Did I like him? No slave truly likes his masters, despite what the white folks think.
What I knew, that he never knew, is that we were half-brothers --his father having raped my mother.
I remember him (when we were both aged thirteen) leaning on the fence, with his red hair, and creamy freckled skin; watching as I was beaten within an inch of my life for some minor offense. He had a look of utter absorption, as if he had never seen anything so fascinating.
I was staring at him too (to keep my mind off the pain) and the image is burned into my mind, of the way he fidgeted, and how he ground his body against the fence post.
He was always a wild boy, and they sent him away for a number of years. When he came back, he was a wild young man. He used to run wild in the woods, like an Indian. Sometimes he would even run naked (such was the extent of his wickedness). He would take me with him, and make me play some twisted version of hide-and-go-seek, but I could never keep up. He would disappear immediately, and all I would ever see was the odd flash of white flesh through the greenery.
He hated to be clothed, really, and always wanted to skinny-dip with me, which I hated, because he would wrestle me in the water, and I was not allowed to fight back. I would be swimming along peacefully, and I would suddenly feel his taut arms around my belly, and have to encounter another near-drowning.
He had strange ideas too, very strange ideas. Wherever they sent him to have him fixed (and I heard a rumor that it was for doing peculiar things with his blond-headed cousin) it hadn't worked.
So it was, that when he took me out one day (to attend him on a walk in the woods) I went with deep trepidation. And when we came to a little clearing, and I saw he had arranged it with a length of good stout rope and a bullwhip, I was out-and-out scared.
"No, massa," I said. "Nero ain't done nothing wrong. Why you wanna be whipping po' Nero?"
"Buck up, you coward," said Sean cheerfully. "The rope isn't for you."
"It ain't massa? Who it for? Ain't no other slaves heah.."
"All my life I've lived with slaves, Nero," he said. "And it occurred to me, I have no idea what your lives are like. I don't what it is to be a slave."
"'Cos you don't, massa," I said. "An you don't wanna know."
"Yes I do" said Sean firmly. "And you're going to show me. You will be the master, and I will be the slave."
I shook my head firmly. I knew no good could come out of this.
"What's the matter?" said Sean. "No one will find out. You and I are the only ones who come here."
"Nah massa, you don't wanna do dis."
"I do indeed," he said, his tone of voice hardening. "And I'm making it an order. And if you don't follow it, I'll be forced to use that whip on you, after all."
That's a master for you. You can be their friend, right up until they want you to be a slave again.
"Whatever you says, massa," I said. "But I don't likes this."
Sean seemed very happy that I had agreed. His pale face was flushed with excitement.
"The first thing we'll do is exchange clothes," he said.
I shook my head.
"No?" he said. "Then I'll just have to go naked. They strip you sometimes when they beat you, don't they?"
"Yassuh, massa," I said. I could see right away that this was what he had wanted all along. In a moment, his tight breeches and ruffled shirt were lying on the ground. I couldn't help but notice that his pizzle was standing up on end.
"Now," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "Tie my hands behind my back, and the other end of that rope to the tree. And tie my feet together."
I did it, but loosely.
"No, Nero, you ignorant nigger, do it tightly. I'm not fragile."
"Nero thought his name be `massa' now," I muttered under my breath. But he heard me.
"Quite right, quite right!" he trilled. "Master Nero, tie me tighter!"
I jerked the ropes as tight as I could, taking a secret pleasure in the knowledge that I must be hurting him. He winced, but kept his cheerful smile as he knelt eagerly in the dirt, presenting his smooth back towards me.
"Marvelous!" he said. "Now beat me. With the whip."
I picked the whip up gingerly. I had never held one before, but tasted one often. The evil cord was made of braided leather, and stained with the blood of helpless slaves.
I struck him.
"Nero! Hit me for real!" he said. "I declare, you must be the worst excuse for a nigger possible!"
Something inside me snapped, and I did hit for real, as hard as I could, and he gasped, a shocked exhalation of pain.
"I done told you!" I said. "The name is Massa!"
"Not quite that hard," he said.
I hit him again, just as hard.
"Shut up and keep you mouth closed!" I said. "Slave don't tell massa what to do."
"Stop!" said Sean. "Very good, but you're taking this a little too far."
Then I hit him again, and again and again, until his back was bleeding, and he had quit trying to speak. Then I tossed the whip aside, and looked at him.
