SOUTHERN SUBMISSIVE (AUTHORITARIAN, HUMIL: T/T, M/T) BY: MOORE
Part 4
Chapter VII
"Make him beg now, Oliver."
"Okay momma."
Barclay heard nothing of the exchange between Lila and Oliver. All of his senses, every cell of his body was focused on the magnificent rod of black flesh thrusting, pulsing, punishing his mouth...waiting anxiously for the flood of nectar that would soon fill his mouth. Craving that first powerful spurt of hot sperm exploding against the roof of his mouth, Barclay sucked wildly on Oliver's throbbing organ. He was addicted to the taste of the rich thick tangy cream produced by this boy, coating his tongue and gums, mixing with saliva as he swished it around his mouth. Barclay had sucked cock on five continents. He had tasted the sperm of many boys and men; white, black, latin and asian. But he returned again and again to Oliver Carver, degraded and humiliated himself, for the ultimate pleasure of having this young black boy cum in his mouth.
"Oh god, no!" Barclay cried out, his mouth suddenly empty. "Please Oli, Mr. Carver, please in my mouth, please cum in my mouth." Barclay was whimpering, groveling at Oliver's feet. "Please, I'm begging you. Cum in my mouth today. Please Mr. Carver, put your cock back in my mouth, let me suck you, please."
Sometimes, just to torment him, Oliver would deny Bruce his great pleasure and cum all over his face, neck and chest instead of in his mouth.
"Fag begs real nice, Lila, real nice." King looked at Oliver and said, "Seein' how it's Sunday, the lords day, and the cocksucker is on his knees prayin'...., you are praying to god, aren't you fag?"
"Yes, yes," Barclay replied. "I'm praying this god will put his cock in my mouth and let me suck until he cums inside my mouth."
King nodded. "It's cummunion time. Go ahead Oliver, fuck the white fag's mouth and drown him with your spunk."
Barclay sighed with contentment as once again his mouth was filled with twelve inches of dickmeat. Fearing that Oliver might pull out again, he sucked like a madman for the load of semen he craved. Eager to finish the blow job and show King how he ass fucked the white cocksucker, Oliver prepared to cum by thrusting his dick deep into Barclay's throat three times, pulled back, and unloosed spurts of his thick creamy semen into Barclay's mouth.
"Up on the table, bitch," Oliver said to Barclay after dumping his load of spunk in the cocksuckers mouth. "Get your pussy ready."
Reluctantly, not because he didn't want to get fucked, but because he was still finding drops of cum and piss in Oliver's pubic hair, Barclay regained his feet on shaky legs. Turning to face Lila and King across a specially designed mirror top coffee table, Barclay presented his white ass to Oliver. The see-thru condom, stuffed with his erect cock and balls was still held firmly in place by the cock-ring tight elastic band. The reservoir tip was filled, almost to capacity, with Barclay's milky white semen.
Barclay prepared to mount the table which had hand holds, knee grips and locking wheels.
"No lube today?" Oliver said offhandedly.
Barclay, strangely silent, went to retrieve the tube of lube he had in his pants pocket.
Oliver never supplied lube. The cries of a white man being dry fucked brought tears of joy to his mother's face. For Cletus, she always said. He didn't object though, if a client brought his own lube to ease the pain of initial penetration. Lube or no lube, there were cries enough to please his mother once his twelve inch black dick started ramming into a white asshole.
Barclay returned empty handed. His clothes, and the lube, were already gone. He stuck a finger in his mouth and brought forth one, and then another, marble size balls of the clotted cum stored in his cheeks. King roared with laughter, Lila looked away in disgust, as Barclay used the slimy stuff to lubricate his asshole before mounting the table. Barclay's face was inches from King's crotch as he positioned himself on the table, ass high, ready and eager for his fucking.
Oliver stepped forward, placed his twelve inch black dick on the broad white back and smiled as Lila opened King's pants, exposing his cock. King wasn't as long as Oliver, but he was thicker. Oliver then positioned the head of his cock at the slimy puckered opening of Barclay's ass and, with one gut splitting thrust, buried his twelve inch black steel sword, balls deep, into the white man's bowels. Barclay cried out once, tears of pain welled in his eyes. His second cry turned into a snort as King buried his thick black dick balls deep into Barclay's mouth.
