Terra Noir
 By Sir Kinyon with junior wayne


 JAMAL 2070 (present)

 I walked into my supervisor's plush office to drop off a report that I had been busting my ass on for the last two hours. When I walked in, Mr Kinji was sitting behind his large desk being enthusiasticly serviced by a beautiful blonde slaveboy. There was a time when this would have shocked me, but now, because of the society we live in, scenes like this are commonplace. "Here's the report you asked for John", I said, placing the thick folder on the edge of his desk. "Thanks Jamal," He said casually, as if the slave wasn't vigarously sucking and slurping on his dick. "I'll review it, and get back to you." He must have noticed me looking down at the slave. "This is jb," he said indicating the slave, "short for joe blow. I named him that because he's so good at what he does. You wanna try him out?" "No thanks, John. Got alot of work to do before we lay foundation on the new wing. I ordered 50 construction honkies for the job. That's all it will take." Construction slaves were very easy to come by, and much cheaper to rent than to own. "Alright," John said. "That new research wing, is gonna be very important to the community. I'm excited about it." John paused for a second. He placed both his hands on the back of the slaveboy's head and held him there. John threw his head back as he obviously shot down the honky's throat. After a few seconds he recovered enough to remember that I was still in the room. "Damn, you really should try him. He's got a real hot mouth." "As I can see, hehe" I said, actually tempted to take a short break and sample the boy's talents. He really was a beautiful piece of slavemeat. "But I really need to get back to work. I'll take a raincheck." I left John's office and headed back toward my own. 1 My Name is Jamal Franklin. I am 38 years old and I am the CFO of the largest hospital on Terra Noir. It sounds grand, but in truth, I am basically a glorified accountant. It's a rewarding job, but it's still just that, a job. I spend most of my days sitting behind a desk doing paperwork. Occasionally I get to leave my desk for a meeting with one banker or another. Every now and then a doctor comes into my office to ask for funding for some medical machine or other. But for the most part, it's just me behind my desk...doing paperwork. Not what I wanted to do with my life. Don't get me wrong, I love life here on Terra Noir. We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful planet to call our own. It was very strange at first to be here with all of these beautiful trees and fruits and flowers but no animals. Not even any insects. At night, out in the wilderness away from the lights of the city you can hear absolute silence. And without smog and other chemicals that polluted the Earth's atmosphere, on a clear night the stars are so bright that it almost looks like daytime. I've been here for close to 20 years now, and I am still amazed at the beauty of this planet. When I leave my boss's office, I decide that I'm gonna knock off a little early and head for the house. I've had a long day on a job that I don't really like, and I deserve a little break. One of the few things that I like about my job is the pay. By Noirian standards, I am quite wealthy, but by old Earth standards I would be considered filthy rich. Of course, being a First Settler, I had a pretty big head start. When I first got here, I had a large house built for me on a huge plot of land. All to do exactly what I wanted to do with. I decided to rent out a construction crew and have them build a bunch of smaller houses on my property. By the time the second wave of settlers arrived, I had plenty of renters for these houses. I decided that since it's such a beautiful day, I would walk home. Usually, when I leave early, I would call home and have my slave send a pony trap for me, but today, I'll just take a leisurely walk. I actually don't live far. The hospital is close to the edge of town, and my house is just about 5 miles outside of town. As I leave the hospital, I stop to soak up some of the heat from the sun, which, at 1:30pm is still high overhead. Jamal 2044 Earth I was a 12 year old living in Texas when the news was announced that an Earthlike planet had been discovered. It had actually been discovered before I was born, but the information had been witheld until then. I had always been fascinated by all things science fiction. And space travel, for me was at the top of the heap. So it was no surprise to me when it was announced that the Discoverer of Record for this new planet was Howard A. Wyatt. Howard Wyatt was known as the father of modern space travel because of his invention now called "The Wyatt Drive." After the development of this new technology, a NASA mission to Jupiter which usually took at least two years under perfect conditions, 2 now took about a week. It was a true breakthrough and NASA did everything it could to get it's hands on the new technology. Mr. Wyatt, however, was not only an astrophysics genious, but he was also a financial one. During the developement of his new drive, he'd secured very tightly held patents for just about every component. And since NASA couldn't get ahold of the technology for itself it was forced to lease vehicles from Wyatt Astronautical Industries just to do it's work. To NASA's chagrin, Wyatt also had contracts with every other space agency on the planet. Oh, did I mention that Howard Wyatt was a black man? Yes, the man had went from billionaire to trillionaire over the course of two were very few others), were automatically given consideration. When I found out that I had been chosen, I expected that my life would eventually change drastically, but I did not expect that the change would be immediate. I was informed that the ship woud be leaving Earth in one month's time. I spent the majority of that month being prepared for the actual trip and for what to expect when we got to the planet. I learned that the trip would take about five years, but without the Wyatt Drive, it would take closer to 50. We were to travel on two huge ships that were designed for this specific purpose. We weren't able to see the actual ships because they were docked in space. Apparently they were built in space because they were way too big to be brought into the Earths atmosphere. When I was informed of my selection for the new colony, I was asked if I had any immediate family that would be coming with me. Turns out I didn't. I am an only child and both my parents were killed in a car accident when I was very young. I lived with my grandmother until I went to college and have been on my own since then. She died very shortly after my college graduation. I was kind of jealous when I saw that so many families were going to the new settlement. There were couples with kids, couples without kids, I even noticed a few families with three generations. I kinda felt like a lone wolf until I was informed that out of the 1000 people making trip on the same ship that I would be on, about 300 of them were single individuals like myself. That made me feel a bit better. Maybe I would meet someone and fall in love and live happily ever after on the new planet. Yeah, a fairytale ending. Only in this fairytale, Prince Charming would fall in love and be rescued by Prince Valient. See, I've known that I was gay since I was about 14 and couldn't stop my dick from getting hard when I looked at whiteboys. I'm not ONLY attracted to whiteboys, mind you, but they are the ones who really get me going. Anyway I wouldn't be seeing any whiteboys on THIS trip...or so I thought. On the night before we were to leave, I was so excited that I couldn't sleep. I lay in my bed looking up at the ceiling with my hands laying on my chest and twiddling my thumbs. So many things were racing through my head. We had been assured that everything was safe. There were, of course, no inhabitants on the planet. In fact, there was no animal life on the planet whatsoever. That seemed very strange to my but I trusted the scientists to know what they were talking about. I was just nervous. At one point, I got up and roamed around my little apartment, now empty because everything had already been packed up and sent to the ship for storage. They had told us that we could bring anything and everything we wanted. I needed to get to sleep because I had to get up early in the morning. I knew what I had to do. Any man knows that if you're having trouble sleeping, just put on some porn, get a good nut and before you know it, you've drifted off to sleep. One of the few things that I hadn't sent ahead to the ship was my laptop. Just couldn't live without it. Well, for one thing, it held all my porn. One thing that alot of people didn't know about me is that i am somewhat of a porn junkie. And interracial Dom/sub porn was my 4 favorite. Nothing turned me on more than seeing a sexy whiteboy being completely dominated by a big black man. I have always been dominant sexually, but had held back those tendancies in every other aspect of my life. Being a big black man, I can be somewhat intimidating to the white people around me. As a result, I have cultivated a very cordial and friendly demeanor. One that wouldn't scare the white people. Even through all of this, my dominant nature survived. And many a whiteboy met on the intrnet caught the full force of it. Most came back for more. Anyway, I had downloaded all the interracial porn I could find to take with me. I had no idea if any would be available to me in the new settlement. As usual, I jacked off and was almost instantly asleep. The next morning, I woke up still a bit sleepy but very excited and eager to go. I hopped out of bed, showered and shaved. I packed up my computer and looked around to make sure that I didn't forget anything. Once I had gathered up the few bags I had and walked to the door, I turned around to take one last look at my tiny little apartment. This would be the last time I saw it. "Good Riddence", I said outloud to no one in particular. I went outside to find a large black Lincoln Towncar waiting on me. Once I got in, I saw that there were already four people inside. On the way to the airstrip, the five of us exchanged pleasantries, but most of the trip we rode in silence. There were two other guys and two women. I immediately recognized one of the men as a local congressman and well known black activist. He was very cordial inspite of his fame. The other man was a doctor. I was surprised when he told me this because he looked like he couldn't be more than 25 or 26 years old. The two women were twin sisters, one was a teacher and the other was a dietition. Surprisingly, after the pleasantries were over, everyone kinda fell into a companionable silence. I had seen many photos of the shuttle and also of the ship, but I was still surprised as the sheer size of the thing. It was easily the size of a football stadium. Kinda like a big box on stilts. The Towncar pulled into the airfield and right up to the ramp. The driver came around and opened the door and we all filed out. I was impressed, but it was nothing compared to the shuttle. As we walked up the ramp, a tuxedoed older gentleman stepped out to greet us. "Greetings," he said, "Welcome to Shuttle 7. Please step the the left and watch your step. Steward will show you to your seats." When we stepped insde the darkened door, we were led into a very well lit room. I expected it to look like an airplane, but it was nothing like that. It was more like a huge hotel lobby. There were plush leather couches and chairs everywhere seperated into little lounge areas. There were many people sitting around some were engaged in lively conversation, others were lost in solitary thought. Some were shooting warning glances at wayward children, while others were cooing at tiny babies. There was a general mood of comeraderie and well-being. Everywhere I looked I saw black people smiling and greeting each other like old friends. This was just the shuttle to transport us to the ship. If Mr. Wyatt had made the transport this plush, surely he spared no expense on the ship that would be our home for the next five years. 5 BRAD 2060 Earth, approx 5 years before it's destruction When we first heard of the coming disaster, the reaction was no different than in the movies. There was widespread panic, looting, and all the things you would expect. What made everything worse was that it all could have been avoided. For years, environmentalists had been telling anyone who would listen that we were destroying our planet, but all of their cries of doom seemed so dramatized and far off in the future that no one really cared. Well, after a hundred years of petrolium plants and chemical companies polluting the air, it was finally all coming back to haunt us. It was announced that within 5 years, the Earth's atmosphere would become flamable. I am not a scientist, so I didn't fully understand everything they were saying, but one thing I DID understand was that after 5 years just about anything would ignite the atmosphere. A volcano, meteor, hell even a house fire, could set a fire in the sky that would not only consume the breathable atmosphere, but would also rain fire down on us. It will literally be the end of all life on Earth. And there was nothing we could do about it. It seemed that there was no hope. That is, until we received communication from The Nigger Planet. The official name of the planet is Terra Noir, but it is called "The Nigger Planet" because the guy who discovered it was some black billionaire who only allowed black people to migrate there. So many niggers have moved there that it has become very rare to see one here on earth. And the ones that are left have learned to stay to themselves. Kinda dangerous for them now. There is alot of hatred and violence toward the niggers. But even with all of this, the niggers still offered to help. Some here, however, didn't view it as help at all. See, the communique outlined the terms of the deal. Anyone who wasn't black would be required to sign a contract committing himself to a period of indentured servatude. In other words, we would basically be their slaves. I had never really had any problem with niggers, until all that bullshit went down. Who the fuck do they think they are? They think they are better than whites? I have always been a good guy. I work 10 hours a day at a car manufacturer. Never did anything wrong really. Well, unless you count women. I took after my dad in that respect. Hey, it's not my fault that I'm good looking. I am 6'2" tall and weigh 210lbs...pure muscle. When I am not at work, I'm in the gym. I have sandy blonde hair that I keep a bit messy looking. Add green eyes to the mix and you can see why the ladies love me. "Oh, Brad," one bitch always said, "I just love your eyes!" Women were always complimenting me. But that just makes me want to fuck 'em and kick 'em out. But they just keep on coming. 6 Anyway, let's just say that I have always been pretty popular with thr ladies. No shortage of pussy. When we got word of the message from the nigger planet, I dismissed it. There is no way I was gonna sign my life away. One day, about a year and a half before the five years was up, I remember seeing on the news the large shuttles coming out of the sky carrying people up to what I assumed whas a huge ship in the sky. They said that the ship was way too big to bring into the atmosphere, so these small shuttles were being used. Hell, they didn't look small to me. It looked like it would barely fit into a footbal stadium. On the news, they showed hundreds of black people lined up to board the shuttles. But that wasn't all. There were hundreds of protesters with signs that said "Niggers go home" and "No white slaves for you niggers." A few even said, "Rather die than be a nigger's slave!" I had to think about that. Would I rather die a fiery death than be an indentured servant for a little while? I mean, how bad could it be? And when it's over, I'll be free to do whatever the hell I want to do. And the prospect of going into space and living on a whole different planet? I have to admit, it's really exciting. Once all the blacks that wanted to go had been transported to the ship, the announcement was made that there was plenty of room for others who wanted to be rescued. I was so surprised to see so many non blacks queuing up to to take the trip. Literally thousands. As I sat at home on my couch, I couldn't help but think to myself, "what if this was the last chance? What if there would be no more rescue ships?" I made a decision. I would at least go down to the launch site, and if I still felt the same way when I got there, I would go. The news had said that there would be very little storage space on the transports so we were asked to keep everything down to the absolute bare minimum. I didn't have much that I wanted to take anyway. I called my sister in California and told her that I was going, and was not surprized to learn that she was about to call me with the same news. Maybe we would be able to find each other on the ship. It was a five year trip to the Nigg...to Terra Noir. Gotta stop thinking of it as the Nigga Planet. Anyway, with that much time, we would find each other no matter how big the ship is. After hanging up with my sister, I went around my house, grabbing the things that I was sure that I couldn't live without: my wallet, my small photo album, and a few nicknacks that I just couldn't leave behind. Whenever I'm nervous, it always shows up in my stomach. And as I pulled through the gate at the airfield, that nervousness was definitely making itself known. I felt like I had to throw up, belch, and take a shit all at the same time. But I kept going regardless. I got out, grabbed my bag and only then realized that this could very well be the last time I see my old clunker. I walked around the front, leaned against the hood and and surveyed the scene. Dominating the landscape, of course, was the shuttle. I had seen them on the news so I kinda knew what to expect, but I was not ready for it to be so huge and imposing. Looked like a big box..literally. Well, a rectangular shaped box with 7 rounded corners and cylendrical anti-grav generators four on each of the long sides and two on each short side all vertical so as to be parallel to each other. Emblazzoned on the side of the big black box were the words "TERRA NOIR". I chuckled to myself as I pictured what it would look like if it had said "Nigga Planet". Tearing my gaze away from the imposing shuttle which, I noted mentally, was indeed the size of a football stadium, I saw long lines of people. All colors except black, but mostly white. Some were waiting in line to board the shuttle, but many others were standing around reading what I assumed were their indenturement contracts. Well, that's the first thing I had to do...get my hands on a contract. As it turned out, the contracts were everywhere. Boxes and boxes of them. I walked over and picked one up then grabbed a pen and a clipboard. I stood there beside my car and read the contract. Now, I won't say that I have dealt with very many contracts, and you know that I am a factory worker and not a lawyer. But it looked pretty basic to me. It stated that if I am allowed to board this rescue ship, I agree to submit myself to a five year period of indentured servitude to the central government of Terra Noir. It's a five year trip. Hell, that means that when I get there, I'll be free! I quickly signed the contract and went to stand in line to board the shuttle. Standing there in line, my spirits were higher than they had been in a while. Hell, what could they possibly have for Me to do as a servant on a spaceship? Hell, wait tables? Wash dishes? I could do that for five years if it will save my life. Even though the line moved surprisingly fast, I still had plenty of time listen to and even join in a few conversations around me. One such conversation I liked because it was one that we all agreed on. The niggers are stupid to bring all these whites and other races to their planet. It won't take long for Terra Noir to become Terra Blanc. I wasn't so sure about that, but with all of us whites there, surely it won't take long before we are in charge. Feeling bolstered by the conversation, I strode proudly up to the uniformed black man at the top of the ramp that led to the door of the immense shuttle. He was very polite, with a big ol' cheesy grin. Kinda like those niggers you see in the old movies, but at least he was extra nice. When I handed him the contract, he looked over it to make sure that the signatures were in the right place, then he ushered me inside to darkened doorway and asked Me to step to the right. As I stepped into the darkness, I moved to the right. Just as my eyes began to adjust to the darkness, I felt a little sting on the back of my neck. Before I could get my hand up to my neck to kill what I thought was a bug, everything went black. I was startled awake some time later by the sound of someone shouting. I was groggy and bleary eyed. Who the fuck was that screaming? I tried to raise up, but I banged my head. I stayed still for a few seconds to allow my head to clear. What was the last thing I remembered? Yes, I was boarding the shuttle... 8 I opened my eyes and realized that I was in a cage. And a small cage at that. I was sitting on my butt, with my knees pulled up to my chest. The roof of the cage was less than an inch above my head and the was no room to straighten my legs. I looked around the best I could. It was difficult because the cage, which was made out of what looked like chicken wire with a thinly padded rubber bottom with small holes in it, was so cramped. It looked to me like I was in a room full of cages. Yes, cages, at least a hundred of them stacked three high. And then I noticed that there was a naked man in each of the cages...a white man. It was only then that I realized that I, too, was naked. What the fuck was going on here? I didn't have to wait long to find out. After being awake only a few minutes, I heard a booming voice say: "Attention slaves! I will not repeat myself so listen carefully. Today is the first day of your new life. You are now the fully owned property of Terra Noir. Your training will begin immediately after you have been examined and classified. You are to remain silent until given permission to speak, and you will obey every order you are given without delay, or you will be punished. Today, you are a slave and will be for the rest of your life. TERRANCE 2070 Dr. Terrance Edwards stood motionless as he looked through the wallsized window in his palacial 40th floor office. He had always loved the view. And after all these years, he still marvels at the cloudless blue sky with a slight tinge of purple. Of course, as a scientist, he knew that the ever-present purple haze in the sky was from the abundance of melipromine in the atmosphere, but that didn't stop him from marvelling at it's beauty. Even at night, the stars shone with a purple hue, as did all three moons. Terrance was broken from his reverie by the soft voice of his secretary. "Dr. Edwards, the messenger from the Science Institute is here." "Send him in, Carol." Terrance heard his office door open and close, but he didn't turn around. He heard the sound of bare feet slapping against the marble floor, yet he still didn't turn. It was only when he heard the messenger's knees hit the floor that he turned to face him. What he saw was a young honky slaveboy. The slave looked to be about 19. He had closely cropped sandy blonde hair. Even in his kneeling position, Terrance could tell that the boy's body was tightly muscled. Terrance walked up to the boy who was on his knees with his head bowed and the package from the Science Institute resting steadilly on his two raised and outstretched hands. Instead of taking the package and dismissing the slave like 9 he would normally do, Terrance made a slow circle around the boy. He wanted to get a good look at him. His skin was a flawless golden tan. He had obviously come from one of the honky farms near the coast. For those who could afford to get their slaves from there, it was the best investment. "Stand up, boy." "Yes master." The slave said as he stood, still holding the package out. Terrance took that package from the boy's hand and placed it on the corner of his desk. He commanded the slave to bend over the desk. The boy complied without the slightest hesitation. "When is the last time you were fucked, boy?" Terrance asked, fingering the honky slave's asshole and finding it well-lubed. "Just this morning, master," the boy said completely without irony. "But it has been cleaned out and lubed for your pleasure as you can see, master." The boy, 3457, as he was known, didn't find the question strange at all. Serving his black masters, being used by them for whatever purpose they could find was his sole purpose. As a farm-bred slave, being used is all he has ever known. The concept of freedom was completely foreign to him. Ever since he was a pup, 3457 has known that he was a slave, everyone on Terra Noir that didn't have brown skin was a slave. And those with brown skin were superior in every way. He knew that his body was for their use and he loved being of service. Back on the honky farm, he had been taught that to serve his superiors was the highest honor a slave could have. Of course, 3457 had absolutely no say in how he was used, but he readily admitted that being fucked was his absolute favorite. And now he felt his excitement grow as he knew that this beautiful master was about fuck him. Even as the boy was thinking, he heard the master's pants being unzipped. He had hoped that the Man would fuck him on his back so he could at least see what he knew would be a big beautiful jet black dick. Unfortunately it was not to be. He felt one thick finger slide unto his asshole, then two. The boy's little pink penis swelled in excitement. Without warning, the slave felt himself being filled to bursting by the master's obviously huge dick. Slave 3457 had been trained to crave this feeling of fullness and had taken his training well. The boy let out a long low moan of pleasure as he felt the man's big balls push against his asscheeks. He knew that this meant that the dick was all the way inside him. He abslutely loved this feeling. He allowed himself to enjoy the feeling for a brief moment, but this slave's training was complete. He knew that his own pleasure was irrelevent. While the master pulled his dick out of the slave's well-lubed asshole, the boy squeezed his ass muscles as tight as he could. This made his asshole grip the dick on the outstroke, thereby giving his user the maximum amount of pleasure. Terrance fucked the whiteboy with abandon. He had two pleasure slaves back home on his estate, and a small army of household slaves, any of which he 10 could as he pleases, but few had been trained as well as this boy here. Not only was the slave pulling out all the stops in an effort to give the most pleasure possible, he seemed to be enjoying himself emmensely in the process. His own pleasure slaves had been satisfactory, but there was just something about this boy that was, well, more. Could it be that he was a bred slave? Terrance had learned early on that his preference was to purchase "wild" slaves and train them himself to his own specifications. He loved going down to the "ghetto" as they called it, where the honky slaves were allowed to breed and indeed live as close to free as possible. There are very few honkies left who can even remember life on earth, but down in the ghetto, most honkies lived as they had on earth. Oh, they know that they are slaves, but they live in their "own" houses, have jobs (mostly factory) and families. The kids go to school and learn to read and write, just as if they were free. When Terrance was in need of a new yardboy, instead of going down to the public auction he went down to the "Free Honky" dealership. He looked through their electronic catalogues. He knew that he wanted a young pup, so he searched through their database of honky slaves who had just turned 18(the youngest age a honky can be sold), and picked out a cute little redhead. The boy was a bit puny, but he was definitely strong enough for yard work. Then, accompanied by two guards armed with whips and slave prods, Terrance ventured into the ghetto to claim his new purchase. It always gave Terrance a little thrill to see the honkies scatter when he and the guards walked down the street. The three walked right up to the address where his new purchase lived with his parents. One of the guards produced a key and they walked right in. The family was sitting at the dinnertable. The mother, a portly womam with her long red hair in a bun, was the first to see them. She began to beg and cry. She knew that the strange black men were there to take one of their children. There were three male pups in the house of sellable age and 2 female, not to mention 4 underage pups. Terrance pointed to the boy that he had already bought and paid for, and the guards grabbed the slave and they dragged him of kicking and screaming. Alot of patrons of the Free Honky dealership would wait in luxurious comfort back in the showroom and watch on the monitors as his purchase was collected, but Terrance always loved to be there in person. He was a bit of a sadist at times. These "wild" honkies had a sense of being free and felt that their freedom was being unfairly taken away. These slaves were a bit more expensive because of the wide availability of bred honky slaves, but Tarrence didn't care. He enjoyed the challenge of breaking and training a wild buck. But now as he enjoyed the pleasure of this exceptionally trained bred slave, he began to think that he may want one of his own. But just any bred honky wouldn't do. He wanted THIS one. Slave 3457 was having the time of his life being fucked by this beautiful master. He loved the feel of the man's huge dick sliding in and out of his ass. Even when the man reached up and grabbed his hair and pulled his head back roughly. It just made it easier to ram his dick in his ass. Yes, the slave thought to himself, this is what life is all about, being used by a truely superior man and bringing him pleasure. The slave heard his user moan with pleasure and his 11 chest swelled with pride. He redoubled his efforts to massage the man's dick with his ass muscles, pushing out on the instroke and squeezing with all his might on the out. It never failed, men loved it. Before long the man began to slam into the slave's ass faster and harder. As the rhythm quickened, the man's breath became heavier. He kept saying "OH SHIT!" over and over, then with one last viscous slam into the slaves ass, the man held the honky slave immobile with hands on both hips as he shot rope after rope of hot cum into the honky's ass. The man was actually roaring as he came. The slave felt an extremely warm sensation spread from his tortured hole and throughout his body. As Terrance's aftershocks subsided, he collapsed onto the back of the still shuddering slave. He had fucked many a male slave since his arrival on Terra Noir, but this was by far the best. He layed there and caught his breath with his dick still buried in the boy's ass. Once he felt he could trust his legs not to buckle, he slowly pulled his dick out of the still slowly contracting hole. It felt so good. As soon as he pulled out and stood up, the boy slid off the desk, turned and dropped to his knees. Without hesitation, the slave smoothly slipped his tongue and mouth over his user's dick thorouthly cleaning off all of the cum, lube and ass juices. Once he was done, the honky resumed his "display position" ; resting on his haunches with his hands crossed in the small of his back, knees wide with feet together, back straight thrust out chest and head bowed with eyes glued to a spot on the floor about a foot in front of him. "Thank you for allowing this slave to please you, master." "Slave maintainance is down the hall, boy. Go get cleaned up." Terrance said, dismissively. "Get back here when you're done." As soon as the boy scurried out the door, walking kinda funny with cum oozing out of his asshole and dripping down the inside of his thighs, Terrance picked up his phone. "Carol," he said to his secretary, "Get the owner of that messenger service on the phone. I want to buy this slaveboy from him. I'll pay whatever he asks. BRAD A slave for the rest of my life? Surely I must have heard wrong. The contract I signed was for a period of five years. If I had heard it wrong, I wasn't the only one, because suddenly everyone started yelling their protests. There must have been thousands of people in these tiny cages because the noise was so loud that I could barely hear myself think, let alone distinguish one angry voice from another. The protest was short lived, however. Completely without warning, the universe seemed to explode into pain. After a few moments, the pain stopped as abruptly as it had started. As the haze began to clear I realized that I wasn't the only one screaming. But soon those, screams began to die out as well. As the cocophany subsided, the voice on the loudspeaker broke in. "Now that we have your attention. The cages you are in are wired to produce an 12 electrical charge all the guards and trainers have a device that will activate this charge. Any more outbursts like that last one and you will get another dose of it. I suggest you keep quiet. As I said before, you are now slaves and will be so for the rest of your life." He paused to see if the noise would start again. There were some murmurs, but most of us had learned our lesson. "Being that you are only slaves, you are not owed an explaination, but I will give you one anyway. Before you boarded the shuttle that brought you to the ship, each of you signed a contract agreeing to a five year period indentured servitude. In a little over a year from now, when life on Earth will unfortunately be destroyed, those contracts will become null and void. Therefore, under Terran law you as property of the state will remain so until such a time as the government decides to sell you by auction or other means. Under Terran Law you, as persons of non-African decent will no longer be classified as human beings, but as livestock. The only reprieve from this condition will be the event of your death, for some of you this will come much sooner than others." The voice continued to give us instructions, but how the hell were we supposed to remember all this shit? Hell, I'm still reeling from waking up in a fucking cage and being informed that I was now a slave. Just how the hell is that supposed to affect my mental state? He said that we would be fed twice a day starting tomorrow. I noticed that there was a naked white guy walking up and down the isles. No, actually I saw two of them, both completely naked, just like every other white person in the room. The white boy was carrying what looked like some sort of large pouch with a long nozzle on it. The disembodied voice informed us that even though we would only be fed twice a day, water would always be made available to us by the water boys that we see patroling to isles. Then strangely, he said that these waterboys, who are slaves just like we are, are trained to "water us" in a very particular way. Apparently, we were not to use our hands at all. The waterboy would stick the nozzle into our mouths and squeeze the water in. Just as I was thinking to myself that they are treating us like animals, the man on the speaker said that we were now just animals and would be treated as such. Apparently this was too much. The room exploded once again in curses and indignant shouts. And once again those shouts brought punishment for everyone in the room. I didn't know how much of that I could take. I was on the top row of cages, but I could easilly see the guy below me who was vomiting due to the pain and hearing the poor guy below him scream in surprise as the foul substance rained down on him. It was disgusting. I was glad that I was on the top row of cages. Good thing the man said that we would be hosed down twice a day. Like animals. The next couple of days went exactly as expected. Of course, the only way we could tell the days apart was the dimming of the harsh floresent lights at "night." Twice a day, the "water boys" came around with what they called "slave much." Just like the water, it was in a large leather looking pouch that the boys carried around their shoulders. On the first day, I couldn't wait to finallly eat something. I hadn't had a bite to eat since before I had left my place the 13 afternoon before. I was really excited to see the boy coming down the isle. When he got to the row right before mine, I could actually get a good look at him. He looked to be about 20, was very slim, but muscular. The boy was fully nude just like every other white man in the room, but it was obvious that he had been fully shaved. I mean FULLY SHAVED. There was no hair anywhere on him. No pubic hair no hair on his head, even his eyebrows were gone! When he got to me, he pushed the long nozzle into the cage. I paused to look at him, he moved the nozzle up and down to tell me to come on. There was a guard walking with him. A big black man with a name tag that said "Johnson" over one pocket and "Cracker Control" over the other. What the hell was cracker control? "Put your mouth on the nozzle, slave." Johnson said. "If you wanna get fed." I was so hungry that I just did what he said. I put my mouth on the nozzle and the slave pushed it deeper almost down my throat. As it was going in, my teeth caught on a little groove and that stopped the nozzle just before it triggered My gag reflex. as soon as it stopped, I saw the slave five the pouch a good squeese with his elbow against his ribcage. When he did, I felt this goo begin to slide down my throat. Yes, it slid directly down my throat. I had to fight down my panic because I thought i was gonna choke. I didn't, but it was a very unpleasant experience. This was my meal? This mush, squeezed down my throat? Sure enough, that's what it was. Twice a day. Jamal 2050 The shuttle trip into orbit was much smoother than I ever expected. In fact, because of the antigravity generators, there was basically no sensation of rising at all. When I brought this up, one of my fellow settlers who was an engineer, explained to me that since the antigrav generators basically nullified the effect of gravity, there was nothing to hold us down, therefore creating no inertia. No inertia, no feeling of rising. Just a slow steady ascent until were were out of the Earth's atmosphere. The only turbulance we felt was when we left Earth's atmosphere, and the antigrav generators were deactivated and the thrusters were engaged. It was more of a jolt and a slight inertial pulling, but that was it. I was somewhat disappointed that there were no windows on the shuttle, but it had been determined that on an extremely long trip like this one, it was in the best interest of first time space travelers that they not see the true dimentions of the ship they will be traveling in. It cuts down on instances of clostrophobia. I guess it worked, because when after we touched down in the shuttlebay, it still felt like we had never really left earth. On the trip up, we had been assigned quarters, so all we had to do was follow the guide to the correct section, then find the numbered door, state my name in a clear voice and the 14 door opened for me. There were a couple of surprises waiting for me in my suite, one a pleasant little surprise and the other, a completely life changing ton of bricks. I walked into the suite and was amazed by the opulence. It was set up like a small apartment, but the furnishings were obviously very expensive leather. Plush carpet, in deep forest green, which just happened to be my favorite color. The sitting room had fresh plants, bookshelves with some of my favorite books. There was a very large television set with a menu on the screen indicating that hundreds of movies and television shows were available to watch on demand. I quickly scanned down the list and was amazed to find that all my favorite movies and shows were there. It was obvious that they had done their research. I was impressed. As I walked into the bedroom, I could sense the presence of another person. Sure enough, there was a man in my room. A WHITE MAN! I had't expected to ever see another white man. And this white man was totally naked. He was kneeling with his head bowed at the foot of the bed. "Hey," I said. "What the hell is going on here?" The guy looked up at me. "I'm sorry, Master." The man said. "I was told that my being here would please you." "Master?" I said. "Why the hell are you calling me Master?" "All black men are masters." The guy said matter-of-factly. My mind was reeling. I had been told that Terra Noir was gonna be a completely black settlement, so I assumed there would be no white people. Indeed, up until this point, I hadn't seen not one white face. Now I see the first white face, here in my personal suite naked as a jaybird and calling me "Master?" Somebody was playing games. "Get out!" I said. The guy looked up at me with absolute terror in his eyes. I don't know if I had ever seen that look before outside of the movies. It really caught me off guard. "Please Master!" The man screamed. "Don't send me away. I'll be punished." "Punished?" I was confused, and a bit angry, but the pathetic look of this grown man cowering in front of me, gave me pause. "Punished how?" "The whip, master. Or the slave prod." "Wait," I said. "If I send you away they will punish you...WHIP you? Who the hell is this 'they', anyway?" "The trainers, Master." The poor guy was actually crying. "They gave me 15 a mission. A mission to brief you on the new order and to ease you into your new role as a master. If I fail they will beat me. I don't wanna ge beat again, Master." The guy was on his knees begging to stay. The look on his face was one of pleading mixed with fear and something else that I have seen in many a submissive whiteboy...arousal. And looking down into his brown eyes, my heart kinda melted. "So you are a slave? A REAL slave?" I asked. "Yes, Master, your slave if you will have me." There's that pleading arousal again. "You can stay for now." The joy on his face was unbelievable. He wrapped his arms around my legs and held tight. "Oh, thank you Master, thank you!" "Okay, okay." I said struggling to extricate myself from the whiteboy's exuberant embrace. "Let go of me." The slave immediately let go of My legs and instantly reassumed the position I found him in. On his widespread knees, feet together, hands behind his back with his head bowed. "I said that you can stay, but I need more information." I walked over to the bed, a huge four-poster, and sank down into a mattress so plush that it instantly made me sleepy. "First of all, tell me just what the hell is going on here." "Yes Master." The slave said, looking up at me. "It was decided long ago, that Terra Noir would be a slave based society. With people of African descent being Masters and served by honky slaves like myself." "And you are okay with this? What's your name, by the way?" "I don't have a name yet, Master. That is up to you as my owner. Right now, my designation is 237." The boy looked back down to the floor. "I'll call you '7' for now." I was looking at the slave a bit more closely now. He was actually really cute, and his submissive attitude was turning me on. "Now finish your spiel." "Thank you, master." The boy said, head still bowed, but looking up at me. "Dr. Wyatt, the founder of Terra Noir, is a very strong believer in Black Supremacy. He believes that honkys are destroying the earth. The discovery of Terra Noir provided an opportunity to start anew, which is why you are here, master." "Black Supremacy, huh?" I said. I believe in black supremacy as well, I just never made it known. But then again, neither did Dr. Wyatt. I thought I knew everything about the man, but I didn't know that. "And how do you feel 16 about black supremacy, 7?" The slave's face brightened a bit. "Oh, I believe in it, Master. Any black Man is superior to me in every way. I knew the truth even before i was enslaved. I think that might be why I was chosen for this service. The whiteman had his chance, Master, and he screwed things up." As he said this the slave face clouded over a bit. it was like he was embarrassed. "We committed atrocities all over the world including then enslavement of primative blacks who we knew were our superiors. It never should have happened, Master, but it did, and now we honkies have to pay..." Wow, this slave was echoing my own feelings. I had given great thought to all these things. And they were truth. I had no idea that the society on Terra Noir would be this way. But here I am. Starting a whole new life. 7 had kept talking, but I had stopped paying attention. I was just looking as him. Not only did he have a cute face, but even from his kneeling position, I could tell that he had a nice body. But then again, if he had just completed slave training, I suspect that his trainers would have made sure that he kept his body in shape. He looked to be about about my age, maybe a year or two younger. His hair, which was cropped very short, was a reddish brown. and he had a very light sprinkling of freckles across his shoulders. A ginger, I thought to myself, someone had REALLY done their homework. The slave was slim but not skinny. he looked to be about 6feet tall, which complimented well my 6'2". His skin was a bit pale, which I love. AND, he was incredibly submissive, and that turns me on more than anything else. He was still talking, but I wasn't paying attention. "Shut up, 7" It felt like a lecture. I'd had enough of those in college. It was time to test things a little bit. He had immediately stopped talking when I told him to. "Stand up, boy." I said. He stood immediately. He said that he was a slave, it was time to put that to the test. "Jumping jacks, until I say stop." Immediately, 7 began doing jumping jacks. Man, he had a beautiful body. Long and lean. With him moving like this, I would see all of his taut, sinuous muscles. At first, I felt kind of sorry for the boy. I know from experience that naked jumping jacks can be hard on the balls. I forced myself to ignore him. I got up from the bed, and took a look around for the first time. When I first entered the bedroom, the first thing I noticed was the naked white man in the room, now that he is occupied, I began to notice other things in the room. Dominating the room was a huge king sized four poster bed, set high up off the ground just like i have always liked it. When I was younger I started adding an extra mattress to my bed so that it would be higher. Well it looks like someone already did that for me. As I leisurely walked around the room, looking at the artwork, most was by black artists that I liked, I looked back at 7 who was still dutifully doing jumping jacks, I noticed that his little balls were turning red. That was he purpose of this little exercise. I told him to stop, and asked if his balls were hurting. He said yes and the relieved look on his face told me that he was glad that I told him to stop and that he thought it was over. "Continue." I said. "Until I tell you to stop." 17 With an enthusiastic "yes, Master", he started his jumping jacks again. Leaving him, I walked over to the wall there was a panel with some buttons. One of the buttons was marked "large viewpanel" I pressed the button. I heard a low rumble and then the entire wall began to rise. As it did, I was treated to the most spectacular view, I have ever seen in my life. Of course, I have seen pictures and videos of the earth from space, but it was nothing like what I was seeing through the viewport. First of all, it was all blue. I figured we must be over the pacific ocean because the whole planet looked like it was covered in water, broken up only by swirls of beautiful white clouds. We were in such a low orbit that I could bearly see the curvature of the Earth. I felt like I could jump out of the window and swan dive into the ocean. It was all so serene, I could have taken in that view for hours, but I had other pressing matters. I had all but forgotten about 7 behind me doing jumping jacks, it was his labored breathing that brought him back to mind. I turned to look at him. His pale skin was now a deep scarlet, his bottom jaw bounced with ever jumping jack he did and his mouth gaped open as he struggled to breath. I stood there and watched him for a minute or so. He really did have a beautiful body. Ideal, I would say. Well, for me anyway. I knew that alot of people didn't like gingers, but I did. I liked them alot. And this was one fine specimin. I leaned back on the bed and watched as his little pink dick bounced up and down on his now bright red ballsack. What if it was all true? What if this beautiful whiteboy was not only a genuine slave, but was also now my own personal property? Wow, I almost couldn't imagine it. "You can stop now, boy." I said. He look like he was so relieved that he could have fainted. Are your balls hurting, boy?" "Yes Master." I could tell that he was in pain. He was trying hard not to figet. If he was faking or playing at being a slave, like many of the whiteboys I had sessions with, having sore balls would definitely bring things back to reality. "Come to me, boy." Wordlessly, 7 kinda of shuffled forward to stand directly in front of me. I reached out and and gently took hold of his swollen balls. "You are to remain silent until I ask you a question." The boy nodded his head to show his obedience. "And you will maintain eye contact with me, no matter what." Again, the nod. I looked deep into the slave's eyes as I gradually increased pressure on his already battered and bruised balls. Obediently, the slave kept his eyes locked on mine. I squeezed harder. "Who's balls are these in my hand. boy?" "Yours, Master" The beautiful gingerboy said I squeezed harder. "And what can I do with them?" In obvious pain the boy said through gritted teeth, "Whatever pleases you, 18 Master." I squeezed harder. "And if it pleases me to squeeze them till they burst?" "Please do it, Master, if it pleases you." That shocked me. But one thing I learned is that a dom never let's a sub see him sweat. I squeezed harder. The slave was in obvious distress, but even with the extreme pain he was in, he never allowed his gave to leave mine. His submission made my dick hard. And if I am honest with myself, I would admit that causing this whiteboy a bit of pain was turning me on as well. "Open your mouth, boy." I said and he complied. Pain etched on his face. Still maintaining pressure on his balls with my left hand, I reached up with my right hand and inserted both my index and middle fingers into his mouth. "Suck." As soon as I said this he closed his lips around my fingers and began to suck like his life depended on it. For a moment I was lost in it, it felt so good. But then I remembered why I was doing this in the first place. I wanted to see if I could break his facade. As he sucked, I began to increase the pressure on his already tortured balls. The tighter I squeezed, the more passionately he sucked. I decided to just go for it. I squeezed his balls as hard as I could. He let out a loud moan that was definitely pain and not pleasure, but he continued to suck my finger. Most astonishingly, he never broke eye contact. Even through all of this pain, he never disobeyed one order that I had given him. I was beginning to believe his story. Abruptly, I released his balls and pulled my fingers out of his mouth at the same time. It was so abrupt that the slave let out a surprised gasp. "I'm hungry, slave." "Yes, Master." 