Thursday, August 27, 2015

The New World: Carl's New House Boy

The New World:  Carl's New House Boy
by Sir Kinyon


    Carl and Andre had been friends since high school.  More like brothers, actually.  Now, in their late thirties, their friendship had settled into an easy familiarity that you only see in very close best friends.  They had even managed to buys houses directly across the street from one another.  Both Men had been moderately successful in business and both live very comfortable lives.  Andre owned a large auto body shop where he employed two free white boys who he also sponsored.  These honkies both lived rent free at the shop and served as overseers for the crew of fifteen slaves...also housed in the slave quarters behind the shop.  Carl is a professional photographer. He owns two honkies that he uses in his business, and one that serves as his personal servant.
    One Sunday afternoon, the two friends were sitting on Andre's porch smoking a blunt.  It had become their routine.  Nothing like passing a fat blunt between friends.  Carl, as usual, had his head buried in a newspaper.
    "Hey man," Carl said, looking up from his paper. "Says here that the U.S. military raided that Saudi palace and freed all the captured Ethiopian slaves."
    "Ha, " Andre said, passing the blunt. "I bet the prince is PISSED!"
    "Damn right he is."  Carl puffed the blunt and held his breath for a second. "He filed a complaint with the U.N. but we know they can't do anything."
    "We warned 'um" Andre said.  Then, his attention caught by something in the street.  He reached over and tapped his buddy with the back of his hand. "Say, bro. check this out."
    Carl looked up from his paper to see a tall skinny white boy walking toward them.  He was fully clothed, so he couldn't have been a slave, even though his hair was only a tad bit longer than "slave standard".  He was wearing baggy jeans and white wife beater with another flannel shirt tied around his waist.  It was too hot to wear as since he was walking, the two friends assumed that he had come from the bus stop on the corner.  Being the only fully clothed honky in site, he stuck out like a sore thumb.
    "What's up, fellas?"  He said as he boldly walked right up to the porch.  Carl felt a quick rush of anger then had to remind himself that this was a free white and not a slave.  "Is one of you, Andre' Anderson?"  He spoke with a country twang that belied his urban wigger attire and tatted up  arms and chest.
    "That's me." Andre' said. "You a long way from home ain't you, boy?"
    The white boy obviously bristled at being called "boy" but he recovered quickly.  "The lady at the reparations department said that you would be expecting me, I'm Jarvis Chandler."  He stuck out his hand for a shake, but when Andre ignored it, he somewhat awkwardly stuck it back in the pocket of his baggy jeans.
    "Aw hell."  Andre said.  "I fuckin' forgot."  The law stated that every Caucasian American over the age of 18 had to have a Black sponsor.  But blacks were only able to sponsor 3 whites at any given time.  This left thousands of free whites without sponsors.  Those whites left without sponsorship were to register as wards of the state.  As more black sponsors became available, the unsponsored whites would be assigned to them.  This was the case here.  One of the whites that Andre' sponsored had recently been enslaved, so that left him with only 2.  Jarvis, here was that boy's replacement. "Like I need another honky."  Andre was no friend to the whites.  Neither was Carl, for that matter, but at least he was less openly hostile about it.
    Carl, for his part, just eyed the white boy appraising.  Carl is bisexual, but he prefers guys.  Free white boys held a strong attraction for him, especially butch, tough looking redneck white boys like this one. That country twang and the tats made Jarvis Chandler Carl's type.  He felt the beginnings of a boner.
    "Hey," Chandler said hunching his shoulders. "I'm just here cause that bitch at the department told me to come." He stood a bit straighter pushing his chest out kinda cocky like.  Carl liked what he saw. "I just need a sponsor on paper.  You stay out of my life and I'm gon' stay out of yours."
    "I don't think I like your attitude, boy." Andre said, rising to his full 6 foot 3 inches.  He stepped off the porch and stood toe to toe with Jarvis who was dwarfed by the much bigger black man.
    "I just..." Jarvis tried to speak
    "Naw, fuck that!"  Andre said menacingly. "Get yo' white ass out of my yard! Tell that bitch at the department to send me another honky.  One with some respect!"
    Carl looked on in amusement as he saw the look of defiance on the white boy's face morph into one of fear bordering on panic.  "Hey, wait" Jarvis said, reaching out to grab Andre's arm.  Good thing for him, he thought better of it and left it at his side. "If you send me back, you'll be my third rejection.  They gon' make me a slave."
    "I don't give a shit!" Andre said.
    At that moment, Carl came down the porch steps and put his hand on his friend's shoulder.  "Hold up, " he said, his voice calm and measured.  "Jarvis, you look thirsty.  That's my house right there."  He pointed to the two story red brick home across the street.  "Go on over there and get yourself some water.  Let me talk to my friend here."
    "Thanks" Jarvis said nervously.  "Is the door unlocked?"
    "Oh no," Carl said, a bit exasperated.  "Use the hose by the driveway."
    Jarvis was taken aback by being expected to drink from the hose but thanked him anyway  and turned to cross the street.  He couldn't help but notice all the mancured lawns being tended by naked white slaves.  There were even some old ladies walking down the street with leashed white men, uh slaves, in tow.  Jarvis had been a teenager when the whitey laws were passed, so he still remembered a time when whites had been in charge.  When the world was normal.  A time before the world went to shit.
    Jarvis had grown up in a rural area where there weren't many black people.  And the few that were there pretty much stayed on their side of the tracks.  He had always been taught that whites were superior to blacks.  Nobody actually said those words, of course, it was just understood and everyone lived accordingly.  But Jarvis, always one to question things, wondered why the black dudes at his school were always bigger, tougher, better at sports.  They even seemed to be more popular with the white girls.  Jarvis could get girls, but he was always skinny and a bit awkward.  The black guys were always cool, laid back.  He hated them.  He admired them, but he hated them.  Not that he would ever admit it, but he secretly wished he could be black.  He hated them for that too.  And NOW they were running the fucking world!   Jarvis couldn't believe that he had fucked up again.  He HAD to do something about his attitude if he wanted to find a sponsor.  He got to the house across the street and went to the spigot on the side, turned it on and drank some of the cool water.  He HAD to find a sponsor if he didn't want to be a slave.  It wasn't easy being a free white in this day and age, but it was better than being a slave.  Just keep the niggers happy and stay free, he told himself.