King unloaded first, all over Barclay's face. Oliver followed with his load of sperm, deep in Barclay's bowels. Barclay came too, into the condom covering his cock, over filling the ballooning reservoir tip with cum.
"Time for you to go Bruce," Oliver said slipping into his sweats and taking the seat next to his mother. "Clean up the table and don't drip on the carpet."
Cum was dripping off Barclay's face and oozing out of his asshole as he lowered his head and began to shamelessly lap up the cum from the mirror topped table. The smell and taste of Oliver's cum caused Barclay to spurt again into the condom which was beginning to leak and threatened to burst. Barclay carefully removed the cum filled latex, grimacing in pain as his pubic hairs got stuck in the elastic band. With no where else to put it, Barclay popped the scum bag into his mouth.
"Can I see you tomorrow?" Barclay mumbled as he made ready to leave.
"Got school," Oliver said. "Maybe next weekend."
The thick layer of dried cum on his face cracked as Barclay frowned in disappointment. With all the dignity a naked semen streaked man could muster, Barclay stepped into the hallway to wait for his clothes.
"I gotta take a shower now," Oliver said casually, picking up the cash filled envelope and handing it to his mother. "Profitable afternoon."
Thirty minutes later, Oliver returned to the living room wearing a favorite pair of nylon shorts. Lila was in the kitchen and King was watching TV. "You were going to tell me how to improve my cash flow," King reminded.
Oliver thought for a moment. "Yeah, right. How would you....."
A polite tap on the front door stopped Oliver in mid sentence. He opened the door to a stricken looking and still naked Bruce Barclay. "They won't give me back my clothes," he sobbed. "I gave them both a blow job like I always do, but they won't give me my clothes, only my car keys. I can't go outside like this. Can I borrow..."
"Who's at the door, Oliver," Lila said as she came into the living room. "Bruce! Again! What does the queer want now?"
Between giggles, Oliver managed to say, "Tell her."
"Tell me what?" Lila asked.
"You see Mrs. Carver," Barclay said between sobs. "The two retired, um, gentlemen who live down the hall took all my clothes, like they always do when I come here to ah, to um, to, you know...."
"Tell me. I want to hear you say it," Lila demanded.
"When I come here to, oh god, suck Oli, um, suck Mr. Carver's penis and have, ayyy, this is so embarrassing, have anal intercourse."
"Anal intercourse!!" Lila shouted. "You mean when you bend over for my son and he fucks your white ass?"
"Oh god, yes. When Mr. Carver fucks me. Now they won't give me back my...., they're supposed to give me back my clothes after I suck them off." Bruce was rambling now, nervous and scared, he hardly knew what he was saying. "They laughed at me, said I gave them a lousy blow job, but that's not true. I'm a good cocksucker. Isn't that right King?"
"Be better if you had no teeth, fag."
Barclay seemed to think about King's comment before speaking again. "They told me to go away and closed the door in my face. I need to borrow some clothes. I can't go outside like this. The streets are filled with people. Please Mrs. Carver, don't make me go out there naked. Please give me clothes to wear."
The man was a truly pitiful sight. The light brown hair covering his chest and pubic area was matted with dried cum. Black wiry pubic hairs were stuck in the fresh cum that glistened around his lips and a few hairs were stuck in his teeth. A long string of congealed semen mixed with ass juices was hanging between his legs.
Lila was delighted when Oliver stepped forward and Barclay, without being told, assumed his right place before her son, naked and on his knees. Between sobs, Barclay continued to beg and plead for clothes to wear and not to send him out naked for everyone to laugh at him.
"Two minutes," Lila began. "If your not out of here in two minutes I'm calling the police."
Barclay crawled away wailing like a wounded animal, "Please give me some clothes to wear."
About to close the door, Lila thought about Cletus and all the other naked men and women on the plantation so many years ago. Loud enough to be heard on the street, Lila bellowed, "Only people wear clothes Barclay, and you're not a person. You're just a fag."
A rousing chorus of fag, fag, fag, greeted Bruce Barclay as he walked naked on shaky legs from the apartment building to his car which was parked out front. As he feared, a group of black boys were waiting by his car for their blow jobs. Resigned to his task, and somewhat aroused too, Barclay quickly headed towards the alley.
"Over here bitch," caused him to stop and turn. "Over here bitch," the speaker repeated. "Seein's how you is so eager, beein' naked and all. And seein's how you just a fag, me and my boys gonna do you here inna street, 'steada the alley."