7 said, trying to discretly wipe the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, Master. I didn't tell you about the fully stocked kitchen and pantry. You also have the option, Master, of calling down to the kitchen and having something sent up, or going down to the dining hall to eat or sending your slave to pick up something for you." "Can you cook, boy?" I asked. "Yes, Master." The boy said. "I was a fry cook at a diner before I was enslaved." "Good," I said. "I haven't had breakfast yet and I'm starving" I told the slave what I wanted for breakfast and he scurried off to the kitchen walking a bit gingerly, no doubt still feeling some pain in his balls from my rough treatment. Damn, it was all real. But it just seemed too good to be true. The white boy told me that there was some welcome literature in the bedside 19 drawer, so I pulled my shoes off and lay back on the bed. The pamplets seemed to confirm everything the boy had told me. It even had some photos taken on Terra Noir. It was definitely a beautiful place. Reading this liturature, I learned alot about what life on the ship would be like. It said that I would be afforded all the comforts of home and then some. Including a garden on each deck where I can find fresh veggies and fruits, from both Earth and Terra Noir, there were fully equipped gym facilities that included personal trainers. This was important, because healthy living was very important in the new planet. Each suite had a fully stocked kitchen and pantry, but as the slave said, there were also several places on the ship where I could go to eat and socialize with my fellow settlers. There were even a couple of night clubs. All this sounded great and I was excited about it, but what most excited me was the booklet about slaves. It informed me that Terra Noir is a slave based society, and that I was now the owner on one honky slave. According to the slavery booklet, there will be other races on Terra Noir, but the predominant two will be caucasion and Black. To my surprise, it also said that any race other than Black has been deemed sub human. And that we are encouraged to treat them as such. Any person of non-African decent is a slave. They are to be treated as livestock. My dick jumped a little as I read that. Apparently honky slaves, male and female, are to be used for any purpose it'a owner deems necessary or desirable. "The sole purpose of a honky slave is to make your life easier," the booklet said. If I have a problem with my slave of any nature, I am encouraged to call the Cracker Control. I laughed at the name. Turns out that Cracker Control is a highly specialized police force designed to handle any slave problems with swift and brutal force. Every slave on board the ship has been trained by CC officers, and just the threat of calling them should be enough to bring an unruley slave back into line. That's why 7 was so terrified of me sending him away, I thought to myself. He had experienced that punishment before. The introduction to slavery booklet had a whole section on the sexual use of slaves. It said that every slave on board has been sexually trained to fully satisfy both male and female owners. There was a chapter on a master's use of female slaves, which I skipped. I also skipped the chapter on mistress/male slave AND mistress/female slave chapters. I got to the Master's use of a mane slave chapter, and began to read. Basically, it told me that I could do whatever the hell I wanted to do. Each slave had been trained to respond submissively to any command given him. As I was reading, the slave informed me that, breakfast would be ready in a few minutes. I told him to come over and take my shoes and socks off. By this time I was laid out comfortably on the bed on my back. With the command given, 7 came over without hesitation and removed my shoes and socks. When I told him to massage my feet, he dropped to his knees and placed his hands on my feet. First of all, I was surprised that his hands were so strong. And if I didn't 20 know better, I would swear that he'd had some formal training. I asked...he hadn't. Then on the spur of the moment, I told the boy to suck my big toe. Without hesitation, he bent his head down and engulfed my big toe in his mouth. The warmth from his mouth on my toe seemed to spread from my foot and up my leg and into my crotch. Instantly my dick was hard as a rock. The boy was apparently enjoying his task. Because before I knew it, his mouth had moved from my big toe and he was giving my foot a full-fledged tongue bath. It felt so goo that i thought i was gonna but a nut right then and there. Then I remembered breakfast, I shook my foot to get the honky's attention. "Breakfast." I said. Like a shot, he was gone into the kitchen. Within minutes, 7 returned with a tray of food. I was still laying in the bed, contemplating this new set of circumstances. He stood back about sic feet from the bed. "I assume that you would like breakfast in bed, Master?" I waved him over as I was sitting up with my back against the cushioned headboard. He placed the tray over my lap on the bed. He took the lid off the tray and there was Eggs Benedict, with smoked sausage links and french toast. He had even brought three glasses, one with water, one with milk, and the other with orange juice. I felt like I was in a 5 star hotel. I could get used to this type of treatment. "Is everything to your liking, Master?" He said still standing at he side of the bed. I nodded in the affirmative with my mouth full of the best french toast I had ever tasted. With that, the boy backed up a couple paces, bowed his head and crossed his arms behind his back. I ate in silence for a few minutes, then said, "This is delicious, boy. None for you?" "I am trained to eat only honky chow, Master." The whiteboy said without raising his head, but lifting his eye toward me. "If you decide to keep me as your property, I will eat whatever you choose." "Honky Chow?" I said laughing. "They actually call it Honky Chow?!!" "Yes, Master" he said without a hint of irony. "The trainers thought it was funny." "Yeah," I said, "it is. What the hell is it?" "It is a thick mush that is specially formulated to provide us honkies with all the nurishment we need including vitamins and minerals. There is a nozzle in the kitchen..." "That's right," I said. "I read about that. It's designed to go down your throat. The book said it is used to help get rid of your gag reflex. Sounds aweful. Does it work?" 21 "Yes, Master." The boy said with his head still bowed, but looking up at me with what i swear was a seductive look in his eyes. "But I worked past my gag reflex long before I was enslaved." "Show Me." I said. Shit I had been looking at this gorgeous naked whiteboy for way too long. Fuck that! As if given the signal that he had been waiting for a long time, the honky's face brightened. He immediately stepped up and removed the tray, which I was just about finished with anyway, over to the side table. I was still wearing My jeans, so he gently reached out and unziped them. I never wear underwear. Seeing that I was going commando, 7 glanced up at me and smiled. He fished my dick out of my pants, no easy task seeing as though I was rock hard by now. At first, the whiteboy seemed taken aback by the 10 inches of black meat that he held in his hands, but that only lasted for a moment as he dipped his head and swallowed the whole thing all the way to the base. For a moment, everything went black as I closed my eyes and threw my head back. Damn, it felt good. He began to pull back slowly until his hot lips rested at the tip of my pulsing dickhead. Without warning, he plunged all the way down again in one smooth motion. I thought I was gonna shoot right then. One thing is for sure, the boy was right about not having a gag reflex. Now, I had gotten head from many a white sub, but there was something special about this one. It was like he was hungry for it. VERY hungry. Before long, I just couldn't take it anymore. I put my hands on the top of his head and pushed him roughly off my dick. He immediately backed up a few feet and looked up at me in fear, apparently thinking he had done something wrong. I got off the bed and directed him to lay on his back and let his head hang over the side. He obeyed immediately, looking relieved that I was not angry, but just changing positions. Once he was in position, I stood with my goose egg sized balls hanging down into his face. As if by instinct, he began licking them. I reached down with my right hand to position his jaw, then used my right hand to aim my dick. Then with all the force I could muster, I used my powerful hips to thrust My huge dick down his throat. Finding no resistance, I pulled out and thrust in again and again. This beautiful slave's throat had become a deep pussy for My dick. A hole to ravage as I pleased. Of course, I was used to fucking white boys' throats. It was one of my favorite pastimes. It was often that I would meet a whiteboy in a club or online take him back to my house and fuck his throat very much like this. The difference being that, back then I would always hold back to make sure that I didn't get too rough. I would stop periodically to allow the boy to catch his breath and to make sure that he was okay. This time I fought that urge. I allowed myself to fee absolutely no concern for the thing that I was thrusting my dick into. I allowed myslf to let go. This was hole for my dick, nothing more. As I mercilesslyfucked the slave's throat, I reached down and grabbed both of his arms and crossed them over his chest. With both of my hands holding his forearms down, I leaned in placing all 22 of my weight on his chest. Of course, this made it a bit more difficult for the slave under me to breathe, but I didn't give a shit, it gave me more leverage to pound my dick deeper into the hole that was there to pleasure My dick. It felt so good. I knew the slave had to be under duress, but I didn't care at that moment. I was getting pleasure from his throat and that was all that matters. At one point during my quest to find heaven at the bottom of this honky's throat, I realized that even though he could barely breathe and was obviously struggling to keep his ravaged throat from bring his last meal back up, he was STILL making sure to constrict his throat muscles tightly around my dick ans squeeze on the outstroke. This was a top notch cocksucker here. So good, in fact, that I soon began to feel that telltale tightening in my gut. I began to thrust even harder, totally ignoring the gurgling and feeble labored moaning of the thing below me. I plunged harder and faster into this slave's throat. I knew that is he was as well-trained as he seemed to be, he would be catching an occasional breath as I pulled out and before I plunged back in. I just kept going and going. Soon, I could go no further. I made one more brutal plunge into the "penis cozy" that the slave's throat had become, burying his chin into my pubic hair and feeling his nose dig into my ballsack. I held it there and my balls released their precious produce, pumping cord after cord of hot cum directly down the honky slave's throat. Once spent, I collapsed onto the boy's chest. My dick was still buried in his throat and I could feel his ragged breath from his nose against my balls. It even felt good to squeeze his head between my thighs as I absorbed the aftershocks of the best nut ever. After a few moments, I rolled over onto the bed, dislodging my slowly softening dick from the honky's throat. As soon as I landed on my back on the bed with my lower legs hanging over the side, I felt the boy spring into action. Before I had time to react, the honky had positioned himself between my knees and had my now soft dick in his mouth doing what could only be described as cleaning my dick and balls with his mouth. "Nice touch." I thought to myself. Once my dick and balls were all clean, I heard the boy say, "Thank you for using me for your pleasure, master." The voice was extremely scratchy as if the slave could barely make out the words. "I need a bath," I said, more to myself than to the slave, yet still he was up in a flash. Within' seconds, I heard the water running in the tub. Oh, yeah, I thought to myself, I could definitely get used to this. Brad Over the next week or so, the routine was the same. Feedings twice a day, cramped in the cages with no exercize. We were, however allowed to converse quitely amongst ourselves. I learned that the guy in the cage on my 23 left was named Chuck. He seemed like a pretty cool guy, but i could tell that he was way more pissed off than even I was about our situation. Almost every word that came out of his mouth was nigger this, and nigger that. He even yelled at the guards when they passed by. This would sometimes get him beat up. The guards wouldn't hesitate to pull him put of his cage and beat the shit out of him. Sometimes the guard who escorts the waterboys when they feed us, would push the boy right past Chucks cage, basically denying him water. This, of course would send Chuck into a rage and he would scream and curse the guards, who would in turn pull him out of his cell and beat his ass. It was a vicious cycle. Once, I told Chuck that he should pick his battles. That there were some battles that he just couldn't win. One day, we noticed that something was different. After two weeks of doing the exact same thing day in and day out, just about any change is welcome. The guards were taking guys out of their cages six at a time. When the guys right befor my row were taken, i waited nervously for their return, i wanted to know what was going on. Chuck, always the rebel, said that this was our chance to try to escape. I had to remind him that we were on a space ship. Where the hell would we escape to? He reluctantly agreed and calmed down a bit. I must have dozed off after that, because the next thing I knew, my cage door was open and I was being pulled out quite roughly. Once my bare feet touched the cold metal floor, I tried my best to stretch my legs but was given no time to recover. I was pushed along the corridore. Didn't these niggers realize that I had been locked up in that cage for two weeks? Obviously they didn't care. The guard that was escorting me, a tower of a man with jet black skin and muscles that threatened to split the seams of his grey uniform shirt, deftly handcuffed my hands behind my back and pushed me forward. Seconds later, I heard Chuck's familiar voice, yelling and cursing about being able to stretch his legs. So much for picking his battles, i thought to myself. I couldn't help but be amazed as I was led down the corridor. Face after face, all white of course, all either terrified, defiant or some mixture of the two. Is this what was to become of the white race? Caged like animals? I got more and more pissed off as I walked. At the end of the rows of cages, a door opened as we approached. It was another corridor just like the one we had just come from. The cages in this one however were filled with women. I slowed just a bit, I was looking for my sister. Is it possiblr that she was locked up in one of these hundreds of cages? I decided to take a chance and called her name. Before I could get her whole name out, the huge guard put his hand on my shoulder from behind, spun me around, and with an open palm slapped my face with such power that it knocked me to the ground. The force of the blow took me by such surprise that I immediately shut up. While I was on the ground cradling my face, I saw Chuck who had been walking behind the guard, spring into action. Like a flash, he had shouldered the the guard walking behind him in the gut then headed for the one that had just hit me. Now, Chuck was a big guy. He looked to be about 250lbs 24 and at least 6'2" tall. Problen was, the guards were much bigger, and faster it seemed. Before Chuck had gone more that a yard or so, I saw him lifted bodily into the air. It was so strange to see him, first, in preparation for a full sprint, then within seconds, airborn as the guard behind him, picked him up off the ground...HIGH off the ground. Then, to Chuck's dismay, he came crashing down just as fact as he went up, only this time it was face first. During all this, the guard didn't say anything, but he did have a sly smirk on his face. Then he picked Chuck up by one arm and hauled him unceremoniously to his feet. By this time I had struggled to my feet, but had been held firm by a look from "my" guard that told me that he would happily do the same to me. I stole a look back at the bloody mess that was Chuck's face, and shuddered. There were no more disturbances on the way to our destination. I don't know what I expected, but it was not a doctor's office. But that's what this was, a fully equipped doctor's office. There was an examination bed in the center of the room, and all kinds of medical equipment all over the place. The one thing that made it different from any doctor's office I have ever seen, was the metal cage in the far corner. Not another cage, I thought to myself, but as it turned out, I was never to experience this particular cage. The other five guys, including chuck, were locked into the cage. It was obvious that the thing was not built to hold five grown men, but at least they could stand up. Uncomfortably close though. While the others were locked into the cage, I was led over to the examination table. As I walked over, I noticed that there were leather restraints attatched to the bed. I looked back at the guard but the look on his coal black stopped me from saying or doing anything. I was practically lifted off my feet and placed face up on the bed and withinseconds, i was basically immobile. I had never felt so vulnorable in my life. There I was, completely naked, laying face up on an examination table with my hands and feet bound at the corners. A leather strap was secured across my chest and another across my forehead. I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. Once I was secured, the guards all stepped back and waited, not saying anything. A few moments later, the door opened and an older black man in a white coat came in. He looked to be about 45 years old, with greying hair at the temples. He wore wire frame glasses. He looked at the gaurd who had been escorting me. "Hey there, Joe." The man said. "What's up, Doc?" Joe the guard said. "I didn't know it was shift change." It was the first time I had seen anything but a scowl of this guard's face, any of the guards for that matter. The doctor walked over to the desk in the opposite corner and set the files he was holding down on it. "It's not," he said, "Dr. Ellis is having lunch with the captain today and she wanted to go back to her suite to get all prettied up." The guard laughed. "Not a hard job." He said, "She's a real looker." 25 "Ain't that the truth," The doctor said. "And boy does she have the hots for Captain Powers." "Lucky bastard." The guard said. I couldn't believe they were just having this casual conversation as if there weren't six naked men in the room, one of them (me), strapped to a table in front of them. "Yeah," the doctor quipped. "Well, I guess we'd better get to work. I need to get at least 50 done today." The doctor was looking down at me. "Yep," The guard responded. "This one should be pretty easy." He rested his palm on my chest. "I had to rough him up a bit on the way here, but that got him right together." "Cool," The doctor said to the guard. Then to me and by extension to the other guys in the cage, "You will keep calm and do exactly as you're told." It was a statement of fact, not a request. "These men are here to insure it. You are here for what will undoubtedly be the most extensive medical examination of your life. If you cooperate you will not be hurt, if you resist in any way, you will be hurt. The choice is yours. It's one of the few chioces you will be given in your new life, so choose wisely." He then consulted a small device that he was holding in his hand and picked up a marker and wrote a number on my chest just above my right nipple. I couldn't see what it was because I couldn't lift my head. At that moment, Chuck decided to start screaming obcenities. The other guys in the cage tried to stop him, no doubt fearing that they would that they all would be punished. But it was not to be. Two of the oher guards unlocked the cage and pulled him out. The doctor looked down at me. "There's always one." He said, his voice dripping with irony. Open up." I did as he ordered as My friend was roughly dragged out of the office. As the doctor poked and prodded around in my mouth with some meal instrument, I could hear that Chuck's angry rants had morfed into screams of agony. The doctor declared my teeth to be healthy. After making a notation on his hand-held device, he takes a magic marker and made a mark on my chest. I couldn't see what it was because I couldn't raise my head. After some increasingly uncomfortable poking and prodding of my muscles up and down my arms and legs, apparently checking my musculature, the doctor unceremoniously grabbed my nuts. " What the fuck are you, AAAAHHHHHH!!!!" I tried to ask, but before i could get the wuestion out, he squeezed...HARD. I don't remember ever having feeling anything like it. Not only the shock and pain, but also the cruelty of it. "Slaves don't ask questions, boy." The doctor said still holding my balls in his hand. "And you will only speak when spoken to. Do you understand me, honky?" I was too shocked to speak. "I asked you a QUESTION, boy!" The 26 doctor said and gave my already tortured testicles another viscous squeeze. That is pretty much the way the examination went. There were vials of blood taken, poked and prodded, then there were x-rays then I was poked and prodded more. During this time, the two guards brought Chuck back in. A more apt description would be that they dragged him in. He had obviously been beaten damn near to death. Both of his eyes were swolen shut, he was bleeding from the mouth and nose and his naked body was black and blue. Even in his condition, he was thrown unceremoniously into the cage with the others. What the fuck? I thought to myself. I know he was screaming and cussing, but wasn't that understandable considering the circomstances? And they beat him like that? That has got to be illegal. Did we have any recourse at all. It seemed like these people could just do anything they wanted to do. Even indentured servants have rights. After the doctor was done, I was released from the "bed", and the same guard tht had escourted me from my cage, led me through another door. Strange how I thought of it as MY cage. It just seemed like that, since this nightmare began, that was to place I have felt most comfortible. I had spent almost two weeks in that cage, and came out in one piece. At least for now, I was eager to get back to it's relative safety. Unfortunately, it was not for me. I was taken through a door marked "CLASSIFICATION." Through that door was a relatively small room. On one side of the room about 3 feet from the wall was a low wooden platform. The platform was about a foot off the ground and there was a short chain with what looked like a shackle attatched to it. On the other side of the room was a table with two black men and a black woman sitting there. All three were dressed in uniforms that were identical to the guards that I have seen up to this point. I was escorted over to the platform, told to step up then the shackle was locked around my left ankle. The guard warned me that if I resisted in any way, I was gonna end up like my friend back there. I knew that he was basically saying that if there was any trouble, they were gonna beat the hell out of me, and from the disinterested look the doctor gave a bruised abd battered Chuck, they could get away with it. For the most part, that was enough to keep me in line. As soon as I was secured, the two men got up from the table and walked toward me. The bigger one, who had a bald head and skin as black as night, walked over and began to probe my the muscles in my shoulders and chest. I had never had another man touch me this way, my first instinct was to this dude in the mouth and tell him to get his fucking hands off me. Unfortunately, were three of them, not including the woman, and I was not only completely naked and vulnorable, but I was also shackled to this damn platform. I held my cool. No need to anger these peolpe. The man continued his exploration of my body with methodical detatchment, as the other two guards and the woman looked on. As he did so, he called out comments to the woman, who was sitting at the table and making notations on her clipboard. 27 "Very athletic," The man said. "Decent musculature, will build well with proper exercise and weight training. Unblemished skin..." On and on it went. At no other point in my life had I ever felt more like a piece of meat. The man could have easilly been evaluating a horse or a dog or some farm animal. But even with all of this, I was okay. I held my cool. I kept it together, until the man told me to bend over. I didn't say anything, but I stood there and looked dumbly at the man. "I said, bend the fuck over." The man said again. Even though he didn't yell it, his voice had a menacing tone to it that told me that he was used to being obeyed without question. I still didn't move. The corner of the man's mouth pulled up into a slight smirk that made me know that not only had i fucked up, but also that this sadistic bastard was gonna enjoy whatever came next. What came next was a powerful backhanded blow that left me sprawling on the floor behind the platform. The blow was so hard that if I hadn't been shackled to the platforn, it would have knocked be across the room. Before i could recover, the guards were on me. The three men grabbed me and flipped me over so that i was face down on top of the platform. Two of the guards held my shoulders down while the other one sat on my legs. Basically, I was laying on the platform on my chest and stomach. My knees were on the floor being held down by the guard. I was in no pain(other than my abused jaw), but this unfortunate position left my naked ass totally vulnerable. Suddenly, I felt a heavy weight on my back. I realized that the woman had come over, strattled my body and sat on my back. Now, with her sitting on me, the two guards holding my arms and the other one sitting on my calves, I was completely immobilazed. It was obvious that these niggers were very experienced. They worked quickly and efficiently. To my absolute horror, I felt my asscheeks being pulled apart. I yelled for them to stop, but they ignored me. In my current position, I couldn't see what was going on, but my ears were working perfectly when I heard the unmistakable "snap" of a rubber glove being put on. This, of course made me struggle even more, but it was no use. I let out a scream that made my throat hurt as I felt pressure against my asshole. Then without warning, the pain spread throughout my body. This man had stuck his finger in my ass. It was the most painful thing I have ever felt in my life. Now, like most guys who played sports in high school, I'd had a doctor stick his finger up there during physicals, but this was something different all together. Back then, the doctor had used vasiline which made the violation, mere uncomfortable and unpleasant, but here, there was none of that gentleness. I felt like my ass was being ripped apart. I screamed again. "Feels like he's a virgin," The guard with his finger up my ass said. "From the tightness of his ass AND from the fight he putting up." A virgin? What the hell were they talking about? I've fucked plenty of wom... Then with a sinking feeling in my stomach, i realized that with this bastard's finger in my ass, he was making a comment about the fact that I had never had anything up my ass. Oh shit, what the fuck had i gotten myself into? "Hey, Sergent Perry," I heard the woman's voice for the first time. "While 28 we have him here, may as well get the semen sample to test his output?" "May as well. " The other guard said. "You wanna switch positions with me, so I can do it?" The woman asked. "Naw, Addie," The male guard said. "This one is kinda pretty, I'll milk him myself. Grab that lube will ya?" Milk him? Lube? What the hell were they talking about? I yelled the question at them, but they ignored me as if i wasn't even there. Just a fuckin' animal for them to do what the fuck ever they wanted to do. I felt the female guard get off my back for a second then she was back. The guard painfully pulled his rubber gloved finger out of my ass. Only for a few seconds though, then it was back. This time it was different, however. This time it went in smoothly, and deeper. It didn't hurt as much either. It still hurt though. Then, to my surprise, I felt his other hand suddenly around my dick which was convieniently hanging below me since my upper body was elevated by the platforn. What the fuck? It was the strangest sensation, I have ever felt. This MAN had one finger rooting around in my asshole and his other hand was pulling on my dick. While this was going on, there were three other people in the room holding me down and no doubt looking on. It was all very surreal. Like it was some sort of dream or something. Then, very confusingly, my dick starts to get hard!!! What the hell? I'm not gay! Far from it. I had fucked girls all over the city. Never even been touched by another guy. If I had been honest though, I would have admitted to myself that this attention in my ass and dick WAS starting to feel kinda good. I couldn't believe my dick was betraying me like this. And my foreskin was just making it easier! Before long, I felt that familiar tightening in my groin and in seconds I was shooting the biggest load, I had ever shot. "Got the sample." The guard said as he pulled his well lubed finger out of my ass. "You can let him up now." The weight was finally lifted off of me, and i could stand up. The woman went back to sit behind the table again, and the guard who was escorting me stood off to the side. They acted like nothing had happened. The guard who had violated me walked up to me, looking me right in the eyes. He held up a glass beaker with what looked like my cum in it. "It was good for me, pretty boy. Was it good for you?" Then he turned away back toward the table laughing. "Take him away, Joe!" My escort unlocked my shackle and led me from the room...still dazed and confused. Jamal and "7" 29 After my bath, which was expertly executed by the slave, I walked naked to the bed and lay there. I couldn't believe my good fortune. Here I was a poor black kid from the ghetto. Granted, I did very well in school and because of that, had built a decent life for myself, but the life that I had built was nothing compared to the life that I would be living from now on. I was more excited than I had ever been in my life. I was also more sexually satisfied than than I had ever been. And to think, this beautiful whiteboy was now my own personal property. I was very skeptical at first, but I was finally starting to believe. I lay on my back, alone with my thoughts for a moment while the slave cleaned the bathroom. I looked over at the clock on my bedside table. It was just after 2 in the afternoon. I was surprised. My late breakfast had apparently thrown me off a bit. It was okay though, I had no pressing business to take care of. So I just lay there on my back, naked and sated. "How may I serve you, Master?" I looked up to see my beautiful honky slave standing at the foot of the bed with his head bowed and hands behind his back. He did have an excellent body. And that body belonged to me. WOW. "Come over here, boy." I said, indicating that he climb int bed with me. Nervously he did so. I made him lay on his back with his head towards my feet. I positioned him close enough so that I could reach his asshole comfortibly from my reclining position position at the head of the bed. I have always had what I like to call an anal fixation. I could play with(and in) a hot asshole for hours. As I probed the hole presented to me, I was pleasantly surprised to find it squeeky clean and well lubed. My finger just slipped right in. I like that. Apparently the honky enjoyed it as well, because I felf it grip tightly. "Tell me how you became a slave, boy." The slave seemed to tense just a bit, and with my finger embedded deep in his ass, I could feel his heartbeat quicken. His name had been James Wayne Jr. But everybody just called him Junior. He had been a culinary arts student and was working as a clerk in a liquer store to put himself through school. All his life, Junior had known that he was gay, and because of his strong appreciation for the male ass, he also knew that he was a top. All through out high school he had hung out with mostly girls, not because he wanted to be one (he didn't..not even close), but because he knew that was the way to get close to their boyfriends. And occasionally, that tactic worked and he got to nail a hot piece of jock ass. but mostly, it just kept him frustrated. On his 18th birthday, Junior was taken to his first gay club by one of his girlfriends. It was like an awakening! So many hot guys to choose from and so little time, was his mantra. he set out on a cursade to stick his dick in every ass that would open for him...and many did. One day as he was surfing the internet, he came across a black porn video. Up until this time, Junior had had very little contact with black people. He'd grown 30 up in a relatively poor all white communuty, in central Texas. Not many blacks to be found. Hell, racial relations were strained everywhere, but in his little rural community there were no racial relations at all. All of Junior's knowlege of blacks came from tv and his grandpa, who raised him. After high school, Junior moved to the city to go to culinary school, he saw plenty of blacks there and in the liquer store he worked at, but he never really associated with them. Mostly he was afraid of them. They were all just so big and mean looking. He secretly wished that he could be big and tough like the "niggers" he saw on tv. Niggers, that what his grandpa had always called them, but Junior knew not to call one of them that to their face. Grandpa was always saying that he would call a nigger that to his face and dare him to say something back. Junior guessed that was easy to say since there were no black people in their town and grandpa never went within 50 miles of the city. Anyway, Junior secretly admired black men. And when he came across this black porn video he was instantly enthralled. In the video, this big, hugely muscled black man was completely dominating this equally muscled white guy. Junior had thought to himself that if a black man could do that to a big, muscled up white guy, imagine what he would do to a little guy like himself. Even though, Junior was a bit scared by the implications of the video, he couldn't tear his eyes away from it. One thing was that huge black dick that was the focus of all the white muscleman's attention. Junior had never seen anything like it. It had to be 12 inches long and thick as his forearm. Junior as mesmorized by it. At one point, he looked down at what he thought was a respectable 5 and a half inches and instantly felt ashamed. He also noticed that his little thing was rick hard and pointing toward the sky. A quick search lead Junior to video after video of black men fucking white men. It was all over the place. How in the world could he have missed it all this time? During his search, Junior came across a website called "Black Man's Revenge" And his world was once again turned upside down. At first he had been ashamed of the thoughts of inferiority that he was having, but now through BMR he was meeting other white men who felt the same way he did. He also was amazed to be able to chat with Black Men who knew and accepted the truth of their own Superiority. That was the most powerful thing of all. Junior felt like he could sit and read their comments all day, and on some days he did. When his classes let out in the afternoon and and befor his shift at the liquer store, Junior would run home to see who was online. he was happiest when some Black Man, would take the time to chat with him. The language took some getting used to, though. Junior wasn't used to getting called names like "whiteboy," "honky," or "cracker." And then there were even worse names like "faggot," "bitch," or "cunt." At first this kinda pissed junior off, but then he realized that if he wanted to be in the presence of these Superior Men(and he did...desperately), he would have to do it on their terms. So he endured the horrible and degrading names until it just became second nature to him. Hell, he believed wholeheartedly that Black Men were his superiors. They could call him whatever they wanted and he would answer to it; they could treat him however thy wanted and he would keep coming back for more. BMR became "home" for 31 junior. It was almost a year, though, when junior finally got up the courage to meet with a Black Man. There was this one guy who seemed harmless enough. The man was a forceful lack dom, of course, but he seemed to be much more sane than some of the others, but then again, Junior didn't really care. He was so hungry for black dick he didn't know what to do. Up until this time Junior was still meeting the occasional white guy and having sex with him, always topping. He had promised himself that when he gave his bacside to a man, it would be a Black Man...a REAL man. The guy, Master Dave he was called, had instructed Junior to show up at his house wearing only loose-fitting jeans and a t-shirt and flip-flops...no underwear. Of course Junior complied. He felt a nervous excitement as he walked up the Master Dave's huge house in the Ritzy part of town. As instructed, he opened the unlocked door, walked into the large dark foyer and stripped. He placed his old t-shirt, ratty jeans and flip-flops in the wastepaper basket beside the door. Then for the first time, he knelt down, bowed his head and waited for his black Master. According to junior, Master Dave had used him hard, almost brutally and he loved every minute of it. It was the most liberating experience he had ever had in his life. At nineteen years old Junior had found his purpose in life. Little did he know, his life was about to change in the most drastic way possible. When the session was over, and Master Dave had dismissed him, Junior walked(limped) toward the large bedroom door, intending to retrieve his clothes from the trashcan and go home, but when he got there, he found it locked. As he turned to ask Master Dave, who was still laying on the bed completely naked with a wicked grin on his dark chocolate face, to unlock the door, he saw a panel slide open off to the right of the large bed. It was a door! Before Junior could register his suprise, though, two HUGE black men wearing dark grey uniforms stepped out of the door and came toward him. They were advancing on him so fast that there was nothing he could do. The two men pounced. Junior felt a sharp prick in his neck, and within seconds everything went black. After what seemed like only a minute or so, Junior woke up, still naked, but locked up in a small cage in a room full of cages. And worst of all, the guy in the cage above his was pissing on him. --------- I told the boy that I, too, had been a member of Black Man's Revenge. He was not surprised, but it had been years since he had been online. Sitting there fingering the slave's ass, I felt myself getting sleepy. It had been a very exciting day. I was very unused to sleeping with anyone in the bed with me let alone a sexy white slave. Told him to get on the floor. I almost laughed when he moved so fast that my finger came out of his asshole with an audible "pop." I told him that he was allowed to sleep when I slept, but he needed to be ready for any service I required when I got up. He layed down on the floor next to the bed 32 as a luxuriated in the plush pillows and bedcovers. Before I knew it, I was asleep. I woke up about five hours later, rested and refreshed. I rolled over to 7 kneeling silently on the floor by the bed. When he saw me looking at him, he said, "did you sleep well, Master? How may I serve you?" "Suck my dick, boy." Was all I needed to say and he was on it like a flash. Before I could say anything else, the boy had nimbly hopped up on the bed between my legs, and swallowed my dick whole. I was really enjoying the boy's mouth when I suddenly realized that I had to piss. "Shit!" I said. Not wanting the top notch blowjob to stop. The slave looked up at me with concern on his face. "Is there something wrong, Master?" "No, boy," I said in a bit of a huff. "I have to piss." The whiteboy's face visibly brightened. "If you wish not to get up, Master, I am trained to handle your piss for you. I never spill a drop." Well this was definitely unexpected. I had heard of subs being pissed on and drinking piss, but I never did it. This would be new experience for me. "Do it, boy." I said. And the slave covered my dick with his mouth and clamped down tight. Now, I have never been piss shy, but I have also never taken a piss, laying flat on my back in bed either. At first, I was kind of sefl-conscious with the slave sitting there looking up at me and waiting. Then I thought, this is MY slave, he will wait until I'm ready. He didn't have to wait long, though. I decided not to warn him, he said that he had been trained for this, I wanted to see for myself. I let fly. As I started to piss, 7 took my dick deeper into his mouth. I watched him intently, he was swallowing fast, but i could also tell that he was very smartly simply allowing much of my piss to flow directly down his throat. I was just waiting to see a drop of piss seep out of his mouth, it never did. When the flow finally stopped, the boy used his hands to squeeze my dick to get those last few drops, then ran his tongue down my piss slit. He looked up at me. Somehow, I could tell that he was not necessarilly looking for approval, but just making sure that I was pleased. That is a good quality in a slave. His first concern was his Master's pleasure. "Goodboy." I said. After my second awesome blowjob of the day, I was energized. I got out of the bed, allowed the slave to wash me up a bit, then I walked around the suite. It was decorated beautifully in warm earth tones. I felt like I was in a five star hotel. It was really beautiful, but I thought to myself, do I really want to spend the next five years in a hotel? Even an exceptionally nice one? No, not at all. Then I remembered something that my granny used to say everytime we moved. She always said that she wanted to make the new place feel like home as quickly as 33 possible. Sometimes, she would unpack family photos even before she hung up her clothes. With this in mind, I decided that this suite needed a personal touch. It turned out that all my belongings were in a storage room just down the corridor. 