    After drinking his fill, Jarvis walked back across the street where the two big black men were waiting. He could only hope that the situation had calmed down.
    "Everything's okay now."  Carl said as Jarvis came back into the yard.  "My friend here has decided to be your sponsor."
    Jarvis smiled.
    "Don't be too happy, boy."  Andre' said.  "I still don't like you.  You better keep your nose clean or I'll have your lily white ass enslaved and on the auction block before you can say 'Polly want a cracker!' is that understood?"
    "Yes sir!"
    "Lemme see your papers."  Andre held out his hand. 
    Jarvis reached into his back pack and pulled out an envelope and handed it to him.  Andre' looked at the papers then pulled out his cell phone.  The sponsorship process had been streamlined to the point where all he had to do was call the number listed, give whoever answers the case number and his own sponsorship number and it was a done deal.  While Andre was on the phone with the reparations department, Jarvis turned to Carl and thanked him.
    "Don't thank me yet."  was all he said in response.
    When Andre got off the phone, he walked back up on the porch and sat down.  Carl sat beside him.  Of course, Jarvis continued to stand.  "I see you're not married, that's good." Andre' said as he perused  Jarvis' papers.  "You live in the White Settlement projects and you work at the pawn shop."
    "Yes sir."  Jarvis said. "The pay is terrible."  He was obviously trying to lighten the mood.
    "Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore."
    "Sir?"  Jarvis looked confused...and a bit worried.
    "My friend here needs a new houseboy.  Congratulations, you're hired."
    "What? But..."  Jarvis looked alarmed.
    "No whats and no buts, boy." Andre said.  "It's a done deal.  You are gonna live in his house and work as his house boy under his conditions.  You'll do everything he says without question or I'll have you enslaved and you'll end up being his house boy anyway.  Is that understood?"
    Hesitation.  "Y-Yes sir."
    "Good boy.  Now get your ass back on that bus, go tidy up things in the projects and report to Carl across the street by 5pm tomorrow."
---------------------

    Jarvis knocked on Carl's door at exactly 5pm.  The bus had gotten him there a bit early, so he had walked around the block.  Even though he didn't actually see a lot of slaves, it was obvious that they were around.  It would take a small army of them to keep a neighborhood this clean and well manicured.  Not a blade of grass out of place and not a stray bush leaf to be seen anywhere.
    The door was opened almost immediately by a slave.  The guy was obviously a slave because he was completely naked except for his thin stainless steel collar, with matching nipple and cockrings.  "Mr. Chandler?" The boy asked.  When Jarvis nodded, the slave said that his master had been called away on business, but had instructed him to get Jarvis settled in.  When Jarvis asked the slave his name, he said that his master had named him cracker.  He was about 6 feet tall and somewhat lanky with red hair styled in a neatly trimmed into a low cut Mohawk.  As Cracker turned to lead him through the house Jarvis couldn't help but notice the base of a butt plug sticking out of his asshole.  When Jarvis asked about it, Cracker simply said "my master prefers it this way."  and left it at that.
    The two passed out of the large foyer, through a well appointed living area complete with recessed lighting, a state of the art sound system and modern stainless steel and black leather furniture.  It was at that moment that Jarvis noticed that all of Cracker's stainless steel adornments had black leather looking accents.  Wow, he thought to himself.  So cracker is just a piece of furniture, like that couch or that chair.  Jarvis felt a swell of anger, but managed to keep things under control.  This is the world that he lives in now.  He just needs to deal with it.  "What's your job here?"  He asked Cracker in an attempt to keep things light.
    "I am my master's personal valet and body slave."  Cracker said matter of factly.
    Jarvis knew exactly what that meant.  Cracker is Carl's butt boy.  "You like being his body slave?"
    "What I like doesn't matter, sir."  Was his serious reply.  "I am a slave...I obey."
    "Okay, "  Jarvis said, a bit exasperated.  "It's just you and me.  You can speak freely."
    "Thank you sir," Cracker responded.  "But even though you are white, you are still a free man.  I am trained to treat you as such."
    Well, Jarvis thought to himself, so much for trying to bond with this slave.  When he asked what his own duties would be, the slave explained that Jarvis's duties would most likely be to just keep the house clean and in good condition.  The master would go into detail with him.  The slave also said that his master's other house boys had been free men as well.  This struck Jarvis as kind of strange, but he didn't give it much thought.  He was too busy admiring Carl's house.  It was much bigger than it looked from outside.  The black leather and stainless steel theme seemed to permeate the entire house.  There were four large bedroom suites.  Cracker explained that one belonged to Carl, of course, and the other two belonged to Carl's two sons, both in college. Stupidly, Jarvis allowed himself to assume that the fourth suite would be for him.  He began to get excited at the thought of living like this.  The suite had it's own bathroom, sitting area, 60 inch flatscreen tv complete with gaming system.  He was visibly crestfallen when Cracker informed him that this suite was reserved for guests and that the master's freeman houseboys usually stayed in a small bedroom adjacent to the slave quarters in the basement.  The bedroom was sparse, but it was clean with a comfortable looking bed, a dresser for his clothes and a small cable equipped television set.  There was even a very small bathroom.  It reminded him of his bedroom back in the projects. It was nothing compared to the plush bedroom suits upstairs, but it was much better than the slave quarters which consisted of three cots and a maintenance station.
    As Cracker was leading Jarvis back upstairs via the back staircase, he heard the telltale beep that served as an alert that the garage door was being opened. "Master's home!" Cracker was so excited that he almost squealed.  "Follow me, please." 
    Without waiting for a response, the slave was gone.  Jarvis had no choice but to follow cracker into the kitchen where he knew the garage entrance was.  By the time Jarvis caught up, cracker was already on his knees with his head bowed.  When Carl came through the door, Cracker immediately welcomed him home by bowing to kiss his feet. He looked up at his master with what could only be described as adoration.  Carl bent to pat cracker on the head, the walked past when he saw Jarvis standing there.  He stuck out his hand in greeting.