Right out in the open for all to see, Barclay was put on his knees and began to suck the first of the many cocks he would suck that afternoon. Watching from the window, Lila laughed out loud and said with satisfaction, "What goes around comes around."
"I think it just might work and getting them to sign a legal waiver is pure genius," King said after listening to Oliver's plan to generate cash from the white college girls willing to trade sex for drugs. "I'll be doing a community service too."
Oliver's plan worked perfectly. King wouldn't allow drugs in the neighborhood, but the two bucks a pop he charged to fuck a pretty white girl was affordable by every black teen and it kept them happy without the drugs. So what if the girl had to service twenty guys at a time to make enough money. She got the drugs she wanted, King got paid and the brothers got laid.
With Lila in mind, Oliver found a use for the druggie white college boys too. Buck a head for a blow job, but the white boy had to solicit forty black guys and collect all the money himself before King would give him any drugs. Initially, the plan didn't generate much cash, but it was fun watching a white boy humiliate himself by trying to sell blow jobs for a dollar. That changed when Lila said that she would gladly pay to watch a white boy swallow his pride, and a mouthful of semen from a black man's dick. She thought that a lot of black women felt the same way too.
To test Oliver's plan and Lila's theory, King arranged to have forty black teenagers agree to "buy" a blow job from Quentin Sedgeworth, Jr. the next time he asked. Quentin was a daily user and by the weekend he was out of cash, in need, and quietly going around the basketball courts in the schoolyard, trying to sell forty blow jobs. Followed by his "customers", Quentin returned to King's place to consummate the deal. King had him sign an affidavit and swear an oath in front of the assembled witnesses, Lila and twenty women friends who had each paid two dollars to watch, that he was over 18, of sound mind and a willing cocksucker.
Quentin signed and swore, eager to get the money he needed. One by one over the next few hours Quentin serviced his "customers". The newly minted cocksucker was great entertainment for the middle aged women in the audience. They cheered every deep thrust into the white boy's mouth and applauded each time one of their own climaxed and shot a load of cum into Quentin's mouth or on his face. King was pleased that the show was a big success. He was sorry that Oliver wasn't there to see it.
Things might have been different had he been there, but Oliver was otherwise occupied that afternoon. The blond college girl he was fucking had picked him up and driven him back to her home in Shaker Heights. When her parents came home unexpectedly the proverbial shit hit the fan. The girl's parents not only found their daughter in bed with a black boy, riding backwards on his cock, but they couldn't pull her off. They couldn't disengage the couple who were fucking like bunnies. They had to listen to their daughter cry out, begging to be fucked harder and deeper. They had to watch their daughter finger her soaking wet slit and play with a pair of black balls, all shiny with pussy juices, nestled between her white legs. Watch her pinch her pointy nipples and lick pussy juice from her fingers. Watch Oliver's black testicles rise up between her white legs and watch her body buck and shake, explode in orgasm, as Oliver ejaculated a flood of semen into her vagina.
Even after they managed to drag their daughter off the bed, they watched, frozen in place by shock, as she pulled away and crawled back between Oliver's legs to lick the mixture of sperm and pussy juices from his cock, inner thighs and under his balls. She milked a single drop of pearlescent sperm from his towering black penis onto her pink tongue, before wrapping her lips around the engorged head and sucking another huge load of cum into her mouth.
"She was stuck on my penis," Oliver explained that night to Lila and King. "I can make the head get real big and it gets stuck inside until I cum. I did it in Barclay's mouth last time he was here and you should have seen his face when he couldn't pull off my dick. It was stuck in his throat. I'm gonna try it in his ass next time."
There would be no next time with Barclay, or in Chicago. The girl's parents were threatening legal action, claiming that Oliver had seduced their virgin daughter, tricked her into having sex. They conveniently overlooked the fact that Oliver was a minor and their daughter was over the age of consent. Oliver wanted to stay and fight and only with reluctance agreed to live with his father in Mississippi.
Chapter VIII
I was halfway out of my chair when Carver's kid, Oliver, froze me with a look, kicked another chair into the pool, and headed my way. The kid looked a couple of years younger then me, but he carried himself like a much older and very confident boy. Naked to the waist, he had satiny black skin, neat afro hair and a cute face. Cock hound that I am, I couldn't help but notice the big bulge and, as he got closer, the outline of his prick in the nylon shorts he was wearing. I was starring at his dick and soaking the front of my bathing suit with precum.