7 was one of the slaves who helped move all this stuff in, so he knew where to get a hand-truck. I sent hin to get it and when he returned, I followed him to the storage room where all my stuff was. As we walked down the corridore, I saw a tall, handsome figure walking toward us from the opposite direction. As he got closer, I realized that it was Congressman Green, who had been in the Towncar with me. He completely ignored my slave, which struck me as strange at first. He acted like it was totally commonplace to see a naked white man maneuvering a handtruck down the wide corridore of a hotel...Then I had to remind myself, this may look very much like a 5-star hotel, but is was indeed a space ship travelling near the speed of light to points unknown. "Congressman Green," I said, reaching out to shake his hand. "Good to see you again." "Good to see you too, Mr Franklin." He was smiling as she firmly shook my hand. His smile could light up a room." "Please, call me Jamal. I'm surprised you remembered my name." "I'm in politics, It's my job. You settling in well, Jamal?" "I am," I said, trying not to be mezmerized by those deep hazel eyes. "I was just going to get some of my things out of storage. Wanting to make my suite look a little more like home." "And i see that you are putting your new slave to work. I'll bet you were surprised to see THAT beautiful thing in your suite." That last bit was said with a bit of a twinkle in his eye. "For sure," I replied, following his gaze to 7, who had stopped just a few yards ahead of us and was waiting patiently with his legs spread, head bowed and hands clasped in the small of his back. "Did you get one?" I asked. Not sure what else to say. "Did I get one?" he said, obviously trying not to laugh. "Jamal, my boy, I have two. One that I have had for years and the one that came with the suite." "Years?" asked, somewhat confused. "What do you mean?" "Ah, my friend," he said, putting his arm around my shoulder. "I can see you have alot to learn about what will become whr ways of Terra Noir. You're in for a good time. Hey, I've got an idea," He stopped and looked at me. "Why 34 don't you send the slave on to get your things and take them back to your suite, and you and I go have a coffee in the lounge. Starbuck's ain't got nothing on the Noirian blend they serve on this deck. We can talk and I'll fill you in on what you need to know. Brad After leaving the classification room, I was taken to another small room with six cages against one wall. The guard told me that I would be kept here in quarentine until my tests came back. There were three other guys in cages already there. I was told to climb into one of the empty cages and settle in. Shortly after I got locked into the cage, two guards dragged Chuck in. Even though he was so beat up that he could hardly walk, he was still yelling and cussing. Calling the guards filthy niggers and faggot monkies. Apparently they had "milked" him just like they had me. The two guards unceremoniously threw him into a cage on the bottom row. "Alright honky dogs," The first guard spok up in a loud voice. "Each of you have been classified as potential sex slaves." As he said this the room erupted with shouts of indignation and disgust. There were only six of us in the room, but the noise was so deafening that it sounded like a hundred. Up until that point, I had tried my best to look at things objectively, but this was just too much to take. What the fuck did they mean sex slaves? What the right did they have to enslave us at all, but now sex slaves? Hell I found myself screaming and ranting just as loud as everyone else. It actually felt good letting out my frustration. Every since I boarded the ship, and this whole thing started, I tried to be cooperatve, not ruffle any feathers. All in an attempt to keep from getting hurt. Well, fuck that shit. I screamed and cursed. I called them names, I let it all out. Before I knew it, I was just screaming. Everything was just so wrong. Not only was everyone and everything I'd ever known about to be destroyed back on Earth, but I was now apparently destined to be a sex slave, whatever the hell that means. As I yelled, I began to realize that the two guards were simply sitting in their chairs on the other side of the room calmly looking at us. Of course, they had seen it all before. It was like they were just letting us yell ourselves out. They wanted to show us that it would do no good. Sure enough as soon as the din began to quiet, about 15 minutes, The guard stood up and began to speak again. "As I was saying," he said as he got to his feet, his long lanky but powerful frame looked like a sleek black panther. "You have been classified as sex slaves. You will be trained and marketed as such. That is if all your test results came back negative. Any communicable diseases and you will be...disposed of." Disposed of? I said to myself. What the hell does that mean? 35 "What do you mean 'disposed of'?" I asked. The guard looked at me with a completely disinterested look in his coalblack eyes. "Your training begins now. Lesson #1," he said still looking directly at me but obviously addressing the room. "You will not speak...EVER, unless you are spoken to or are otherwise directed by a Master or Mistress." He then broke his gaze and began pacing the small room as he spoke. "A Master or Mistress is any HUMAN BEING." As he paced back and forth infront of our cages he clasped his hands behind his back in an almost military style. I had to admit that his authoritative demeanor and the crisp, no nonsense look of his navy-blue uniform gave him a look that would seem to brook no backtalk. "On Terra Noir, a Human Being is any person of African Decent or Black person. Anyone else is a slave, a non-person, an animal, a simple possession. Simple livestock." Again, the room erupted. This time, however, instead of just letting the noise die down on it's own, the guard pressed what looked like a button on his wristwatch. All of a sudden, the world exploded into white-hot pain. Turns out, this room had been wired for electric shock just like the much larger holding tank. When the screaming died down, the guard explained that during the training, any infraction would be met with swift and painful punishment. With that last shock, I knew that it was not something that I wanted to experience anymore. "I won't have anymore interruptions." The guard started speaking again. "You slaves will always do exactly as you are told without hesitati..." "FUUUUUCK YOUUUU! You damn dirty nigger!" Chuck started talking shit again, only this time he was alone. The rest of us sort of flinched and prepared as best we could for the pain we knew would surely come. It never did. Instead, the guard who was speaking, signaled to the other guard who left through a side door and returned a few seconds later dragging a large wooden "x". The guards strapped Chuck to the thing with his back to us. His hands to the top spread wide and legs to the bottom, again, spread wide. Then a leather strap was fastened around his waist, apparently to keep him a bit more still. During all this time, Chuck was still yelling and ranting and raving. All we heard wes "nigger" this and "nigger" that. He was saying some shit I had never heard of before. The guard who had been speaking told us that he was gonna give us a lesson in futility. "You animals are gonna see how futile it is to resist." He walked over to the "x" where Chuck was struggling against his bonds, trying to free himself. "You see how this animal resists?" As he spoke, he ran the palm of his hand across Chuck's back. Of course this only made Chuck scream louder and struggle harder. "He can resist all he wants but it's not gonna do him any good at all. I can to whatever the fuck I want to do, and there ain't shit he can do about it. As he said this the guard was began rubbing Chuck's ass. Still he struggled. 36 Seeing him like that reminded me of something he had told me, back in the holding cages. He said that we needed to struggle. He said that the niggers think they have it all figured out. They think that we are just gonna roll over and let them do whatever the fuck they wanted to do, because we think it's hopless. Well it ain't hopless" He had said, "as long as we struggle." And struggle he did. Even when the guards took out their cane and bgan to beat his ass with it. Now I had never been caned before, but I had heard about how in some Asian countries, t was standard practice. Once, on the news, they reported on an American college student who had broken some law in Korea or somewhere and they had caned him before they let him come home. Well he told everybody how it felt. He said that it was the worst pain that he had ever felt. At the time, I remember thinking that it couldn't possibly have been as bad as all that. Hell, when I was little, my daddy used to beat me with anything he could get his hands on, including sticks. It couldn't have been much worse than that. But now seeing the effect it was having on Chuck, I wasn't so sure. It was the look on his face when the guard first hit him. At first, his face had been full of anger and rage, but as that cane struck his naked asscheek with a "whoosh - SNAP!!" Chuck's voice seemed to abandon him as the shock of the pain obviously took his breath away. He seemed to recover pretty quickly and started cursing and yelling again, but the second strike across his ass had the same effect as the first. By the fifth strike, poor Chuck's ranting had devolved into incoherant screams. We all watched in stunned silence as the brutal beating went on and on. I stopped counting at about fifteen strokes. By that time Chuck had screamed so much that his voice had abandoned him completely. He seemed to be just blubbering. Meanwhile, the angry red stripes the cane was leaving on Chuck's skin had spread from his asscheeks and down his thighs. It just went on and on. Eventually, Chuck couldn't take it anymore, his beaten body slumped as he lost consciousness. Once the guard realized that his victim was now unconscious, he stopped the beating and resumed his speach as if he hadn't just brutally beaten a human being so bad that he had passed out from the pain. He talked about slave protocal and some other endless bullshit, but the only thing I could focus on was Chuck's limp body as it slumped on that wooden "x", held up only by the restraints on his wrists. The bastards didn't even have the decency to let him down after they beat him half to death. Eventually the nigger guard finished his speech. He left for a moment then came back and announced that all but one of us had been given a clean bill of health. It turns out that one of our number, a guy who I had spoken to a couple of times named Philip had tested positive for herpes. If we hadn't all been so scared, I probably would have chuckled. Yeah, herpes was a contageous disease, but it was easily controlled with medication, so it really didn't seem like that big of a deal. Apparently it was. The guard who seemed to be the most senior, said almost to himself, "Well there was bound to be at least one." He looked up at Philip and shook his head, "Damn, I was looking forward to havinf fun with this one...ah well." 37 The second guard walked up to the first one. "Hey, sarge, you think we should kennel the other ones first?" "Nope," The sgt replied as he notated the folder that he was holding. Then handing the folder to the second guard, said, "This will be instructional for the rest of them. Get him out." As the second guard released Philip from the cage, the sgt addressed the rest of us. "In a society such a Terra Noir that has a slave based economy, it is extremely important to do everything in our power to maintain a healthy slave population. The first line of defence against the spread of disease is the identification and disposal of those with communicable diseases. Earlier, one of you spoke out of turn and asked what I meant by, 'disposed of'. Well you are about to find out." The sgt then walked over to a what looked like a circular hatch embedded in the wall opposite the cages that we were in. I hadn't even noticed it until that moment. The hatch was grey metal just like everything else in this room, but it had a large circle of glass in the center. The sgt pressed a button on a small pad next to the hatch. As he did this, a light came on on the other side of the hatch revealing what looked like a small room with another hatch on the other side. Now, I was never a big Star Trek fan but I had seen enough space movies to recognize an airlock when I saw one. I immediately developed a horrible sinkng feeling in my stomach. Apparently the other guys (including Philip) recognized it too because the room once again erupted into shouts of protest. The second guard had taken hold of Philip from behind. Poor Philip was shouting and begging for his life. Making promises to do whatever they told him to do. He would be a good slave; he would never give them any trouble. All his begging fell on deaf ears though. I couldn't believe what i was seeing. The two big niggers dragged Philip the six or eight feet to the hatch. The sgt pressed a button and the inside hatch opened. The pushed a still screaming and begging Philip into the airlock. They pushed him in so hard that once inside, the poor guy slammed against the outside door and fell to the ground. Even though Phil was up in a hurry and tried to get back to the door..and relative safety, he was just bot fast enough, before he could make it back, The sgt had pushed the button again and the door had slid shut with a quiet "woosh." As the door slid shut, the room became quite as everyone in the room watched Philip through the glass. He was frantically beating against the glass with his fists and screaming hysterically, but we could not hear him through the sound proof hatch. The sgt looked at each of us, still in the cages, then pressed another button on the pad. Immediately, the outer hatch slid open and Philip was instantly sucked out into the darkness of space. I couldn't believe what I had just seen. They had just murdered a man. And just because he had herpes! Surley they could have quarrentined him or something, but no, they KILLED him! A HUMAN BEING! But then again, to them, we were not human beings. We are simply livestock. Soon, I would learn 38 that this was the most humane way to dispose of a slave. But at that moment I was in complete shock. That shocked silence extended to all of the other caged men. Even the usually animate Chuck was stunned speechless. Shortly afterward, Philip was replaced by another white guy and we all were let out of our cages and led through a door opposite the one we came through when we first arrived. It led to a long hallway lined with identical doors. This part of the ship seemed to be all dark grey metal...even the doors. The guard stopped at one door and pressed his palm against what looked like a glass panel, and spoke a series of numbers. He announced that the panel not only verified his voice and his fingerprints, but it also verified his body heat as well. He didn't say so but what this told me was thet it would be impossible for any of us "slaves" to get out of this room even if we somehow managed to kill him and get his hand to the door. When the door opened, what I saw was yet another room full of cages. This one was different, however, in the fact that instead of small, cramped cages stacked three high, like we had been kept in, these were larger cages with floor to ceiling metal bars. As we were led by the guards down the center isle which seemed to go on forever, I could look sideways and see other seemingly endless isles branching off from this center isle. This place must be huge, I thought to myself. I had almost said it aloud in my awe filled state, but then I remembered the guard's admonishment to keep silent. Usually it wouldn't have mattered, but I had just caught a glimpse of Chuck's brutalized ass and thighs as two guards dragged him between them. he had regained consciousness but was understandable unable to walk. As we walked on, the metal ice cold on my bare feet, I could see that though most of the cages were empty, there were some that were occupied. It looked like each occupied cage had six guys in it. There were six guys in my group so it made sense. Most of the men in the cages were sitting on the ground against the bars(there wasn't much room for anything else), looking dejected and scared. What kind of surprised me, even though it probably shouldn't have was the fact that they were sitting on what looked like hay. But then I thought to myself, they have told us that we were just animals, so it only stands to reason that they would give us hay to sleep on. In spite of the logic of it all, I felt my anger rising again. But before I could do anything stupid, I thought of Chuck. I wanted to help him, to sooth him in some way, but I couldn't do that if I started talking shit and these niggers fucked me up like they did him. Finally, the guards stopped at a cage marked 307. I looked down at my chest where the doctor had written on my chest. In all the excitement, I had completely forgotten about it. There in black marker was the number 3075. Apparently, 307 was to indicate the cage number and 5 meant that I was the fifth one in my group. This was confirmed when I saw that the other guy's numbers were 3074, 3073, and so on. Each of us was roughly pushed into the cage. The 39 guard locked the door. Before he left, he informed us that this is where we would live for the remainder of the five year trip to Terra Noir unless one of the guests wants to own us or we are given a work assignment, in which case we would move to where those workers are held. He pointed to a hole in the back corner of the cage and informed us that it was for pissing and shitting. I noticed that all the hay had been cleared away from that area, just as the guard was warning us to keep the hay clean because it would not be changed often. Just like in the original holding tanks, we would be fed twice a day, and there would be waterboys roaming the cages throughout the day. Over the next week, we saw the cages around us fill with groups of guys. It was interesting to see that each cage was filled with guys who were very similar to one another. The cage right next to ours on the left was occupied by six guys who looked like they all came out of the same mould. All were squat but very muscular and hairy. When i realized that they all looked alike, I actually looked around our cage and realized that everyone in my own group was about the same age and build. Generally the same height and body type. When I mentioned this to Chuck, he said that he wasn't surprised at all. "Apparently the niggers have been planning this shit for a long time." He said one evening after we had finished eating that nasty mush shit. "Now I don't know if they planned the whole disaster, but if they didn't, it played right into their hands. Hell, I wouldn't be fuckin surprised if there was no disaster at all." Chuck spoke in this no-nonsense Bronx, New York accent. That coupled with his confidence just made you wanna believe what he had to say. He went on and on about the race war that everyone had been preparing for for years. He told me that he was a member of an organization called The Fraternal Order of the Eagle. It was formed just after the law was passed that afforded white supremacist groups protected status just like the NAACP and the AntiDefamation League. The Order was established by white Americans who believed that only whites should have full rights as citizens of the USA. "Hell, " he had said, "we built this fuckin' country, why should the monkies and the jalapenos have the same rights as us? It only makes sense." With the mindset we were all in, his rantings made perfect sense. In fact, he was having an effect on not only those in our group, but those around us, too. Many times when Chuck was sitting and telling us stories about his past, I would look around and see the guys in other cages riveted to his story just as much as I was. One morning, (I assume it was morning because just like in the holding tanks, the passage of each day was marked by a dimming of the lights to signify night time), we were taken along with groups from several other cages into a large room that looked like it could be easily converted to a basketball gym. Along one side of the high ceilinged room, a line of small wooden table had been set up. There was an empty chair on one side of each table and a naked whiteman in a chair on the other side. It occurred to me that in the weeks since I had come onto this ship, I had been changed in at least one major way. There 40 was a time when i would have been utterly shocked to walk into a room and see ONE naked man, let alone a bunch of them. The fact of the matter is, that I have gotten used to not only seeing naked men but I have grown accustomed to being naked myself. In fact, since I entered the ship, every single white (or any other non-black) man or woman I have seen has been completely naked. Chuck had warned us all to keep our wits about us and beware of the monkies' attempts to brainwash us into thinking that WE were the animals and not THEM. Then it hit me that he was absolutely right, and it was working! Not only had I become accustomed to being naked and seeing other white men naked, but if a fully clothed whiteman walked into this room right now, it would seem somehow wrong or out of place. Just like Chuck had predicted, the brainwashing had begun. One by one we were called up to the tables. I say "called", but in reality, it was a big black guard with an electric cattle prod looking at me yelling "Hey you, honky. Table 3...NOW!" He even grabbed my arm for emphasis and pushed me in the direction he wanted me to go in. I looked back at him with fire in my eyes, but he had his cattle prod at the ready. I hadn't felt one of those things yet, but I gad seen the effects on Chuck and others and i knew that i didn't want to feel it firt hand. I turned back and continued to walk to the table. The guy on the other side of the table just sat there watching me. When I got to the table, a guard walked up and told me to sit down and place my right forearm on the table palm up. He then used the two leather straps that were attached to the center of the table to secure my arm there. One across the palm of my hand and the other across my forearm just below my elbow. The guard must have done this alot, because not only was he fast but when he was done I found that I couldn't move my arm at all. Before I could look back up at him, he was meeting another guy at the next table. There I was, sitting there naked with my arm strapped to a table across from a naked stranger who, I just noticed was holding a tattoo gun in his hand. Without a word, the guy looked at the number written on my chest and then to my horror, began tattooing that number on the inside of my wrist just above my palm. Of course, I began to struggle. Without raising his head, which he lowered to concentrate on his work, he hissed at me, "please be still! If you make me mess this up, it will be my ass AND yours!" As the guy finished speaking, a guard came out of nowhere and slashed across the poor guy's back with a cat-o-nine tails. The man screamed, but I noticed that he was careful to pull the tattoo gun back from my arm. With tears in his eyes he went back to work. I don't know if it was shock or sympathy, but I was still and quiet until he finished. As soon as he was done, I was released from the table and a huge black man grunted at me ant pointed to a side wall and told me to wait. I obeyed without comment. As I stood there, I watched as the other guys got their tattoos. Just as I had feared, Chuck caused a commotion. It took two guards to get him down onto the table and another to 41 strap his arm down. Even then he wouldn't keep still or quiet. After a few minutes, a guard walked over ant looked down at Chuck's arm. The guard calmly reashed out ant touched the tattooer with his prod and the poor man screamed and fell to the floor in the fetal position. And before long, Chuck was there right next to him. Screaming and spitting. That evening, back in our cage after we had been fed, the six of us were all sitting around talking. I asked Chuck to show me his tattoo. The number was legible, but just barely. "It's a small thing, but every bit of resistance helps." "You got yourself fried, just to end up with a fucked up tattoo?" One of the other guys, Frank, spoke up. "Not only that, you got that other poor guy zapped too. I fuckin hope it was worth it." "It was worth it, because now the niggers will have trouble identifying me. AND, they now know that I am not gonna just lay down and take whatever they dish out." Frank spun around to face Chuck. "But they keep hurting you." He said. "They won't stop." "That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Chuck said. "If it's just me, they can simply get rid of me, but if we band together and fight, it will make a difference. They can't afford to get rid of ALL of us. We are too valuable to them." He went on to tell us all about the organization he was a member of, and their principles of banding together to effect change. He spoke of the misdeeds of the niggers, some of which i knew about but many I hadn't. The thing is, the way he spoke, it was not eloquent or anything like that, but it was so passionate. I began to really see him in a different light. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "All right you slaves, get your honky asses up." About a week later, we were awoken one morning to shouts from a guard standing outside of our cage. There were two guards standing out there, but I only recognized the one that was shouting. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked around. The other guys were doing the same getting to our feet. I looked to see that Chuck was getting up a bit slower than the rest of us. It was understandable though, considering the beating he took yesterday. His whole body was black and blue. Yesterday, he got into a shouting match with one of the guards and, of course they took him out of the cell and beat th shit out of him. We were not quiet though. The niggers thought that we would just stand by and watch them beat him up. Not this time. As the two guards were hitting and kicking him, the rest of us got up and started yelling at them. And it was not just the othe five of us in 42 our cage, but also the men in the cages around us. Everybody was screaming. Not only did we want them to stop what they were doing, but we were just mad as hell at the whole situation. Chuck was right, we had been on this fucking ship for over two months. We have been beaten, shocked, isolated, probed and prodded, and for what? To be shuffled from one cage to another. We were sick of it and something had to change. "Move it, BITCHES!" The guard yelled again. We all filed out one by one. I held back a bit so that I could help Chuck. Our wrists were bound with what looked like thick black leather handcuffs and led into a room that looked like a small gymnaseum. Instead of exercise equipment, however, it looked like a torture chamber. During our time in the in the larger cages, we had managed to learn a few things about what to expect during training. We were able to talk to the "waterboy". I only call him that because that's what the guards call him. But he is not a boy at all. He is at least fifty and walks with a slight limp. His name is Alfred, and this was his third trip between Earth and Terra Noir. On the first trip, he had trained as a common draft worker. On the planet, which he called breathtaking, he worked on a construction crew building homes and other infrastructure elements. He was then assigned to this ship in the engineering section where he had gotten hurt just before the ship reached earth. For the return trip, this one, he was lucky to be assigned to the training section, if it had not been for the fact that the Lieutenent that runs the kennel(what they called our cages), was partial to his blowjobs, Alfred would have been assigned to the sewage maintanence section...not a good assignment. One thing that struck me as strange was the fact that Alfred was so content with his predicament. He said that we would as well in time. We would learn that the Master's , as he called them, could do whatever they wanted to do. We were their property. Chuck said that this is the exat type of brainwashing that we had to fight against. I believed in him, I would follow his lead. Chuck was the only one who seemed to have a plan and was trying to do something about it. Talk about putting your money where your mouth is! I really looked up to chuck for standing up for his convictions and his freedom, no matter how much they hurt him. Alfred had never been trained as a sex slave and in fact had never met one, so he wasn't able to give us much insight into the training involved, but he did tell us a bit of what to expect from general slave training. Itwas because of him that I knew that in this gym there were 3 St. Andrews Crosses, and 3 punishment horses. On the walls were an assortment of leather whips, straps and canes. There were chains with manacled cuffs bolted to the floor and the ceiling. Of course there were many things in the room that I can't name. Scary things that I had never seen before. There were 2 guards in the room but also 3 big naked whiteguys. I could only assume that they were slaves like us. One of the guards, the smaller of the two actually introduced himself as Sgt. Clemmons. This was the first time a guard had introduced himself to us. Of course, he informed us that we would never, never be allowed to use his name. 43 We were to ONLY refer to him as "Master", "Sir" or "Boss". These were the only acceptible forms of address for a slave to use towards a Black Man. He told us that Black Women will be referred to as Mistress, Ma'am, or Boss. He went on to tell us what we had heard from the very beginning, that we were no longer considered human beings and because of this, we were not entitled to the same rights a people. This illicited some murmors from us, but not a full scale blow up. The Sgt told us that we were no longer entitled to such simple things as modesty, and privacy. We would never be allowed to own property because we are property. As the sgt spoke, he walked up and down the line of us. He stopped infront of Chuck. "And what's your deal, honky? I hear you've been causing quite a stir." This guy was the smaller of the two guards but he still stood about 6'3' and every bit of 240 lbs of solid muscle. I couldn't help but wonder if the size of this dude was gonna deter Chuck fron acting up. It didn't. In fact, not only did he call the guy a fuckin' nigger, but he actually spit in his face. Man, I just KNEW that it was curtains for chuck. Surely they would beat him to death. To the surprize of everyone in the room, including Chuck, the guard did nothing. He wiped the spittle off his face. But he remained calm...scary calm. "I see we have a volunteer," He said. Walking over to a sink that I hadn't noticed in the far corner. He washed his face and blotted it dry with a paper towel. "Today," he continued just as if nothing had happened, but as he spoke there was a menacing look on his face, "we will begin your formal training." Just then, the three big white guys grabbed me and led me over to where a hook on a long chain was hanging from the ceiling. It wasn't until he had attached the hook to the chain between my leather cuffs that i realized that the other guys in my group were being "hooked up" in the same way. All except Chuck, who was being held at bay by the other guard with his cattle prod. Once the other five of us were secured, the sgt walked over to a panel on the far wall and pressed a button. When he did so, we heard a loud buzing noise and the chains attached to our wrist cuffs began to retract into the ceiling. They kept going until our arms were stretched high above our heads and our toes were the only thing touching the ground. I had never felt so vulnorable and helpless in my life. I felt even MORE helpless when the three big white guys roughly grabbed Chuck and dragged him, kicking and screaming over to one of the punishment hourses. As they bent him face down over that horrific looking thing and started to secure his wrists and ankles to it's legs. I couldn't help but think to myself, this is where the beat him to teach him a lesson for spitting on the sgt. "Fight 'um, Chuck," I yelled. "You can take whatever they can dish out!" Chuck had become like a hero to me. I wished I had the courage to fight like he did. Even though, bound to that bench thing like he was, i wasn't sure how much fighting he could do. The Sgt looked back at me, "Oh he won't have much fight left in him when we get through, honky." I HATED when they called us that. "But don't worry, 44 boy," He pointed at me, "you'll get your turn next. You crackers are in for a looong day." Once they got Chuck secured to the horse where he could barely move, the Sgt began to speak again. But soon as he started speaking Chuck started yelling oncenities again. Give 'um hell Chuck, I said to myself, still not brave enough to join in. The Sgt ordered the other guard to gag him and he went over to a drawer in the wall and pulled out what looked like a big dildo with straps around the end. Of course Chuck didn't open his mouth to be gagged, so the guard motioned to one of the big white guys to come over. Now this guy was huge, he looked like a fuckin' 6'6" wall of muscle. And not the kind of muscles you get from working out in thr gym either. These were REAL muscles. The kind you only get from hard work...backbreaking work. Made me wonder what the had to do to this gu to make him cooperate. He(and the other two) were big enough to withstand a beating. Must be the brainwashing that Chuck was trying to warn us about. Everything he had said so far was coming true. At the guard's summons, the big guy rushed over as if he was afraid to hesitate. Then without further instruction, the guy raised his huge open hand into the air and brought it down with viscous force onto Chuck's upturned and vulnorable ass. He hit chuck's ass so hard that the 'smack' sound was almost deafening. Of course, Chuck screamed bloody murder. When he opened his mouth to scream, the guard smoothly slipped the huge dildo into Chuck's mouth and apparently down his throat because the sound immediately stopped. The guard quickly fastened the straps behind Chucks head. ------------------ The Training Begins Brad looked on in horror as his friend Chuck was strapped to the punishment horse. He wasn't sure what exactly was gonna happen to him, but he knew that Chuck would fight these nigger bastards. Chuck was the strongest guy that Brad had ever met, and he was not going down without a fight. One thing Brad didn't know was that this day was was gonna be the worst day of all of their lives. Sgt. Robert Clemmons, "Clem" to his friends, was ready to finally get this day started. They had told him that there was a real hard ass in section 3M so he had assigned himself to that section. He prided himself on his ability to break a hard case. An ex Army Ranger, Clem knew how to handle himself in any given situation. This was not a difficult one. He had been recurited away from the army to join a private security force. That security force eventually became Cracker Control which monitors and polices all slave activity on Terra Noir. 45 When a slave goes rogue or needs to be dealt with swiftly and harshly, Cracker Control gets called in to do the job. When his lieutenant offered him the opportunity to travel back to Earth for this rescue mission and lead the training force on the return trip, he jumped at the chance. He even brought his personal slave Sal with him. Sal had served in as an Army Ranger right alongside Clem. By all accounts, Sal and Clem were the best of friends. No one else knew, however that the two men were not only having sex, but they were is a Master/slave relationship. Of course, it was all in fun, but there was no denying the feeling these two had for each other. When Clem had been recruited away from the army and learned of the true nature of the private security force. He knew that leaving the planet, he may never see Sal again. He didn't want that. He arranged to had Sal kidnapped. Clem knew that Sal would be very uspet at first, but that his submissive nature would eventually kick in when he finally learned the truth. The truth that on Terra Noir the two of them would be able to truely live as Master and slave, out in the open and totally accepted. As Clem walked over to this honky slave that was strapped down on the punishment horse, he looked up at Sal who was standing at slave rest, waiting for his next command. Sal was such a good pet. Clem turned to address the other five honkies who were basically hanging from the ceiling on the other side of the room. "Your true training begins today," he said. "The first thing you need to learn is that you are no longer a person. You are animals, possessions, simple livestock to be used, bought and sold at your master's whim." Of course this brought a round of protests from the honkies. Clem ordered sal and the other two slave to gag them all. Once this was done, Clem resumed his speech. He told them what would be expected of them, as for as the level of respect they were to use when spwaking to a person as opposed to another slave. He told them that a slave will never refer to himself with personal pronouns. He will only refer to himself as "it" or "this slave". And any failure on this part will be punished. Brad couldn't believe what he was hearing. Things had been strange enough, but now this crazy nigger was talking about them calling themselves "it"? What the fuck? It was all too much. The sgt had apparently finished speaking because he had motioned to one of the big whiteguys, who brought over to him what Brad recognized as a punishment cane. He positioned himself behind Chuck. "You animals need to learn that ANY disobedience will be punished." With that, the Sgt lifted his cane high into the air and brought it down, "woosh-SNAP!" against Chuck's naked, upturned ass. Brad and the others had seen Chuck get caned before, but this time it was a bit different. It seemed much more viscious, calculated. And the fact that Chuck was gagged with a penis gag halfway down his throat seemed to make it worse. They could all still hear his screams but the words were unintelligible, but obviously full of pain and agony. 