    Jarvis, relieved, shook the black man's hand.  Casually, he said, "I ain't gon' be expected to do that, huh?"
    "What?" Carl asked, "kiss my feet? Hell no!"  He laughed good-naturedly. "Cracker's a good honky, aren't you, boy?" He said with a snap of his finger which brought the ginger slave to heel immediately, still on his knees of course.  "I assume he has shown you around the place?"
    "Oh yeah,"  Jarvis said, his nervousness waning a bit. "Real nice place you got here, sir."
    "You can call me Carl. You hungry?  I brought dinner."
    At that moment, Jarvis realized that he WAS hungry.  He hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. "Well, yeah."  He said, eyes widening a bit in surprise.  He hadn't been expected to be treated so well.
    "Cracker, take this and set it up for Jarvis and me."  He handed the bag of food off the the slave, who hurried into the dining room to set things up. "When you're done, take some honky chow down to Benji and Rebel."
    "Yes, Master!" came the reply.
    Carl explained that Benji and Rebel were his other two slaves that he used in his photography business.  He also explained that from now on their care and discipline would be one of Jarvis' responsibilities.  Of course he would receive all the instruction needed to do the job adequately.  This made Jarvis nervous.  He had seen slaves all over the place, of course, but he had never spent any time around them.
    As the two ate, Carl explained that Jarvis would be expected to keep the house clean, Carl's two cars were to be washed twice a week, the pool was to be cleaned at least twice a week during the summer...the list went on and on.  Jarvis was relieved, though, when Carl handed him a list of phone numbers that included a pool service and a maid service.
    When Jarvis expressed his trepidation where the slaves were concerned, Carl said "Nonsense!  My slaves are very well trained.  The know how to act around free men.  You just be firm and remember that you are the boss, no matter what happens.  They'll fall right in line.
    As the briefing came to an end, the large stone that had been forming in the pit of Jarvis' gut was beginning to loosen up.  Carl had proven to be a very personable guy.  He treated Jarvis like a man and not just a honky.  Jarvis could definitely see himself living and working here.  He even had other white boys to talk to.  Even though they were slaves, he had decided that he would just treat them like men.  Yep, Jarvis thought to himself, I could get used to this.
    After his chat with Carl, Jarvis went downstairs to get settled into his new room.  He had anticipated meeting Benji and Rebel, but they out in the garage gym going their forced workouts.  Jarvis hadn't brought much with him, so there wasn't much to unpack, so when he was done, he just laid back on the surprisingly comfortable bed an dozed off.
    Jarvis woke with a start.  He was immediately aware that he was not alone in the small bedroom.  He wiped his bleary eyes, expecting to see the two slaves standing there, probably wanting to get a look at their new "overseer", but what he saw was two big black men standing over him.  It was Carl, his boss, and Andre', his sponsor.  Both men looked at him strangely.
    "Hey, fellas," He said, forcing a smile.  He was trying to  conjure up the cordial rapport that he had built with Carl.  "What's up?"
    "My dick." Andre said and before Jarvis could react, both men were on him.  Jarvis, being a rough and tumble country boy, had always considered himself to be pretty tough, and never had any trouble taking care of himself.  He was no match, however for these two big black dudes each of which outweighed him by at least 40lbs. Yet still, Jarvis thrashed and kicked.  It was no use, Andre had straddled his chest and held his arms immobile while Carl straddled his legs which kept them still while he unbuckled the belt and unbuttoned the pants.
    "What the fuck are ya'll doin'?" Jarvis yelled in confusion.
    "Shut up, bitch!" Andre' growled. 
    "But you can't treat me like th..." Jarvis tried again but was cut off by the shocking realization that Andre' had just spit in his face.  SPIT?! Did this black muther fucker just spit on me?!  What the fuck have I gotten myself into, Jarvis thought to himself.
    Carl was having the time of his life!  Jarvis was just the kind of white boy he liked.  Redneck, masculine, tattoos.  A bit dirty looking.  Carl had been looking forward to this ever since he had first laid eyes on this honky yesterday.  The fact that he was not a slave made no difference whatsoever.  In fact, that just made it better, more arousing.
    With practiced ease, Carl and Andre' stripped the still struggling white boy, revealing his pale, thin but tightly muscled legs.  His legs were almost as heavily tattooed as the rest of his body.  Most of the tats looked to be home made, some native-American in nature.  Once they had the boy stripped, they turned him over onto his stomach.  This left his cute little white boy butt exposed.  Without hesitation, Carl, who was in "possession" of Jarvis' lower body, wet his index finger with a bit of spit, and stuck unceremoniously inserted it into Jarvis' asshole.  Now, Carl was very practiced at inspecting slave flesh, could tell that this was virgin territory.  Well, not for long, he thought to himself.  While sitting on Jarvis' legs to keep them immobile, Carl undid his own jeans (he never wore underwear) and unleashed what he secretly referred to as his "Black Monster",  Well, why not?  His dick was eleven and a half inches long and almost as thick as his wrist.  The huge thing flopped heavily out of his jeans.  The color contrast was striking.  The deep, dark (almost black) chocolate of Carl's dick hovering stiffly over the pale smooth alabaster of Jarvis' asscheeks. 
    After giving the white boy cheeks beneath him a few brutally hard bare-handed slaps to redden them a bit, Carl reached into his shirt pocket and took out a condom.  Usually, when he fucked a slave, he never used condoms.  But this was no slave, and Carl was not in the mood to get shit on his dick.  After Carl had deftly sheathed his huge sword, he positioned it at Jarvis' tight little pink pucker and thrust forward...HARD!
    Jarvis screamed.  The sudden burning pain was so intense that he thought he was gonna black out.  In fact, he did a couple of times, but each time he regained consciousness the pain was still there.  That first thrust, however, was the absolute worst.  It felt as if someone was cutting into his ass with a hot knife while simultaneously kicking him in the gut.  He knew that it was Carl brutalizing his ass because even from his position on his stomach, he could crane is neck to see Andre' holding him down.  "Stop it!" he managed to scream between breathless grunts.  "I'm not a fag!"  Andre' just growled that he didn't give a shit as he continued to watch as his friend pummel this cute white boy's ass.