Oliver was upset and angry about leaving Chicago and his mother and the blond college girl he was fucking. It was a dumb thing, going to her house and getting caught in bed by her parents. He knew he should've fucked her in the back seat of her car or in the park like he usually did, with his friends watching out and taking a turn between her legs and in her mouth. Leaving Chicago was his punishment for being selfish, not sharing the white girl with friends.
Oliver wasn't gay. Bi maybe, but definitely not gay. He'd rather have sex with pretty young white girls with big tits and juicy pussies. He let men like Bruce Barclay suck his dick and he fucked them for two reasons. He needed the money that rich white fags like Bruce were willing to pay and he enjoyed dominating and enslaving white men with his cock, white boys too, even if they didn't have money. It was fun to watch a white boy humiliate himself, degrade himself, reduce himself to the lowest form of animal life on the planet...., just to get a taste of his dick.
So Oliver was angry, mostly at his own stupidity, and he was taking it out on the patio furniture until the asshole on the other side of the pool started yelling. Had to be Jefferson Davis Winslow, the owner's son, yelling...., and starring at his dick. What a fag. Momma was right, he thought. Up north or down south, gay white boys are all the same. Show them a little black power, a hint of black dick and, well, Oliver was ready to have some fun.
"What'd you say?"
"I said you better stop throwing stuff in the pool or I'll...."
"You'll what? Tell?" Oliver interrupted me and said in a quiet, but commanding voice. "You won't tell cause if you do you're never going to see or touch what you've been starring at, BOY. In fact, YOU are going to clean up the mess I made in the pool....., after YOU get me a cold drink, BOY."
I looked up from Oliver's crotch, inches from my face, into his eyes, but only for a second, before lowering my head again. This kid, this colored kid whose ancestors might have been slaves on this very plantation, was calling me boy and giving me orders. I had to set him straight. I had to let this black kid know who was the master and who was the slave on the Winslow plantation. There was only one thing to do, one thing I could say to this black kid....., to let him know who was boss.
I got up slowly from my chair and we stood face to face. Oliver didn't move when I put my hands on his chest and rubbed his pink nipples. He didn't make a sound when I dropped to my knees, kissed the nylon covered bulge and said, "Will coke be ok?"
I heard him laughing as I ran to the house as fast as I could to fetch his drink. I don't remember taking off my bathing suit, but when I returned to the pool with his drink, Oliver was comfortably stretched out on my lounge chair and I was naked. There was no doubt about it. The picture was as clear as the old photos my daddy had of Winslow slaves. I was naked, a naked slave boy, a personal slave, on the Winslow plantation and the young black boy was my master. He kept me standing at his side, in the hot sun, looking me over for what seemed like a very long time. It was probably just a minute or two, time is nothing to a personal slave boy whose only purpose in life is to please his master, before he took the coke from my hand and ordered me to clean the pool.
The fire in my hand, from where he touched me, radiated throughout my body. My dick snapped to rigid attention, thumped loudly against my belly and began to drip. His touch was magic. What Tim's cock did to me two years ago Oliver did with the touch of a finger. I began to shiver. My knees were shaking so bad I could hardly stand up. I wanted to see his cock; smell it, kiss it, suck it, but first I had to obey my new master.
Oliver's eyes were closed when I returned from cleaning the pool and knelt at the foot of his chair. His smooth black body, shiny with sweat, lay stretched out before me. I thought he might be asleep. "Oliver," I said softly. He opened his eyes, smiled knowingly, and raised his foot to my face. Without being told, like a good slave boy, I kissed his foot and licked the pink sole before opening wide to fill my slave mouth with his big toe. I eagerly sucked each toe and then, daringly, uncertain of his reaction, leaned over and stuck my face in his crotch.
It had been two years since I'd had a master to service, since I'd had a cock in my mouth and I was hungry for it. Hungry to be used by a dominant male for his pleasure.... and mine. Hungry to feel the smooth flesh of a dick pass between my lips, grow large in my sucking mouth and fill me up with cum. Hungry for warm creamy cum squirting into my mouth, coating my tongue and sliding down my throat.
