Droit du Seigneur 4 Lance Kyle
Sam woke up that afternoon with a sense of peace. Lucius had departed, but the mulatto slave's willing acceptance of fourteen year old Sam's advances had confirmed him and given him confidence in his pursuit of the droit du seigneur...for boys on the plantation. Twice during the remainder of the day, as Sam went about his duties, he saw Lucius at his work around the grounds of the main house. The slave respectfully tipped his cap and smiled but kept his eyes carefully averted.
The temptation was strong for Sam simply to stick with Lucius, to move him into his room and make him his own bed slave. He knew his father had done that, and now his brother in his turn, at least for a while, with the girls they deflowered. But Sam decided he could always return to Lucius, and that he wanted to finish his program of moving through the boy slaves who needed to lose their male virginities. Also, although he was glad for the "moral" support that Lucius's cooperation had given him, there was pleasure in exercising his will over a slave, also. He was quite sure that his father before him and now his brother felt the same thing when taking a quivering thirteen year old black slave girl: it was not just the sexual pleasure but the pleasure that ownership of another gave you.
In anticipation of tomorrow's continuation of that program, Sam slipped into the library where the list of boys was kept that he had had Hannibal draw up. He had been through the three eighteen year olds, now time for the seventeen year olds. But he discovered from the list that there was only one seventeen year old, named Cato. Sam thought he knew who this was, but it was one of the slaves who worked in the fields, and so he did not know him as well as he did Lucius, for instance, who worked around the house.
Sam went about his duties the rest of that day and into the evening, keeping an eye out for Cato, whom he thought he saw working afar, but he couldn't be sure. He woke up the next morning with the usual erection, which of course he saved for later, and went about the new day's tasks with eagerness. Right after lunch he summoned Hannibal to the library and told him to bring Cato, washed, to his room. Of course, by now Hannibal knew completely what was up, but he averted his gaze and bowed to his young master and set about his task of fetching Cato.
As usual, Sam watched from behind the curtain in his bedroom as he saw Hannibal lead a slim, tall black boy to the washroom, wait a few minutes, and then lead the boy back over to the main house. His heart pounding with excitement, as it had before, Sam turned to wait. It was not long before Hannibal knocked and opened the door, saying "This is Cato, Master," ushered in the boy slave and retreated, shutting the door behind him.
Sam beckoned the slave to come closer. He was tall, as tall as any of the eighteen year olds had been. He was quite dark, that deep midnight dark that is not exactly black but that goes beyond brown. Water diamonds still glistened in the cap of black wool on his head. His features were pleasant and definitely African, with very full lips, black eyes, and a broad nose. He wore a simple shirt and clean but stained pants held up with a rope belt.
Cato's expression was quizzical, his gaze averted but his eyes darting left and right. He had certainly not been in the main house before, and absolutely not in a private bedroom. He might have been ushered into a genie's palace given his lack of experience, and he was taking it all in. But Sam could tell he was also unsure of the purpose of his visit and what was going to happen.
"Take your shirt off," Sam commanded. The boy hesitated a moment, furrowing his brow as if to understand, and then saying "Yes, Masta," quickly slipped the garment off and dropped it to the floor. Sam stepped up close to him. Cato was thin and wiry, his chest two thin pads of muscle with hard round nipples, his abdomen a washboard of small hills, his navel like a round snail poking up out of its shell. Sam placed his own cream colored hands on the chest and began rubbing it, tweaking the nipples, then sliding up and down the abdomen, gently poking into the navel. Cato gasped just a little and whispered, "Masta?" Sam continued sliding his hands over the silken midnight skin.
"Do you know what we are going to do, Cato?" murmured Sam. "What do the people say about what happens here when Hannibal brings a boy up to my room?" Cato ducked his head and only whispered "Masta." "What do they say, Cato," Sam coaxed.
"Dey say you takes yo pleasure wit de boy, lahk wit de wenches sometime, Masta," said Cato, all in a rush, as if embarrassed to say, as if hardly believing it could be true.
Sam nodded. "That's right, Cato, that's what will happen. Remove your trousers," he said, tugging at the rope belt. The knot gave way and, with an assist from Cato, the pants fell to the floor. He caught another puzzled expression flash over Cato's face, as if he couldn't quite imagine what the white boy had in mind.
A V of muscle came down over the hips and joined in the groin where a dense but small bush of pubic hair sprouted over the slave boy's penis. It was a beautiful organ, really almost black and still gleaming from the bath, curving out and down, a little narrower at the base and a little wider toward the head, ending in a pronounced knob inside a tassel of skin. Below hung a heavy sack holding the two testicles. Cato's strong legs displayed muscles that danced and swam up and down. Sam walked around the slave boy, admiring this body that he owned outright. Cato had the classical African butt, slab sided and high, perfectly rounded, and pushing up so that one could almost balance a pencil on the top of the buttocks. Stopping behind the boy Sam ran his hands over the muscular back, the long rounded hills of muscles that sloped down into the pronounced valley of the spine, then over the sides of the buttocks and squeezing the buttocks hard, pulling them apart some, then running his thumbs down the tight, narrow valley between the buttocks, and pausing to rub the anus gently. All the while Cato held his ground, now breathing a little hard, muttering "Masta!" from time to time with each new invasion of his body by the white boy's hands.