    The brutal thrusting continued.  In his mindless haze, Jarvis envisioned a piston moving methodically in and out of his ass.  The pain, while still VERY intense was becoming a bit more bearable.  As the piston continued it relentless assault on his anus, Jarvis became aware of the sensation of being completely filled on the inward stroke and emptied on the out stroke. The pounding pain continues, in, out, full, empty.  The pain was still there, of course, and Jarvis hated it, but there was something else. Pleasure?  No, couldn't be.  Jarvis was not a fag.  This was rape pure and simple, and as soon as he could get away, he was going straight to the police!  But still, in spite of the pain, there was this underlying pleasurable feeling when he was full that became distinctly less so when he was empty.  Before long, the thrusting began to intensify.  The pain became unbearable. Jarvis, in an attempt to maintain his sanity, had begun to try to concentrate of the fleeting pleasure of the "full" feeling, but now it was too much.  He could hear Carl grunting even louder with each thrust, even as Andre' yelled "Hell yeah, fuck that pussy!"  The last thing he heard before slipping into a pain-induced unconsciousness was Carl, roaring like a lion.
    "Damn, that was hot!" Carl said as he pulled his slowly softening dick out of the unconscious white boy. "You wanna have a go?"
    "Hell, no!"  Andre' laughed and sneered at the same time. "Not after the mess you made of his ass!"
    "Yeah," Carl chuckled. "That's what you get when you break in a virgin.  I'll have Benji and Rebel clean him up. Hey..." he said looking at his watch. "The game comes on in ten minutes."
    Jarvis slowly regained consciousness.  He was still laying flat on his face.  He tried to get up, but it was just too painful to move. "Let me help you, sir."  The voice startled him and he immediately started trying to fight, it was no use though, he was just too weak.  "Hold on, sir.  Let me help you." The unfamiliar voice pleaded.
    "Who the fuck are you?"  Jarvis asked, gingerly sitting up.
    "I'm Benji.  My master told me and Rebel to take care of you.  Rebel is running a bath for you."
    "Benji?  Oh, one of Carl's slaves"  With the mention of Carl's name, Jarvis was flooded with emotion...mostly anger. "What the fuck, man?" He said.  I'ma go to the police.  They can't do that shit to me.  I'm not a fuckin' slave.  Them niggers gon' pay for this shit!"
    "I would keep it down If I was you." Came a voice from the doorway to the small bathroom.  It was Rebel.  "Master doesn't like that kind of talk."
    "He should have thought about that shit before him and his friend decided to rape a free man."
    "If you wanna remain free," Rebel said striding toward him. "You better calm down.  Believe me, I know."
    Jarvis took a moment to look these two over.  Both slaves were tall and muscular.  Benji, still sitting next to him on the bed was muscular but trim, completely bald except for the customary slave's buzzed mohawk which revealed that his hair was dark brown just like the slight scruff on his face.  Rebel was almost a perfect match except that his mohawk was a bright blonde.  Both slaves sported nose rings which made them look a bit mean...like bulls.  They both also had ringed nipples and matching thin metal collars that looked to be made of copper.  Other than that, they were both completely naked and both sported numerous tattoos.  This was no surprise since most master's these days kept their slaves completely naked.  "What do you mean?"  Jarvis asked rebel.
    "Come on, let's get you into the tub."  Rebel said.  "Don't try to walk, we'll carry you."
    Jarvis was too tired and in too much pain to argue.  The two men managed to lift him up off the bed and carry him to the small bathtub in his bathroom. The water was a bit too hot as they lowered his naked body into it which caused him to cry out, but he soon got used to it. "What did you mean, 'if i wanna remain free?' He asked Rebel, again.
    "I meant that, if you don't want to be enslaved like me, you had better get used to it."
    "Like you?" Jarvis asked puzzled.
    Rebel explained that Carl had originally been his sponsor.  One day, Carl had decided that he wanted to fuck Rebel, so he raped him, pretty much just like they had just done to Jarvis.  Rebel, whose name had been David at the time, decided that he wasn't gonna stand for it.  The very next day, he went to the police, who referred him to Cracker Control.  The CC officer escorted him back to Carl's house.  Rebel had thought that they were going to conduct an investigation, but instead, they told Carl about his attempt to file a complaint and then they asked Carl if he wanted to file a petition to have Rebel enslaved.  Carl agreed and the next day Rebel found himself standing naked in slave court.  Carl used his right of first purchase to buy the new slave, then had him sent to a training facility to have his "attitude adjusted."  The time spent at this facility had been sheer hell for Rebel, partly because of his constant cries of injustice.  During his training, because of his volatile nature, Carl had instructed the trainers to have Rebel castrated. And his balls replaced with metal orbs.  That had seemed to knock all the fight out of him.  It also seemed to knock a bit of the fight out of Jarvis as he looked nervously at Rebel's crotch as the slave washed him with surprising gentleness.
    "You can touch them if you want."  Rebel said
    "Huh?"
    "My balls.  I know you want to touch them."  Rebel's blue eyes took on kind of a far away look. "Besides, you're a free man. I can't refuse you anyway."
    Jarvis was curious he had to admit.  He reached out and gingerly touched Rebel's ballsack.  When that elicited no response, he actually palmed them.  They were definitely hard like metal and surprisingly heavy. "And they did this to you just because he said so?"
    "Of course they did."  Rebel said completely without irony. "He was paying them, and he's my owner.  It's that simple."
    "And you're not, pissed off about it?!  I mean, what gives him the right to mutilate a man like that?  It's crazy!"
    "Sir."  Rebel responded with surprising equanimity. "That is the reality that we live in.  I am a slave, my body belongs to him, he can do whatever he wants with it.  I have no say in the matter.  Now that may seem unfair to you.  Believe me it seemed unfair to me as well, but I soon learned that there was absolutely nothing I could do about it."
    "But it's just so wrong." Jarvis seemed deflated. "How do you cope with it?"
    "I obey,"  Was the simple answer.  "Besides, he threatened to have my dick cut off if I didn't act right.  Now stand up, let's get you dried off."
    Benji and Rebel helped Jarvis out of the tub and he stood there uncomfortably while Benji very gently dried him with a large towel.  "Why are you doing that?"  Jarvis asked
    "You are a free man, sir." Benji responded as if that explained it all.