46 As Sgt. Clemmons administered the canning to this disruptive honky, he continued to speak to the others. "Whenever a Black person gives you an order, it is to be followed without hesitation." Woosh-SNAP! His words were puntuated by the sound of his assault on the recalcitrant honky's ass. "But not only will you obey a command immediately," woosh-SNAP! "You will obey it with enthusiasm and a sense of urgency." Woosh-SNAP! "As you can see, there are three honky slaves assisting in your training. The biggest of the three, Sal, belongs to me. Take a bow, Sal, so your sisters here know who you are." Sal, who had been watching his master intently for any sign of a chance to serve, immediately turned toward the 5 new slave trainees, bowed deeply, then quickly turned his attention back to his master. He knew that even though his master loved him, he would not hesitate to punish him for even the smallest displeasure. "These three TRUE SLAVES are fine examples of what you will become." Clem continued. "And make no mistake, boys, I WILL turn you into true slaves." Woosh-SNAP! "Or I will kill you trying." Clem paused long enough to allow that last statement to sink in. These slaves needed to know that their lives were at stake. "It has been determined that you six will be among at least a thousand other slaves who will be trained as domestic/sex slaves. it may not seem like it now, but you will learn that you are actually very lucky." Woosh-SNAP! The causal manner in which this man caused Chuck so much pain was having an effect on Brad. He couldn't stop the anger from building inside him. It was an anger, however, that he would have to keep in check if he didn't want to end up in that exact same position. "You are lucky, because a domestic slave's life is relatively easy compared to work slaves who are worked extremely hard 15 hours a day, 7 days a week under a heavy whip, and are routinely worked to death...literally." Woosh-SNAP! "But don't fool yourselves, slaves, this training is going to be hell." Woosh-SNAP! "And the only escape from this hell will be your complete subservience. You will not only accept, but embrace your new status in life." Woosh-SNAP! Sal was standing against the wall waiting to be needed by his Master. Sal had always felt a bit different. Even as a little boy, he had felt that something was a bit off, but he faught it. His career army dad and his two older brothers were all deep into sports and Sal was determined not to be seen as different. At the age of 16, Sal threw himself into weightlifting. At 18, he became the youngest Mr. Universe 1st runner-up ever. After the disappointment of not winning the title, Sal joined the Army and was quickly recruited to the Rangers. That is where he met Clem and instantly fell in love. Sal had always been very attracted to black men, and he was envious of the power and masculinity that they exuded. He had no doubt of Black Superiority. Sal and Clem ended up getting together, but it was evident from the very beginning that Clem was completely in charge. Before he had met Clem, Sal had always been a top, and that was fine by him, but when he had met Clem and was overcome by the black man's natural power, Sal knew that from that point on he would be this man's 47 fuck hole. By this time, gays were no longer barred from serving in the military, but relationships within the same unit were discouraged, Furthermore, with race relations being as they were in the US, interracial relationships were REALLY frowned upon. So the two had to sneak around a bit. When Clem had left the army, sal was afraid that he would never see him again. Then one night, Sal was kidnapped right from his barracks. Now, to put this into perspective, Sal was not only a Mr. Universe runner up, but he was also an Army Ranger, a trained killer and these men were able to kidnap him from his own bed...These BLACK Men, one of whome he learned later was Clem. Understandable, Sal was pissed, at first, but once he had been through a bit of training, and learned what it was all about. He chose to submit and become the best slave he possibly could for his master...a man who he loved deeply and would give his life for. Sgt. Clemmons motions for Sal and he was at his side in an instant. Clem ordered Sal to prepare the honky who was tied to the punishment horse for fucking. Without hesitation, Sal dropped to his knees behind the slave, spread his cheeks wide and began to lick his tight pink hole. Clem had seen Sal lick many an ass, including his own, but today he chose to to watch the other slaves in the room. The five honkies who were chained up in the center of the room had apparently never seen a man get his ass licked before. Clem was amused to see the looks of shock on their faces. Even with the penis gags down their throat Clem thought he could hear them gasp. This was the part of the training that Sal liked the least. First of all, these new slave's asses were NEVER clean. It wasn't like he has never tasted shit before, his master often used his tongue instead of toilet paper, but licking his Master's dirty ass was a completely different thing. First of all, Sal is in love with his Master. He savored anything from his master, but this was a different thing. He didn't even LIKE this piece of shit whose ass he was tonguing. Sal's only consolation is that he is doing this at his Master's command. Still, Sal was eager for his master's next command which came none too soon. As Sal was preparing the slave, Clem walked over and removed the penis gag from Chuck's mouth and, as expected, the string of explitives started immediately. This was a necessary evil. Clem believed that during this part of the training, it is important for the slave to be able to express himself freely, this will go a long way toward helping him realize that no matter what he says, he is powerless to stop it. As Clem stood there looking directly into the slave's upturned face as, on command, Sal slams his oversized dick into the slave's asshole. This is one of Clem's favorite moments. When an arrogant son of a bitch like this realizes that he is being raped. "Yes, asshole." Clem said out loud. "That is a man's dick in your ass." Then without moving from his position he looked up at the other slaves who were looking on in horror. "Don't worry girls. Your turn is coming, there is plenty of dick to go around." Brad looked on in horror as the huge white man brutally raped his friend in 48 the ass. How the fuck could they justify this? Chuck had done nothing to deserve any of it. That bastard of a sgt just stood there and watched. he said that the same thing would happen to us, but he wanted us to watch Chuck first. It was a horrible thing to watch. Brad didn't know what he expected , but it definitely wasn't this. Chuck was screaming bloody murder. He had basically stopped saying actual words but was just screaming in pain. The only frame of reference that Brad had for that feeling was the physical exam for school sports when the doctor stuck his finger up his ass, and then again when they did it back in the classification room here on the ship. Both of those experiences were decidedly unpleasant and that was just a finger. This big slave has a huge dick and he is pummeling Chuck like his life depended on it. Brad experienced an acute pang of fear when he realized that this was gonna happen to him as well. Sgt. Clemmons stood by enjoying specticle of seeing this piece of shit honky, but he knew that this was to be a very long day and it was time to get things moving. As Sal fucked away at the slave's ass, Clem turned to the other slaves, "Is any one of you, gay?" He had to raise his voice to be heard over Chuck's constant screaming. "Come on a show of hands." He paused for effect. "Anyone? Oh, that's right, your arms are chained to the ceiling. Well, no matter. You are slaves and slaves don't have sexual orientations. I assume that most of you were straight. I say WERE because you are not anymore." As he said this, Clem motioned to one of the guards who then walked to the door and opened it. Brad in Training It was a horrible thing to see what they were doing to Chuck. I had been in this nightmare with him for weeks and I know him enough to know that he is anything BUT a faggot. But as I basically hung there from the ceiling with the other guys in my group, that sgt ordered that big whiteguy to fuck my friend. Since i have been here, I have seen and experienced some aweful things, but the fact that they could do something like this. Rape a man totally against his will, that kinda through me for a loop. I wasn't ready for something like that. Then the nigger sgt spouting all that bullshit about slaves not having sexual orientations. Fuck that shit! I'm not a fuckin' fag. They're not gonna fuck me in my ass like Chuck. If they even try, I'm gonna...What? Fight them? Hell nobody fights harder than Chuck and there he was bent over a punishment horse screaming bloody murder while his ass is violated by a man. At that moment, I had to realize that if they decided to rape me, there is little or nothing I can do about it. Right then as if I had spoken it into existance, one of the other guards opened a side door and in walks three more big white guys...all completely naked just like apparently every other white person on this damned ship. Next thing I knew I was being released from the chains that bound me and roughly bent over an identical punishment horse. I struggled of course but it was no use. 49 These guys were too strong. I tried to scream and rant, but with the penis gag still down my throat, all that came out was incoherant mumbles. It was all just so unfair. As I lay there watching my companions being tied down just like I was and just like Chuck was, I sensed that someone had come up behind me. I say "sensed" because the way i had been tied down prevented Me from turning to look. This sense was confirmed when I felt a hand on my naked butt. I groaned inwardly because I knew what was about to happen. Sgt Clemmons stood back and watched as one by one the new slaves were taken down from the ceiling chains, bent over the punishment horses and secured there. All the while, his personal slave Sal was really plowing the first honky, looking back at the Sgt for approval and getting it, renewed his vigorous fuck of the ass in front of him. The only thing that mattered to him was pleasing his Master. The center of his life. Never once did Sal consider the "wrongness" or "rightness" of fucking this slave. All that mattered to him was that his beloved master had told him to do it. If his master had told him to readh up and snap this slave's neck, he would do it without hesitation and remorse. Such was his complete devotion to his master. Clem had positioned himself where he could watch the expressions on these honkies faces as their asses are violated for the first time. He was not disappointed. He watched as their expressions morfed from anger and fear to one of confusion as the big slaves spread their asscheeks and began licking thier assholes. It never failed, no matter how "straight a guy considered himself, a good assrimming was always a pleasureable experience, especially when the rimmer knew what he was doing. And all his slaves were experts. In fact, Clem loved to have his ass licked so much that often on his day off when he takes an afternoon nap, he makes Sal lick his ass until he nods of and then keep licking until he wakes up and gives him permission to stop. That was the source of the confusion Clem was seeing pass over the slave's faces now. They hated to be in this position, they were scared of what they knew as about to happen to them, but also they were abit aroused by the totally new sensations coming from somewhere they never thought that they would experience pleasure. This was one of the subtle differences in the methods used in training sex slaves as opposed to regular work slaves. When he is training work slaves, Clem also gives the trainees an initial fucking. The purpose being to help the new slaves see that their lives have changed forever. This purpose also served as the motivation with sex slaves as well. The difference, however, was that the regular work slaves didn't get the benefit of being lubed for thier first fuck. Conventional wisdom said that the first fuck for a workslave needs to be all pain. That pain helps to prepare them for the fact that their life as a slave will be mostly pain and hard work. With a sex slave a bit of pleasure is added to that pain, to help the slaves realize that man-on-man sex(even the decidedly one-sided sex that occurs between Master and slave), can be pleasurable for all involved. Of course the slaves won't realize it until their sex training is well underway. This bit of confusion helps to smooth the path. 50 The confused expression that Clem enjoys so much is soon replaced by one that he actually enjoys even more. Pain...well, pain mixed with utter shock. It always amuses Clem that they are so shocked even though they know exactly what is about to happen to them. He went and pulled up a chair and watched as these honky slaves were being fucked to within an inch of their lives. Each one of these big slaves that were fucking the trainees had been specially trained to fuck for hours. Each one of them, including Sal, knew that if they came before being given permission, they would get a beating. So the trainees would receive a good hard fucking. Well, several actually. By the end of the day, each of those six slaves had been fucked fucked 5 times. And between those fuckings, while the honky trainers were recovering with some water and a bit of slave mush for strength, the trainees were beaten. Clem believed that the fucking coupled with the beating and other training techneques was the fastest way to break a slave. He knew that back home on Terra Noir, there were many people with money burning their pockets waiting for this huge shipment of slaves to arrive. He was also acutely aware that the slaves value would be seriously damaged if they went up on the auction block with a bunch of whip scars on them. To avoid this Clem had his honky trainers use special whips that hurt just as bad, but caused no permanent damage. Make no mistake the honkies felt like the wanted to die from the pain and humiliation, and they would be bruised for days, but those bruises would soon heal. The lessons learned in these sessions, however, would stick with them for the rest of thier lives. At the end of the day, the six trainee slaves were unable to walk from all the fucking and beatings. More than once each of these lost consciousness. But that wasn't gonna save them from the pain and humiliation. They were just revived with smelling salts and the beatings continued. The six slaves were literally carried to their cage and thrown unceremoniously onto the not so soft hay covering the metal floor. None of them moved for a long time. Even the slaves in the surrounding cages were were more subdued by the shock of the sorry condition of these six. As Brad began to rouse from what felt like a pain induced coma, he noticed that some of the other guys were beginning to stir as well. He was in pain, the worst pain that he had ever felt in his life. Every muscle ached he could hardly move. He looked over at Chuck, but he was still unconscious. After a few minutes, Brad heard that familiar commotion that meant that the waterboy was making his way down the isle. It was at that moment that he realized that he was extremely thirsty. More thirsty than he had ever been. As the waterboy got closer, Brad heard a stirring and he looked around to see that all the other guys in his cage(including chuck) had begun to inch painfully toward the cage bars. When the waterboy came into view, Brad and his companions all positioned themselves at the bars on their knees with thier mouths opened. 51 They knew that this was the only way that the guard that always accompanied the waterboy would allow them to drink. It seemed that even Chuck, who always made it a point to curse and belittle the guards, was to weak and thirsty to make a fuss. Usually, the waterboy would walk by and unceremoniously stick the nozzel attached to his shoulderbag into the open and waiting mouth of the slave and squeese; thereby releasing an ample amount of water down the slave's throat. Brad was so thirsty from the long day's exertions that dispite the pain in his battered and bruised body, he felt himself getting excited to see the waterboy. As he opened his mouth though, he realized that something was different. Instead of putting the nozzel in him waiting mouth, the waterboy who brad only knew as 378 stopped infront of the cage and stood back. It was then that brad noticed that there were three guards accompanying the waterboy instead of the usual single guard. "Get your honky asses against the back wall," one of the guards yelled while noisely running his ever present nightstick against the bars making a clanking sound that reverberated through the large room. The slaves looked up at him in confusion. "I SAID, get against the fuckin back wall. Did they fuck your little pussies till you went deaf or what?!!" With that, the bewildered whiteboys slowly began to scoot on their knees to the back wall, they were still too weak to stand. Once there, the guard opened the cage door and moved toward the kneeling honkies, followed by one of the other two guards. These two guards both had handcuffs made of seni-hard rubber. They used these handcuffs to bind each slave's hands behind his back by the wrists. Brad couldn't help but wonder what fresh hell was this. His parched throat and battered body not allowing him to put up any resistance. Once the slaves were cuffed, the third guard took six of what looked for all the world like metal dogbowls and set them out on the floor against the front bars. As he did so, the waterboy stepped up and squeesed a generous amount of water into each bowl. Brad knew from experience that the water would be warm(almost hot) and quite stale, right at that moment it looked like the nectar of the gods. Chuck moved toward the water, but was stopped short by a viscious steeltoe booted hick to his ribcage. Once the waterboy had filled all the dogbowls, he moved out of the cage and took up his position waiting outside. Then, to Brad's horror and disgust, the third guard stepped up, unzipped his uniform pants and began to piss into each of the bowls of water. The slaves, who were still to weak to put up much of a fuss, began to moan. Brad tried to say something, to rage against these bastard, but his voice had long since abandoned him due to the unbelievable amout of screaming he had done that day while being beaten and assraped repeatedly throughout the day. He just sat, mute, as the scene played out before him. Once the guard had pissed into every last dogbowl of water, he and his two compatriots, retreated from the cage, locking it behind them. Two of the guards bid farewell to the third one and walked down the corredore toward the exit, while the remaining guard said "come on, boy" to the waterboy, "I ain't got all fuckin' day!" Then moved on distributing water to the other cages as if nothing had happened. Brad looked back at the row of piss-tainted water and 52 realized with a sinking stomach that if he didn't want to die of thirst, he would not only have to drink that vile mixture, but because his hands were tied behind his back, he would have to do it bent over with his face in the bowl just like a dog. *Chuck made an example of* ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Sgt. Clemmons After a hard days work in the slave training room, Clem couldn't wait to get back to this suite for some relaxation. Once he had given instructions to the guards who were to take the trainees back to their cage, he dismissed the honky trainers and sat at his desk to write out his daily report. He hated doing it, but it was required protocal. The higher ups wanted everything documented. They insist that they have no issues with his training methods, and that this is just to make possible improvements when necessary. Clem didn't really give a shit why they wanted it done, he just knew that it was a pain in the ass. He rushed through it just like he always did. He couldn't wait to get back to his suite. Clem loved training sex slaves. It was his favorite part of the job. Until this group, he had been training work slaves...all of which were old, ugly or both. But the honkies chosen for the sex slave market were always between 18 and 30 with hard bodies and tight asses. As is the custom of most of the guards, Clem refrained from fucking his trainees until they had been trained in personal hygene. Of course, this meant that he missed out on all that virgin ass, but it was small price to pay to keep from having shit all over his dick. One consequence of this policy is that he got to watch all of these hot honkies getting their brains fucked out, but had to keep his own very attention-hungry dick in his pants. So, as he almost always came home horny, the first day of sex training is always the worst. Fortunately, Clem's personal slave Sal was fully aware of the situation. When Clem came though the door to his suite, he was met at the door by a typically naked Sal, on his knees with his head bowed submissively and his hands clasped behind is back. "I don't smell my dinner boy." He said. 53 "Yes Master," Sal said without looking up. "This slave knows that you have had a difficult day, master, so it ordered take out from Harambe on deck 7 to be delivered at 8pm." "Goodboy," Clem said patting his honky on the head. He walked passed the kneeling slave and sat down heavily in his plush easychair. He was so tired, but also horny as hell. "Now get over here and take my boots and socks off." Almost before his master could finish his sentence, the slave had taken up his position in front of him and was slowly, almost reverently cradling each military style boot in his lap as he efficiently unlaced it. As he removed each boot and sock, he gently placed it on the floor and bent down to kiss it. Sal knew that his master had been wearing these boots all day but the smell of the stale sweaty feet was like a sweet aroma to this slave. Even though Sal had benn enslaved against his will, subjected to brutal and humiliating training, his love for his master was absolute. If Clem had ordered Sal to cut off his own thumb, the boy would now be thumbless and happy that his master had given this lowly slave the opportunity to please him. Clem always enjoyed this little ritual. It was a way to allow the slave to worship him which he loved to do. Today, however, Clem was horny as hell and he had other things on his mind. "Get to the room, boy." He said as soon as his slave finished removing the second boot. Without hesitation, the big honky was on his feet and disappearing around the corner. When Clem accepted this job, he chose this suite on the ship because it had an extra room that he knew would be a perfect "playroom" for him and his honky slave. He had taken his time to make sure that the room was fully outfitted and stocked with just about any and every instrument of torture imaginable. Clem took his time getting up from his chair, knowing that when he arrived in his playroom, his slave would be standing there inside the door head bowed and patiently waiting for him. Clem walked straight to what looked like a large rectangular metal frame. The frame was secured to a wheeled platform so that it could be easilly moved, but was strong enough to support the entire weight of a full grown man, even a large man like Sal. "Here boy." He said to Sal, and the big slave moved toward him and stepped up onto the platform he spread his legs wide sot hat his feet lined up with tthe sides of the frame and waited patiently Clem secured his ankles. Sal stretched his arms up to grab the hand holds on the crossbar of the frame. After Clem had secured the slave's ankles, he moved up and secured the same type pf padded leather straps around his wrists. Sal looked at his master. This man that he adored, as he bound, spread eagle to this large metal frame. He knew that this would not be a pleasant night for him. Sal had always been a submissive...well, ever since his master fucked 54 him for the first tome when they were soldiers serving together as Army Rangers back on Earth. Submissive, but not a masochist. Sal is not now, nor has he ever been into pain. Trouble is His master is a sadist...and a hard one. Over the years, Sal has suffered great pain at the hands of his beloved master. In the beginning, Sal endoured the pain because as a well-trained he knew that his pain was irrelevant and he had no choice in the matter. But then, as time went on and his love for his master increased, Sal realized how selfish he had been, only thinking of himself and not thinking of his master. Clearly, Master got emmense joy from inflicting pain, and as his master's slave Sal should be lucky that he is able to provide that pleasure for his Superior. Now, even though Sal is still not into pain, he IS into bringing his master pleasure...by any means necessary. As Clem finished binding sal to the frame, he stepped bact to look at him. They had known each other for so long. And over the years, sal had not changed a bit, well not physically anyway. He still had a body that rival any professional body builder. His huge muscles, coupled with his bald head and hard features makes for one mean looking dude. His eyes, though had a softness that belied all of that. They were a deep blue that Clem loved. Over the past couple of weeks, Clem has had this idea floating around in his head. Clem was known to be one of the best slave trainers in the business and people in some pretty high places had expressed an interest in him writing a training manual. He just hadn't decided what he wanted to do. If this idea worked, though, it would be just the push he needed. Clem had always enjoyed playing with sal's big nipples, but now there was something more he wanted to do. Some people got turned on when their nipples were manipulated. His personal slave, Sal was one of them. But Clem felt that he could take that deeper. He wanted to create an actual physiological connection between his nipples and his penis. It has been said that this couldn't be done, but Clem was convinced that it could. So now, with his trusty honky slave trussed up, bound, and at his mercy, he would prove it. With this in mind, he went over to the drawer in the corner and took out what he knew that he would need. First thing was so seemingly innocuous that it never be considered an instrument of torture. It was a simple emory board. This was just the beginning. If this was to work, it would take at least two weeks. It was woth it to Clem, though. Clem walked toward Sal with the innocent looking thing in his hand. When he was face to face with his slave, Clem leaned in and kissed him so gently that it surprised even Sal. The slave loved these intimate moments that he was able to sometimes share with his master. He leaned in to the kiss as far as his restraints would allow...and surrendered. As he tenderly kissed his slave, Clem reached up with his left hand and squeezed his right nipple, HARD. Sal, for his part didn't scream, but his sharp intake of breath did break off the kiss. He knew that he had fucked up, but the sudden pain had caught him off guard. 55 Of course Clem couldn't allow a honky the take control, effectively ending an act of intimacy that his master has initiated, so he took his right hand and landed a viscious slap across the face. Then he resumed his kiss like nothing ever happened. Clem kissed his slave with a passion he felt for few other people. The truth is, Clem loved Sal. Always had. It was the submissiveness that got him. That is what he was most attracted to in Sal. And now that Sal is Clem's personal property, that submissiveness has, of course grown and so has the love. After all these years, that love had abided. Of course, that love never hidered Clem from treating Sal like anything else than he is...a honky slave. Clem fully accepted, hell embraced the fact that his friend and lover was now nothing more than an animal. Yes, he still loved Sal, but that love was deeply couched in the realities of the world that they now lived in, and that was just fine for Clem, and it woud HAVE to be just fine for Sal. Jamal I did as the congressman suggested and sent 7 back to my suite and I followed him to the lounge. It actually wasn't very far from my suite, about a ten minute walk. On the way there, Alton, as he insisted I call him, pointed out a few things about the ship that I didn't know. Turns out this deck was layed out like a small town. There were clubs(gay, lesbian, and straight), libraries, a school for all levels, everything, There was even a small police station. Of course, all of these were mostly empty. Most of us hadn't been on the ship for even 24 hours yet. Even the lounge was practically empty. I was surprized to see that it was set up like a real lounge. it was quite trendy, actually. There was a fully stocked bar set against the wall. It looked to have everything, including a naked white slaveboy standing behind it with his hands behind his back and his head bowed. The rest of the place was set up like someone's livingroom, only about 10 of them. There were couches, chairs, loungers, tables. All set up in small seating areas. Alton showed me to a very comfortible leather wing-backed chair, and he took the one opposite mine. Just as we settled in, a naked male slave walked up and asked how he could be of service. Alton ordered two Noirian Blends. I asked him how he knew so much about this ship and everything else. He smiled 56 and told me that he had been on the planning committee. Turns out, this whole thing had been in the works longer than anyone knew. Terra Noir was conceived as a totally black society based on slave labor. Not quite a utopian society, but one infinitely better than the one we left on earth. On Terra Noir whites and a few members of other races will be reduced to mere animals. They will lose their status as human beings and therefore will have no human rights. He told me that though we are to be the first settlement on Terra Noir, people have been there for a while now. "It took a long time to even determine if the planet was truely livable." He paused for a moment when the ginger slave returned with our coffee. I took a moment to look at him. Even though he was a ginger, like my 7, he wasn't quite as good looking. Somehow this boy's features were a bit more effeminate. Oh, he was a beautiful whiteboy, no doubt, but he was not really my type. Nice perky little but though. After he had served out coffee, and turned to walk away to greet a couple other peole who came in, I noticed that his butt was plugged. When I asked Alton about it, he told me that all the service slaves working on this deck are collared, and plugged. Even lubed just in case someone wanted to use them. I thought that I might get a collar for 7. It would look good on him. "Alton," I said after taking a sip of the Noirian Blend, which was so delicious that I had taken a moment to saver it. "You said erlier that you have owned a slave for years. How is that?" "Well," he said, looking at me conspiratoriously, "There is, well was, a vast network of men who were powerful enough to buy and sell anything...even a person. Before you ask, no, they were not all black, in fact, many owned black slaves captured from Africa. I was a member of this network and so was Howard Wyatt, the man who discovered Terra Noir. He had always kept a small harem of honky boys for his own personal use. Most of these white slaves had been volunteers or purchased from some of the more unscrupulous prison systems around the world." Alton went on to tell me how blacks in Africa were being kidnapped from their homes and families. Mr Wyatt had found out about it when he had visited the home of one of his collegues, who was also a member of the Network. This collegue had recently purchased a brand new black slave and offered his services to Mr Wyatt, as was customary when you have a guest in your home. Howard had taken the boy back to his guestroom, not to use him, but to pump him for information. Come to find out, the boy had been kidnapped from his home where he lived with three generations of his family, then sent to a super secret training center in the Sudan. Howard was incensed. He hatched a plan to free al the black slaves who he, of course, considered his brothers and sisters. He had traveled all ofer the world gathering as much information as he could about the african slave trade. When the time came, he he ordered a raid on the Sudanese slave training center freeing all the black slaves that were there. He did the same with others around the world. The more he found, the angrier he'd gotten. To Howard, blacks had suffered enough at the hands of the white man. That is when he came up with the plan for Terra Noir. 57 When I mentioned that my slave had been kidnapped, Alton said that that was part of the plan. It was just "chickens coming home to roost." Honkies deserved it for their evil. Blacks didn't. Blacks had been victims of the white man's evil for way too long. It ends with Terra Nova. Here the Black Man is KING and whitie is finally in his proper place. Alton spoke with such conviction and passion. Now it was obvious why he'd had so much suces in th political arena. He told me how it was decided that on Terra Noir a master has absolute power over his property, and his slave is his property. Even the power of life and death of a slave is in the hands of his owner. "That is a damn good looking honky you got there." He said out of the blue. "What did you name him?" "Name him?" I asked. "Nothing yet, I just call him '7' because it's the last digit of his identification number." "You mind if I give you some advice, son?" "Not at all," I said...surprised that he even asked. "Please do!" He smiled that beautiful smile again. He sat back in his chair and sipped on his coffee. "Use the boy." He said after a pause that was just long enough to be uncomfortible, but somehow wasn't. "I don't mean sexually, I know you're gonna do that anyway. I mean use him to awaken the Black KING that's inside of you. He is your first slave. The first of many, I assure you. Use him to train yourself to be a true MASTER. Train him, mould and shape him into the perfect slave for yourself. You need to express yourself, exert your dominance over this boy and make him your own." Alton went on to explain to me that I had been given a suite on this deck for a reason. Turns out everyone on this deck had a strong belief in Black Supremacy, and all of us had at least SOME experience in using submissive white men and women. There were several decks being used on this ship, and many more unused. The occupied decks had been split into sections, and assigned to settlers according to their readiness to accept and embrace the use of honky slaves. "Only settlers on this deck have slaves like your '7'," he told me. He said that another deck has whites serving as maids, another deck has no honkies at all. "They even have to cook their own food," He laughed. "But, by the time we arrive at Terra Noir, everyone on board will be fully prepared and ready to build the new Terran society." After my visit with Alton, I walked back to my suite. -------- Over the next week or so, I made a point of getting more acquainted with 58 the ship. The library was fully stocked with not only African American history, which you'd expect, but there was also tome after tome of African history and liturature. Much more than I had ever thought existed. The clubs started to jump at night, as more people began to socialize and meet more people. There were 1,500 settlers aboard ship, but the community had a real small town feel. I liked it...alot. In my suite, 7 and I had settled into a sort of routine. He would wake me up in the morning with a blowjob. The boy was very brave, but also very intuitive. He knew that I liked to wake up at about 8:30, but I didn't like to be jolted awake with a noisy alarm clock. Usually, he would just gently touch my shoulder. One morning, he climed under the covers and took my dick into his mouth. His gently sucking aroused me and woke me. it was the best thing ever. I say that he is brave, because he didn't know how I would react. He knew that I wouldn't hesitate to punish him, even though I don't have to do it often, I have taken a punishment cane to his ass before. He lucked out with the fact that I loved bein woke up to a blowjob rather than hitting him in his mouth. I realized something, though. He risked punishment in an attempt to please me. This wasn't the only thing he tried. On anoher morning, he put jalapeno peppers in my eggs. I HATE jalapeno peppers. He ended up having to clean them up off the floor. He thought I might like it because alot of people do. The fact that he took a chance trying to please me was the only reason I didn't make him lick it up. Anyway, after he woke me up with a blowjob, he would drink my morning piss then serve me breakfast in bed. Then 7 would bathe me in the shower. The rest of the day usually differed depending on my mood. I might read or watch tv, or go down to the lounge. Sometimes I would go and visit Alton, it was easy to pass the time talking to him, sharing stories. But believe it or not, some of the most fun, I have had was sitting at home. Yes, it was easy to think of my suite as home, especially with 7 there at my beck and call. Surprisingly, I was becoming very fond of 7. He really enjoyed pleasing me. Sometimes, we would play "Stupid Pet Tricks." Where he would do crazy things to make me laugh. One afternoon just after I had fucked his brains out, I was sitting in the livingroom watching a movie, and 7 came crawling over with a ball in his mouth, he dropped the ball at my feet and looked up at me with a big cheezy grin on his face. I looked down at him. He looked at me, then down at the ball then back up at me. Okay, now imagine the scene. I am a big black man, fully clothed and titting in an easychair, and 7 is a fully grown white man bare-assed naked on all fours begging to play catch. It was the funniest thing ever. I swear if he'd had a tail, it would have been wagging. It was so cute, I just had to play along. I picked up the little rubber ball and tossed in into the bedroom and off he went chasing it. He moved surprisingly fast on all fours. Once he had retrieved the ball, he ran back to me...well crawled, then he dropped the ball at my feet and looked up at me with that same big ol' shit eating grin. I laughed and tossed the ball again...and again...and again. He never seemed to tire. Throughout this time, I began to really get used to having 7 around. I 59 guess you could say that we were bonding. I guess, you could call it that. I mean, I had sex with him several times a day, we spent most of the time together, sometimes we would sit and talk for hours, often with my feet resting on his back as he kneeled infront of the sofa. I couldn't help it...I liked him. The fact that he was my property just made it better, and the fact that he was sexy as hell, made it ALOT better. One day, after we had been on board for a couple months, I was coming back from the school where I volunteered as a high school math teacher. I stopped into a leather shop. I had passed it several time, but this time I stopped in to get a few things. When I got back to the suite, 7 was waiting for me as usual. He met me at the door and kissed my feet. I remember when I first told him that this is how I wanted to be greeted at the door. The first time, he failed miserably. It took one good caning to his hot little pink ass to get him together. As I have said before, I was very fond of 7, and I never hurt him just for the sake of causing pain, but I believed that if I let the slightest mistake go unpunished, then i was being an irresponsible Master. So I layed him across the arm of the couch and layed into his ass with my mylar cane, which is designed to cause maximum pain and minimize damage or scarring. I had decided on five stripes and by the time I got to the fifth stripe, 7 was howling in pain. He never failed at that again. That was part of what made me enjoy this slave so much, he learned his lessons well. On this day, after he had greeted me at the door, he took the bag I was carrrying then floolowed me to the bedroom and helped me out of my clothes. Once that was done, he backed up a few paces, fell to his knees and bowed his head, waiting for my next instructions. I sat on the foot of the bed in just my underwear, looking a this beautiful whitehoy bowing just a few feet away. He was willing, even excited to do anything to please me. "Come to me, boy." I said, and smiled as he nearly fell over himself getting to my side. "I went by the administration office today, boy." 7 looked up at me expectantly. He knew better than to speak because i had not asked him a question. "I have decided to officially claim you as my property. I filled out the ownership papers." I reached over to the bag that the boy had placed on the bed. It was from the leather shop. The slave had become excited. He knew that if I had decided to trade him in, he would most likely end up down in the bowels of the ship working sanitation. He was kneeling between my legs when all of a sudden he lowered his down and to the side and befan to nuzzle the side of this face into the inside of my thigh. it was such an affectionate gesture that that it made me want to kiss him. I didn't, of course. Instead, I tossled his hair a bit to let him know that I approved. I reached into the bag and took out one of several items that i had gotten from the leather shop. It was a wide slave collar made of hard but flexible leather. The man in the shop had sufggested that I get the one that was padded on the inside, that way it is comfortible for long wear without chafing or otherwise damaging the slave's neck. "Bow", I said and he did. I positioned the collar under his neck and closed it so that I could fasten it at the back. I stuck my finger inside the collar 60 between his skin and the padded leather to gauge it's tightness. It was good. Snug enough so that it would not easily spin around but not tight enought o choke the boy. Once I was sure about the fit, I reached into the bag again and pulled out a small golden lock. I locked the collar with the small key then put the key in my nightstand drawer. "Stand up and face Me, boy." He did, this placed his dick and balls at eye level. They were small and pink. "Standard Whiteboy Issue huh, boy?" I said and laughed. "Yes, Master," The honky said, blushing a deep red. I reached into the bag and pulled out another strip of leather that matched the collar that I had placed around the boys neck. With the fingers of my left hand, I gathered the boys tiny genitals in my hand around the base of the entire package. I took the strap of leather and wrapped it aroung the base, then I fastened it with the buckle and and locked it with the same kind of padlock I had used on the collar. As I did this I looked up into the boy's face to find him looking down at me curiously. "This is just temporary, boy." I said to him. I set an appointment next week to have your permanent collar and genital cinch welded on permanantly. "As you wish, Master." The boy said. "My body is yours to do with as you please." " I know, boy. And I wouldn't have it any other way. By the way, as of right now, I am changing your name to 'cracker pup', to be known as cracker. "Thank you for my new name, master" The boy said sincerely. "May I ask, Master, if the word 'pup' has any significance?" "Ah," I said, "It does, boy. From now on you are not only my personal servant, but you are also my pet...My pup." "Oh, Master!" The boy said and actually went to hug me. Fortunately for him, he caught himself. "Thank you, master. Thank you so much!" "So from now on, boy, I expect to see you on all fours at all times unless the assigned task prevents it." "Yes, Master," cracker said, instantly dropping to his knees and nuzzling the side of his face into the inside of my thigh again. It was his way of showing affection. I liked it. That night, after I had fucked him soundly, I allowed him to sleep in my bed with my dick in his mouth like a pacifier. Both of us happy as two peas in a pod. A couple days later, when I returned from a particularly hard day at school, I was in a very bad mood. I had no idea that teaching little kids could be 61 so frustrating. When I walked in the door, Cracker met me at the door and kissed my feet as usual. Today though, instead of petting his head affectionately, I kicked out at him, catching him on the lip with the toe of my boot. He scurried away and looked up at me in fear. I glanced back at him, then walked back to my bedroom and plopped down on the bed. Seconds later, Cracker came in and started trying to pull my shoes and socks off. I sat there and looked at him. Content to let him undress me as he usually does. When he slowed down because of a knot in my bootstrings, I lashed out at him again. This time my foot landed in his chest and he fell flat on his back. He looked up at me again with fear in his eyes. Then, to my surprise, the slave rose to his knees with his back toward me, then he spread his knees wide and bent forward until his forehead touched the floor. This, of course, positioned his asshole so it pointed up at me. Then the boy reached back with both of his hands and spread his asscheeks and winked his hole at me. I swear, it winked at me! I didn't quite know how to react to that. "Cracker!" I said, trying not to laugh. "Get up from there. What the hell are you doing?" "I'm trying to please you, Master." He said, humbly as he rose to an upright position, but still on his knees and turned to face me. "I could tell you had a difficult day. How can I make it better?" I just looked at him for a moment. Here I was, pissed off about a bad day at work. I take it out on my slave and yet he is still doing everything he can to please Me. I had never seen him look so pitiful with his bottom lip still bleeding from when I hit him the first time. My heart melted right then and there. "Go wash your face, boy, and come here." Without a word, the boy scurried off to the bathroom. While he was in there, I finished taking off my boots and layed back on the bed. When cracker had finished washing his face, he came and kneeled between my legs whish were hanging over the edge of the bed as I lay on my back with my feet on the floor. "How may I serve you, master?" Without saying a word, I patted the bed. He knew that that meant that I wanted him up on the bed with me. Happily he hopped up on the bed. I reached up and guided his head down to my chest. I am actually a very nice guy at heart and my immediate instinct was to apologize for hitting him. I knew better though. I would never apologize to a slave. So what I said was: "Such a good pup." "Thank you, Master." I began to tell him about my day. It was actually quite theraputic. I felt much better, when I was done. It might seem strange, but cracker was actually becoming my friend. What might sound even stranger is that fact that I told him so. Not used to so much affection, he kept quiet. "I've read that you can't be friends with a slave." I said, "but I'm not so sure." 62 Without looking up at me, and with his head still resting on my chest, cracker asked, "May i speak freely, Master?" I felt his body tense up as if he thought I might punish him. "You may, whenever we are alone, boy, but remember your place." "Thank you, Master." He said, turning his face toward me. "If it pleases you to consider this slave a friend, Master, then that is your choice. You are my master, i am your property. You own me. You can do whatever you want with me, whenever you want. If it pleases you to take your frustrations out on me, then I will be your punching bag. I was taught in training that my body doesn't belong to me anymore. It belongs to my master. I am so grateful to be accepted by a Real Man such as yourself. I will do anything to please you." "I know you will, boy." I said, ruffling his hair that I had allowed to grow out just a bit. "This is my first time being a master. I'm learning." "And I am honored to be your first honky slave, master." "As you should be, cracker." I cracked a smile. "Now go get my dinner." ------------- A few days later, I decided that it was time to get cracker's permanent collar. Just the thought of it made my dick stir just a bit. it kind of surprised me that such a mundane detail could arouse me. In fact, I was only considering it because Alton had suggested it. But if I really thought about it, just about anything that emphasized my control over the boy, I found myself wanting more and more. I had seen others altering their slaves to fit their own personal tastes. Some of these things didn't appeal to me, like a new acquaintance of mine Ricky believed that slaves should be silent so he had his slave's vocal cords seared. I wouldn't want to do that to cracker because I enjoy talking with him, but that level of control was a real turn on. I took cracker down to the blacksmith. But then I realized that that skill will come in handy once we got to the planet. For now though, the guy had set up shop in his suite. Once the guy had welded the stainless steel collar onto cracker's neck and a matching cinch ring around his genitals, he told me that he was also a piercer. That appealled to me because I had been thinking of having some more modifications done to cracker. As the piercer/blacksmith and I talked about some of the possibilities, I really got a chance to look at him. He was actually a good looking guy. He stood about an inch taller than me and had really dark smooth skin. His shoulder length senegalese dreds were pulled back 63 into a high ponytail revealing a slender face and a broad smile. Ray was his name. After the plans were made, Ray informed me that he and a few of the guys get together on friday nights to play dominos and video games. That sounded like fun to me. I needed to get out of my suite more often, and this sounded like just the thing. He suggested that I bring my slave along as most of the other guys would be doing the same. On the way back to my suite, I stopped by the store to pick up a few things. As I walked into the wide plaza that was surrounded by little shops and other businesses, I couldn't help but marvel about all the work that it must have taken to build this ship. Then I realized that it was most likely built with slave labor. But how many slaves must it have taken to build a whole city in space? It was too much to think about. This ship was an engineering marvel. The money and manpower it must have taken to build the thing, let alone to make it fly! