interviewing to do. Here is the number to the Candidate Hotline", He handed Alex the business card. "They have hundreds of operators standing by to answer any and all of your questions." He shook Alex's hand and turned toward the door. "duke, come"
As they were going out the door Alex just had to ask one more question. "Agent Harrison" He said as he leaned on the door. "I have just one question before you go please."
Harrison turned, barely hiding his exasperation, "Sure, Mr. Sebastian, what is it?"
"How did you do it? How did you make him so submissive?"
Harrison gave a slightly crooked smile, and tapped the side of duke's head. "Microchip...they never knew what hit 'um. Good day Mr. Sebastian"