    "Okay, look. "He said.  "I ain't been around slaves much."
    "It's alright, Sir."  Benji responded as he toweled Jarvis's feet from his position on his knees.  "Rebel and I will fill you in."  He smiled and looked up into Jarvis' eyes and asked, "shall, I suck you off while I'm down here, sir?"
    Jarvis was shocked. "What? No...HELL NO!  I ain't no fuckin' faggot!"  He pushed past Benji, who was still on his knees and went back out into his bedroom.  His head was spinning.  What the fuck had he walked into?  In one day, he had moved away from everything he knew.  He had a new job that he didn't want.  He had been raped by two black men and was pretty sure that he couldn't do anything about it, and now here was this slave freely offering to blow him!  What the fuck man?  When he went back into his room he saw that the bloody sheets on his bed had been changed and the bed had been turned back.
    Rebel was standing by the bed.  He bent to help Jarvis into bed.  As Jarvis lowered himself, his hand accidentally brushed against Rebel's low hanging balls. "Oh shit!" he said. "I'm sorry, man.  You alright?"

    Rebel looked down at Jarvis.  "There is nothing there to hurt, sir."  He said plainly as he gently pulled the cover up over Jarvis's shoulders. "Now, I advise you to get some sleep."
    It felt so strange to be tucked in by a man, but Jarvis was too sore to protest. "What should I do?"  He asked as Rebel turned to leave. "About the rape, I mean?  Am I supposed to just act like it never happened?"
    "Exactly, sir." Rebel said without turning around.  He paused. "Then get used to it."  And with that, he was gone, and Jarvis fell into a fitful sleep.
    The next morning, Jarvis woke early to the unmistakable aroma of bacon.  This was quite unusual seeing as though all Jarvis could usually afford for breakfast was the generic corn flakes and powdered milk that they give you down at the rec center.  It wasn't good, but it was free.  Of course, Jarvis had been working down at the pawn shop, but the pay was bad  and anything free was a big help.  He rolled out of bed only to realize that his entire body was one big sore spot.  It only took him a moment to remember what had been done to him the night before. The anger again welled up from the pit of his stomach. Act like it didn't happen and "get used to it."  Rebel had advised him.  But how the hell was he supposed to do that?  He is a man, and you can't just rape a man and get away with it.  He felt like he would be less than a man if he didn't do something.  But what the hell could he do?  He decided that he would just play it by ear...at least for now.
    Following the smell of bacon, Jarvis made his way down to the kitchen.  When he got to the kitchen door, he saw Carl sitting there looking like new money in his dark grey pinstriped suit.  He was casually reading the newspaper while he ate his breakfast of what looked like bacon, scrambled eggs and toast with jelly and a big frosty glass of milk.  The food looked so good, but Jarvis was so nervous that just stood there and stared.
    "Jarvis!"  He was brought back to reality by Carl's deep voice.  "Don't just stand there lookin' stupid."  He waved him over.  "I thought you were gonna sleep all day.  Get over here and get some breakfast.  I know you're hungry."
    He was starving.  But how was this man talking to him so casually?  Like he and his friend hadn't assaulted him the night before?  Jarvis moved forward slowly across the large kitchen to where Carl was sitting in the breakfast nook.  He noticed that cracker was sitting on the floor at his master's feet, content.
    "Come on, sit down."  Carl said to Jarvis jovially.  "Cracker!  Get up and fix Jarvis a plate."  Within what seemed like a few seconds, Cracker had fixed Jarvis a heaping plate of bacon, eggs and toast.  He asked if he wanted milk or orange juice. Jarvis chose juice.  "You sleep okay?"  Carl asked as Jarvis sat across the table from him.  Jarvis nodded.  "You get to meet Benji and Rebel?"  Another nod.  "They're good boys, they shouldn't give you much trouble.  If they do, don't be afraid to use that cane that I keep in your room."
    As he ate the surprisingly delicious breakfast, he marveled at the fact that things were so casual.  It was almost surreal.
    "Cracker here, usually makes breakfast,"  Carl continued,  "but it's your job to make sure that dinner is ready when I get home.  I usually have lunch down town."
    "Them some pretty fancy duds for a photographer." Jarvis said.  He felt like he just HAD to say something. Especially since Cracker had retaken his place at Carl's feet happily ignored.
    "Hahaha," Carl laughed.  "I don't get behind the camera very much anymore.  I'm director of photography for a large advertising firm."
    "Oh, my bad."  Jarvis said.  Right then he felt a strange sensation.  He felt like he was a bout to say something that he probably shouldn't.  He felt it coming, but he couldn't stop himself.  "So we're just not gonna talk about what you did last night?"
    Carl shot Jarvis a bemused look, but went right back to his newspaper.  "We can talk about it if you want."
    How could he be so calm, Jarvis thought to himself.  "You committed  major crime last night."  Jarvis said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice, but failing miserably.
    "Nope."  Carl replied calmly without looking up from his paper. "Twenty years ago, maybe.  But today, all you white boys are fair game for a man like me."
    "What the fuck does that mean?"  Jarvis said, suddenly standing to his feet.  Before he could make a move though, Cracker who had until now been sitting docilely on the floor beside Carl's chair, had sprang up and was standing menacingly between Jarvis and Carl.
    "Down, boy."  Carl said to Cracker as he casually reached over the table and plucked a sugar cube from a bowl in the center.  "Heel"  Cracker reluctantly backed down and returned to his spot on the floor.  "This honky ain't that damn crazy.  Open."  On command, cracker opened his mouth wide and Carl popped the sugar cube in.  "Good boy."  Cracker savored the small treat like it was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life.  Jarvis figured that when he only got to eat bland slave chow, a sugar cube must taste like heaven.
    "Sit down, Jarvis."  Carl's jovial demeanor had disappeared completely.  "If you move to threaten me again, I'm gonna beat your little honky ass black and blue THEN call cracker control and tell them that you attacked me."
    "But you can't..."
    "Shut the fuck up when I'm talking."  Carl still hadn't moved from his chair. "Now listen, boy.  Yes you are a free man, but make no mistake EVERYTHING in this house belongs to me, and that includes YOU."