The heat from Oliver's crotch and the feel of his nylon covered dick against my face was making my head swim and my balls ache with longing. I had to get his cock in my mouth. "Please," I blurted out, unable to contain myself any longer. "Please let me suck your dick. I'll do anything you want to make you feel good. Suck you off till you cum inside me, in my mouth, and I'll swallow it all. Please."
Oliver grabbed my ears, forced me to look up at him, and said, "You gonna be my boy?"
"Yes, yes. Your boy."
"My slave?"
"Oh god...., yes."
"Yes what, slave boy?"
"Yes master, yes master. Your slave boy, master."
"Good boy. Quickly now, get me another coke. And boy?"
"Yes master?"
"Keep your hands off that puny little hardon. You hear me boy?"
My face turned red with shame as I realized that I had been slowly jerking my cock. "Yes sir," I answered meekly.
In my haste to obey I stubbed my toe and limped painfully to the house to fulfill my master's wishes. Once again the sound of his laughter followed me all the way.
The pain in my toe was overshadowed by the pain in my balls as I refilled my master's glass with coke and rushed back to the pool. He was standing over by the kennel, my daddy used to breed german shepards, examining a training collar and leash.
"Over here, boy," brought me running to his side. He took the glass from my hand, my dick pulsed and twitched at his touch, and handed me the dog collar.
"Put it on."
The collar was old, about an inch wide. The leather was worn smooth and it smelled like dog. I buckled it snugly around my neck and looked at my master for approval. He patted my head and attached the metal leash so it hung down my back and rubbed between my ass cheeks. Sit, heel, down, beg, speak; I was beginning to feel like a dog in training. Oliver jerked hard on my leash each time I made a mistake or failed to respond quickly enough to his spoken commands or hand signals. One bark was yes, two was no. Heel was at his side, head down submissively. Beg was on my knees at his feet. On two legs and on all fours, I learned to follow my master's commands.
Like my daddy told me years earlier, slaves were naked because only humans wore clothes and a slave was not human, not a person. I no longer felt like a person. I felt like a naked slave boy, an animal, and my master was training me to be obedient and to do his bidding.
Oliver's "fetch" sent me running across the yard to retrieve a stick, bring it back in my mouth and drop it at my master's feet. We played fetch over and over until I collapsed on my back, exhausted, all sweaty and dirt streaked. Oliver put his foot on my face and though my mouth was dry as dust, like a good slave boy, like a frisky puppy, I happily sniffed and licked my master's flesh.
At his command I rose to a begging position between his legs. The yank on my leash was hardly necessary, my head was already moving to his groin. My mouth was already seeking the treasure beneath his nylon shorts. Like a moth to a flame, my slave boy cocksucker mouth was drawn to my master's cock.
"Stay," Oliver commanded as he dropped the leash and stepped back.
Ever so slowly Oliver peeled off his damp shorts. A patch of boyish pubic hair, surrounding the fat root of his dick, came into view. I leaned forward, panting, ready to pounce. Inch by inch he lowered his shorts, revealing more of his thick and very black shaft. Only the sound of my dick thumping against my belly broke the stillness of the hot afternoon. Finally the shorts were gone and Oliver, drink in hand, stood proudly over me.
I gasped. Five, maybe six inches of thick black dick, topped by a large head, hung down between his legs and nestled softly against a generous set of balls. He wasn't even hard....and he was huge. My puny little five inch hardon looked even smaller in comparison. Oliver was my superior, my master, in every way. We were both naked now, but Oliver was naked like a greek god, upright and proud. I was naked and on my knees, where slave boys like me belong, ready to serve my master.
At his signal I crawled forward, closing the space between master and slave, his cock and my mouth. When he touched the tip of his dick to my parched lips, I shuddered once and came. With volcanic force my balls released spurt after spurt of red hot lava. My untouched dick danced wildly, cum spewed in all directions. Two years of pent up slavish desires, gay desires, added fuel to my orgasm.
Laughter ringing in my ears and several tugs on the dog collar around my neck brought me back to reality. I looked up at Oliver and followed his eyes to the streaks of cum, my cum, running down his lower leg. No command was necessary, a personal slave boy knows to keep his master clean. I went to work with my tongue, licking up all traces of my sperm, and no small amount of sweat, from his smooth black skin. I took his spread legs as an invitation to go higher and after much licking, nipping and kissing, at last I had his cock, master's cock, in my slave boy mouth.