When he finally spoke again, it was in a flat, unemotional voice, with an undercurrent of fear.
"You can't get away with this," he said. "You'll be punished when we go back."
"Then I guess Massa Nero better make the best of it," I said.
Scared, angry tears appeared momentarily in his eyes.
"Why?" he said. "What's come over you?"
"You wanted to know what it like to be a slave," I said. "This is what it be like. Not to own your self or your life or your body. To have someone else be in absolute control."
"Absolute control," he said. "And you can talk like a white man too, I see, when you choose."
He shook his head sadly.
"All right," he said. "You made your point. Untie me and we'll go back. Don't worry, I won't have you punished. This will just be our little secret."
I shook my head, and let a slow smile come across my face. I was taking my life in my hands and I knew it, but opportunities like this were once in a lifetime.
"Not so fast," I said. "First you gonna get a little bit of what yo' daddy gave my mammy."
I saw the fear come back into his eyes.
"What are you talking about?" he said. "Nero... massa... please, this has gone far enough."
"Don't worry," I said. "If half of what I done heard about you be true, you gonna like it."
I pulled off the dirty ragged linen that served me for pants, and my inheritance from Mother Africa popped free. I saw Sean's eyes cross slightly, and his own limply hanging snake sprung back to attention.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "Don't come near me with... that thing!"
He struggled to his feet, but of course he couldn't go anywhere with his ankles tied together, so he fell over, and lay there, bound at my feet.
Grinning, I pushed my dirty toe into his mouth.
"Lick it," I said. "Lick it, and make it real clean."
Like a dog, he obeyed, even as I forced more and more of my broad horny foot into his mouth. After a moment, I tired of this.
"Roll onto your back" I commanded, and he did so, lying in the dirt with his pizzle straight up. I let my hand brush it, briefly, and watched as his body shook. Then, squatting over his freckled chest, I pushed the end of my black monster into his mouth, enjoying the warmth and the wetness of it, as well as the expression on his face, as he swallowed the black girth. He seemed almost regretful when I pulled out.
Untying his feet, but not his hands, I led over to a large fallen tree, and made him lie over top of it. It must have been as uncomfortable as Hades, but he did it without a protest, as docile as a sheep.
Only when I let a rough finger invade his tight white buttocks did he protest.
"No massa, no, don't," he said.
But the way he ground his posterior onto my finger belied his reluctant words.
Then, standing between his legs, I spread him open, and worked my spit-moistened tool inside, while he cried out and cussed. But I paid no mind, as I worked my length into him, thinking all the while of the games he had played with me, of his naked body running through the woods, of the many times he had almost drowned me, of the lustful look in his eyes as he had seen me beaten.
I was so lost in these thoughts that I almost didn't hear his soft moans of pain turn into pleasure, and his whispered injunction, "yes massa, yess, harder massa, please massa, don't stop."
As we continued rutting, another thought occurred to me, and I bent down to whisper in his ear.
"We brothers, you and I. Yo' daddy was my daddy."
He just moaned and wiggled, but the thought made me feel a burning heat all over my body, as I tore him apart and put him back together and I heard a sound like drumming in my ears, and a feeling like lightning in my loins, and I filled him up with a black man's manseed, and he cried out like the world was ending.
Afterwards, the enormity of what I had done filled me. I pondered my options. If I left him here and ran, how far could I make it before they found him? Not very far I guessed. But what would happen if I stayed? Would he have me killed.
I sat back with my back against a tree, and stared at him. After a moment he raised up his weary head, and looked at me.
"Yes, very good," he said, faintly. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. "I had no idea a slave's life was so ...rough. What a frightening condition, to have no control over your own destiny. And you, Nero, bravo, well done. I never imagined you would play the part of master so ably."
My courage had deserted me with my seed, and, to my shame, I found myself slipping back into the familiar cadences.
"Yassah, massa. Do you wants me to untie you now."
"Yes, that would be good," he said. "I must look a state. Well, we'll tell them I fell into a briar patch or something. They'll believe anything of me."
"Yassuh," I said. We dressed in silence. He had trouble walking on the way back, and leaned heavily on my shoulder, his body hot against mine. As we caught first sight of the big house through the trees, he stopped and whispered in my ear.
"We must do that again sometime... I think it's vital for me --to maintain an understanding of what the condition of life is like for the slave."