    "That's bullshit...!"  Jarvis began, but was stopped suddenly when Carl, like a flash, had closed the distance between them and landed a viscous back-handed blow to Jarvis's right cheek.
    "I SAID, shut the fuck up!"  Carl took a breath while he shot his shirt cuffs then made a motion like he was wiping dust from his suit. Jarvis just sat there holding his swiftly bruising jaw.  He had a shocked look on his face.  "Now, as I was saying,"  Carl continued as if nothing had happened, "Although you are a free man, you belong to me."  He paused to see if Jarvis would try to speak again but the stupid honky had apparently learned his lesson.  He just sat there with red eyes looking like a wounded little kid.  Carl almost felt sorry for him, but he had to learn that his world would be quite different from now on.  "I will treat you like a free man, for the most part. You can come and go as you please as long as your duties here are complete.  You need to know, however, that I like the look of you.  You've got a cute little white boy ass that I find irresistible and when I want do fuck it, I will...regardless of your free man status.  I know that sounds unfair to you, but I've got news for you Jarvis, the world has been an unfair place for a very long time, you just didn't notice until YOU got hit in the head with the short end of the stick.  It was all fine and good when you honkies ran the world, but now you wanna scream unfair.  All I can say is get fucking used to it.  You are here for good, at least until I get tired of you.  Now you have two choices, boy,  you can except this new reality and enjoy this life as a free man, OR, I can get Andre' to petition the court as your sponsor and have you enslaved.  I'll buy you and have free reign over that sweet little ass of yours anyway.  I gave Rebel the same options.  He made the wrong choice."   He paused for effect.  "Oh, did he mention that I have his balls in a little jar on the shelf in the punishment room?"
    Carl got up from his chair, wiping his mouth.  "I'm leaving for work now.  If you're still here when I get home, I'll assume you made the smart choice.  If not, I'll call Cracker Control and get the ball rolling.  Either way, I'll have steak for dinner.  I like it rare."  Carl gave Jarvis a pointed look, turned on his heel and was gone.  Cracker scurried off behind him.
    Jarvis was in total shock.  This could NOT be happening to him.  How the fuck was he supposed to just let this shit fly?  Here he was sitting at another man's breakfast table in another man's house.  A man, by the way, who just last night forced his dick up his ass!  It was all just too crazy for words.  He had to do something.  He had no clue what he had o do, but he had to move from the spot he was stuck in and DO SOMETHING!
    Getting up from the chair, Jarvis looked awkwardly around the dining room.  He was angry, his ass was sore, he was emotionally numb.  More than anything, though, he was confused.  He needed information.  He walked into the den.  He remembered that he had seen a computer in there.  He found it and breathed a sigh of relief  to find that it was not password protected.
    Jarvis is no computer wiz, but he knew how to use Google.  He began to research the laws concerning sponsorship.  It turns out that the sponsor DID have the right to petition the court to enslave his charge. It turns out that everything that everything Carl said was  true.  He could easily have Jarvis enslaved for just about any reason.  This took all the wind out of Jarvis' sails.  Here he had built up all this righteous indignation, only to find out that he didn't have a leg to stand on.  It was either be this black man's bitch, or spend the rest of his life as a slave.  Jarvis did NOT want to be a slave.  He would do anything to avoid it.
    Several hours later, when Carl got home, he followed the heavenly aroma to the dining room and was greeted by the sight of Jarvis standing next to the table.  In front of him were two and a half inch thick ribeye steaks with loaded baked potatoes and steamed broccoli.  Jarvis had found the steaks in the freezer, the potatoes in the cubbard and the broccoli in the veggie crisper.
    Carl looked pleased but said nothing.  The two ate in relative silence. Each man lost in his own thoughts while cracker rushed to serve them both.  Carl's thoughts were consumed with his unusually full work load and Jarvis was concerned with how he would get along with this man who was now, for all intents and purposes, his owner.  "Say," Carl said as they both finished their dinner, "There's an SFL game on tonight, you wanna watch with me?"
    The Slave Football League is very much like the NFL, except that all of the players and coaches are slaves.  Because of this, there are fewer rules and the contestants often end up bloody.  Jarvis hated to admit it, but the SFL was one of his guilty pleasures.  He knew that as a white man, he should not contribute to the degradation of his own race, but he couldn't help it.  He would even bet on a game when he could spare a few extra bucks.  He had, however, never sat and watched a game with a black man.  It just seemed wrong, somehow.  But how could he refuse this gesture from Carl without ruffling any feathers?  He decided that he couldn't.
    "Sure!"  He was trying not to sound nervous.  "Who's playing?"
    "The Dallas Crackerboys and the Pittsberg Peckerwoods."  Carl said, getting up from the table. "The Peckerwoods are three point favs, but I got 1000 bucks on the Crackerboys."
    Jarvis followed Carl into the den which was right off the dining room.  The room was dominated by the biggest flatscreen TV that Jarvis had ever seen.  It took up almost the entire wall.  there were three plush black leather recliners in the middle of the floor facing the TV.  Carl took one and Jarvis followed suit leaving one chair between them. "You smoke, Jarvis?  I got some 'G' that I brought back from Kingston last month."
    Jarvis knew that 'G' was short for Ganja.  He loved to smoke weed, but since it had been legalized across the country, they were taxing the shit out of it, and he could hardly afford the cheap domestic trash, let alone the good shit from Jamaica.  "Hell yeah!" He said.
    Carl sent Cracker to fetch Rebel.  "The boy rolls a mean blunt" Carl had said.  Cracker knelt down in front of the TV and turned on the game.  The Crackerboys were already up by seven.  When Rebel came into the room he was carrying an aluminum cookie tin and a small metal serving tray.  The slave fell to his knees and kissed his master's feet in greeting, then he bowed deeply to Jarvis.  He moved the chair between the two men, and knelt in the empty space and proceeded to roll two of the fattest blunts Jarvis had ever seen.
    Once Rebel had finished rolling the blunts, he lit one for each of the free men.  He knew what his next task was, and he hated it, but what was he to do?  At least Cracker had brought him a glass of water.  He positioned himself for a long stay and opened his mouth.
