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Dad and Me (8)

After I’d watched dad fuck the nigga girl, I don’t know what happened to him as Andy signed to me that we’d better get out of the place before we were spotted.  Dad didn’t appear for supper, either, although it was clear that the niggas knew what had been going on, as the girl who served us now started nudging me and making remarks about what a BIG man my dad was!

After I’d eaten I went back to our shed and stripped off and lay there on the narrow mattress – I had asked dad why we couldn’t sleep in our shorts, and he told me that Mr Stryker had said that it wasn’t good for men to have their dicks constricted when they slept, and that anyway it crumpled the shorts to have us lie in them all night.  Consequently Stryker had decreed that we had to sleep naked, and dad had just given a kind of shrug when I looked a bit shocked, as if to say “well those are the rules”.  I was worried, really, about how dad had changed to being this kind of subservient guy, who now meekly obeyed them, and did as he was told, and the more I thought about it, the more I just knew that “my” dad, the one who’d looked after me for the last four years, just wouldn’t do that.  He’d argue, and refuse to obey, even if it did mean he was punished for it.

It was good to be able to jerk off without dad lying next to me, though, and I took the opportunity to really enjoy myself, not being inhibited by worrying that dad would hear my hand slapping on my dick, and feel my body move as I climaxed.   Just as I’d almost finished, dad came in, though, dropped his shorts, but instead of just lying down, he sat on the edge of the mattress, his head resting in his hands, and looking really upset.

“Dad, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing, Steve.  You wouldn’t understand.”

“Well I might, dad.  Come on, you always said us two guys had to look out for each other after mom died. What’s happened?”

“Nothing, I said!”.  Dad sounded a bit peeved now.

“Was it having to stud that nigga girl, dad?”

He sat upright then, and glared at me.  “Who told you?”

“No one told me, dad…”

“So how did you know?”

I decided to lie, as I didn’t want Andy getting into trouble.  “I was walking past that big barn place, and looked in….  Dad, why did you do it?”

“Because I’m a slave, and they’d punish me if I didn’t!  Why are you so fucking thick, Steve?  Don’t you get it yet?  Slaves do as they’re told, or else they suffer.  And they told me to do it.”

“But dad, it’s not right…. You were fucking that nigga to make babies…. They’ll be my half-brothers and sisters….”


“But dad,  it’s disgusting….”

“Steve, let me spell it out for you one more time. Slaves do as they’re commanded, or else they are punished. Punished severely.”

“But dad, you always told me to do the right thing, whatever the consequences.  And if you know it’s not right, why did you do it?  You should have told them to fuck themselves, and taken whatever they dished out…. You were never like this, dad – you always argued and did the right thing….”

“That was before I was a slave, Steve.  Things are different now.”

“No they’re not.  Right is still right, and wrong is still wrong.  And what you did isn’t right, fucking a nigga girl like that.  And it wasn’t right when you fucked me, either – you know that too…”

Dad’s anger blazed now.   He leapt to his feet, grabbed me by the arm and dragged me up from where I was lying so that we were facing each other.  I was still boned up from where I’d been jerking off, and my dick brushed against his thigh, an then stabbed into his groin, we were standing so close.  “You little fucker!  Don’t criticise me…!  You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Why not?  It’s all your fault!  If you hadn’t defrauded the IRS you wouldn’t be a slave, and then I wouldn’t be a slave….  It is your fault, dad….”

He hit me then.  Slapped me hard right across the face, and I staggered sideways and stumbled down onto the mattress.  Dad stood over me, his fists clenched. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that, Steve….!”

I was horrified  Other than that one time when I was a kid, dad never physically punished me, and now he’d hit me.  I got to my feet slowly, and stood glaring at him, my fists clenching.  That was what my genes dictated: I felt my fists tightly clenched as I wondered whether I should take him on.  My breathing was hard and deep, and my heart was racing as I got ready to fight.  But something stopped me, and instead I almost screamed out ” I’ll speak to you anyway I like!  You’re not my dad any more, you’re just a fucking slave, literally!  My dad would never fuck a nigga girl, never fuck his son…  You’re something else….”

I thought he was going to hit me again, but instead he seemed to snap, and sag.  He flopped down onto the mattress, and sat there, his knees pulled up and his head almost buried between them. If I hadn’t known that dad was a real tough guy, I’d have thought he was in tears.  This was almost worse than having been hit, seeing him like that.  I sat next to him, and put my arm around his bare shoulders.  “Dad, I’m sorry”, I whispered.  “I didn’t mean it, dad….”

“No, Steve, you’re right.  I shouldn’t be fucking nigga girls for them, so they can breed. And I shouldn’t have fucked you, son, whatever the punishment I’d have got.  But you’ll learn, Steve, what they can do to you.   And I was trying to protect you, trying to prevent them taking you off to be ‘broken’, as they ‘broke’ me.”

“Dad, they can’t make you fuck people against your will, especially not your son!  It’s against the Universal Declaration Of Human Rights, that the USA is signed up to…”

“Listen, Steve, in case you don’t realise it, just think for a minute, will you?  You’re supposed to be intelligent – I was saving to send you to college, which is why we’re in this mess.  The Declaration Of Human Rights applies to humans – and we’re slaves! When they reintroduced slavery as a way of keeping criminals out of prison, the Government went to the UN and got a special abrogation from the Declaration, so that slaves aren’t covered.  Slaves aren’t human, you see – we’re like some sort of animal:  a pretty clever one, that can understand and obey orders, and all that crap.  But definitely not human, like free men.  So it doesn’t apply to us.  So if they tell me I’ve got to fuck a nigga girl as they want to breed big, tall, strong slaves from her with nice caramel-coloured skins, then if I don’t do it, there’s nothing to stop them punishing me:  they’re within their rights, as they own me, own me totally…”  “But dad, they can’t make a guy fuck someone!  I mean, just don’t let your dick get hard…”  “They’d punish me.”