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- BRAD The six slave trainees, naturally gravitated into groups. Brad and Chuck on one side, Frank and Thomas to one side and Mark and Eddie off to themselves. They all sat in silence. Between the shock and pain of the brutality that they had suffered throught the day, and the outrage of what the guards had just done to them, there was nothing to be said. Each was in his own personal hell. All the trainees except Brad had kind of shied away from Chuck because he seemed to invite trouble, but still he seemed to be the ony one of them to have a handle on things. Of these six, Thomas seemed to be the weakest of them. On many occasions, he had simply given in the the guards. He just didn't want to be hurt anymore. He just knew that he couldn't take it. He figured that if he just did what they wanted him to do, they might not hurt him anymore. This was often a point of contention between Thomas and Chuck. This evening would be no different. As all the men sat in silence, Thomas began to inch forward toward the bowls of pisswater. As he moved, he caught Chuck's attention. "What the fuck are you doing?" Chuck said. "Don't tell me you're gonna drink that nigger piss!" Silently, Thomas moved forward. The going was tough anyway because his his sore, aching muscles, but it was made worse by the fact htat his hands 64 were bound behind his back. "Leave him alone!" Frank jumped to his friend's defense. Over the past few weeks, Frank, a big ex-con in his early thirties had sort of the younger Thomas under his wing. "What are you, his fuckin' husband?" Chuck spat back. "You just gonna let your friend drink nigger piss? That's just what the fuck they want us to do. They want us to be dependant on them." "You stupid fuck!" Frank raged. "You can't see that we already depend on them? When was the last time you got a drink of water or a bite of food on your own? If they wanted to, they could leave us here to starve. The only way to survive is to do what they want. To BE what they want." "Bullshit!" Chuck spat back. "The way we survive is to stand up to them. To stick together and resist. We need to show the niggers that we are not their slaves and never will be." As Chuck and Frank went back and forth at each other, Thomas had made his way to the first bowl. On his knees, he bent deeply at the waist and brought his face down into the bowl and began to sip at the pisswater. Brad looked on in disgust, but he was also thirsty. He felt like he had been eating sandpaper all day. But could he really do what Thomas was doing? Drinking another man's piss? No, he wouldn't do it, He COULDN'T do it. He'd heard Chuck's words and taken them in. This is exactly what the niggers wanted. They wanted to break us down. Why else would they piss in our water? As the night wore on, Brad tried to sleep. He was more tired than he had ever been in his life. Too bad he was more sore from the beatings and the fuckings than he was tired. So sleep came in short snatches. His aches and pains kept him from sleeping too deep, not to mention his hands were still tied behind his back. Talk about uncomfortible! Throughout the night, he would see one guy ore another crawl over to the line of bowls and take a drink. He tried to stay strong, but if he didn't get some fluid in him soon, he would die of thirst. Brad's resolve finally did break, but only after he caught his friend and mentor Chuck, slinking over to the bowls to drink. Brad struggled up to his knees and slowly made his way to the last bowl. Strangely, he found himself wishing that someone had drank his portion already. That way he would have an excuse not to drink. No such luck. His bowl was undisturbed. He bent over the bowl, sniffing it first to see if it actually smelled like piss. It did. As bad as it smelled, he knew that if he was to survive the night, he would have to drink it. He put his face deep enough in the bowl so that his lips touched the cool wetness. He had halfway expected the pisswater to be hot like piss, but the bowl had been sitting there for hours so it was room temperature. The fowl mix was surprisingly refreshing, but Brad knew that it was only because he was so terribly thirsty and dehydrated. After he had drank his 65 fill of the piss water, gagging a bit at first, Brad settled in for what proved to be a better but still fitfull sleep. Over the next two weeks, hell had become routine. Every morning, Brad and the other slaves were subjected to grueling forced workouts. The trainers stressed the importance a slave keeping his body fit. Of course, the slaves couldn't be trusted to work out on their own so each of them were chained to a specially fitted workout machine that would monitor their progress and administer a painful electric shock every time their effort fell below optimal. The first couple of days were filled with screams of agony as the slaves were struggling to adjust to their grueling workouts. Fortunately, the slaves were only scheduled these workouts for half a day. UNFORTUNATELY, the the other half of the day was taken up by brutal beatings and fuckings. The slaves were paraded into that same room they were led into on the first day. They were strapped down to those same punishment horses, and fucked mercilessly by horse hung honky slave trainers. Between fuckings each slave was beaten with a cane until he could barely stand then strapped to the punishment bench and fucked again. Forced workouts in the mornings, repeatedly raped and beaten in the evenings. Then at night all they had was piss water to drink. The only respite from this surreal hell was Brad's relationship with his friend Chuck. In the evenings as they rested from the horrors of the day, Brad and Chuck would sit and talk. It was the only little bit of normalcy that Brad had. It was one of the only things keeping him sane. One evenng after they had been fed and watered, Brad started asking Chuck about the numerous tattoos covering his body. "I usually don't answer those questions, bro, but here i guess it dont matter. You see this one here?" Chuck asked as he pointed to a small tattoo of a swaztika on the upper part of his right foot. "I wear this in honor of the fatherland, Germany. You ever been there, bro?" Brad just shook his head. Hell his family didn't have enough money to go cross country, let alone overseas. "Well, me neither, but I'm gonna go one day, fuck what these niggers are trying to make us believe. It's gonna be like a pilgrimage. When this fuckin race war is over, we are gonna march into the Fatherland victorious, waving some black nigger skin like victory flags. This one here," he pointed to a life sized fist with a celtic cross in the middle of it. "This here symbolizes the hammer of god. It is the official symbol of the organization that I belong to. We are god's right hand...his hammer, and we are gonna keep putting the fear of a white god in the heart of every nigger we come across." "What's this one?" Brad pointed to what looked lik a small country style church on Chuck's upper thigh. The church had the number "25" tattooed inside of it. "This represents a little church in the backwoods of Tennessee." "Is that the church you grew up in?" 66 "Hell no, bro," Chuck lowered his voice a bit. "That's the jiggaboo church we burned down after chaining all the doors shut from the outside." He paused to try to gauge the look of shock on his friend's face. Getting no reaction other than a slighty lowered jaw, he continued. "The number '25' represents the number of nigger souls we deliverered to hell that beautiful Sunday Morning." At first Brad was so shocked he couldn't speak, especially when he saw the other three numbered churches tattooed on various parts of chucks body and realized what they meant. One of the little churches had "400" tattooed inside it. Brad was taken aback at first, but then he looked around the huge room full of cages just like the one he was in, and realized thet there where probably at least this many white people in this room alone, was what Chuck and his buddies had any worse than what was going on here? Brad decided that the answer was ...no. Curiosity spurred him on and he asked about other tattoos one by one. There were several tats of a barren tree in various locations on Chuck's body. Brad learned that each of those trees represented a hung nigger. In the center of Chuck's chest between his well-developed pecs was a bloody Army blade that was a reminder of the funn he'd had stabbing a teenage nigger boy to death in a public bathroom in NYC. Chuck had gotten pissed off when he'd seen the boy kiss a white girl on the subway. Chuck followed the kid into the bathroom and stabbed him to death. He'd left the boy dead on the floor in a puddle of blood. Hell with most of the monkies gone to the Planet of the Apes, nobody even missed this dude. Just another dead nigger. In any other circumstance, Brad would have been horrified by the history of murder and mayhem depicted in ink all over Chuck's body. But after going through what he has gone through on this ship, he found it difficult to be appalled by these acts against niggers. In fact, it just made Chuck seem that much more like a hero. It was like they had seen this coming. Hell, if more white people had the forethought that Chuck and his group had, this would have never happened at all. Shit, those niggers had it coming. If it's a race war, it was the niggers who started it and if the whites are gonna finish it, it will be brothers like Chuck who will lead the charge. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Sgt. Clemmons 67 The sex slave training was going pretty well. Most of the honkies were well on their way to being the docile, compliant, obedient slaves that Clem was determined for them to be. For the first couple of months or so the honkies had been subjected to forced workouts that had their already fit bodies in tip-top condition. Even the few that weren't in good shape but had still been chosen as sex slaves for their potential were shaping up quite nicely. Also over those first couple of months the trainees had been subjected to daily fuckings and beatings. This portion of the training was to show the honkies that their bodies no longer belonged to them, but the their Masters. This was a time tested method of slave training and it had proven to have life-long effects on a slave. Although Clem oversaw most of the honky training on the ship, most of his time was spent with one particular group, 307. To Clem's frustration, he realized that this group wasn't transitioning nearly as smoothly as the others, in fact, it had been reported that some of the cages in the immediate vacinity of 307 were experiencing problems as well. At first, it wasn't clear what the problem was, there just seemed to be stronger sense of rebellion. In Clem's office, he has the capability to keep watch over the entire training deck. It was rare that there were any problems that needed that kind of attention, so he didn't do it often. But on this partiular day, he decided to look in on cage 307. At first he didn't see anything too out of the ordinary, but then he noticed that, while two of the honkies in 307 were huddled together in a far corner, the others were sort of gathered around one honky...3076. Clem had had his share of trouble out of 3076 over the first couple of months, but he would always just beat the hell out of him like he would any other recalcitrant honky. But now as he looked on, he could see that not only were the slaves in his own cage hanging on to his every word, but so were many of the slaves in the surrounding cages as well. An idea began to form in Clem's mind. He turned away from the survailance monitor and and began typing into his computer. He was bring up all the info they had on 3076. Charles McShane was ranking member of The Fraternal Order of the Eagle, a white supremecist group reported to be even more violent than the KKK was back in the 1950's and 60's. They are accused of hundreds of murders all over the United States. Many members of the group have been indicted over the years but the convictions would never materialize...usually because of some loophole or technicality. As he read, Clem was sure that Charles was spreading his poison to the rest of the honkies. He needed to put a stop to it. And he he would...by any means necessary. The next day, as the forced workouts were progressing, Sgt. Clemmons called for his personal slave , Sal, to bring Chuck to his office and secure him to the St. Andrews cross that he kept in his office for just such an occasion. Once the honky was secured to the large "x", Sal retreated to the far wall to await further instructions. He knew that his master would want him on hand in case 68 this honky tried something stupid. Sal also knew that he would rip the honky's head off before he let the slave hurt his master. So he stood there at the ready as these two stared at each other with hatred filled eyes. It had become standard procedure with this particular honky, to keep him gagged whenever he wasn't in his cage, today was no different. Clem was sure that if the slave hadn't been ballgagged, he would be yelling to the top of his lungs even now. Sgt. Clemmons slowly rose from his deck, and walked toward the bound whiteboy in his office. He stood face to face with this piece of shit honky. He knew that if the slave had the chance he would gladly spit in his face. But the ballgag prevented that. Without a word, Clem raised his right hand and began to trace the numbers on Chuck's chest. "3076." He said almost to himself. "Or do you prefer Charles McShane?" Clem searched the boy's face for some reaction and was rewarded with a slight raise of the eyebrows. The bitch hadn't expected to be called by his former name. Clem continued. "That's right honky," Clem continued as he began to pace back and forth in front of Chuck, "I know exactly who you are and I know exactly what you have done. You and your organization. Yes, I know all about them, unfortunately, only you and a few others ended up on this ship. Most are on other ships. Of course, I have informed all their trainers what I have learned, and they are all just as pissed off as I am." As he said this, Clem reached out and grabbed Chuck's right nipple between his thumb and fcurled forefinger and squeezed..HARD. Chuck's muffled scream was like music to Clem's ears. "I could kill you right here in this office, then have my slave carry your body down to the on board rendering station and no one would give a shit. You would be just another dead honky. I could march your sorry white ass down to the cargo bay and jettison your murderous ass out of the airlock and into space. No one would care. All that is too easy for you, though. I've got other plans for you. I have developed a 'special' training regime specificaly designed for a honky bastard like you." Clem released Chuck's nipple then moved down to clamp his vicegrip of a hand onto the surprisingly small nuts that hang below his pink dick. Of course, this illicited another muffled scream from Chuck. This one was so loud that Sal, who had been standing off to the side with his hands behind his back and his head bowed, looked up to see what was going on. Then seeing that his master had everything 'in hand' so to speak, bowed his head again like a good slave. He was there to protect his master, not to get into his master's business. And the training would begin immediately. Clem called over to Sal and had him place a chastity device over Chuck's dick and balls. It was one of those cock cages that was designed to cause pain if the captive get's an erection. Once it was secure, Clem had Sal put leather mitts on both of chucks hands. These mitts were designed to render the wearer's hands utterly useless. They looked like leather balls that were locked onto his wrists. Then a leather hood was placed on Chuck's head. This hood was designed to block out not only all sight but all sound as well. So Chuck would be in virtual darkness and silence for the forseeable future. 69 Chuck was unceremoniously thrown into a small cell, just behind Clem's office and left there. For the next two weeks, Chuck was utterly alone and in darkness. His only break from the monotony of his own thoughts was once a day when Clem came to feed him. In fact, Clem was to be the only one to feed chuck. And when he did so, he held the Honky Chow in one hand and a slave prod in the other. At Clem's command,Sal had taken the customary slave mush, formed it into small nuggets. This made it easier for Clem to train the new slave to eat directly from his hand. Of course, as Clem expected, the dumbass honky refused to eat at first. In fact, on the first day, Chuck lunged at Clem. Keep in mind, at this point, the honky was still wearing the hood, so he was lunging blindly in the darkness, and was easilly put down by the slave prod. After going hungry a couple of times, however, the slave calmed down and took the food from Clem's hand. Soon, Clem added another aspect to this slave's personal training. Along with the daily feedings came daily fuckings. Sgt Clemmons already outwighed the Chuck by 40 lbs of muscle, and in his weakend state, the slave offered no real resistance. Clem was very smart though, everthing his did had a reason. The first time he went into the small chamber where the slave was held with the intention of fucking him, he grabbed the honky roughly. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out, bitch." He said. As he said this, he was positioning his own body to fuck the slave althought he had no intention of doing so. The goal this first time was to get the slave to struggle and, true to form, he did. Then once the boy started to struggle, Clem let up. He told the boy that since he was ungrateful, he could just go hungry. And that day, he did. Also the next day. As Clem knew all too well, however, hunger can be one of the greatest tools when training a honky. The chamber had a built in penis shaped spiggot that the slave had to suck on and get water when he needed it, but he was completely dependant on Clem for his food. After the third day of depriving the slave of food, Clem had begun to worry that the stubburn animal may starve himself to death. On the fourth day, Clem unlocked the door to the slave's closet chamber, removed the hood as had become his custom and looked at the slave. He could tell that the honky was badly malnourished. This worried him a bit, but he had set on this course and he had to see it through, but he would consider it a personal failure if he lost this slave. As he had done everyday for the last four days, Clem roughly grabbed the slave as if to fuck him. This time, however, Chuck offered no resistance whatsoever. At first, Clem thought that the honky might simply be too weak to offer any resistance, but then, his heart(and his dick) jumped as he realized that the slave was actually positioning HIMSELF! Clem stepped back and watched as the whiteboy on the floor in front of him pivoted on his knees, put his face to the floor. Then, the slave slowly reached back with both hands and used them to spread his asscheeks apart. Victory! Clem thought to hiself. As Chuck held his position, freely offering his ass to his captor, Clem spit into his hand and stroked his dick to full erection. Then, he straddls the the honky and unceremoniously plunges his huge dick into the boy's vulnorable 70 asshole. Still, no resistance from Chuck. Clem, fucked the boy doggy style for a while than ordered the slave onto his back with his legs in the air. Again, chuck moves ino the commanded position withougt hesitation. Now Clem is able to study the slave's face as he leisurely but forcefully fucks the boys asshole. What he see in the face of the slave is not resistance but a grim determination mixed with what looks to be hopefulness? Aparently, the slave was hoping that this show of submissiveness would get him fed. Indeed it would, but his level of brokenness still had yet to be determined. Once he had got his nut and deposited his seed deep into the white boy's gut, Clem retreated back into his outer office to get the Honky Chow nuggets that Sal had prepared for him. He walked back into the tiny slave chamber, put a few of the small dry nuggets into the palm of his hand and stretched it out to the slave. Chuck wasted no time lowering his mouth into Clem's hand and ate until there were none left. Clem new enough to know that in his malnourished state, the honky would easily eat himself sick, so he only allowed the boy to eat about three handfulls of the crunchy nuggets. Once done, Clem replaced the hood and left the chamber, locking the door securely behind him. That evening, he had a celebratory coctail as he contemplated his next move. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Jamal Over the next couple of years, life on the colossal transport ship began to resemble life on earth. poeple had jobs that they went to everyday, goods and services were bought and sold, kids went to school, all the things that one would expect from a modern society. Life for Jamal and his slave, cracker pup, had settled into a comfortible routine. The ship, dubbed "Noir One," had become home. Jamal had even made friends with several of his fellow settlers. One of the best of these friends is Ray. He is a blacksmith and a piercer. His wife, Lakeisha, was a registered nurse back on earth. On the ship though, she is a slave veterinarian. Unbelievably, it only required an 18 month course taught by a doctor who had owned slaves back on earth. Now, Lakeisha has her own practice right there on the ship. And a quite popular one. In Noirian society, one of the worst things that can happen is for a Black Woman to get pregnant by her 71 slave. By law any offspring of a slave is a slave. This left Noirian women with only a couple of chioces. Condoms, which robs a woman of alot of the pleasure a woman deserves to get from her slave. A vasectomy is an easy choice and so is castration. Both are well within a woman's right to have done to her property, but both also damage the value of the property. Also, many women find that a slave who has been altered in such a way is much less attractive, less...male. Lakeisha ownes a beautiful male sex slave who she has, infact named "Beauty." He is 6'4" tall with a longish blonde hair and eyes so deep blue that one just wanted to dive in. All of the women in Lakeisha's reading group were so jealous of her. When Lakeisha first got beauty, traded for him with a friend who didn't like blondes, she always used a condom when he fucked her. She hated it, but she refused to cut his balls off or give him a vasectomy, either of which she could have done herself with very little trouble. So she did something different. Beauty has a very large dick for a honky and nice sized balls, which made him very valuable in the ladies market. Lakeisha didn't want to mess with that. But she also HATED using condoms. So, what she did was, she gave him a urethral reroute. She surgically removed his urethra from his penis and reattached it to small hole that she had created in his "taint" area between his ballsack and his asshole. That way, she could use his dick all she wanted and would never have to worry about getting pregnant. Beauty still ejaculates just like any other male, only instead of shooting his load through his dick, his cum dribbles out of his newly created piss/cumhole. The whole thing was only minimally envasive, and Beauty was all healed up and ready to go within a week or so. There were no ill effects that she could see. Of course, Beauty now hat to sit to piss like a woman, and there was that time that she caught him crying like a baby over what she had done to him. None of this mattered though. Beauty is a slave, HER slave, she could do whatever the hell she wanted. She didn't give a shit about the honky's feelings. One evening Jamal was visiting Ray and Lakeisha. They had just finished an awesome dinner that Beauty had prepared whn the conversation had turned to body mods for slaves. Lakeisha detailed he modifications of beauty and jamal was intrigued. Ray and Lakeisha owned several slaves. One thing that had always intrigued Jamal is the unconventional mannor in which they used their slaves. He has always treated his slave, cracker, like a favored pet. A companion. Jamal would never do anything drastic concerning him, but any other honky was fair game. So he was very interested in Ray and Lakeisha's insight. The three of them sat in the livingroom of Ray's large suite passing a blunt. Marijuana is perfectly legal under Terran Law. Jamal was fascinated by one of their slaves who, as a punishment was serving as ashtray for the evening. The slave was on his knees on a low, wheeled platform. His head was down between his knees which left his assholeup in the air and completely vulnorable. As they talked, the three of them wheeled the slave between them using his upturned asshole to dump their ashes in. Even though Jamal would 72 not use his slave cracker in this way, having this slave at his disposal like this was kind of a turn on. Jamal was not a cruel person really, but he DID get off on control. Using this whiteboy like this was a definite show of control. "Captain Jenkins brought his slaveboy in to my office today," Lakeisha said between puffs. "Wanted to get the boy's asshole sewed up a bit. Apparently the captain had fucked the poor thing half to death, Hahaha." She paused to take a puff of her blount then dump the ashes into the slave's ass. She went on to tell her husbamd and Jamal about her conversation with the captain. Turns out info about Terra Noir was being held pretty close. Of course people knew that it was going to be a slave state where anyone who wasn't black wa a slave, but not much else. The Captain told Lakeisha about some high level meetings that had been conducted over the last few months. The meetings were more like strategy sessions. They needed to decide on the type of government and finalize some economic issues. It was decided that the government would be representative government much like that of the United States, where smaller semi-self governed regions would send re representatives to look after that region's interests in the larger central government. Just like the states send representatives to congress. That central government, however will more closely resemble an African tribal council than than the senate. It will be called the Noirian Council. The Council will have a President, but instead of that president being elected in a national(global) election every four or eight years, each region's representative will hold the office for a four year term at the end of which the office will rotate to the next region's rep chosen randomly by computer. That will help the government to avoid all the curruption that pretty much destroyed the American government. The three friends talked and talked about politics and government and all sorts of things. Funny thing though, throughout all of this stimulating conversation, Jamal couldn't get his mind off the ashtray slave. That evening, as Jamal was giving cracker a good hard fucking, he couldn't help but think about that helpless honky. It was nothing more than a thing, and Ray and Lakeisha were content to treat it that way. Honky slaves bound for Terra Noir were trained to avoid using personal pronouns when refering to themselves. They were taught to refer to themselves as "it" or "this slave." As he and cracker had developed a sort of friendship, Jamal has found it difficult to look at cracker in those terms. Even now, as his big black dick was sliding smoothly in and out of cracker's upturned ass, Jamal still thought of the boy as a person. Since cracker was his first slave, he would probably always think of him that way. Jamal pulled his dick out of cracker's ass briefly, so as to move from fucking the slave doggiestyle to missionary. Cracker instinctively flipped over onto his back. He knew excatly what his master's favorite position to cum in. Once on his back, the honky spread his legs wide and pulled his knees up to his armpits so that his hole was open and easily accessible, just like his master liked it. As Jamal plunged his rock hard dick balls deep into Cracker's willing asshole, he looked down into the boy's eyes. He saw love looking back at him. A love so pure and unconditional that is almost put a lump in his throat. It reminded him of when he was a little boy and his uncle had bought him a little 73 puppy. It hit Jamal right then, that he lived cracker as well. Not as he would love a boyfriend or a life partner, but as a beloved family pet. A friend, a companion. And even though cracker is a honky slave, he would always be an important part of Jamal's life. As he got closer and closer to climax, Jamal closed his eyes and started pumping harder and harder. Gone were all the warm, cuddly feelings he had for cracker, to be replaced by a need that was to be fulfilled by this hole beneath him. As he piston fucked that hole, Jamal began to think again about that honky ashtray, the thought of that level of control over another "person" sent him into a frenzy. He moved his hand up and stuck three fingers into cracker's mouth. After a few minutes, Jamal began to feel that familiar tightening in his balls. Cracker was still gently sucking the three fingers that his master had stuck into his mouth. He was in honky heaven. Suddenly the fingers began to move. Cracker was on alert just in case his master wanted to do something else, but before he could react in any way, those fingers were jammed down his throat. Cracker had lost his gag reflex a long time ago, but it was all he could do to keep his honky chow down. The slave wondered what ws going on, but he knew that it wasn't his business. If his master wanted to use him in this way, dominate him in this way, it was his right to do so. All Cracker had to worry about was clinching his asshole on the outstroke to give his master the most pleasure possible. Once Jamal had shot his huge load deep into the boy's ass, and rolled over onto his back, Cracker quickly hopped up, maneuvered himself between his Masters legs and lowered his mouth over the huge dick that had just pummelled his ass. He dutifully used his mouth to thuroughly clean his Master's dick and balls of all the cum and assjuices that had leaked all over the place. After Jamal was completely clean, Cracker slid off the bed and to his knees to await his Master's next instructions. After about a minute or so of complete silence Cracker heard a very faint, but even snoring. He smiled to himself and looked up to see his master flat on his back and fast asleep. Then the boy slowly climbed back up into the bed, cuddled up between Jamal's legs and lowered his mouth over his master's still semi-hard dick. Before long, he himself was fast asleep with his master's dick still in his mouth...HONKY HEAVEN. The next day, on his way back to his suite, Jamal stopped by the Cracker Control office. He had thought about it all night and decided that he wanted to get another slave. "What's up, Mr. Franklin?" Jamal was met by the CC captain, himself. Milo Nelson is a large man. At least 6'4" tall and 250 pounds of obviously solid muscle. His skin was the color of dark chocolate, it's smoothness marred only by an ugly scar down the side of his right cheek. He and Jamal were acquainted because his daughter, Carla, was in Jamal's class. "What can I do for you?" He said as he motioned with his hand for Jamal to sit on the other side of his desk. "That girl of mine causing trouble in your class...again?" Carla had recently been acting out in class. "Nope," Jamal responded, smiling slightly. "Carla has been great. She just needed a little patience ans understanding. Remember that she is moving to a brand new place. And that place is not just a new neighborhood or a new 74 city. It's a new planet! No wonder she had some issues to deal with. I'm working with her, she's gonna be fine." "I can imagine. We're all kinda scared about it." Milo said. Then, looking up into Jamal's eyes, he said, "I'm glad she's got you as a teacher." He paused for a minute. When he continued, the cloud that had crept into his face had dissipated. "So if it's not about about Carla, what can I help you with?" "I'm here to see about getting a new slave." "Oh?" Milo raised his eyebrows. "The boy they gave you not working out? I saw him on your leash the other day, he seemed fine." "No, No." Jamal shook his head. "Cracker is great...the perfect honky. I want to get another slave in ADDITION to my cracker." "I'm sure that can be arranged." Milo said. "What did you have in mind? Another ginger?" Jamal thought for a moment. "No," he said, "I'm looking for something a bit different from my cracker." "Well, tell me what you have in mind, bro" "I want a honky that's a bit on the beefy side. Not fat or even husky, but muscular. One that can take a lickin' and keep on tickin', if you know what I mean." Milo leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his lips. "Ah, I see." He said, "a honky that can take some abuse without really being any worse for wear." "Well, maybe a little worse for wear," Jamal said. "I plan on using this one pretty hard." "Oh, so you don't think your cracker is up for the challenge, huh?" "That's not really the issue." Jamal responded. "Cracker is kinda special to me, you know, being my first honky and all." "You know, bro, conventional wisdom says you shouldn't get attached to your honky." "Yeah, I know, but I got plans for my honky." Jamal went on to tell Milo that he wanted a honky that was kinda beefy, 75 looks weren't real important, but not too ugly. Milo said that he would go down to the training deck and see what they had in stock, then send it up to his suite. The next evening, just as Jamal was finishing up his dinner. There was a very light knock on the front door. Cracker, who had been on his knees beside his master, eating his honky chow out of a silver dog bowl with his name painted on it, reared up on his haunches and looked at Jamal expectantly. "Go get it, boy," Jamal said whiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. Cracker rose up on two legs and walked to the front door and pressed the button. As the door slid open, cracker was surprised to be staring into the chest of a big honky. A big scary looking honky. The slave was about 6'4" tall and weighed about 250 lbs of pure muscle. As cracker's eyes slowly tracked up the honky's broad chest he was actually kind of disgusted with the hairy bear of a man. In the rush of his thughts, he remembered that way back in another life, he used to actually like big muscular hairy men, now, this honky who would have attracted back then only filled him with disgust. With a bit of a start, cracker realized that the reason he was disgusted by this big honky is because he knows that is how his master would feel about this whitey. Even his face was hairy with a thick, course beard,and his brown head hair was just long enough to brush his shoulders. The newcomer was standing at slave rest, but his eyes scanned the inside of the suite. Once he was sure that there was no black people around, he stepped forward and said "You just gonna stant here, pipsqueak, or you gonna show me to my new owner?" Cracker put his palm into the big honky's chest in a comicly futile attempt to stop him from entering the suite, his relatively small hand almosr disappearing into the mess of hair. "Wait," he said as he was forced to back up as the new slave boldly walked in. "There has been a mistake." "What kind of mistake, boy?" Jamal's deep baretone voice filled the room. Upon seeing a black man step into the room, the big honky immediately fell to his knees, locked his hands behind his back and bowed his head. Cracker turned, took a couple of steps toward his master then dropped to his knees in an identical position. "I'm sorry, Master," he said without meeting his master's eyes. "This honky is clearly not up to your standards. If you wish, I can..." "This honky is exactly what I ordered." Jamal said as he stepped past cracker, patting his head affectionately as he did so. "I know that you were just trying to keep me from seeing this profoundly unattractive honky, but it's okay." Now, Jamal stood directly above the kneeling honky. He reached out and possively touched the slave's long stringy hair. "Yep," he said wiping his palm 76 together as if trying to get off something dirty. "Just what I ordered. Stand up, boy." "Yes, Master," The big honky said as he quickly got to his feet. "This slave is honored to finally be owned by..." "Shut up, boy." Jamal said dismissively, as he circled the big honky looking him up and down. "Speak again without permission and I can have you silenced within the hour." Now Jamal could complete his inspecton of the honky. "Cracker, take notes." He said over his shoulder. "This honky needs a shower, first thing. It stinks to high heaven." Jamal ran his fingers across the slave's muscular back as he circled him. "I want him clean shaven, everywhere but his head. I'll give you instructions for that later. You will shave him when you shower him. Open." That last was said to the new honky who opened his mouth immediately. Jamal stuck his fingers in to the slave's mouth, carefully checking the boy's teeth. They were surprisingly white and healthy looking. His breath stank to high heaven though. "Damn," he said to cracker, "we'll need to do something about his breath. Smells like somebody took a shit in his mouth. You been eating shit, boy?" "Yes, Master." The slave replied "As part of my training." "Well it smells like it was just this morning." Jamal said a bit of disgust on his face. "Cracker, get over here and smell this honky's breath." Without hesitation, cracker walked up to the big honky. He had to rise to his tip toes to get close enough to the slave's mouth to smell his breath and when he did he crinkled his nose and his already pale skin blanched just a bit. As he did this, the big honky plushed a bright red, obviously humiliated. "Take care of it, boy." Jamal said to cracker. "If I smell shit on his breath again, I'll have your ass." "Yes, Master." Cracker said bowing is head. At this point the boy was realizing that it would likely be up to him to bring this new honky up to his master's standards. he was determined to do the best he possibly could. "Turn around and bend over, boy." Jamal had turned his attention back to his new honky. The slave not only complied immediately, but when he bent over, he reached back to spread his asscheeks to give his new master easy access to his hole. He knew what was coming next. He hated it, but he was trying to do all he could to impress his master with his submissiveness. "Cracker, open your mouth." The smaller slave complied without hesitation. Jamal stuck the index and middle fingers of his right hand into his slave's mouth. As if by instinct, the boy began to suck the two inserted fingers in a way that would leave them wet and slippery. Then without preamble, Jamal jammed those same two fingers knuckle deep into the big slave's waiting asshole. He wiggled them just a bit. "The ass is definitely well-used, but still nice and tight. When was the last time you were fucked, honky?" 77 "Just this morning master." "And when was the last time you were allowed to cum?" "Master, this slave was milked for it's sperm yesterday afternoon for breeding purposes." Jamal had figured as much. Just a few days before, he had gotten a call from the director of the ship's breeding program. As it turns out, there is a very aggressive breeding program on the ship. The idea was that if the breeding program were started early enough and was aggressive enough, the easier life will be on Terra Noir. These bred honkies will be much easier to train and control because they will never have known life on Earth, and therefore have no real concept of freedom. Jamal had agreed to allow cracker to be milked three times a week, and he would do the same for his new honky. Once the thorough inspection was completed, Jamal ordered the slave back to his knees. Of course, the boy didn't hesitate. Jamal stood in front of the kneeling honky. He was again looking at the slave's long stringy hair. He took his hand and gathered some of the hair together in a ponytail. He pulled hair from the gathered bit in his hand until it was the amount that he had in mind. He put a small clip in the bit bit that he had gathered together and told cracker to shave the slave's entire head except for that little bit. He instructed the boy that the big slave was to have absolutely no hair on his body except his eyebrows and that bit that he had clipped on top. Once the two honkies went off to the bathroom, Jamal went into the livingroom and flipped on the TV. He still enjoyed watching the news from Earth on narrowbeam. At this distance from Earth the signal was a full week old, but it was all new to him. As he watched scenes from home, Jamal felt a small twinge of homesickness. It wasn't a big deal, but he did kinda miss the blue sky and fresh air. The air on the ship was perfectly adaquate, but it was a bit stale. In the information packet he'd been given when he first came on board, Jamal had learned that the atmosphere on Terra Noir, while being rich in the hydrogen and oxygen needed for human life to thrive, also had other elements that were completely alien to Earth. These elements had been added to the life support system on the ship. Jamal knew, however, that the slight staleness in th air was due to the fact that it was all recycled air. Even still, his missed home a bit. As he watch the news from earth, he was a bit saddened and more than a bit angry at the state of affairs. Violence against blacks in America had increased by 50%. The government apparently didn't care becauseit seemed nothing was being done to curb the violence. With all of this going on, black on black crime had declined by a significant persentage. Apparently, with the advent of Terra Noir, blacks on earth had begun to band together, to treat each other a little better, to take cae of each other. This was no real surprise to Jamal, though. Throughout 78 history, in the midst of adversity, blacks had come together, built each other up and made each other stronger. Now, a true test of that strength will be to do the same thing on Terra Noir in the absence of that adversity. In the bathroom, Cracker and Bull, the name Jamal has given to the big honky, were having a misunderstanding. Cracker was attempting to wash the slave, but Bull was not cooperating. "I can wash my self, runt! Get your hands off me." "But our master wants me to wash you." Cracker said, with alarm in his voice as he lost a tug of war over the towel. "Look, you little runt," Bull said as he tested the temperature in the water for the shower. "I understand the slave whole 'good honky' routine when the master is around, but when it's just you and me, we gotta have an understanding. Us slaves gotta stick together, you have my back and i'll have yours." Cracker just looked at him with a slightly confused look on his face. "I am gonna do what my master says,how he says to do it." As he spoke, cracker tried to grab the towel from the big honky. Bull easilly pulled the towel out of cracker's hand. "I don't wanna hurt you, pipsqueek, but I will if you touch me without my permission, I will. You are not my master, he is." On pure instinct, cracker turned. His intention was to run to his master, the only place he truely felt safe. Before he could get out of the bathroom, though, Bull had grabbed him with an arm around his neck. At first cracker was terrified, but Bull, his voice soft and friendly now. "Hey, bud, we're like brothers now, right? Slave brothers. We both just want to make our master happy right?" "Right," cracker said, calming down a bit. "Now let me wash you, like master said." "Hold on, hold on, little bro." Bull said "Master didn't say we couldn't do it together, did he?" Bull was trying to keep his voice light and friendly. "I'm gonna wash myself, but here, hold the soap for me, that way we're both doing it." Cracker just kind of stood there kind of dumbfounded. The washing and shaving went much more smoothly with Bull doing most of the work himself of course. Cracker basically just watched and made sure that not a spot was missed. Bull was surprised that he wasn't more humiliated than he felt at the moment. But then again, during his slave training, he had experienced way worse humiliations. It was a horrible thing, but it got easier 79 when he accepted the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. He realized that in order to escape that hell, he would have to become the slave that they wanted him to be. That way, he could attract an owner. There was little that a single owner could do to him that was worse than what he had experienced on the training deck. When the CC officer came into forced exercize room, and told him that he had been chosen by a master, it was all bull could do to keep from turning back flips. He knew that his hell was over. He also knew that he would do anything and everything to make his new master happy. If he didn't, the master might get tired of him and send him back to hell. He would make himself indespensible to his new master. And now as he sat there and allowed the little honky to shave his head, he knew that this slave was the only thing standing in his way. When all the shaving and cleaning was done, including so much mouthwash that he thought he had burned his tastebuds off, Bull stood in the full length mirror and looked at himself. At least he thought it was his own reflection, but it was so different. Bull had been the product of an Italian American father and a Turkish mother. By nature, he was quite hairy. Now he was naked as a jaybird. Of course, he hadn't worn a scrap of clothing in since he was enslaved, but now with al his hair gone, he felt truely naked. And what the hell was this "ponytail" all about? His new master had commanded that his head be completely shaved except for this rediculous patch of long hair at the top of his head. He had never seen anything like it. The man must be into some freaky stuff. Well hell, it couldn't be any freakier than what he'd had to go through in that hell on the training deck. Back in the livingroom, Jamal had just finished watching the available news feeds from Earth when his two slaves came in from the restroom. Of course, he knew that these were his two slaves, but one of them was completely unrecognizable. Bull, the big honky that had been delivered to him just a couple hours ago is now standing before him, a totally different animal. With all of his dark, coarse bodyhair gone, he looked less like a sasquatch and more like a proper slave. A good looking slave at that. As his two slaves knelt in front of him, jamal got up fron his plush chair and walked over to inspect the new arrival. It looked like cracker had done everything he had told him to do. But then again, Jamal expected no less. Cracker had not only proven himself to be a loyal and obedient slave, but a resourceful one as well, and Jamal trusted him to get the job done. Jamal even commanded the big honky to open his mouth so he could smell his breath. As expected, the shit smell was gone from the slave's breath. Next came a thorough inspection of the new slave, including a three-finger check of the honky's newly smooth asshole. Of course, finger fucking the white boy made Jamal horny as hell. But before he could fuck this new honky, there was something else he needed to do first. "Piss." He said softly. At the sound of the familiar command, cracker sprang up so fast that he almost knocked the Bull over in his attempt to get into position in front of master. That's my boy. Jamal 80 thought to himself. Jamal calmly put the back of his right hand against the side of cracker's head and swept him to the side. The boy knew not to resist, so he moved to the side. Jamal looked directly into the new honky's eyes and repeated the command. "Piss." The boy just kind of looked at his master dumbly. Back on the training deck, Bull had learned to take a master's piss, so this was not new to him at all. But the command was different. Before he realized what he was supposed to do, his master had reached over and pulled the big honky in front of him by yanking on the funny looking ponytail that was left on the crown of his head. The surprised honky yelped at the sudden pain, but was smart enough not to resist. In his shock, however, he was NOT smart enough to assume the proper position. Well, at least not fast enough for his master's tastes. "Honky," Jamal said angrilly, "I said PISS, now open your fuckin' mouth!" This last was accompanied by a hard slap across the slave's face. If Jamal hadn't still had a tight grip on Bull's "head handle" as he called it, the boy would have been knocked to the floor by the force of the blow. But as it was, the slave's head was held immoble. Bull immediately opened his mouth as wide as he could while desperately trying to blink away the tears in his eyes. Fortunately, his training held and he was able fight the urge to massage the stinging pain out of his jaw with his hand. Within seconds, Jamal had unzipped his jeans and his huge, jet black 12 inch dick flopped out and rested against the startled slave's parted lips. Bull deftly maneuvered this head so that his master's monster dick head fell into his mouth. No sooner had he clamped his lips around the meaty head, than he felt his master's hot piss begin to flow. Thankfully, his training held and he was able to swallow every bit of his master's strong piss stream without spilling a drop. Once the stream stopped, Bull, with his ample lips still clamped behind the flange that formed the base of the beautifully formed blue-black mushroom head at the tip of Jamal's dick, began to not only gently suck but also run his tongue up and down the piss slit. This insured that Bull got every drop of his master's piss. Jamal was impressed. This honky was almost as well-trained as cracker was. Once he was done pissing, Jamal realized that he was quite horny. "On your back, legs up and open your mouth." The honky quickly moved to assume the commanded position. Jamal ordered cracker to retrive the lockbox that contained the key to his chastity device. He removed the device from cracker's tiny genitals, handed it to cracker to put it on Bull. The device was a tight fit, but jamal didn't care. To him, Bull was just a thing to be used for his own pleasure. While the big honky lay on his back with his legs spread wide, feet in the air, and his mouth open, Jamal commanded cracker to drop his freshly freed dick into Bull's mouth. At first, Cracker was taken aback. His master had not allowed him to even touch his little pink dick in weeks, except to clean it. The boy recovered quickly and scurried from his kneeling position to the one commanded by his master. Even though his little dick was by now completely rigid, he was still able to straddle the big honky's face and dipped his dick into the slave's mouth. Cracker was so excited. It had been quite a while since his master had allowed his dick any stimulation at all. Now, he was finally out of that chastity device. 