    Jarvis took a long drag off the blunt and tried not to cough as he held the smoke in.  Now THIS, he could get used to, he thought as the wave of euphoria overtook him.  It was then that he realize that there was no ashtray. His considerable high was almost blown, however when he looked over at Carl and saw him dump his ashes into Rebel's open mouth.  Jarvis looked on in disbelief.  Not only did Carl dump his ashes into the slave's mouth, but Rebel dutifully swallowed those ashes.
    Jarvis was in shock.  He could keep his mouth shut.  "How can you do this?"
    Carl was so engrossed in the game that he almost didn't hear the question. "Huh?"
    "How can you treat a human being like an object."
    "This IS an object."  Carl said, motioning toward the slave kneeling between them. "A living breathing object, but still an object."  He motioned for cracker to turn the volume down on the tv. "See Jarvis, that's something you need to get a handle on.  Like it or not we live in a slave society.  That is reality.  And in reality, this is just a slave, a piece of property, human livestock whatever you want to call it.  MY property, and I can do anything with it that I want.  I can take a knife and slice his throat if I want and the only consequences I'll suffer is having a blood stain that won't come out of my expensive imported rug."  He looked down at the now obviously terrified slave.  Then he put his hand out to stroke the honky's head, almost lovingly. "No need to worry, boy.  You're too valuable to me for that."
    Jarvis was a bit taken aback by this show of affection. "But it all just seems so unfair."
    "No more unfair than the 250 years of slavery that black people suffered under white rule, and all the discrimination in the years since.  Don't forget that.  Now, the fact of the matter is that this is life, fair or not.  Yes, honkies like you have been reduced to second class citizens, hell, THIRD class!  But slaves are not citizens at all, shit, they are not even human beings anymore, is that what you want? Cause if it is, I could always use another fucking ashtray."
    Jarvis knew that Carl was right.  He also knew that He would make good on his threat.  Hell, the proof was kneeling right there between the two of them.  If Carl would do this to Rebel, he would not hesitate to do it to Jarvis as well.  Jarvis just sat there without saying anything for a moment.  Then, looking Carl directly in the eye, he reached over and dumped his ashes directly into Rebel's open mouth.  It was his acknowledgement of everything Carl had just said, and his submission to the status quo.  After that, he sat back in his recliner, watched the game and enjoyed one of the best blunts he had ever had.
    Over the next two weeks, things settled into a regular routine.  Carl set up a household account so that Jarvis would have all the money he needed to do his job.  He did all the shopping and prepared the meals for Carl and himself.  He did some light cleaning, but he hired a service to do any heavy stuff.  He set up account with a pool service to come out twice a week to clean the pool.  It was the best job Jarvis had ever had.  He enjoyed a life of relative luxury, especially compared to the life he lived before.
    Things were going really well for Jarvis, he had an easy job and no bills.  He even made enough money to buy a cheap cash car.  It was a piece of shit, but it was way better than riding the bus.  It was great having a little bit of cash in his pocket.  Carl made sure that his whitey taxes were paid in full and on time.  In fact, it was Carl who had taken the money out of Jarvis' weekly check to save for the car.  Actually Carl had turned out to be a really cool guy.  He treated Jarvis like an equal and gave him full reign over household things.
    Even with things going so well though, Jarvis couldn't help but think that something bad was gonna happen.  Like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. After 3 months of being Carl's houseboy...it did.  In all this time, The three slaves had apparently managed to keep Carl sexually satisfied.  That is until one night when Carl came in late from the corner bar.  He didn't do this often, but it wasn't unheard of.  When Jarvis heard him come in, he ran upstairs to see if he needed anything.  Jarvis had learned that Carl liked him to be somewhat solicitous.  When Jarvis got upstairs, he found Carl sitting on the side of his bed.
    "Hey, Carl," He said, sticking his head in the door but not completely entering the room.  "You need anything before I hit the hay?"
    Carl, obviously drunk, gave Jarvis a strange look.  A look that made his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.  "Yeah, I need something."  Carl said.  "Come in."
    Hesitantly, Jarvis stepped in.  "Whatcha need?"
    "Take your clothes off."
    Damn, Jarvis thought to himself.  He just KNEW that things had been going too well.  What the fuck was he gonna do now.  Shit, he didn't have much choice, did he? "Carl." he said feebly.  "You're drunk.  Why don't you get some sleep, huh?"
    "I will," Carl said as he got up and walked, wobbly toward Jarvis, who instinctively took a step back.  "I'll get some sleep in a minute.  But I wanna see you naked first."
    "Carl, please."  Jarvis pleaded.
    "Shut up, boy." Carl said putting a finger to Jarvis' lips.  "I said I wanna SEE you naked...not HEAR you naked, hehe."  He chucked at his half joke.
    Jarvis, however, was not laughing.  He was terrified.  He had tried to prepare himself for this.  Tried to tell himself that it was a small price to pay to live a better life than any other white person he knew.  He thought that he had convinced himself that he could handle it.  Even as Carl started impatiently ripping Jarvis' clothes off, he just stood there rigidly.  He knew that there would be trouble if he resisted.  He looked down and saw his favorite T-shirt fall around his bare feet in tatters.  He allowed his eyes to wander back up to look at himself in the mirrored headboard on Carl's bed.  His thin, but muscular torso was covered in tattoos.  He looked like a man.  But as his boxers were ripped off, revealing his flaccid but still respectably sized dick, he didn't feel like one.  He didn't know WHAT he felt like, but not a man.  To make things worse, that very same dick that he used to think of as his best friend began to betray him, and stiffen.
    No matter what Jarvis had prepared himself for, he simply REFUSED to be a willing participant in his own degradation.  So as Carl spun him around and pushed him onto the bed on his back, Jarvis stiffened a bit, but he willed himself to not resist.  He went limp and allowed Carl to do as he pleased.  He gasped breathlessly as Carl basically fell on top of him, bringing the two men face to face.  Jarvis tried to plead with his eyes, but they were met with a blind lust that he knew that he would never escape.