In a flash Sam threw off his own clothing, then moved around in front of the black slave boy again. The dark penis was showing the first signs of an incipient erection, rising a bit, swelling. Cato was clearly startled to see the naked white boy in front of him, very close now, the first naked white person he had ever seen. "Lawd, Masta!" he exclaimed softly. Sam stepped up very close to him and seized the heavy black penis with one hand, causing the slave boy to gasp. He positioned it pointing straight up, then aligned it with his own by now rampant rosie erection alongside, although his own organ was visibly smaller than that of the black slave boy. For a moment, Sam put his two hands around both organs and slid up and down, causing Cato now to gasp again, the black boy's breathing coming heavier. "Put both your hands like mine and do this," he instructed. Cato hesitated, seemingly unsure of whether in fact he had been invited to touch a white boy's penis. "Like THIS," said Sam again, and as Cato could not mistake the command, the slave boy wrapped his very dark hands around the two penises and began sliding up and down as his young master commanded.
His hands freed, Sam put them around the shoulders of the slave boy and drew him in close, then around the back of the slave's head, burying his fingers in the crisp wool of the hair, and then pulling Cato's face down toward him Sam began kissing him passionately. Cato moaned a little in shock, but could not refuse. Sam took one fleshy lip and then another in between his own, nibbling and sucking on the thick dark flesh, then thrust his tongue into the slave boy's mouth and slid it over the boy's teeth, against his own tongue, both boys now breathing the same breath, sharing saliva, locked in a passionate kiss.
Looking down Sam could see clear fluid glistening all over their penises that Cato continued to pump. In a flash Sam threw himself onto his back on the bed and beckoned Cato forward. "Lie on top of me," he commanded. A little hesitant, in need of Sam's coaching and his hands, Cato spread out on top of his young white master. Sam guided the rampant very dark rod down between his own legs and then held it there tightly with his thighs. "Now pump up and down with your hips," he commanded, shoving his own pelvis up and down a bit by way of coaching. Cato began that rhythm as Sam pulled the boy down tighter upon him and resumed the deep kisses. Sam held the slave's head in place with both hands, Cato's own hands splayed out on the bed, and Sam went at the very full lips and mouth again. Fondling the slave's head with his hands, kissing and sucking his mouth, Sam could feel Cato's rhythm picking up as he fucked his white master between the legs. Sam had a powerful feeling of what it must be like to be a willing black girl being taken by this boy, to lie like this with Cato's thick black rod pumping in and out of a vagina. Faster and faster Cato went and then shuddering mightily he began moaning hard, unable to cry out because of the white boy's possession of his mouth, but pushing hard, bucking two or three times, pushing again, squealing now in passion, and then as the powerful climax passed over him collapsing flat atop the white boy. Sam let the slave boy's mouth go now and held him there, the slave boy's head on his chest, his face pressed into the cap of black wool, his own heart pounding against Cato's chest while the slave boy shuddered and gasped, recovering his breath.
In a few moments Sam pushed Cato off to the side and commanded him to lie on his belly. Sam fetched a pot of lubricant, noticing the pool of discharged semen that glistened on the bed, feeling its remnants between his own legs. Sam spread apart the tight buttocks of the slave boy and quickly inserted one and then two fingers covered in oil into the anus, causing the black boy to moan and gasp. A few quick plunges and Sam could wait no longer. He quickly lubricated his own rampant, dripping rod and then mounted the black boy, pushing his rod in between the tight buttocks and then into the anus, pushing hard and sliding in with one push which made Cato cry out, but he could not, he did not, refuse. Stretching himself out completely atop the black slave boy's muscular back, wrapping his arms around the chest below and pulling himself down tight, Sam set up a furious slamming in and out of the black slave boy's bottom. His hands now dug into the slave boy's shoulders and he bit and kissed and sucked the slave's back and shoulders. Such was his excitement, combined with his youth, that it was not long before he came, roaring now in his turn, squeezing the breath out of Cato as he clenched his arms while with three powerful pushes he ejaculated down into the black boy's bottom.
Sam allowed himself to recover like that completely, kissing and licking the black boy's shoulders and back, reaching below again and tweaking his nipples. When his receding erection finally plopped out of the black boy's anus of its own accord, Sam rolled off to the side. "You may dress and go now; shut the door when you leave," he told Cato. Still averting his gaze, the fucked black slave boy whispered "Yes, Masta" and hastily rose to dress himself, then slipped out the door. Sam watched him go and then drifted off in a nap.
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