81 During his training, Bull had become accustomed to being fucked. Most of the time he was fucked by other slave trainees. Because there were so many honkies in training, the trainers usually used the slaves themselves to fuck each other. In fact, even though he had been completely straight before he was enslaved, Bull had come to enjoy the feel of a tight, well-trained slave ass. Back on Earth, Bull had been an inmate in a maximum security prison. He had been given a life sentence for the murder of a faggot who had come on to him. Actually Bull, who's name was Jack Adler at the time, had no intention of killing the little queer; he had just beat the shit out of him and put him in the hospital. While Jack was in the county jail awaiting trial for aggravated assault, the guy died in the hospital. The D.A. wasted no time changing the assault charge to a murder charge. Jack was convicted and sent to prison. While he was locked up, Jack had gained quite a reputation as a fighter. No one wanted to cross him. Hell, as far as the other inmates were concerned, he practically ran the place. And there was no shortage of queer ass, whenever he wanted it. Even though Jack regularly had sex with the punks in prison, he still considered himself to be straight because he was always the one doing the fucking. Jack had been in prison for about 6 years when he suddenly came down with a serious illness and was taken to the prison infirmary where he, unfortunately, died. At least that was the story that was leaked to the inmate population, and all but a few select guards. In reality, Jack had been sold into slavery by the prison warden. Warden Jackson, a tall, slim distinguished looking black man, had amassed quite a fortune for himself selling off inmates who had little or no family who would miss them. He owned a couple of white slave boys himself. Jack was an only child and his elderly mother was in a retirement home suffering from Altzheimer's disease. The rest of his family wanted nothng to do with him. Jack had passed out on the rec yard, and woke up in a tiny cage. His training was extremely difficult, but he had come through it. Now, as a fully trained sex slave, Bull was confident that he could please his new master. In fact, after spending a little time with the little squirt that was already here, Bull was sure that he would quickly become his master's Alpha slave. Then, at least he would be able to have a bit of fun with the little honky from time to time. All that would come in due time; right now though, Bull was about to be fucked by his new master for the first time. Unfortunately, being fucked repeatedly by the other moderately hung honky slaves during training had left him ill-prepared for the black monster his master was packing. He knew that he was in for a rough time. Jamal moved down between the big slave's legs. He held each of the honky's ankles as he positioned his black monster at the slave's recently stretched hole. Letting go of one of the boy's ankles, Jamal spit into his cupped palm ans massaged it into his rock hard dick. He repositioned his large mushroom head at the slave's pink pucker and shoved...HARD. In one smooth motion, he was inside. Twelve inches all the way to the balls. Even though his 82 mouth had been full of Cracker's dick, Bull let out a yell that, for some reason, was music to Jamal's ears. At that moment, he realized that he had made the right choice. He would be able to do things with this slave that he didn't really want to subject Cracker to. Jamal had decided that he would be careful not to get emotionally attached to Bull the way he had with cracker. Of course, he had no regrets concerning his attachment to the little honky, but he knew that he would do things with this new property that he wouldn't do with cracker, who he considered his favorite pet. With that in mind, and spurred on by Bull's labored yelps, Jamal began to pump his huge member in and out of the big slave's hole. Bull couldn't believe it. He expected this first fucking to hurt a bit, but this was over the top. He tried to keep the little honky's dick in his mouth like his master had commanded, but it was practically impossible. His master was pumping his ass so hard and deep that bull could not keep from screaming. He tried his best to remember his training and clench his asshole on the outstroke, but he couldn't consentrate on anything but the incredible pain in his ass. It felt like he was literally being ripped apart. "It hurt's Master!" Bull heard himself screaming, before he could stop himself. He knew immediately, that he had fucked up. Not only had he spoken without permission, but he had basically protested his master's use of him. It was a grave mistake and he knew it. How could he make it better? "I'm sorry Mast..." Before he could get out the words, Bull felt his master's big palm connect with the side of his face. "Shut up, BITCH!" His master said, not even disturbing the rhythm of his piston fucking. "I don't give a shit that is hurts you. Hell, you ain't felt nothing yet." Bull wanted to be his master's Alpha slave, but he was not off to a good start. He would have to be careful not to fuck up again. With his in mind, he began to try even harder to focus on his master, even through the blinding pain in his hole. Bull consentrated on pushing out like he was taking a shit on each of his master's thrusts, and clenching his sphincter muscles around the invading shaft on the out stroke. All the while he was trying his best to gauge his master's facial expression which was difficult with cracker practically sitting on his face. The random movement of all three bodies, though, made it possible for him to catch little snatches of his master's face. Bull was incredibly relieved to see that all-important facial expression change from on of anger to one of pure extasy. Once he saw that he was pleasing his master, Bull redoubled his efforts and before long the strokes grew faster, and pounding became harder. "May I shoot, Master?" Bull heard cracker ask. His master said that he could but only after he had cum. This gave Bull hope that he himself may be allowed to cum. After what seemed like hours later, Bull heard a deep gutteral growl as the piston strokes in his ass lost their rhythem and became erratic. Moments later, Bull felt his insides flush with warmth and he knew that Jamal was shooting his load deep into his guts. Bull, surprisingly, helt a swelling of pride. He knew that he had brought pleasure to his master. 83 In the midst of the aftershocks of one of the best nut's he had ever had, Jamal leaned back on his haunches, and let his hands dropfrom the honky's ankles, which, out of sheer exaustion, lowered. His dick was still embedded deeply into the slave's ass and the boy was gently massaging his slowly softening muscle. As his feet dropped to the floor, the big slave brought his knees to allow his thighs to press gently against Jamal's sides. That warmth, coupled with that hot ass that he was still savoring, sent Jamal straight to heaven. Then still ensconced in the warm afterglow, he didn't even attempt to stifle his chuckle as he looked into the face of his favorite pet cracker . The poor honky was still pumping away at the big slave's mouth, but was looking directly into his master's eyes pleadingly, his face fill with an expression that mingled pleasure, fear and desperation. Jamal knew that the boy was desperate to cum, but dared not do so without his master's express premission. The funny thing was, Jamal knew that he had already given his pet permission to cum after he himself did. "Dumb, honky." He chuckled again. "I already gave you permission to shoot after I did." Jamal sat back and watched as cracker shot spurt after spurt of honky jizz down the slave's throat. Once the smaller slave had cum, Jamal leaned forward, grabbed cracker by the back of his neck and pulled him in for a passionate kiss, his now completely soft dick, slipping out of the big slave's ass. Once Jamal had finished devouring cracker's tongue with his own, he released the boy who immediately leaned further down and took his master's huge dick into his mouth and cleaned it thoroughly with his tongue. All the while moanng "thank you, Master" over and over again. At that moment, both Jamal and cracker had virtually forgotten tht the big honky was even there. Suddenly, Jamal stood up. "Bull, clean Cracker up." "Thank you, Master." The honky said. "Cracker," Jamal continued ignoring Bull, "When it finishes cleaning you, take it into the bathroom and give it an enema. When you're done, feed it and lock it up in the closet cage. I'm done with it for now." "May it shoot, Master?" Bull spoke up. Jamal, who had turned to go to the bedroom, turned back. "Hell no!" he said, his irritation showing in his voice. "It may NOT cum. And if it speaks without permission again, I won't hesitate to have it silenced." Jamal turned back into the bedroom. "Hurry up, Cracker." he called over his shoulder. I'm going to the fights, and you're going wth me." 84 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Rasheem "What's up, nigga?" Rasheem said agressively as he and another dude eyed each other across a filthy alleyway. "I heard you been talkin' shit about me behind my back. I'm here now nigga, say dat shit to my face." "Fuck you, nigga." The other dude spat back. "I ain't said shit about chu." The truth was that the guy HAD been talking shit about Rasheem. Saying that he would "take that nigga's shit. He ain't nobody." Now, as he stood face to face with Rasheem, who everybody called "Rock" for a reason, he was backing down. Turns out, Rock is 6'4" tall and weighs about 240 lbs, and every bit of it muscle. The dude, Mace, had never seen Rock in person, but just had heard about him. He had just moved to the city and was told that if he wanted to sell weed in this neighborhood, he had to go through Rock. "Oh yeah, nigga, I heard what chu said." Rock could sense the Mace didn't wanna fight. He could almost smell his fear and it only made him angrier. "Weak ass, nigga." Rock, who wasn't known to be a man of words, rushed the dude before he had time react. The first punch landed across Mace's temple, disorienting him. He tried to swing back, but before he could connect, Rock's massive fist connected with his chin and everything faded to black. Mace was asleep and snoring before he hit the ground. Rock kicked him in the side a few times for good measure, relishing the feel of broken ribs. Rock really liked to fight. And he just happened to be really good at it. He bent down to check Mace's pockets. It was an unspoken rule in the hood. You get knocked out, anyting you have on you becomes community property. Rock found a few hundred dollars in twenties in the pockets and as he strolled confidently out of the alley, he passed those twenties out to the hobos and vagrants hanging around. He often did that with his own money, why not do it with the money he got from that punk? As he walked back to his house, Rock couldn't help but contemplate how empty the hood was now that most of the black folks had moved to Terra Noir. The recruiters had come through the hood a few years ago telling people about the new planet. How the black man deserved better. How the honkies were 85 destroying the planet. Now the black man had his own planet and we could do a better job of taking care of it. Rock had wanted to go...hell, it definitely couldn't be worse than it was here. He would have gone in a hot minute, but his grandmother, who he had been taking care of for the last several years, refused to go. He spent weeks trying to convince her but she wouldn't budge. Rock ended up staying to take care of her. Ironically, his grandmother died three months after the ships left. She left him the house and a little bit of money, but there was not much. After the majority of the black folks left, including virtually every black senator and congrassman, the world turned into a much worse place for those left here. When he got fired from his job and couldn't find another one, Rock started selling weed. He makes enough to pay the utilities, and his car note. He's okay, but he still wishes that he had gotten on that ship. He had been almost intoxicated by the prospect of leaving everything behind and starting new. Rock's life hadn't turned out like he thought it should have. He'd been born to a mother and father who barely knew each other and his father suddenly found a better place to be as soon as he found out that his mom was pregnant. When he was 10 years old, his mama was raped by a white man. At the trial, the high powered defense attorney convinced the jury that Rock's mother had been a prostitute who only screamed rape after she found out how rich his client was. The rich honky rapist got off scott free. His mom, who had just started taking business classes at the local junior college, never got over it. Less than two weeks after the trial was over, young Rasheem came home from playing basketball in the park to find his mama in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, dead. Suicide by sleeping pills. His grandmother took him in and did the best she could to raise him right. It was not to be, young Rasheem was too headstrong and angry. He faught all the time, got into trouble at school. Part of the reason was that he felt different. When he was in the sixth grade he realized that he liked boys. Make no mistake, though, Rasheem was no faggot and he beat up as many guys and fucked as many girls as he could to prove it. When he was in the ninth grade, one of his male classmates came on to him and Rasheem beat the boy nearly to death. After a year in a juvenile correctional center, he decided that he was too cool for school, so he never went back. When the news was announced that the world was gonna end in five years, Rock was scared, naturally, but more than that, he was also pissed. He was pissed that his grandmother was gone, pissed that he didn't get the both of them on that ship when he had the chance. Most of all, however, he was pissed at the white man for fuckin' shit up in the first place. His grandmother had told him stories of how she had to ride on the back of the bus, just because she was black. How she had spent all of her adult life working her fingers to the bone. Becuse of the white man, Gammy never got the chance to live her own life. He would always hate the white man for that. Years ago, when he learned that 86 there was a new home that was only for black people, he started reading books and all kinds of stuff about Black Supremacy. He read that the white man was a plague on the world. Rock was glad that the blacks would have their own world to start over with. He had no doubt that given the opportunity, his people would rise to the occasion. Too bad he would never get a chance to see it. Or so he thought. About six months after the first announcement, Rock heard it through the grapevine that Terra Noir was sending rescue ships to get the rest of the black people. He couldn't believe it. He had been told that the trip he had turned down to take care of his grandmother was the last one...ever. Rock was able to dismiss it as rumor, until the riots started. It was all over the hood. The ship was coming to pick up all the blacks that were left. But that wasn't all. Some whites would be able to come too, but they had to sign a contract for five years of servitude. They would basically be slaves. "Now, ain't that a bitch?" Rock said as he stood on the block with his homeboy Cash. They had been told to bring all the cash they had. it would be converted to Terran Dollars on the ship, so he was trying to come up with all the cash he could, and that started with selling the last bit of his weed stash. "Yeah, nigga," Cash said. "Dem honkies gon' be ah slaves." "Yeah," Rock smirked, "I'ma believe that shit when I see it. Be good for me to just get away from all these honkies." Rock had known Cash damn near all his life, never really liked him that much, though. Hell, he even had to kick his ass a couple of times. But since damn near everybody left, Cash was all that he had to talk to. That didn't mean he wanted to be around that nigga all the time. In fact, when he got to Terra Noir, he dicided that he was gonna be a whole new person...as long as he didn't have to be around no fuckin' honkies. Two weeks later when the rescue ships arrived, Rock was one of the first ones waiting at the airfield. He even got there before the protesters. Of course they weren't allowed inside the gates which were protected by heavilly armed soldiers that came down on a smaller ship about an hour before the huge transport ships arrived. Rock stood in awe as the huge shuttles landed. Three of them. They were big as football stadiums, but they landed lightly with almost no sound except the loud hum of their massive anti-grave generators. After standing in line for only about 15 minutes, a uniformed black man walked up to Rock to see if he wanted to catalogue any of his belongings. Rock had recieved a letter from the refugee coordination council informing him that he could bring anything he wanted. He looked around his house. Walked into every room. He was hard pressed to find anything that he was attached to. When it was all said and done, Rock had brought nothing but his grandmother's photo album and two suitcases full of clothes and shoes. He knew from his communication with the refugee committee that he would have plenty of 87 opportunity to buy new clothes, toiletries etc. Well, it only made sense, it was a five year trip, of course those things would be taken care of. The shuttle ride was surprisingly smooth. Rock got a chance to meet some of the other refugees, some of whom he knew from his old neighborhood. He even got a chance to sample some fruit from Terra Noir, apparently grown on the ship. There was this one round purple thing that looked like a peach, except for the fact that it was purple. It even tasted like a peach when he bit into it, only it was the sweetest, juiciest peach he had ever tasted. Damn, Rock thought to himself, if shit on Terra Noir tastes like this, I'ma get fuckin' fat! Just after takeoff, a voice over the intercom welcomed them to the shuttle Spirit. Turns out the disembodied voice belonged to the pilot who informed them all that the ascent into orbit would take about half an hour but would be totally smooth, so they should relax and get to know each other a bit. He also informed them that once they reached the ship, The Freedom, they would be shown to their cabins which would be their homes for the next five years. Then after about two hours they would all be expected to attend an orientation meeting that he ASSURED them that they would all enjoy. Whren Rock heard that he was gonna have his own cabin, he had unconsciously pictured the tiny, cramped cabin of a fiching boat that he had seen on TV once. THIS cabin, however was nothing like that. It was like a whole appartment! An efficientcy, maybe with the livingroom and bedroom kinda merged into one, but there was a seperate kitchen and bathroom. The place was really nice, and spotlessly clean. Rock walked over to the kingsized bed and sank down into it. This was really happening. He was not only getting out of the hood, he was leaving the whole fucking PLANET! And from the looks of this "cabin," he was doin it in style. He decided at that moment that Rock, the dope dealer, was dead. From that moment on people would know him by his real name, Rasheem Hawkins. NOBODY in the hood had ever been brave enough to call him Rasheem and he'd liked it that way. He felt like it gave him more respect. It was gonna be different now. Shit, now all he had to do was try to remember to introduce himself as Rasheem and not "Rock." The shuttle pilot was true to his word and about two hours after arrival, the telephone by Rasheem's bed rang and a recorded message informed him that he was to step out into the hallway and follow the the blue light to the meeting hall. Now, Rasheem had just been in that hallway about two hours ago and he didn't remember seeing a blue light, but as he stepped outside his door, sure enough there were two strips of light running along the wall just above eye level, one red and one blue. The corridore ended in a "T" as it bisected another long corridore, the blue light continued in one direction and the red light continued in the other. As intructed, Rasheem followed the blue light, as did every other man he saw. The women, he noticed, followed the red light. As he walked along the corridore, Rasheem realized that it had been a 88 very long time that he had been been around so many black people at one time. To him, it was a beautiful thing. He thought about how black people come is so many shades, all of them beautiful. My people, he thought to himself. He just knew that they would do better with Terra Noir than the honkies did with Earth. The definitely couldn't do any worse. This was one of the subjects addressed in the orientation meeting. Back on Earth, one of the main problems was war. That is why, on Terra Noir, there is one planetary government. While this may not completely irradicate the threat of war, but it will go a long way in preventing it. Also, pollution, which is the main reason for the Earth's imminent demise, will be considerably lessened by the aggressive development of eco-friendly industry. Animal life never developed on Terra Noir, so there are fewer fossil fuels to produce petroleum. But on Terra Noir there are many minerals that don't exist on Earth, minerals that are being used to create clean energy. The facilitator of the meeting, Winston, was a big black dude, bald head, very clean cut and wearing a Brooks Brother's suit. DESPITE all that, Rasheem gave the man his full attention. If he was really gonna change his life, be a different man, it was gonna start right here. Winston talked alot about the mistakes the honkies, that is how he referred to the white man, had made.and how Terra Noir would be different. Imagine a society shaped and molded by scientists instead of politicians. This planet has so much to offer. And the Noirian government has taken steps toward making sure not only that the environment is protected, but also that Terra Noir's natural resources are used appropriately. Even those brought from Earth. Since animal life never developed on Terra Noir, animals needed to be brought from Earth. Of course the most important were animals raised for food such as cows, pigs and chickens. Luckilly these livestock multiply quickly and many are bred on the ship on the way over. More than enough to feed the passengers and plenty left over to go into the breeding programs on the farms that are popping up all over Terra Noir. That brought the conversation around to the topic of slaves. A short dumpy little man in the front row asked the question that was on Rasheem's mind. What was to stop the honkies from taking over once their five year period of servitude was over? Once the question was asked, it became obvious that many in the crowd had been thinking the same thing. "That's the beauty of it all," The facilitator said. "Once this ship enters Noirian space, all ties with Earth are cut. All binds to Earth's laws are broken, and any contracts signed on earth become null and void. Meaning that the contracts that the honkies signed on earth binding them to a five year period of voluntary servatude, is voided." The murmers in the room got louder. People were thinking that the whites would be free at that moment. The facilitator asked everyone to quiet down and he continued. "I know that you all have heard alot of things about Terra Noir, but there is one thing that I am certain that you have NOT heard. On Terra Noir, any person who is not of African decent is, by law, a slave. The fully owned property of whatever person owns him. In fact, on Terra Noir, non-blacks are not even 89 classified as people, but cattle. Human cattle, yes, but still cattle. All slaves are owned by the Noirian government until such time as ownership changes hands." "Wait," A clean cut young man stood. "Are you telling us that not only are all whites on Terra Noir slaves, but they are basically classified as animals?" "That's exactly right young man," the facilitator replied. "Back on Earth did you ever own a dog?" "Yes, sir." The young man said. "Well, on Terra Noir, you won't be able to own a dog, because they are so scarce, but you WILL own a honky. Well as many as you can afford." Winston turned his attention back to the audience, "You need to understand that this is not only about revenge against the white man, even though that is definitely a part of it. This is more about survival of the fittest. Blacks ARE superior to whites and it is time for us to take our rightful place, and there is no way to do that without keeping whitey in his place. Whites were a cancer on the Earth and they are singly responsible for it's distruction. They must not be allowed to spread their poison to Terra Noir. The Earth was once a beautiful place, but the white man's greed and thirst for power at any cost turned it very ugly in a relatively short amount of time. We deserve better, and on Terra Noir, we are determined to do better. You will find that our new planet is an awesomely beautiful place, as you will see. Imagine the Earth, but unspoilt by the cities and human developments that scar the land. I know that you have seen photos and heard accounts of how beautiful the Terra Noir is, but trust me, you have no idea until you see it and explore it for yourself. We are taking what we have learned from the honky's mistakes and are building a society that will work with nature and enhance it, not just take and take from it. You will find that Noirian society is a technologically advanced one. The Scientists who founded it would have it no other way. But as technologically advanced as we are, in some ways we resemble an agrarian society. We have found more ecological methods of doing things that destroyed earth's ecology." The topic turned toward more mundane things, but what Rasheem got from it was that they were basically living like "Little House On The Prairie," but with modern technnology. Laura Ingles with a cell phone and a computer, he laughed to himself. The thing that struck a chord with him though is how Terra Noir is building a society that takes care of each other. With honky slaves basically doing all the heavy lifting, Black People are free to spend time living their lives, learning new things, improving themselves and improving their culture. Noirians have made great strides in this direction in the nearly twenty years since it was founded, but there is still alot of work to be done. Rasheem left the meeting invigorated. He just didn't know what he was gonna do. Did Terra Noir have need of a two bit drug dealer? He was almost certain that it didn't. 90 ............................................. On the huge transport ship "Freedom", one of a fleet of 5 that had made the trip back to earth for the rescue effort, there were 7 large decks. Four of these decks were designated as residential decks for the Black refugees. The other three were used for housing and training of the huge numbers of the huge numbers of non black refugees who had signed their freedom away in exchange their rescue from a rapidly dying earth. Because of the large number of Black refugees, each deck had 4 cafeterias where the residents of that deck can stop in any time twenty-four hours a day to have a meal. Of course there were other places to eat. Some enterprising individuals from Terra Noir had made the trip and set up shop there on the ship. There were cafe's, eateries, restaurants, lounges, even a nightclub or two. The refugees had been advised to liquidate as many assets as they could so that they would have cash. That cash would be traded for Terran dollars on a one for one basis. Those Terran dollars could then be used to buy and sell on the ship as well as on Terra Noir. Also on each deck of the ship, was a large hydroponic garden where just about every kind of fruit and vegitable could be found, not only from Earth but also from Terra Noir. Each deck also has a large area set aside for the breeding and maintainance of food animals such as cattle, swine, and fowl. Surprisingly, these shipboard "farms" are able to feed the thousands of people on each deck. Nothing is wasted. The parts that are usually thrown away are, instead, ground up and used as protein in not only animal feed, but also in Honky Chow, a nutritious concoction containing all the vitamins and minerals needed to keep a honky slave healthy and able to work. The Freedom ran like a well oiled machine, thanks to, not only the captain and crew, but also to the numerous volunteers who had left their cushy lives on Terra Noir to aid in the rescue efforts. This volunteerism was apparently a biproduct of the strong sense of community that is being encouraged and nurtured on Terra Noir. Sure there are rich people and poor people, but according to everything Rasheem had learned, Terra Noir's "poor", would have been considered middle class on earth. These volunteers would be needed to help prepare the refugees for life on Terra Noir, which in some ways only slightly resempled the life they were used to on earth. Rasheem's grandmother had tried her best to teach him how to cook and take care of himself domestically, but he was too busy running the streets to listen, consequently, he found himself taking all his meals in the cafeteria closest to his cabin on deck 3. There wasn't much variety in the "cafeteria cuisine", but it tasted good, there was plenty of it, and it was free. Rasheem had never really liked crowds, so he usually went to eat on off-peak hours. On his first visit to the cafeteria, Rasheem was shocked to see nearly naked white people, men and women, serving food and drinks, clearing off tables and going on like it was the most natural thing in the world. When he came through the door he was greeted 91 by a pretty white girl with big titties, wearing nothing but an apron and a bowtie. "Should this slave show you to a seat, master?" The female slave said bowing her head slightly. "You gotta be fuckin jokin'" Rasheem said. This was his first encounter with an actual slave. "Is there something wrong, master?" The slave girl said a look of worry creeping over her pretty face. "Na, na, ain't nothin' wrong." He said, trying not to look stupid. The girl showed him to a seat and then and informed him that his server would be right over. Turns out his server was a whiteboy, also naked except for an apron and a bowtie, the slave looked to be about 25 years old, he had strawberry blonde hair buzzed into non-existance, pale skin and a light sprinkling of freckles. He took Rasheem's drink order. There was no need to order food because the only thing on the lunch menu for that day, which he had learned from a sign in the corridore outside the cafeteria, was chicken salad sandwiches. It was a good thing that Rasheem liked chicken salad or he would have had to consider other options which were limited to spending money at a restaurant or going down to the garden and cooking something for himself. Neither of these appealed to him at all. So he ate chicken salad sandwiches...three of them along with french fries and fresh pickle wedges. The boy had humbly suggested that Rasheem try the Noirian Fruit Blend to drink with his meal. "I don't need no suggestions from no whiteboy." Rasheem growled. "Bring me some fuckin' fruit punch. And hurry the fuck up!" "Yes master, sorry master." The honky said with real fear in his eyes. "Please forgive this slave, Master." "Shut the fuck up and go get my juice." As the whiteboy scurried off, Rasheem thought to himself that this trip might end up being more fun than he thought. Now, almost a year into the voyage to Terra Noir, Rasheem had learned many things. The first thing he learned is that even on a huge ship like the starship Freedom, it was just as easy to be lonely as it was back on earth. So early on, he started to sample the different nightclubs and other entertainment that the Freedom had to offer. Quickly he realized that the club scene on board was not really all that, plus it reminded him too much of his life back on earth where he spent plenty of time in the clubs. Just a bunch of niggas tryin to push up on females that were to hung up on themselves to be bothered, he thought to himself. He even tried the one gay club on his deck, but it was not his scene. One evening, he decided to do something different. He went to the library. In his old life, Rasheem would never be caught dead in a library...well unless sombody in there owed him money, of course. But go there to READ? Hell no! 92 And he wasn't sure that he wanted to read on this occasion either. First of all he was struck by how huge the place was. There was row after row of books, there had to have been millions of them. Confused and a bit overwhelmed, Rasheem walked up to the information desk to ask for help. Behind the desk was a tall, lean light skinned brotha with tight curly hair. His nametag said "Leo." Rasheem was instantly attracted to him. "I'm uh, lookin' for a, uh," Rasheem stammered becsuae hell, he had just kinda wanderd in here, not really knowing WHAT he was looking for. "Black history book." He managed to get out. "Sure thing Mr...?" "Hawkins" Rasheem said, reaching out to shake the man's hand, instinctively using his church handshake rather than the handjive he used on the street. "Rasheem Hawkins, but everybody jus call me Rasheem." "Okay," the librarian said, flashing a mouthful of beautifully white teeth. "I'm Leonard Anderson, but you can call me Leo. We have a huge section dedicated to black history. Let me get a honky up here to show you to it." As Leo turned to call a honky slave to the front, Rasheem stopped him. "Can you show me, bro?" he said. "I don't like bein' around no honkies too much." "Sure, Rasheem," Leo said. Then he summoned a honky slave(a male of about 50 from the looks of him), and told him to man the front desk. "Right this way." For the next two hours, Rasheem and Leo strolled through the stacks looking at book after book about black history. Rasheem never knew that there was so much information out there. There was not only the history of black peolpe in America, but also a rich and diverse history of Africa. Rasheem found himself enthralled, not only with the sibject matter, but also with his impromptu tutor. Leo was just so passionate about black people and their history. He just seemed to bring it all to life, making Rasheem want to know more and more about black history...and about Leo. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Brad 93 It had been almost two months since they took Chuck away. At first, Brad had been worried, that they would REALLY hurt Chuck this time. Then after the first week, he began to think the worst. By the end of the second week, Brad had accepted the fact that his friend Chuck was gone for good. The niggers had apparently finally gotten tired of Chuck and decided to cut their losses and get rid of him. This was of course, a source of great distress for Brad, but the schedule of "torture" that he was subjected to left him little time to mourn his friend. The brutal ritual of daily fuckings, beatings and forced workouts continued without end. Before long, Brad and the other slaves in his group began to get somewhat used to it. Although they hated it, they they had begun to view it as just a fact of life. Interspersed between the beatings and fuckings and workouts were voice training sessions, and other things designed to make them "better" slaves. During all this time, Brad and the others never ate anything but slave mush, which the guards referred to as "Honky Chow" and then only when told to. They never had a drink without one of the trainer's piss in it and even then only when ordered to do so. They never took a piss or a shit without someone's permission. The trainees were never allowed to say a word in the presence of a Person unless in response to a direct question. Brad went along eith everything they said. He did what was expected of him. He hated every minute of it, though. Every time he would willingly get on his knees to suck one of the trainer's dick, he would remember Chuck's words to him. That he was biding his time until they could escape. Yes, his friend was gone, but the things that Brad had learned from Chuck stayed with him. Do what you have to do to survive, no matter what it is. They may "own" your body temporarily, but never let them own your mind. So that is what Brad was doing...surviving. One evening, Brad had been chosen to spend the night with Sgt. Clemmonds. It was part of the normal training. The trainers would periodically chose a sex slave trainee to take back to their suit for some individual training. It was one way for the honky the get a taste of what his life will be when he is chosen by an owner, but it is also a great way for the trainer to get an idea of where the honky is in in his training. After work, instead of being taken back to his cage with the other trainees, Brad was taken to one of the many clensing stations located on the training deck. One big part of his training as a sex slave was hygene. Now Brad had always been a pretty clean guy, but this was taking it to a whole nother level. First off, he chad to be completely shaven. The only hair allowed on his body was his eyebrows. So That meant shaving not only his head, but also his entire body. Brad had never been an overly hairy guy anyway, so most of this was no big deal. The only real difficulty came when he had to shave between his asscheeks. Early in the training, the slaves were made to do this for each other. Then eventuallyy they had learned to do it for themselves. After a few nicks and cuts, and a few bouts with the whip for being too slow, Brad 94 had finally gotten the hang of it. Once he had cleaned himself thoroughly on the outside, it was time to clean the inside. Each clensing station had, not only showers and shaving equippment, but it also had everything necessary for inside cleaning as well. Each shower head had an attatchment for administering an enema as well. Brad hated this part, but he just kept telling himself that, this was just part of what he had to do to survive. The enema attatchment was a long somewhat thin metal spout that produced a strong jet of water out of one end. By this time Brad was well accustomed to his asshole being invaded by foreign objects. He had been fucked up the ass more times than he could count, had countless dildoes and buttplugs forced up there as well. This thin little nozzel was a piece of cake compared to any of those things. What made Brad hate this so bad was the fact that he was doing this for the sole purpose of preparing to be used by a man. Here he was a completely heterosexual man, being forced to debase himself to the point of participating in his own rape. And he was doing it. It was different when the niggers were holding him down and forcing the damn thing up his ass, at least then he could convince himself that he'd had no choice, that it was being done against his will and he was powerless to stop it. But doing it himself, with only one guard standing off to the side watching, meant that he was doing it willingly. It made him feel like some sort of bitch or something. Even now, he was thinking that he could take this one guard by surprise. He knew that his recent compliance and that of the others had lulled these niggers into complacency. But once he had overtaken the guard, where would he go from there? There was nowhere to go. Hell, they were in outer fuckin' space, for god's sake! Plus, he remembered the last time he resisted. The beating was so severe that he thought he was gonna die. Then on top of everything else, he was forced to wear a punishment dildo for two hours whild he did his forced workouts. A punishment dildo was designed to administer a very painful electrical charge every few seconds. The frequency and duration of each shock varied wildly so you were never prepared for it. This, added to the regular shocks that the exercise machine gives when you are not achieving full output made it an almost unbearable experience. The shock from the buttplug would surprise you and make you slow down, then the damned machine would shock you for slowing down! Anyway, it was something that Brad never wanted to experience again, so what did he do? He cleaned his ass for his master like a good little honky slave. And as he did so, Chuck's words echoed in his head, "They may own your body, but don't let them own your mind." That is what kept him going. Brad was led via leash to Sgt. Clemmonds door by the same guard who had overseen his clensing. Yet another humiliation he was forced to endure. Anytime the slaves were moved from one place to another, they were always led by a guard or a trainer slave holding a leash. Just one of the niggers' tactics to take away the slave's humanity, thought Brad. Well it wasn't gonna work with him, he was a MAN, dammit! This was Brad's first visit to the head trainer's suite so he wasn't quite sure what to expect. When the guard pushed the buzzer, the door slid open smoothly and the empty space was immediately filled 95 by the big slave that Brad had heard the sgt call Sal. "Delivery for your Master," the guard said. "He said to keep this one occupied until he get's back." "Yes, sir!" Sal said humbly focusing his eyes on the Black Man's shoes...like a good slave. "This slave will do just that." He said as he accepted Brad's leash from the guard. After the man had left anf the door slid silently shut, Sal led Brad into a surprisingly spacious and stylish apartment. There was artwork on the walls, modern art of course, plush black leather furniture with brushed pewter accents that matched the pewter and glass coffee and end tables perfectly. As Brad walked into the livingroom, he felt his bare feet sink into a carpet so soft and plush that his toes disappeared into it. He had never felt this before. Back on earth, he had led a simple lifestlye, and of course here on this damned nigger hell hole his feet never felt anything under tham but cold metal or the hay in his cage. Brad couldn't help but be jealous of Sal who, even as a slave, was able to live in such luxury, while he and the others lived in cramped iron cages in the lower deck. Sal noticed the look of awe on Brad's face. "Master loves to have nice things and he has a talent for decorating." "Yes, Boss." Brad replied. It was an automatic response beaten into him throughout his training. "This slave is your 'Boss' when in the training center," Sal said softly as he reached up and unclipped the leash from brad's collar. "Here, it is a slave, just like you. You can call me Sal, here. Back in the training center, Brad and the others had been taught that until they were owned, every free person...black person, he thought wryly, was to be called "Master" or "Mistress." Once owned, only the owner was referred to in this way, and all other free persons were to be referred to as "Sir" or "Ma'am." Any slave placed in authority over another slave is to be called "boss." Brad was completely taken aback. He had raped and beaten repeatedly by this man, and now he was expected to call him "Sal" as if they were old friends or something. "Yes, B...er, Sal." Training center or not, this man terrified Brad and he was gonna try his best not to piss him off. After unclipping the leash, Sal walked through the livingroom, down a long hallway and into the kitchen. Not knowing what else to do, brad followed him. "I need to finish preparing my master's dinner." He said, bending his muscular body over to get some pots and pans out of a lower cabinet. As he did this, his 96 asshole was completely visible to Brad, who happened to be standing a few feet behind him. Brad was shocked to see that Sal's asshole looked just as wellused as any of the slaves in his training group. "You can just sit there on the floor if you want," Sal said, motioning to an out of the way spot on the floor in the spacious kitchen. "Master doesn't allow us honkies on his furniture." Brad lowered himself to sit "Indian style" on a pluch throw rug across the room. "So your master rapes you too?" As soon as the question left his lips, Brad realized how stupid it sounded. Of course, he got fucked. He was a slave!. Sal was at the sink, filling a small pot with water. He paused. "This body is my master's property, he uses it in whatever way he pleases." Then, moving to put the pot on the stove then retrieving some strange looking vegitable from the refrigerator, he said. "But trust me, My training was just as brutal or moreso than yours is." "I find that hard to believe." Brad said skeptically. Then, "What is that you're cutting up, there?" Sal looked down at the spiney yellow vegitable in his hand. "This is a yellow comdron. Just think of it as a Noirian potato." Sal deftly cut all the spines off of the strange looking thing, rinsed it and grabbed another one. "And about my training being just as brutal as yours, my master trained me all by himself. No sympathetic, honkies to help him." Sal had finished cutting up the two noirian potatoes and dropped them into the pot to boil. Then he began seasoning and tenderizing a large T-bone steak. Once it was seasoned, Sal placed the steak in a large cast iron skillet that had been heating on the stove. As soon as the meat hit the hot skillet, it began to sizzle. Within seconds, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of cooking beef. Brad couldn't believe it, he had been eating nothing but that tastless mush for months. He had forgotten what real food tastes like. His stomach began to grumble and do flip flops. Sal looked down at the honky slave on the floor behind him and felt a slight pang of sympathy. The boy was obviously hungry. Well, in training, slaves are fed just enough to keep them healthy, not full. This meant that they were always, just a bit on the wrong side of hungry. "Listen, slave," Sal said sympathetically, "You have been on this ship eating only honky chow for several months, if you tried eating real food now, it will only make you sick. My master often feeds me table craps along with my honky chow, so it doesn't affect me. But it would make you really ill, plus, I would not disobey my master that way. I'm sorry, but that is just how it is." Brad's heart fell, he was just mustering up the nerve to ask for something to eat, but now he knew it was no use. "I notice that now that your master is not around, you have suddenly developed the ability to use personal pronouns." He said, not bothering to hide the irony in his voice. 