    Carl used his knees to spread Jarvis' legs enough to position himself between them.  Then he reached back on either side and grabbed Jarvis' legs behind the knees and lifted them until the ankles rested on his shoulders on either side of head.  Carl was still looking Jarvis in the eye, but Jarvis turned his head to the side. "No," He said gruffly, "look at me, boy.  I want you to KNOW who the REAL MAN is."  He grabbed Jarvis' chin and forced his head around so that he could look into those eyes.  "Damn, boy."  He said, his voice softening a bit.  "You got me so hot, I'm leakin' all over the place.  He reached down and gathered a bit of his own precum on his index finger.  "Taste it."  He told Jarvis, holding the slick and shiny finger up to the honky's tightly clenched lips.  For his part, Jarvis just stared at him a strange mix of fear and defiance clouding his face. "I said, taste it bitch!" Carl tried to shove his finger into Jarvis' mouth, but once past the lips he was met with an impenetrable wall of teeth.  Undaunted, he roughly moved his finger around, spreading his precum all over Jarvis' teeth and gums.  That done, he reached down to his own dick and began to rub the tip of it between Jarvis' ass cheeks.  Jarvis had a little white boy ass, so this position left his hole totally exposed and accessible.  Soon, Jarvis' asshole was slick with Carl's ample precum.  Carl used his finger to move it around a bit.
    As all of his was going on, Jarvis couldn't help but realize that, even though Carl was mad drunk, he was definitely being more gentle than he had been the night that He and his friend Andre' had raped him.  Compared to that, this was downright loving.  That comparison changed rather abruptly, however, when next Carl rammed his rock hard ebony monster balls-deep into his asshole, effectively ripping him apart. Jarvis let out a scream that was more bitch than he, himself, had ever thought he was capable of.
    After one or two good hard pumps, Carl leaned in bringing his face down to meet Jarvis'.  This put more of his weight on top of Jarvis making it a bit more difficult to breath.  Carl, his hands free now, reached up and grabbed Jarvis wrists,  pinning them to the bed.  Jarvis couldn't believe how strong Carl was.  He found himself basically folded in half with his knees tucked under his own arm pits leaving his bare feet waving in the air on either side of Carl's head, and his arms pinned to the bed above his head by the wrists.  He was completely immobile, and completely at the mercy of the man on top of him.
    Carl looked down into Jarvis' face, so masculine with it's mustache and goatee.  His strong, square jawline delineated by his pencil line beard.  Jarvis' was the face of strength and masculinity.  A strong face.  A MAN's face.  Carl looked down into this strong man's face, opened his mouth and hacked the biggest loogy he could muster and spit directly into the center of it.  "Honky Bitch!" He said gruffly and then began to piston fuck that cute little white boy ass.    Jarvis couldn't believe this was happening to him.  Carl had just spit in his face! Like he was some piece of shit.  A fucking piece of meat.  Hell, Carl was treating him like he was some two bit slave whore.  Then it hit him, just as the initial pain began to lessen, that is exactly what he was.  A slave whore.  Worse even, a slave has no choice.  Jarvis is a free man, and here he lay being brutally fucked by a man.  And he lay there of his own accord, a free man being used like a slave whore.  But he knew that there was nothing he could do about it.  If he wanted to maintain some semblance of his freedom, this is something he would just have to endure.  He would have to become the slave whore that Carl wanted him to be.  Something broke in Jarvis that night, and as his body relaxed, he felt his tension slipping away, he felt his pain slipping away, he felt his pride slipping away.  Thrust after thrust, Jarvis allowed himself to enjoy the fullness of being filled by Carl's massive member and long for it's return when it was pulled out.  He felt himself turning into the whore that Carl saw him as.  And when next, Carl hocked up a loogy, Jarvis didn't turn his face away from it, he opened his mouth and willingly accepted it.  Jarvis the man was gone, replaced by Jarvis...the whore.
    When it was over and Carl had shot he seed deep into Jarvis' now gaping asshole, he climbed into bed beside Jarvis...and pushed him out onto the floor.  "When you get downstairs, send cracker up here to clean me up."
    Jarvis stood there on wobbly legs, shaking and cold.  He looked at Carl's long muscular form sprawled out on the bed, naked and glistening with sweat.  He seemed to be looking at it with new eyes.  It seemed somehow beautiful.  Strong and virile.
    "I'll do that for you."  He heard himself say.  He took Carl's silence as approval.  He went into the bathroom, wet a towel with warm water and came back into the room to find Carl snoring lightly.  Jarvis took the towel and starting from the neck, wiped down Carl's entire body, gently so as not to wake him.  It was when he got to the midsection that he noticed that Carl's dick was not only huge, but it was BLACK, at least two shades darker than the rest of his body with a slightly lighter thick mushroom head.  After wiping it clean with the towel that he had just refreshed, Jarvis knelt between Carl's wide spread legs and leaned his face towards that beautiful piece of meat.  The strong musky aroma met his nostrils and filled his head.  When his face got close enough, his tongue darted out tentatively.  He just had to taste it.  A bit salty but otherwise pleasant.  He wanted to put it in his mouth, but that would have to wait for another time.  Jarvis took one last whiff of Carl's manly scent and continued to wipe down his legs and even his big black feet, kissing the tip of the right big toe for good measure.  The task completed, he got up and turned to leave.
    As he got to the door, he turned at the sound of Carl's groggy voice. "I knew you'd come around, boy."  Jarvis didn't respond, but smiled nervously and left the room.  That night, he jacked off thinking of being filled with Carl's huge dick.
    As time went on, Carl got into the habit of fucking Jarvis several times a week.  It wasn't something they talked about, it was just something that was done.  The two men still watched sports together and basically became friends, except that whenever Carl got horny for Jarvis' ass, he simply took it.  And Jarvis, the whore, loved every minute of it.  He had even gotten Cracker to give him some pointers on keeping himself clean on the inside.  Carl expressed his gratitude with more frequent fuckings.  Even though Jarvis maintained his free status, he willingly became Carl's eager slave whore...and he wouldn't have it any other way.

THE END
  
    


5 comments:

  1. As usual, this was a great story and this white boy would be happy to give itself to a REAL MAN---a BLACK MAN.

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  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  3. good story. the idea of being 'in service' to an alpha Black Man brings out the 'beta' in this white male.

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  4. I love a good story with a proper relationship, a pink boy serving a real man. Thank you Sir

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