97 "My master actually prefers it this way, but I am careful not to insult other People, by using them in their presence. I have become very good at it." Sal flipped the steak, then looked at Brad pointedly. And make no mistake, 3075, I am my Master's slave and I will not disobey him." "Brad." "What?" "My name is Brad. You just called me by my number." Brad was making an attempt to ease the tention that had grown in the last few minutes. "Since it's just us here, you can call me Brad." "Actually," Sal replied, "That would be detrimental to your training." "How so?" Since Sal had made a point of saying that here, there were just two slaves, he felt safe asking questions. "You have a name, and it doesn't seem to hurt anything." "I have a name because my master gave me one." Sal said, removing the pot of comdron from the stove and draining it. "You don't have an owner yet. When you get one, and I would REALLY look forward to that day if I were you, it will be his right to give you whatever name that pleases him. Until then, you have a number. I would suggest that you forget your former name. It will make things alot easier in the long run." "Why do you say that I should REALLY look forward to being owned?" Brad asked, a bit confused. "Because, for one thing," Sal replied as he removed the steak from the skillet and put it on a plate, "Once you get an owner, the hellish nightmare of training will be over." "But how do I know it won't be even worse with an owner?" "You don't. But look at it logically," Sal was now mashing the comdron and mixing it with butter and garlic, " You are being trained as a sex slave. Back on Terra Noir, sex slaves bring big money at auction. From the looks of you, you are gonna bring top dollar. Field slaves and common workers are a dime a dozen, and are often worked to death or beaten to death, and then when they can't work anymore they are taken to the rendering plant to get the last bit of profit that their bodies can bring. A well-trained sex slave, however, is expensive as hell, and considered a prized possession. Any Master who pays that kind of money for a honky is bound to take care of it. He will want to protect his investment. It only makes sense. So If I were you, I would try to become the 98 best slave i can be. That way, you get an owner who will take good care of you. And if you take good care of HIM, he will be less likely to get tired of you and sell you off to some brothel where you get fucked nearly to death, then sold off into the mines where you are actually worked to death in complete darkness and under a heavy whip." Brad hated to admit it, but it made perfect sense. But just as Chuck had said, "As long as you don't let them own your mind, you are still free." Brad was sure that he could go through the motions of being a good slave...at least until the rebellion came. Chuck was convinced that a rebellion was coming. If it was good enough for Chuck, it was good enough for Brad. Thoughts of a future rebellion were the only thing that kept Brad's by now well-trained throat fron gagging an hour later when he was on his knees on the floor between Sgt. Clemmonds' legs with his huge black dick in his mouth. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Captain Ronald Powers Ronald Powers is the esteemed captain of the Noirian transport ship "Freedom." A commanding presence at 6'5" tall with skin the color of dark chocolate and bald head, Ronald began his career as an Air Force Pilot who was soon recruited away from the military by NASA. He flew space shuttle missions for the space agency for many years before the last space shuttle was retired. Shortly afterward, Ronald met Howard Wyatt and his life changed drastically, not only did he become the premiere pilot for Wyatt Astronautical Industries, but he was also introduced to the Black Supremacy Movement. When Terra Noir was discovered and Wyatt needed an experienced captain to make the long trip there to transport scientists back and forth Ronald jumped at the chance. Once the scientific missions were completed and the first settlers were busily building a new black society, Captain Powers decided to retire while he was still young and live a life of luxury on Terra Noir. During his retirement, Ronald discovered that he had a real talent for honky training, and his hobby soon became his second career. People from all over Terra Noir, those who could afford his services, brought thier honky slaves to him for specialized training. 99 When the news came of the Earth's immenant demise, Ron volunteered to Captain the lead rescue ship. He would never admit it to his friends, back on Terra Noir, but even with his booming honky training center, he found himself restless. This trip was just what he needed. So he packed up his belongings (including two of his favorite slaves), chose his bridge crew and began the journey. Captain Powers was also responsible for choosing his department heads. A huge ship like the "Freedom" came with it's own unique set of difficulties. It was a military ship, very much like an aircraft carrier. But on top of that, it had all the issues of a small town, a luxury cruise liner and a maximum security prison. Ronald couldn't possibly keep all those balls in the air all by himself. So he had set out to chose the best men and women possible to make sure that everything ran smoothly. One of those men was Sgt. Robert Clemmonds, ex Army Ranger and Cracker Control officer was a bright and earnest young man. He was smart as a whip with a physical and mental toughness that made him able to accomplish whatever task set before him.. When he had taken over the local CC office, Sgt Clemmonds had come to Captain Powers for some pointers on slave training and control. He was the perfect man to head up the Freedom's Honky Training Division. Several weeks ago, Clem had sent Captain Powers a dossier and some surveilance footage on this particular honky...3076, the slave formerly known as Charles(Chuck) McShane. Hand chosen for sex slave training, 3076 was actually a good looking honky. Reading his dossier, however, made him much less attractive. This man had been a murderous hatemonger, and as was apparent from the video footage, he was attempting to spread this poison among the other honky trainees. On top of everything else, he was a discipline problem. Ron's first thought was that this honky needed to be thrown out of the nearest airlock, but apparently Sgt, Clemmonds had other plans. Some kind of special training technique that he was developing. Captain Powers was to meet with Clem to discuss his progress. Captain Powers was in his office going over going over maintenance reports when his his slave appeared at the door. A pretty blonde girl of about twenty-five years old with a thin waist and big boobs. "Master?" She said, "Sgt. Clemmonds is here to see you." "Show him in. "Ron said without looking up from his reports." Moments later, the female honky returned followed by Sgt. Clemmonds who was leading a cute, trim male slave on a leash. The two men greeted each other warmly. "Clem, " Ron said, as they shook hands firmly. "Been a while." While Clem and Ron were exchanging pleasantries, the female slave left the room to fetch Noirian Blends for the both of them. When she had served them, she assumed the standing display position behind her master's chair, almost mirroring the slave that Clem had brought with him. Standing, feet 100 shoulder width apart, head bowed and hands clasped behind the back. "I reviewed the dossier and footage you sent me." Ron said, sipping his coffee. "Pretty wild stuff. I'm glad you had the forthought to inform the training leaders on the other ships. They need to know what potential problems they have under their noses." "Yeah, I figured I had to." Clem said. "But the footage you sent me." Ron began. "I'm thinking this honky ought to be floating in space by now." "Ha!" Clem laughed. "That's exactly where most of my staff thinks he is. But that would be much less fun, I think." "Yeh, I hear that. Where is he, by the way?" Clem paused, then slowly turned he head to took at the slave standing behind him in perfect position. It was the captain's turn to pause. "You mean...? No this is not the..." Ron got up from his chair and walked around the desk to get a closer look. This slave was way too well behaved to be the same one he had seen on the video. THAT honky was a loud , wild, recalcitrant piece of murderous white trash This thing standing before him was a well behaved, seemingly well trained slave. "On your knees, whiteboy." he said. Then he commenced to conduct one of the most thurough inspections he had ever conducted. Ron was always rough when he inspected a slave, but this time he was much rougher than usual. To his surprise, the honky remaind completely calm and submitted to the inspection with no resistance whatsoever. Even when the captain had, demended a blow job right there in front of Sgt Clemmonds and and the female slave, 3075 went at the task with vigor and gusto. The Captain was truely impressed. In all his years of training slaves, he had never seen such a drastic transformation. He asked the sgt. if the results of his new training methods had proven to be reproducable. Clem reasured him that they were. In fact, the captain had on occasion had the opportunity to use Sal, Clem's personal honky, who had been trained in much the same way. For his part, the slave under discussion remained motionless in the last position the captain had had it in, but it's chest swelled a bit with pride at the fact that he had impressed the captain and made his master proud. When Captain Ron was was done with his inspection, he moved back to his plush honky hide chair behind his desk. He reached into his desk drawer, opened a small box and pulled out a Tarran Cubano. He offered one to Clem, who eagerly accepted. The Terran Cubano is a Cuban cigar from Terra Noir. Not only did the tobacco come from Cuba, but the cigars are also hand rolled by 101 a small group of Cuban slaves located on a small tobacco farm. They cost a fortune, but it was worth it. "What are your plans for this slave now that it's fully trained?" Ron asked between puffs. His famale slave had kneeled beside her master and he casually dumped his ashes into her waiting mouth. Clem did the same with his slave. "Well, the plan is to move it down to kennel 7 with all the other honkies who have completed training." "No need for that." The captain said flatly. "I want him." Clem looked at him in surprise. It was a well-known fact that Captain Powers surrounded himself with female slaves. Ron noticed the look on Clem's face. "Yeah, I know, I know" He said. "I have a virtual harem at home in my suite, but I like a little something different every now and then. This honky will be just the distraction I need." "Well, if you want it it's yours." Clem chuckled. He himself had experienced just how "distracting" this honky could be. "But I want you to make some alterations for me." The captain said. "I want all of it's hair permanently removed, including the eyebrows. I want it silenced as well. It will have no need to speak...ever. Also, I want it genitally nullified. As we've been talking, I noticed the slave stealing a glance at my bitch here. Now it's dick is all hard and leaking." Clem's eyebrows raised a bit, but he said nothing. Ron continued. "No need to have it tempted around my females. Also, I want it's bottom two teeth pulled. That will leave a place to hold my cigar." "Would you like it's tattoos surgically removed as well?" Clem asked. "You know what they mean right?" "I know exactly what they mean. That's why I want to keep them. They will serve as a reminder of what a low-down piece of shit it is." "Yeah," Clem replied, with a slight frown. "The rest of it's life will serve as a punishment. I can have all the modifications done today and tomorrow. It will take about two weeks to heal. I will have him delivered to your suite." The next hour was spent discussing how to impliment Sgt Clemmonds' new training techniques on honky slaves who are not receptive to the more traditional methods. Clem left the captain's office he went straight to the nearest vet to get the modifications started on the captain's new pet. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 102 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Brad Over the last few months, things had changed very little for brad and the honky slaves of cage 307. Daily fuckings, brutal beatings, and forced exercizes during the daytime, and individual service training with one guard or another at night. It was a life that Brad could have never even imagined before he entered the ship on tht fateful morning, but now it was all commonplace. Strangely, though he had to admit that once he had gotten used to this life, it had become easier. Well, that is to say that the routine gave him a bit of comfort. Every day he knew exactly what to expect. As long as the same thing happened everyday, he didnt have to worry about new tortures. He didn't have to worry too much about fucking something up and getting a more severe beating. Brad continued to comfort himself with the teaching of his friend Chuck, now long gone. Brad knew that he would survive this ordeal if he just kept his mind intact. They could own his body, but if he kept them out of his mind there was always hope. He'd had quite vivid dreams of arriving at the Nigger Planet, then overpowering a guard or two and disappearing into some remote jungle where they would never find him. He was sure that there would be others who would follow him. He would find a woman, have babies and start life new without a nigger foot on his neck. Soon, maybe not in his own lifetime, but soon the white race would rise up and take the nigger down and everyone would be in his rightful place again. This was Brad's dream and it was what kept him going. One morning, the routine changed. It terrified Brad and his cage mates. Changes always terrified them. On that morning, they were not escorted to the small gym where they would be bent over punishment horses and fucked. The guards had long since stopped strapping them down. Now the slaves would simply bend over the horse and wait for what they knew was coming. Instead, the group was taken to a much larger gym. This gym was different though, aside from the workout equipment in the center of the space, the walls were lined with a row bunk beds. Well they could barely be called that. They were stacked five high and resembled shelves moreso than beds. The distance between one bunk and the one above it was only about 3 feet or so. This would make it impossible for one to sit up in bed unless you were on the top bunk. Brad found out later that each top bunk was occupied by a "trustee slave" and they knew better than to idly sit on a bunk anyway. The large room was filled with naked honky slaves, most were on the exercize machines working out, some were doing aerobic style exercizes in the empty space in the middle of the exercize machines. Others were jogging around the track that, in a complete circle, seperated the sleeping area from the 103 workout area. Amazingly, in the midst of all of this, there were STILL about twenty punishment horses, each one in use with one slave bent over it and another slave fucking him. The room was filled with activity, not one slave was resting on his bunk. There were 500 honkies in this room and every last one of them was doing SOMETHING. When the guard entered with Brad and the other slaves from cage 307, however, all movement stopped and the blast of noise became instant silence. "As you were." the guard yelled and the activity resumed, although the noise was much quieter. The new slaves were commanded to stand at "slave rest" one of the many position that they had learned during their training, and wait for Sgt. Clemmonds. The guard then moving off into the room, to fuck with some of the slaves there, no doubt. After what seemed like an hour, but was likely just about 15 minutes, the all too familiar Sgt Clemmonds walked into the room with an immediate command of "as you were." Brad had always been intimidated by Sgt. Clemmonds. Even when he was completely naked as Brad had seen him on occasion whe he was serving as the man's personal servant, the sgt had an air about him that commanded respect. Brad had come to know him as being very hard, but fair...and surprisingly passionate(although quite rough) in bed. The sgt walked in, "You slaves are probably wondering why you are here." He said, indicating the room with a sweep of his hand. He paused for effect. "Congratulations!" he said clapping his hands together. "You have completed your initial sex slave training. Your lives are about to change...again. Every honky you see in this room has completed the exact training that you have. Each of them knows what you have gone through. This room is where you will spend the rest of your time on the ship, unless of course you are given a work assignment or are chosen for ownership by a master or mistress." While he was speaking, Clem walks around the small group of slaves, indicateing with his hand that they were to follow him. Now facing the huge room, Clem said, "Now, just beause your initial training is over, that doesn't meant that life will be easy from now on, it won't. You see the big honkies with the metal armbands?" Brad looked around and he did notice that many of the big slaves had gray metal armbands seemingly welded around their upper arms just below the shoulder. "These are trustee slaves, 'alphas' if you will. Their job is to make sure that there is no idle time. They are here to not only keep an eye on you, but to also to supervise your further training. You will treat them with the same respect and obedience that you have used with other honky slaves that have been involved in your training. For all intents and purposes, they are your masters. If you disrespect them or disobey them in any way, punishment will be swift and severe, and my Alphas are trained to be almost as handy with a punishment cane as I am. Plus, they know that if they fail to adaquately punish even the slightest offence, they themselves will be on the receiving end of MY cane, and they don't want that. The sgt motioned over one of the big honkies. As so as he realized that he was being summoned, the slave rushed over and presented himself standing 104 at attention but with with his head slightly bowed. "How may this slave serve you today, master?" Clem intoduced the slave a Brutus. The name was quite fitting seeing as though the slave was at leat 6'2" and was stacked like a professional body builder. The sgt told him hat he was to give this new group the grand tour and get them acclimated. Once the Sgt had left, Brutus, gave a short tour. There really wasn't much to see. The bunks lined the room. No slave had his own bunk, so each night you were expected to go to sleep on the first on you got to. The only exception being that the top bunks were reserved for the Alphas only. Nestled in one corner was the shower was the shower/enema station. Each slave was to clean himself inside and out once a day and even then only with permission from an Alpha. If permission is granted, said Alpha would enter the slave's number into the keypad located just outside the station. If that slave has not showered that day, he is allowed inside. If he HAD showered that day, he would be punished for attempting to circumvent the "one shower a day" rule. At the end of each day, just before lights out, the keypad would beep to alert the Alphas if a slave had failed to get his shower/enema that day. That slave would also be punished. In the opposite corner of the room was what Brutus called the "shitter station. It consisted of what looked like about 20 holes in the metal floor. They were spaced about five feet apart. As Brutus was talking, two slaves walked over and squatted over two of the holes and began to shit. They had chosen two holes right next to each other so that they could continue their conversation without interruption. brutus explained that these holes were for shitting ONLY! Any slave caught pissing in these holes will be punished. In fact, there were no facilities for pissing. When Brad heard this he got a sinking feeling in his stomach. If there were no facilities for pissing, it could only mean one thing. Sure enough, as if on que, Brutus called to one of the slaves who had just finished shitting. "Piss." was all he said. At this one word command, the slave immediately dropped to the floor with his knees spread wide, feet together, hands clasped behind his back. Instead of bowing his head, the slave threw his head back with his mouth open invitingly. Once the boy was in position, Brutus stepped closer so that he could easily place his dickhead into the slave's open mouth. The boy then closed his mouth around Brutus' dick and waited. Before long, the poor slave was swallowing furiously as the obviously strong piss stream invaded his throat. To his credit though, the slave didn't spill a drop. Once Brutus was done pissing, he slid his dick out of the slave's mouth. The slave then began to use his tongue to clean his user's dick including a slow tongueprobing of the piss slit to insure that nothing was left there. Once he was done, the slave thanked brutus for using him and them he went on about his business as if nothing had happened. Brad was amazed at the casualness of it all. Brutus informed the group that every slave in this room is a potential pisser. If one of them had to piss, there were to find an Alpha and ask for permission. That Alpha would then assign a slave to be the pisser for the moment. Some times for punishment, or just for fun, the alphas would pick out a slave or a group of slaves to serve as pissers for for a specified length of time. On these 105 occasions, that slave or group of slaves would remain in pisser position and be used by everyone in the room. Of course, Brad had been trained as a pisser, but it was by far his least favorite thing to do. He would rather be fucked than used as a pisser. It was just so degrading. Over the next few weeks things in the big gym had settled into a routine. The Alphas basically had absolute power and were subject only to the nigger guards. At first, brad resented the Alphas. I mean, how could you assist with the enslavement of your own race? But soon, he realized that the Alphas were doing the exact thing he himself was doing...whatever it takes to survive and avoid punishment. In fact, once he had seen an Alpha get caned so severely that he could not walk afterward. Brad never found out the exact circumstances that lead to his punishment, but he knew that it was because the Alpha had not followed orders concerning the treatment of a particular slave. After that, Brad found it difficult to blame the Alphas for their behavior even when one of them was fucking his mouth or his ass, or caning him for some minor offence. He knew that they were doing what they HAD to do. Just like he was. Hell, when the revolution finally came, it would most likely be Alphas like these that would lead the charge. One evening, shortly before lights out, Sgt Clemmonds came in leading a slave on a leash. He called the room to attention. Brad was near the back. As commanded, he had been fucking a young slave over a punishment horse. At first he'd hated doing it, but it was all par for the course. He was a slave and would do what he was told...at least for now. He just kept telling himself that they could own his body but not his mind. Anyway, from his position near he back of the room, Brad couldn't really see Sgt. Clemmonds and the slave, but he could hear him. Apparently this slave was, for some reason to be used as urinal for the room throughout the night. The slaves knew what this meant. It meant that whenever they got up throught the night to piss, this slave would be the pisser they used. "What a terrible thing." Brad thought to himself, but still he was glad it was that guy and not he himself. That night, the whispers started. There were always softly whispered conversations, but this night was particularly raucus. Everybody wanted to talk about the new honky, the one being used as a urinal. He must have done something particularly bad. People were saying that he had been silenced. That was not an all that unusual, though. There were several slaves that Brad knew of who had been silenced. It was said to be quick and easy. They just stick this metal thing down your throat, and it cauterizes your vocal cords. The burn is healed in a a day or so, but you are never able to speak again. Not just unable to speak, but not able to make a sound at all. No moaning, no grunting, nothing. it was a horrible thing, but still familiar. Then the whispers made it to Brad's ear that the poor guy had been nullified. Now THIS caught Brad's attention, he had heard that nullification was possible, but he had never seen it. he had learned that nullification was the complete surgical removal of a male's genitalia. 106 Meaning that his dick and balls were cut off! As grisly and grusome as it seemed, Brad was powerfully curious. He had never seen anything like that before. Now was his chance. He looked around the room. He didn't see anyone moving, so he slowly climbed down from his bunk by stepping gingerly down using the two bunks below him, hoping not to step in anyone's face in the process. Usually, at night, the slave unlucky enough to end up on the bottom bunk served as the urinal for the four guys above him, but tonight they had an assigned urinal. As Brad had expected, there was a line to use the urinal, but surprisingly it was only three deep at that moment. When it was Brad's turn, he casually walked up to the slave and wispered the command, "piss", the boy opened his mouth. Brad placed his dick in the slaves open mouth and waited, as he did so, he glanced down at the guy's crotch. It was true! The poor guy had no dick or balls! Brad had never seen anything like it. There was just a blank spot of smooth skin where his package should have been. Brad also noticed that the guy was heavilly tattooed, but then again most of the slaves were. As Brad's eyes began to fucus and adjust to the low light, some of the guy's tattoo becan to come into focus as well, some were a bit familiar. There wasn't much time to think about it though, because when the guy had finished cleaning his user's pis slit, he removed his mouth to indicate that he was finished. There was a line behind Brad, so he moved away quickly. On the walk back to his bunk, Brad was racking his brain trying to figure out where he had seen those tattoos before. It wasn't until later that night that it came to him. Chuck! Chuck had tattoos like that. Little churches with numbers inside. Maybe this was somebody from Chuck's group who would want to know what happened to him. Brad climbed down from his bunk and walked back over to the piss slave. As he got closer he was able to study the slave a bit more. He was like a pathetic animal. All his hair had been removed, including his eyebrows. He kneeled there in the exact position that they had left him in, with his head tilted back hands behind his back and knees spread wide revealing the smooth spot where his dick and balls used to be. So as not to look suspicious, Brad stuck his dick into the slaves mouth. It was soft and warm. Brad didn't have to pee, so he was more oware of the sensations in his dick. The slave had begun to gently suck and massage Brad's dick with his tongue. This slave was very well trained. Brad himself had been extensively trained in giving a master pleasure with his mouth, but this was different. This slave seemed to really enjoy it. He went at his task with enthusiasm. When Brad was used in this way, he did the best he could, but it was only to avoid punishment. This slave seemed to relish the opportunity to give Brad pleasure. Brad looked down into the slaves eyes for the first time. He saw a familiarity there that surprised him. Had he seen this poor guy bef.....Chuck. CHUCK?!!! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 107 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Jamal Jamal's friend, Ray, had been trying to get him to go to the fights for almost a year now but he alway made some excuse. The truth is, Jamal had never really liked boxing. He didn't really have anything against it either, it just didn't interest him. This, according to Ray, however was something different altogether. Yes it was a sporting event, but it more than that. It was a social event. A place to see and be see. A place to meet and network with other settlers. It was an event. At least that's what Ray had said. Jamal wasn't so sure. As Jamal strolled through the corridors, leading his slave cracker by a leash attatched to his permanent collar, he walked casually. He was in no hurry. He noticed, however that everyone else DID seem to be in a hurry. In fact, the corridors were much more crowded than he had ever seen them. Everyone seemed to be excited. Jamal had never been to this part of the ship before so he just went along with the flow. He was also glad to see that alot of people had their honkies in tow just like he did. When Jamal finally reached the hatch that led to venue wher the fights were to be held, he was surprised to see that there was a line of people waiting to get in. He saw a fer people that he knew. As a teacher , he made it a point to get to know all of his student's parents. many of them were in attendance. After he had paid the $5 admission, the hatch slid open. Jamal stepped inside and stopped so abruptly that cracker, who was following along being pulled by his leach, almost ran into him. he had stopped so suddenly because he was surprised at what he saw. During his time on this ship, jamal had been constantly amazed at it's sheer size. Each deck was truely like a small city. Once again, he found himself surprised. For some reason, Jamal had expected some dimly lit room with a makeshift boxing ring sitting precariously in the center. What he saw here, however was something altogether different. First of all the room was huge. Jamal found himself looking down into what could only be described as a professional scale sports arena. It was just as if he was standing on the top level of a basketball arena., only down in the center on the bottom level was a large cage with a boxing ring inside it. Then rising from the center in concentric circles were row after row of stadium seating. Quite comfortible looking chairs that had cushioned seats and arms. They looked like plush reclining chairs. These seats were almost full, but Jamal was able to find a seat for himself. At first he found himself looking for two seats, one for him and one for cracker, but then he smiled to himself when he saw that all the honkies in the 108 room were seated on the floor beside their masters on small cushions. Of course there would be no seats for the honkies. What really surprised Jamal was how nicely everyone was dressed. He himself was wearing starched jeans, a nice button down shirt, and tweed sport coat but he still felt grossly under dressed. Most of the men were wearing tuxedos and the women were wearing sequined dresses. Jamal sat comfortibly in the plush chair while Cracker settled onto the cushion at his feet. Most of the people around him were still standing around socializing. it was good to see all these beautiful black people decked out in all their finery, laughing and joking, trading stories and predictions about the future. It occured to Jamal that this was much more than a sporting event, it was a social occasion. Jamal had only been there for about 10 minutes when the lights dimmed. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Friday Night Fights!" The announcer's voice filled the room. "Betting is now open!" Jamal looked down at his copy of the fight card that he had picked up on the way in. He really hadn't planned on betting on any of the fights, but since he was here, he thought he might give it a try. The fight card was printed on an actual card. That kinda made Jamal giggle a little bit. But what made him laugh out loud were some of the names of the fighters. He'd expected some of them like "Bruiser," "Buster," "Killa," typical names like that. But what caught him off guard were names like "Peaches," "Precious," and even "Lucious!" It was the funniest thing. These big huge grown ass men being called by these sissy names. hell there was even one called "Sissy." Of course the owners of these slaves gave them names like this to humiliate them, possibly to even make them angrier so they would fight better. The only rules in these slave fights were to stop when the referee indicates that your opponant has tapped out. The fight wasn't over until one of the fighters tapped out or was rendered unconscious. The first fight was between Peaches and Killa. Just for the hell of it, Jamal sent Cracker down to the booth to put $10 on Peaches. Shortly after the slave got back from putting his wager in, the announcer's voice filled the arena again informing them that betting was now closed for the first fight. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Rasheem 109 After meeting Leo on that first day, Rasheem found a reason to visit the library quite often. Sometimes he would check out a book, other times he wouldn't. The real reason was that he wanted to get to know Leo better. It worked. Rasheem found Leo to be not only booksmart, but street smart as well. It turns out that Leo had grown up in the hood, very much like Rasheem had. He was raised by his single mother, who had been a school teacher who had died just before Leo had been chosen to be one of the first settlers on Terra Noir. Leo had just gotten his degree in History when he was approached by the committee and invited to go and live on the new planet. Having just lost his mother, Leo had jumped at the chance. Rasheem and Leo became fast friends, and before long, that friendship became something deeper. Leo was a few years older than Rasheem, but it didn't seem to matter to either of them. At first, Rasheem was worried that leo wouldn't like him, or would look down at him because he was an ex drug dealer. To his surprise though, Leo wasn't bothered by it. Rasheem had only sold weed. Hell, marijuana was completely legal on Terra Noir. Damn near everybody smoked it, so what was there to be embarrassed about? When Rasheem had expressed the desire to know more about honky training, Leo had arranged for a friend of his, Sgt. Clemmonds, to give him a tour of the training facilities. Leo had been impressed with the way Rasheem had taken to the handling of his slave, Sparky, who he had brought with him on his trip from Terra Noir. Whenever, Rasheem spent time in Leo's suite, it was obvious that sparky feared and respected him. Rasheem seemed to be a natural. When Rasheem first met with Sgt. Clemmonds, Clem, as he preferred to be called, the two hit it off quickly. Clem was all to happy to show off his training facility to his new friend. Clem offered Rasheem a drink and they sat and talked for a while. There was an easy companionability between the two of them that was a rare thing between two Alpha Males like these. Rasheem shared some of his history with Clem and Clem did the same. At first, Rasheem was worried that clem would judge him for his past, but he needn't have worried. "Everybody has a past." was his response. As the to men talked, there was a very light knock on the door. It was Clem's slave bringing the coffee. Clem rarely had guest's in his office, so he'd had the boy to brew a fresh pot. When the slave walked in, Rasheem had a chance to get a good look at him. Clem didn't bother to hide his amusement when he saw the man's jaw drop at the sight of the slave's completely smooth crotch. Rasheem just stared at the honky slave. The boy was completely hairless. Even his eyebrows were gone. His pale skin was a flawless even color. But his most striking feature was his crotch. His dick and balls had been surgically removed. Rasheem had heard of eunuchs before, but never actually seen one. When he mentioned this to Clem, the sgt explained that this slave 110 was actually a nullo. A eunuch has only had his balls removed. "Do alot of owners have this done to their slaves?" He asked. "We don't get many requests here on the ship," Clem responded, "But back on Terra Noir, the gelding of slaves is becoming more popular among female owners. And owners who own large numbers of female slaves often use nullified males as overseers. This boy here," Clem rested his palm on the bald head of the nullified slave, who was now kneeling next to his chair. "He is for the captain, who ownes a number of female slaves." "I've never seen anything like it." Rasheem said. "Oh, you will." Clem said. "What you need to understand is that this is a way of life on Terra Noir. On Terra Noir, ANYONE who is not black is a slave, pure and simple. We have built a society based on slave labor, and that society is thriving. You have been on this ship for a while now, how are you adjusting to this new life on the ship?" "Pretty good," Rasheem replied. " Me and my dude been spending alot of time chillin." Rasheem couldn't believe that he was telling this man that he had just met about his relationship with Leo. But the truth is, if he was gonna start his life anew, he was not gonna do it hiding in shame. Leo is openly gay, Rasheem would be, too. All his life, he had hidden who he really was. No more. It was scary, but it felt kinda good to live out in the open. "I bet ya'll have a pretty littly honky slave boy to fuck whenever you want." Clem said with a wry smile. "He got little whiteboy that does all the cookin' and cleanin', Leo fucks him every and then because he knows he can't fuck me, but ain't never fucked 'im." "So you don't haven't ever fucked a slave boy?" "Nope." "Is there a reason for that?" Clem asked, incredulos. "You don't like fucking slaves?" "Oh, I wouldnt have a problem with it. I'm just not attracted to Leo's slave." The truth was that Leo was a total bottom, and his slave was specially trained to fuck him. Now, fucking Leo was Rasheem's job. The two kept each other quite satisfied. Rasheem looked up at the nullified slave that was still standing near him, "But this honky right here, I'd fuck his brains out." "Ha, I bet you would!" Clem laughed. "I've enjoyed that hot ass many times myself. It's just as good as it looks, and well trained to boot. 111 Unfortunately, he is to be delivered to the captain this evening, so we need to keep him fresh. But I have an idea." Clem pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Sal," He said. "Go fetch number 8345. Get him all cleaned up and bring himto my office. I want him here in 15 minutes." He then turned back to his guest. "We're gonna get to the tour in a bit, but there is something I want you to see first." "Cool," Rasheem said. "I ain't got no plans. What's up?" "You ever see the movie 'Spotlight' with that cute whiteboy in it?" "Brad Connor?" "Yeah, that's him." "Yeah, I always thought he was hot as shit. Well, for a whiteboy, anyway." "Well, apparently, he was just as scared of the world ending as everybody else. The funny thing is, that he thought that if he brought enough money with him, he could buy his way out of that pesky indentured servitude clause in the contract that he signed before he boarded the shuttle. Imagine his surprise when he woke up naked and stuffed into a cage." "Yeah," Rasheem said. "What happened to all the money that he had brought with him?" "He had stacks of cash stuffed into all the pockets of his cargo pants." Clem laughed. "It turned out to be about $100,000. I happened to be on that particular shuttle. It was the last one, so there was a bunch of homeless black folks that we had rounded up off the streets that couldn't make it down to the airfield on thier own. We split the money up and gave it to a bunch of them. You know, give um a better start when they get to Terra Noir." Rasheem remembered that he had been told to bring as much cash with him a he could. That way, it could be traded in for Terran Dollars and he would have money to spend on the trip to Terra Noir. He also knew that the honkies had been told that they could bring nothing with them. Well serves him right. About fifteen minutes after Clem had made the call, there was a very light knock at the door. Upon Clem's command, In walked the biggest honky Rasheem had ever seen. He was leading another smaller honky by a leash attached to a leather band around the base of his dick and balls. This was not too unusual, though. Rasheem had seen it many times. Rasheem introduced the big honky as Sal, his personal slave. He recognized the smaller slave as "Brad Connor, star of the big screen, philanthropist, millionaire, heartthrob...ladies man." Then Clem addressed the slave. "But now, it is just a 112 piece of shit honky slave, isn't it, boy?" "Yes, master." the slave said, nervously cutting his eyes back at the big slave behind him who had stayed to insure that there was no trouble. Rasheem had always thought that Brad Connor was kinda hot, but he had never told anyone. Now, here the megastar was, standing right infront of him COMPLETELY NAKED! He still had those deep aquamarine eyes, square jawline and sinewy but muscular body, but gone was his famous mane of flowing blonde hair. It had been buzzed into nonexistance. Also gone was that confidant smirk that Brad Connor was famous for. The slave that stood before him, while still sexy as hell, was clearly beaten. He looked like he was scared to death. Clem offered the slave's ass to Rasheem, but it seemed a bit too weird to do it right here in front of this man that he hardly knew. He just couldn't see himself doing it. At least not here and now. Clem said that he would have the slave caged here in his office, maybe Rasheem would feel differently after the tour. The two men left Clem's plush office and walked down the corredore to the training section. "What you're about to see is our trainind methods as they stand now," Clem said as they walked. "When we began this trip, the whole process was quite different. But you will learn that although slave training has been around almost since the beginning of time, the methods are quite fluid. So what you will see is a mixture of new and old." When they got to the grey metal door marked "Initial Holding C," Clem typed a series of numbers in the keypad that was embedded into the wall next to it. Next, the leaned in for a retinal scan. It was basically just a laser beam that eminated from a tiny dot in the wall. Clem's identity was confirmed by the soft disembodied female voice that Rasheem had come to recognize as the ship's computer. Rasheem had seen this type of thing in science fiction movies, but never in real life. He was already impressed and the tour hadn't even started yet. "This is the initial holding area," Clem said, dramatically indicating the entire room with a sweep of his hand. The room was huge. It was three levels, with row after row of what looked like rabbit cages stacked 6 high. It reminded Rasheem of those prison movies where guards walked up and down row after the row of cells and three floors. The difference being that these weren't cells, these were tiny cages. This one row extended almost as far as the eye could see. Crammed inside each cage was a naked honky. "Damn," he said, looking around in awe. "How many slaves are in here?" he asked. "This room can hold up to two thousand honky slaves." Clem said. "There are thirty such rooms, and all five rescue ships are fitted out just like this one." 113 Rasheem did some quick math, "Damn," he said in amazement, "that's 300,000 slaves!" "Yep," Clem replied, and they walked leisurely down the long row of cages. "And that's just the ones who made it to initial holding." "So there were more?" "Oh yeah, many more!" Clem replied. He went on to explain that there were millions of people ready to flee the dying planet Earth. There was no way that these five ships could accomodate them all. The majority of the refugee slaves came from the United States of course, but there were slaves from many other countries as well. Some Asians, Mexicans, Middle Easterners, etc. It was decided that other races would be seeded into the mix just to diversify the slave population a bit. The majority of the slaves were white, though. Some of these slaves were too old to work, some were too weak. The obviously sick ones were weeded out before they even made it aboard the shuttles. Once aboard the shuttles, the slaves were seperated by age and ability to work. Right after the shuttles were docked, the honkies that were deemed undesirable, this included males that were too old to work and females that were past child bearing age, were marched off to the shipboard rendering plants. Leo had told Rasheem about the rendering plants, and while the subject was rather unpleasant, it made perfect sense. Even these honkies who were too old or weak to be put to work, could be of use. At the rendering plants, these slaves were put to their final use. Usually as protein to be used in animal feed, including honky chow. It only made sense that since animal life never evolved on Terra Noir, all the animals there had to be brought from Earth, which assured that anything made with animal products were quite expensive. Why waste valuable animal meat on honkies? Also at the rendering plants, any healthy organs were made available for transplant. Rasheem was amazed to hear that minor organs like corneas and eardrums could be preserved for transplant and held indefinately. With universal healthcare being a huge priority on Terra Noir, these transplantable organs were very important. Also the rendering plants produced large quantities of honky hide leather to be used in products like shoes, furniture and clothing. The shortage of four legged animals, made honky hide very popular. Clem took out his wallet and handed it to Rasheem. It was made of a very soft light brown leather. Clem explained that this was made of honky hide. So many of the refugees ended up at the rendering plant. This brought the huge numbers of slaves down to more managable levels. Those who survived the vetting process ended up here in these holding cages. Actually, Clem had brought Rasheem tho this particular room first because it was one of the few that was still full. As each room was emptied, the cages were taken down and the rooms converted to others uses. "So the 114 honkies in theis room have been here every since we left Earth?" Rasheem asked. "Yep," Clem replied, "With the huge numbers that we are dealing with, it's a necessary evil. But it has its purposes as well." "Oh?" "Yeah, the most important part of training a new slave is to break him. To make him understand that he is no longer in charge of his own life." "Ah," Rasheem interrupted, "And here ther learn that they are totally dependant on you for food, water, and whatever else they need." Clem was impressed. He could see that Rasheem had a quick mind. "These honkies you see here have been here for nearly a year. We exercize then twice a day, but the vast majority of the time is spent in these tiny cages. After a year of this, these honkies are so excited to get out even for a brief stretch, they would do almost anything." Clem led Rasheem over to a cage holding a honky slave. You wanna get out, boy" "Please master!" Clem removed a key from his belt and opened the cage. The slave wiggled out with Clem's help. While the slave was stretching his stiff joints, Rasheem had a chance to get a good look at him. This slave was not attractive at all. he looked to be in his mid thirties. He was tall and lanky, but well muscled. His face, however was somewhat awkward. His beady eyes were just a bit too close together, his nose had nosttrils so wide that you could almost see what the boy was thinking. At this point Rasheem realized that all of the slaves he had seen up until this point had at least been somewhat attracive. When he voiced this realization, Clem explained that the slaves that he had seen so far were domestic slaves, either household slaves or sex slaves. All of these tended to be on the more attractive side. "Nobody wants and ugly slave around all the time right?" Clem explained that this particular honky would undoubtedly be classified as a draft, or "work" slave. He will likely end up doing hard labor somewhere. If he is lucky enough to avoid the mines or the fields, he may be used as a draft pony on a team pulling heavy carts where ever goods needed to be transported. Once the slave was sufficiently stretched, Clem casually hawked up a loogy and spit it out onto his own patent leather boot. "Clean that up, honky." He said calmly "Yes master," the slave said and immediately dropped to his knees and began to lick Clem's boot clean. While the honky slave went to town on his boot, Clem explained that once 115 this boy was officially classified as a draft slave, he would be be put on an extensive forced work out regime. One that would build muscle and strength. Once that was done, this slave would be almost unrecognizable. When the boot was returned to it's usual shine, the slave, still on his knees, assumed a position of servitude, obviously waiting for further instructions. "Thank you master, for allowing this slave to serve you." Clem rubbed the slave's head as one would a dog. He reached into a little pouch hooked to his belt and took out what looked like a sugar cube. He put the cube into the boy's mouth. Rasheem was familiar with this practice of rewarding a slave with a bit of sugar. These slaves aboard ship never ate anything but Honky Chow, either in the form of a thick mush or small waffers. This slave feed was extremely inexpensive to produce, and it had all the nutrients that a slave needed to be healthy and well nourished. The drawback was that it was completely devoid of flavor. Different versions of Honky Chow were available for different kinds of slave. For example, a hard labor slave who spends 16 hours a day doing backbreaking work under a heavy whip, needed much more protien and other nutrients to stay healthy, than a domestic honky whose most difficult task was mopping a floor. But no matter what the formula, the stuff was completely tasteless, so the blast of flavor from a single sugar cube was a huge treat. "Oh, thank you, master. Thank you Master!" The slave thanked Clem profusely. "As you can see," Clem said to Rasheem while virtually ignoring the honky's vehement thanks. "The slaves' time here in the holding tanks is not wasted at all. While they are here waiting to be classified, the they learn important things like basic positions, voice training, even urinal training. Most of the slaves here in this room will likely be classified as draft labour so sex training is not nearly as important as it is for domestic slaves." Clem stopped. "Have you seen enough here? Any questions?" When Rasheem indicated that he didn't have any questions, Clem said, "Alright then, next stop, Classification." Clem grabbed the slave by his upper arm, turned him roughly so that he could cuff his wrists from behind using the rubber handcuffs attached to his belt. "We use rubber cuffs so as not to damage potentially valuable property." Clem explained. "We're taking this one with us. I figured that the best way for you to see the process is to actually participate in the processs." "Cool." Rasheem smiled and rubbed his hansd together. No need to try to hide his enthusiasm. "Let's go!" The two left the holding room and crossed the corredore to a room marked "Veterinarian" with the tall honky slave following along behind them being led by a leash attached to the thin leather strap that served as his 116 temporary collar. The room was a typical doctor's office with an examination bed dominating the center of the room. Along the walls were the usual charts and diagrams that one would expect to see. The one thing that made this room different from any doctor's office Rasheem had ever seen with the metal cage nesttled in the corner. Clem explained that usually there were several slaves brought in at once. As he spoke, the sgt uncuffed the honky and ordered him to up onthe the examination table. After strapping the boy in, Clem excused himself for a moment and left he room. When he returned, less than two minutes later, he was followed by a very pretty young woman with large retrostyle afro and almost no make-up on her caramel colored skin. He introduced her as Dr. Alana Andrews and explained that she is graciously giving up part of her lunch break to help him out with this one examination. She made sure that he remembered that his promise to to talk to her son's class on career day. As Dr. Andrews conducted one of the most thurough examinations Rasheem had ever seen, she shared her story. She had been on the second pilgramage from Earth to Terra. This basically just meant that she was on the second trip after the First Settlers. She had been a promising pre-med student on Earth, and had finished her undergrad and doctorate on the trip. She opened her own veterinary in a small town right outside the capital city. She had smiled at her use of the word "city". At that time King City was more like a large village. At least now, there were a few sky scrapers and a large building monumental buliding that held Council Chambers. Rasheem said that he couldn't wait to see it. He'd learned that many on Terra Noir chose to live quite a rural existance, but he preferred the city life instead. Rasheem was impressed with the way Dr. Andrews did her work. The very clinical way she examined the slave and carried on a casual conversation at the same time. As she stroked the slave's comically small penis to obtain a semen sample, Alana told the two men how even though as a veterinarian, she wasn't required to do a two shifts a week at the government hospital like all practicing doctors were, but as a liscensed physician, she was certainly qualified to. So she spent many hours a week at the hospital caring for those who couldn't afford to pay for their own healthcare. Afterall, wasn't that what Terra Noir was really all about? Creating a society that took care of each other. A society that the honkies back on Earth SHOULD have created, but their greed and currupted nature kept them from it. She had decided to live the ideal of Terra Noir to the fullest. That was why she spent so much of her free time down at the hospital, and that is why she volunteered for this rescue mission. She serves society by both treating the refugees AND examining and classifying new slaves. Her work back home on Terra Noir made her uniquely suited for both. When the doctor was done with her examination, she walked overand put all the samples into a machine. She would have the test results back in about an hour. She then looked down at her watch and realized that he lunch break was just about over. She rushed out the door, her white lab coat flowing behind her 117 like a cape in the wind. Clem explained to Rasheem that at first, the examinations took longer bcause the first honkies hadn't had any training at all. They were "wild" so to speak, and nothing like the docile creature that he was now unstrapping from the examination table. "Most of the classification has already been done by this point." Clem said as he reattatched the leash to the honky's collar, and led the slave through a door at the back of the office marked "CLASSIFICATION." "This is where the honkies are evaluated and it is decided what market each slave is to be put into." Clem indicated the entire room in a broad sweep of his hand. "This room is almost obsolete now, though," he said, "because with the initial holding tanks being almost empty, the volume of slaves processed each day is lessoned, and the classification team can simply go up and down the isles classifying as they go. The slaves that were obviously headed for the sex slave market were the first ones processed. These were the ones who it would take the longest to train." "Why is that?" Rasheem asked, not wanting to sound stupid, but genuinely not understanding. "Well, think about it this way, Rasheem. Put yourself is a slave's place. What would be more difficult for you to accept? That your are gonna be ding hard labor for the rest of your life? Ot that you are gonna be somebody's whore for the rest of your life?" Rasheem cracked a slight smile. "I see your point. They have to be broken. And it takes alot longer to break a sex slave." "Exacty!" Clem said. "And a sex slave's training has to be more thourough because a sex slave is usually gonna be in close proximity to his owner. If he is not properly broken to his slavery, then what's to stop him from attacking his master?" "Ah, I see." replied Rasheem. Clem sat down in one of the three chairs in the sparcely decorated room and offered Rasheem one of the others. The slave kneeled submissively on the floor by Clem's chair, as Rasheem sat. "Once back on Terra Noir, I was visiting a small town called Johnsonville. While I was there, I heard about a slave that had attacked his master. The boy hadn't killed his owner or even injured him badly, but he HAD attacked him. This is a huge thing and almost unheard of on Terra Noir, BECAUSE of the thurough training they recieve. Well turns out that this owner had purchased this honky slave on the cheap from a plantation on the outskirts of town. He was a big honky perfect for hard field work, but not so much as a bed buck. Well when the man tried to fuck his new slave, the boy resisted. Remember, he had not gone through the sex slave training. of course 118 he had been fucked in training, but his cooperstion was always assured by the squad of trainers within whip's reach. Here, in his owner's bedroom, there were no such assurances. The slave resisted, the master tried to punish him, the slave retaliated. The owner was able to finally subdue the slave on his own, but being a responsible owner, he did the responsible thing and called Cracker Control. Terra Noir is a society based on slave labor. In order for that society to thrive and grow, strict order must be maintained as far as slaves are concerned. Cracker Control is there to insure that that order is maintained. That's why, even though, the man had the situation under control, he still reported the incident to Cracker Control. The slave was to be made public example of. This slave's punishment was to serve as an example to any other honky slave who ever dared attack a Black Person. "First, the slave was taken to the town square to be publicly flogged to within an inch of his life. For many slaves this would have been a more than sufficient punishment, but not for this slave. it was widely understood that this honky would not survive this punishment. In fact, the torture was so severe that owners were asked to leave their slaves in the custody of the CC officers present and to return to their business so as not to be offended by the horror. Because I was a visiting CC officer, I was allowed to stay. I kinda wished I hadn't, but I understood the necessity of the proceedings. I was even pressed into duty. I was asked to move through the crowd of slaves with a vial of smelling salts so that I could revive any slave that had fainted while watching this punishment. I won't go through all the gory details, but I will say this, after the slave's teeth, fingernails, and toenails had been pulled with pliers, the honky was pushed ALIVE into a set of grinders that had been brought out from the rendering plant for this occasion. I guarantee that no slave who witnessed THAT torture, will ever even CONSIDER attacking his master" "I get it," Rasheem said. "That's why the training has to be so thurough. To make sure that nothing like that happens again." "Exactly." Clem replied. "See, Rasheem, on Terra Noir we are building a society that is based on slave labor, and that is an important thing. But it is not the MOST important thing. The slaves are a means to an end. It's not just about punishing the honkies for what the did to the Earth. It's about making sure that we don't repeat the mistakes that they made. On Terra Noir, we believe in the power of togetherness. That is why there os only one government. It's pretty difficult to declare war against yourself. But not only that, we believe in taking care of our own. Ww teach that when you help even one person, the whole society benefits. The having slaves allows us to concentrate on the moe important things in life like learning and bettering oneself, and bettering our society. Slave labor is a huge beneft to the community that we have built, but in order to reap the full benefit, that slave labor must be kept under strict control. Slaves HAVE to learn their place in our society. If we are lax in our dealings with honkies, they will become complacent, unruley. We can't have that. That is why 119 Cracker Control is so important. That is why CC officers are so highly reguarded in society...let alone well paid. But to tell you the truth, I would do it for free. I know that we are doing providing a vital service to the community and we take it very seriously." "Let me ask you this, Clem" Rasheem said after taking a moment to put his words together. He had never been a big talker. "Do you hate honkies?" Clem shook his head vehemently. "Of course not." he said. "Not even close, I just know exactly who and what they are. I know what havok they are capable of causing. But hate them, no, not at all. That big honky you saw in my office...that is my personal slave, Sal. Back before I was recruited to the special security force that eventually became CC, Sal and I were lovers. Of course it was a Dom/sub relationship and he called me 'master' and such, but it was more role-playing than anything else. Once i was recruited and learned the truth, I had him kidnapped and brought to our training facility where I broke and trained him myself. Now he is the most loyal attentive slave a man could ever ask for. And it is REAL, no role-playing involved. I own him lock, stock, and barrell. He knows it, and is not only content with it, but he thrives." "Do you love him?" "I do." Clem responded emphatically. "I love everything about him. Always did. His becoming a true slave didn't change that reality, in fact, it only enhanced it. Made it better." "I see." Rasheem said calmly, but on the inside his mind was reeling. He hated honkies, himself. Always had as long as he could remember. It was one of the reasons he avoided them on the ship. But here was a man who he had seen control and rule whitey with an iron fist, but still felt no hatred for them. It gave him pause. He had alot to think about. As the tour continued, Clem showed Rasheem the entire training facility. He saw where the honky slaves were kept for the duration of the trip, well, those that didn't have work assignments, anyway. It was so funny that Clem referred to the slave living areas as "kennels". The doctors that treated the slaves were called "vets", The female slaves was referred to as a sow, cow, mare, or a bitch. The males were referred to as a bull, a buck, or a stud. The slaves were even required to eat and drink their food and water from a trough on the floor without the use of their hands. Rasheem had seen Leo make his personal slave eat from a bowl on the floor, but he had figured that it was just something that Leo got off on. Now, he could see that it was all part of the program. The engenious and apparently successful plan to turn a man to an animal. Rasheem could see the logic in it. and he discussed it with Clem along the way. Hell within a generation or so, honky slaves will have no memory of being anything else BUT slaves. They will have no concept of a free white person, hell, they won't even 120 know that the white man ever was a person, just the well-trained service animal that the Black Man had turned him into. It was amazing! By the end of the tour(which concluded with a rather disturbing visit to the shipboard rendering plant), Rasheem had realized that there was no longer any need to harbor that hatred of the white man. It was like hating a man who is dead and buried. The WHITE MAN was for all intents and purposes dead, and in his place was this docile animal that was now kneeling before him back in Clem's office. The former famous actor turned honky slave. Rasheem had decided to take Clem up on his offer to use the boy. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Cracker The shipboard breeding program is in full swing, every time my master takes me out with him, which seemes to be more and more lately, I've noticed that every female honky I see is pregnant. I wonder how many of them are pregnant with my offspring. Ever since my master decided to fully participate in the breeding program, both bull and I have been milked twice daily. At first it was just once a day, and only Bull, but then, one day, I overheard my master and his friend discussing the breeding program. It turns out that master will get paid a certain amount of money for every "hit". I gleaned from the conversation that when a female is successfully impregnated, it's called a hit for the stud who's sperm it was that got her pregnant. Of course I didn't catch the whole conversation because first of all, it is none of my concern, and second of all i was busily fucking Bull for my master's guest's entertainment. I was concentrating on giving a good fuck while keeping myself from shooting all at the same time. Which is very difficult since Master keeps my little pink dickie locked inside a chastity cage most of the time so when he does allow me out of the chastity cage i'm so horny that any stimulation to my worm could well make me spunk. But I'm 121 so very grateful for the opportunity to help Master humiliate this bull honky. I take great pleasure in being my Master's instrument in the breaking and training of this animal. It's my peasure to follow my Master's commands but I take a personal joy in defacing the arrogance that this bull unbelievably once had... Clutching onto the large beast's upturned thighs, his arms bound uncomfortabley tight behind his back my ass and groin wiggling and thrusting. Bull's respectively large dick was straining hard against his much larger steel chastity cage. We must have looked quite the sight. The small whitey topping the larger. We both wore gags, but mine was a small ball gag that caused me to drool all over Bull's torso and exposed groin, Bull's was a full head harness and the grunts and noises he made thru it were music to my ears. Whenever Master permitted me to fuck Bull, I always tried to make it hurt but having such a small dick, I doubt I was doing much damage. Whenever I saw the look in his eyes shift to pleasure I immediately changed my thrusts in hopes of getting a reaction of displeasure. Bull deserves so much more pain than I could ever give him, I dislike him so very much I know he fears our Master but I know he does not respect him as he should...Anyway, once my master found out how much money he could make for each hit, he went from milking only Bull once a day to milking both of us twice a day. My master told his friend that Bull had a higher hit rate than I did, but that mine was still pretty good. Master also says that since I am so naturally submissive it would be a shame to not allow my 'good lil honky genes' as he puts it, into the whitey gene pool. That meant that i got at least some of these female honkies knocked up. I have to keep reminding myself, though, that none of it is my concern. My master want's me to make babies for him, that's what i am gonna do. I'm a good slave and I want to prove that to my master every chance I get. As a slave, I couldn't have hoped for a better master. He can be hard at times, of course as is his right, but when it is just the two of us, he can be really tender. He's a beautiful man, and if I am honest with myself, i would admit that i am in love with him. He loves me too in his own way. Kind of like a favored pet. I have even heard him call me his prized possession. A lot of the other honkies that meet us are jealous of how my master treats me. Especially Bull. When master first got him, Bull thought that because he was so big and muscular that he would end up being my master's "Alpha slave" or something. And you know what they say... the best laid plans of whites and men...Well, that turned out to be a fantasy. In reality, my Master treats him more like a piece of furniture than anything else, well that and a fucktoy and after how Bull behaved I have no sympathy for the animal. It has made Bull quite bitter. But what right does he have to be bitter? My master own both of us outright. He has the right to treat us however he wants. Bull constantly got above himself as Master's property. Bull and I had plenty of time to talk while master was out of the suite, and it was obvious that Bull was not as well-trained as he pretended to be. Yeah, he went through the motions, but his attitude was off. He thought too highly of himself to be properly trained slave. At first I just thought that it was because he was not into bdsm before he was enslaved like I was. That would account for his attitude 122 being so different from mine. But then I thought about the fact that I had met many a slave aboard ship who had been taken completely against their will, but were now completely broken to their slavery and they served their masters honorably. That was it, Bull had not been truely broken. I thought about sharing these thoughts with my master, but then thought better of it. My master is an extremely smart man. Much smarter than I am. If a lowly honky like me can see through Bull than surely a superior man like my master can see it too. Often when my master is watching the news feeds from earth, my he will allow me to sit on the couch with him, while Bull kneels on all fours with my master using his back as a footstool. I would be content to be my master's footstool if that was where he wanted me, but not Bull. No that stupid honky, He hates it. Master has also taken to using Bull's belly as a pillow when he sleeps. Master commands me to tie Bull up so that he doesn't thrash around in his sleep. Master then pinches Bulls nose close with a small rubber clamp and gags his mouth open with an 'O' ring gag. Master says this is so Bull doesn't breath noisily thru his nose and possibly whistle. Master says that Bull's steady mouth breathing helps him sleep. My Master has been having a good time "experimenting with Bull. I can remember one evening, shortly after Bull got here. I was in the kitchen, preparing my Master's dinner, when I heard Bull cry out. I ran into Master's bedroom to find Bull strapped to the St. Andrew's cross in his bedroom with two shiny silver nipple clamps biting into his swollen, bright red nipples. Bull's pleading eyes begged for the pain to end but he was a trained honky, like me, so he endured. I was peaking through the half opened door and the scene before my eyes entranced me. My Master had stripped down to just his trousers and socked feet as he worked on the naked and bound Bull. He had some music playing quietly in the background, a shipboard group I think. Just as Master lifted a heavy leather hood over bull's face, the big honk looked at me. For an instant, just as the hood obscured his features, that look of pain and defeat turned to anger and hate. Lucky for me, i was able to slip back into the kitchen before My Master noticed me. Another time, Master wrapped Bull up in duct tape like a mummy with only a hole for his dick and a hole over his asshole. Then, Master wrapped a padded leather cuff around bull's ankles and hoisted him, upside down in the corner of his room. You see, in the far corner of my Master's bedroom there is a steel hook hanging from the ceiling by a heavy duty chain. It's automated too, so with the push of a button, the chain can be lowered and raised. I have spent more than a few nights suspended from this hook while my master had his way with me. But this time, my master suspended Bull upside down from his feet. It was kinda funny, he looked like some weird gray modern art piece...with a pale pink dick! That night Bull's dick and nuts were the focus of a lot of attention. Attention i'm sure bull would have rather not had. I could hear bull's tormented grunts and 123 muffled screams throughout the cabin. Once Master was done having some fun with bull I heard the chain lowering and then I heard the sounds of fucking. Hard, relentless fucking. At one point bull's whimpers stopped and I heard Master shout 'c'mon bull... don't pass out yet!' All in all it must have been quite the night, judging by all that I had to clean up the next morning, There are so many interesting 'experiments'... for instance, there's the time Master had brought home several ice molds shaped like dicks. I filled them with water so they'd freeze. Later that night Master called on me throughout his playtime with bull to fetch him a new ice dildo as each previous one would melt. I know that Master is a regular now at the ship's slave training store and outlet. He's gone through two valuable customer cards already! Master has used all manner of devious tortures on bull during his playtimes. Lets see, there's rarely a playtime that bull doesn't get his dick slathered in this cream from the training store. I've had to put the bottle away many times and it's called 'Slave's Fire'. I can only assume what it must do because after Master puts it on Bull, after a few seconds he cries out and continues to jiggle and shake and cry for some time after. Master has even used it as lube on a dildo to fuck bull. I have to admit that was quite comical, bull really does flail around when he gets some slave fire on him. Master has also taken to using an inflatable gag on bull. Master lately has been experimenting with breath control. You should see bull's eyes bug out! Master has also begun stretching Bull's asshole. Master says bull is going to become a 'double fistin honky' whatever that is. Bull has become quite an amusement, I can see why Master enjoys this kind of play with bull. And Bull is so deserving of every minute of it, I can attest. Master came home with another package from the slave training store today. On his way to the bedroom Master tossed the bag at me and commanded “open this up and lay it out”. He then called out “Bull! Bull boy! Playtime!” Bull pulled himself from the mat in the corner of the laundry room and sulked into the bedroom. As bull turned his back to me to follow Master into the bedroom I could see the red welts across his back were still bright and visible from when Master broke in his new whip a few days before. Master saw him coming and shouted “there's a good honky, give me a big o'l honky smile, boy” and Bull straightened up and smiled wide for our Master. “That's better, boy” Master said, a smile of his own stretching across his beautiful chocolate brown face. I busily unpackaged the gear Master had bought and placed them onto a tray and carried them into the bedroom as Bull was taking his usual spot on the Andrew's cross. I sat the tray containing the new gear down on the bed and waited for Master's next command. You see, sometimes he allows me to help him 'use' Bull when the mood strikes him or he needs a second pair of hands. But tonight I was dismissed. Back in the cabin I picked up the bag from the shop, and collected the packing materials and box packaging. Master wont need this packaging, the 'tools' came with their own zippered honky hide storage case. Before I threw the 124 box into the disposal, I looked it over. On the cover was a smiling honky with a big ring through his nose. Beside this smiling honky head was a picture of a metal instrument and it's many attachments. Above all this was the writing. 'home piercing kit' and in smaller writing 'hours of fun for the creative honky owner'. I had no sooner read the last line and flipped the box over to read the back when I heard Bull scream through his inflated gag. Master has also given me permission to fuck Bull whenever I want to as long as he himself wasn't using either one of us and it didn't keep us from other duties. One afternoon, Bull and I had just finished our chores while master was teaching at the school. It was time for Bull to get cleaned up. At that time I was the only one besides Master who had access to the key to Bulls chastity device. It was my responsibility to unlock him for cleaning, then lock him back up afterward. I was feeling a bit frisky so I walked up behind Bull as he was air drying himself and I stuck my fingers into his already lubed asshole. Master had decreed that both Bull and I have our asses clean and lubed at all times. Now, Bull knew that master had given me permission to fuck him whenever I wanted. In fact, I had done this on several occasions without any problems. Well, of course, Bull made it clear that he didn't like to get fucked, but that didn't matter. He is my master's property and my master had given me permission to fuck him. And fuck him I did, quite often in fact. Bull had a tight ass that seemed to be such a perfect fit for my tiny dick, that I was continually amazed that he could take my master's huge monster without splitting open. On this day, Bull was not having it. We were in the bathroom and Bull was standing in the mirror. As I pushed my finger into his ass, Bull clenched up. "Can't you at least ask me?" He said without turning around. This came as kind of a shock. "Master has already given me permission." I said, "I don't have to ask." As I said this, I renewed my efforts to push my finger into his asshole. Before I knew what had happened, Bull had turned on me and had pushed me back against the opposite wall. As I slid to the floor, Bull loomed over me clearly enraged. It was at that moment that I was reminded of Bull's sheer size. I was reminded of his strength when he punched me in the face. Even though I am a slave, I had always felt safe in my master's presence. In my mind, being in that suite on that ship was, in essence, being in my master's presence. I felt safe there even in my master's absence. Now, here I was being accosted by this monster. In my safe place. After Bull had hit me a second time, he reached down, grabbed me and forcefully turned me over onto my stomach. Before I knew what was happining, I felt his dick being jammed into my ass. At that moment, I realized that I had stupidly tried to fuck him before i had replaced his chastity device. I was paying for that mistake now. As a slave, of course I had been fucked many times, by 125 men with much bigger dicks than Bull's. In fact, my master's dick is both longer and thicker than the big honky's and I enjoy every inch of it. This fucking, on the other hand, was not pleasureable at all. It was hateful. But Bull had no reason to hate me. All I was doing was trying to fuck him. Master said that i could any time I wanted to. I didn't do anthing wrong. After what seemed like hours of this brutal fuck, I felt Bull cum in my ass. "Good," I thought to myself, this was close to the ending. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------- Jamal Jamal was quite frustrated as he walked home from school. He was beginning to realize that he wasn't really cut out for teaching. Sometimes he really enjoyed it, but other times, not so much. It was't that he hated kids. In fact, he liked kids, but he realized that he wasn't really teacher material. Today had been one of those days that made that fact clear. All he wanted to do was get home and relax. He knew that the best way to do that was to have a little fun with Bull, then sit down and have a thick juicy steak. Yeah, that would make it all better. Always did. As Jamal pressed his code into the keypad next to his suite door, he was already beginning to feel a bit better. He knew that his two honkies would be there waiting for him. The door slid open and just as expected, Cracker and Bull were waiting just inside the door, both on their knees with their heads bowed. When he stepped through the door, both honkies leaned forward to kiss their master's feet. Something was wrong, though. Cracker, usually the most excited of the two was moving slowly. Almost gingerly. "Cracker," Jamal said reaching down to cup the slave's chin in his big hand and lift his face up. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Cracker didn't immediately respond, but he cut his eyes over at Bull. Jamal turned his attention to the bigger of the two slaves. "What the hell is wrong with him?" "I don't know, master." The big honky replied without even pausing in his task of kissing and licking his master's shoes. Bullshit, Jamal thought to himself as he grabbed Cracker by the upper arm and pulled him up to his feet. Uncharacteristically, the slave cried out in pain. "What the fuck?" Jamal said as he began to inspect his favorite pet. The poor boy was covered in bruises! Make no mistake, this was not the first time 126 cracker had been covered in bruises. On many occasions Jamal himself had inflicted similar bruises on his slave, as was his right. This was different, however. Cracker didn't have any of these bruises when Jamal had left that morning. Jamal pulled the cringing slave into the livingroom and sat down on the couch with the boy standing in front of him. The boy's jaw was swollen, his lip split and his eye was slightly purple and swollen. Moving down jamal could see bruised ribs. That was not good. He spun the boy around to inspect his backside. More bruising all over his back and a closer look revealed what looked like what looked like bite marks all over cracker's usually smooth asscheeks. Jamal took a deep breath in an attempt to quell his rising anger. "Bend over." he said and his slave complied immediatly complied. he spread the slave's asscheeks apart to reveal a swollen and bleeding asshole. "BULL!" Jamal yelled, "Get your honky ass in here! NOW!" Bull came slowly around the corner to find his master standing there with a furious look on his face. Now Bull is a big honky. He towered over the diminutive cracker. Jamal, however was a comparable size. Master and slave were about the same height, but bull had a bit more bulk...more muscle. The big difference, however, is that Jamal is a Man whereas Bull is just a honky slave. It made a world of difference, and they both new it. "What the FUCK happened here?!" Jamal asked through gritted teeth, even though he knew exactly what had happened. He wanted to see if the slave would lie to him again. Bull just stood there for a moment, visibly trembling with fear. "I don't know, Mast..." Before he could finish the lie, Jamal had punched him full in the face. The blow was hard enough to send the big honky reeling backwards, but not enough to knock him to the ground. The slave tried to recover, but before he could even regain his footing, Jamal was on him. All Bull was aware of was big black fists raining down on him. Luckilly for him, his training held and he did not attempt to fight back. He had learned in training that a slave's punishment for attacking his master was a slow painful death via the gringers in the onboard rendering plant. On this ship, when a slave dies, his body is put to final use. The body was shaved of all hair. Transplantable organs were taken, and the body was then put into the grinder to be used as protein in Honky Chow, and other animal feed. When a honky slave attacks a master, however, he is pushed into the grinders alive, feet first so he doesn't die immediately. During his training, Bull had seen it twice and it had left him scarred for life. There was no way he was gonna fight his master. The only think he could do was ball up into the fetal position and hope that unconsciousness would take him soon. He didn't have long to wait. When Bull woke up, he was in a cage that was much too small for a slave of his size. He immediately recognized it as a travel kennel. What fresh hell was he in for now? 127 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------- Terra Noir 40 Years After First Settlement It's a perfect day for a hunt, Johnathan thought to himself as he stopped to rest on a boulder. The noon sun was beaming in the sky over Terra Noir, but in the shade of the dense jungle canopy it seemed more like dusk. This made it a but more difficult for Johnathan to spot his prey but that didn't matter. The dumb animal was leaving an easy trail to follow. In fact, Johnathan had been tracking this particular buck for about three hours now and he was moving in for the kill. Johnathan Sanders Jr. had been born on Terra Noir. His dad owned one of the largest plantations in New Africa, right outside the city of Sandersville named for his father. Sandersville, New Africa had began as one house on a huge plot of land. His father, John Sr had claimed the land when he first arrived from Earth. When later ships began to bring in more settlers from Earth, and Noirian Society really began to take shape, John Sr. started to build small tract houses on his land. New settlers from from Earth who didn't want to live in government housing, were given the opportunity to buy their own house with their government stipend. As more people moved in, John had his slaves to build a school so that the residents didn't have to trek into the capital city of Kingsburg just to send their kids to school. By this time, business at the Sanders Plantation was exploding. John had decided early on that he would grow fruits and vegitables that originated on Earth. These would be scarce here on Terra Noir and he knew that people would want to have these familiar foods on hand. It had worked beautifully! Sanders Plantation shipped potatoes, green beans, 128 apples, oranges, tomatos and all sorts of fruits and veggies all over Terra Noir. Whereas John had started with a team of 20 honky slaves with him being the only overseer, now there were close to 1000 honkies beeing looked over by 20 overseers, all residents of Sandersville. John Sr. was able to lure businesses to Sandersville by offering them cheap land and the promise to pay a small percentage of the taxes required by law. This brought many businesses to town, including fast food restaurantes, a carraige maker, clothing stores a small ponyslave training farm, and even a textile factory. By the time Johnathan Jr was born, his dad had left the plantation to serve as Sandersville's first mayor. John Jr., like all children on Terra Noir was raised to appreciate art and music, but it was obvious from early on that that was not where his passions lie. John would go through the motions in school as he learned his lessons, and of course, recieved the expected high marks, but when school was over he couldn't wait to run home to the plantation. He wanted to get there in time to watch the honky slaves working in the field. Even as a youngster, he would spend hours watching the overseers command and control the slaves. To him, they were superheros, fighting for justice by keeping the honky in his place. He wanted to be just like them. Strong, powerful and in total control. When he turned 15, John was enrolled in his first honky husbandry class. Not only did he excel in the class, but he demonstrated a very high aptitude for the intricasies of the care and control of slaves. Since John Jr. was a little boy, his father had told him stories about Earth. He's heard about how honkies used to be just as free as everybody else, even moreso in alot of cases. His dad talked about how much fun it had been to train a honky slave who had once been a free man. The exhilaration of breaking a man, then molding him into a pliant and obedient servant. Just the thought of it, gave him a heady feeling. By the time John was old enough to own his own slave, most of the honkies that had been brought from Earth were too old to be of any use to him, and even they had been broken to their slavery before they even reached Terra Noir. So any honky that was suitable age for young John would have been born a slave and therefore have no need to be broken, having never known freedom. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------- 129 Terra Noir Introduction (preface) Terra Noir is the third planet from the star in a solar system designated 2087EL1. It is the first "Earthlike" planet ever discovered that was proven to be able to support carbon based life. Just under 5 light years from Earth, it is about one and a half times the size of Earth. This planet is very similar to Earth in some ways. An atmosphere rich in nitrogen and oxygen. But completely alien in other ways. Like the fact that there are no oceans. The entire surface of the planet is one large land mass dotted with numerous lakes, some large and some small and cris-crossed with rivers and tributaries. Much of the surface of the land mass is covered in dense vegitation. Unlike Earth, Terra Noir has no deserts. If Earth was named "The Blue Planet" because it is mostly ocean, then Terra Noir would definitely be called "The Green Planet". Make no mistake, though, there is plenty of water on Terra Noir, and it's all fresh water. In some places a person can't walk two miles in any direction without encountering a lake or a river. A trip up into the mountains would reveal mile high waterfalls more beautiful than any found on Earth. Some of the biggest physical differences though, are the fact that there are two moons, both of which have sustainable atmosphere, and the fact that animal life never developed on Terra Noir. The first scout ship orbited the planet four times looking for life signs before confirming the absence of non-plant life. A more intensive scan confirmed the absence of even microscopic organisms. This caused a problem for the scientists back on Earth. Terra Noir could not be colonized if there was no animal life. It simply failed to spring up like it did on Earth. This was not totally unexpected, but it did slow things down quite a bit. The planet would have to be "seeded" with animal life. The science teams decided that the needed to start with aquatic life and at the bottom of the food chain. On Earth, there are microscopic organisms that feed on the algae in the water. Once it was learned that these same organisms could live in the fresh water of Terra Noir, the waters of the planet were flooded with them. Then slightly larger organisms that feed on those microscopic organisms were introduced and allowed to flurish, then larger and larger animals were eventually introduced. By the time of the first settlement, the waters of Terra Noir were ready to be fished