“Dad, what’s a bit of punishment, compared to having to fuck in public, fuck some poor young nigga…  And me, remember?”

“You don’t understand.  You won’t understand, unless they ‘break’ you, and I’m trying my best to prevent that from happening.”

“Dad, it can’t be that bad…”

“You saw that nigga coffle I showed you!  Twenty of those big, strong bucks with big strong dicks?  After you’ve been coffled with them and they’ve decided that as a whitey it’s your fault that they’re nigga slaves, so you should be punished as a symbol of the evils the whiteys are inflicting on the niggas… what do you think happens to you?  Every night, Steve, every night… All twenty of them…. Fucking my ass, fucking my throat, hitting me, pissing on me….  Wise up, Steve:  if they tell you to do something, just do it, as you don’t want to go through that.  Please, Steve… Listen to me and do the sensible thing, for once:  it was bad enough for me as a big, mature guy, but if they got hold of you, when you’re still growing and couldn’t even try to defend yourself…”

I couldn’t really believe that dad had ‘broken’ just because he’d been constantly fucked like that, but, on the other hand, he just wasn’t the dad I used to know.  But there didn’t seem to be much else to say, so I slipped sideways and lay down, and pulled dad down beside me.  Instead of having him spoon up against me, I deliberately turned to face him and we lay there rather uncomfortably, our faces close together.

“Dad, look, I’m sorry…. You went through it, and only you know what it was like….. Do you have to do this ‘stud’ thing very often?”

“About once a week… But it varies – sometimes I have to do it twice in a week if there’s a bitch on heat somewhere, or if they’re having a dinner party, and want a little entertainment with the coffee…”

We were lying so close that I could feel dad’s dick beginning to stir, and for some reason this made me feel excited, too, and I began to bone up again.  Dad shifted slightly, and we both felt our hard dicks touch the other at the same time.  I felt pretty desperate, as I was almost at the point of cumming when dad had got back, and now I was really ready for sex.  I could feel pre-cum drooling out of the end of my dick, and as I moved slightly to get more comfortable it slid over dad’s hairy belly as we lay there.  It was too much – I didn’t even touch my dick, honest, but I felt my balls start to do that contraction thing as you know that you’re about to shoot, and the next moment I was pumping cum out, all over dad’s belly, his trimmed pubes, and his dick and balls.

“Whoa, son!”, dad said, “Is it all this talk of studding?”

If it had been light in there I know dad would have seen that my face was a bright red with the embarrassment of what I’d just done.  I went to try to wipe it off him, but as I did I touched dad’s dick and he in gave a low moan.  “Dad, I’m sorry, dad… I didn’t…”

“It’s OK, Steve.  Calm down.  You’re still only a kid really, and guys at your age are just so horny that it doesn’t take much to turn you on… I  remember how I was when I was sixteen, and I was always in danger of shooting into my shorts!!

“But dad, I’m sorry…”

“Steve, I said leave it, OK?  Look, you and I are going to live a strange life here, as slaves.  If you weren’t my son, and I wasn’t your dad, I guess we’d be fucking away like ferrets every night – after all, there’s no other entertainment, is there?  Men in prisons, and army barracks, and warships, and other places like that have always fucked each other and if things were ‘normal’, that’s what we’d be doing. That’s what the coffles of niggas do all the time, as I’ve told you. It’s bad enough being a slave, I know, but it’s harder for us two – so we have to be tolerant, and make allowances.  You couldn’t help cumming then, you were just excited – it’s perfectly natural, it happens to young guys all the time, and if you were living a normal life I guess you’d have had chance to jerk off, or fuck some girl, or something….  Now, let’s get some sleep…..”

It seemed odd to be that close to dad, as he put one of his big strong arms around me and we snuggled together.  I could smell the scent of his body – the manly odour of his sweat, mixed with that of my cum as it wafted up from between us, and feel dad’s warmth all against me as we lay there.  At one level it felt safe, and secure.  And yet in another way, it didn’t seem right, somehow.  I wanted to be close to dad, wanted him to protect me, and yet I didn’t really want this complete intimacy that being slaves was driving us to.  My thoughts were all confused as I drifted into sleep, but I must have been so exhausted that I didn’t wake during the night, and it was only the banging of Mr Stryker’s whip handle on the bars of our cell that caused me to wake up.

Stryker laughed as he saw that both dad and I had morning hard-ons, and mine just wouldn’t go away as he watched as we both went off to the shower – I felt so self conscious as he looked at the way my dick bobbed up and down, but there was nothing I could do about it, after all.

After breakfast dad was told to go and get on with the normal work on the estate, but Mr Stryker ordered me over to the pool house and enclosure.  “This can be your job, every morning from now on”, he told me. “Amos or Andy does it normally, but it’s not really convenient when the house is full as it is on most weekends as they’re meant to be personal slaves to assist the guests. So you can take over – use this session to really get to understand the chemicals, and all the other stuff you need to know to keep the water sparkling.  If I ever find it less that perfect, I’ll beat you, is that clear?”

“Yes, boss”, I answered, as this didn’t seem such a bad deal.  I mean, I loved swimming, and having to clean the pool seemed a small price to pay.

“Right, cut along.  And make sure the whole area is impeccably neat and tidy:  I like to see all the furniture in its proper groups – the guests tend to move it around – and all the leaves and stray grass clippings must be removed every morning.”

“Yes, boss”.  Hey, this slavery stuff wasn’t all that hard, it seemed.

I jogged across the yard to the pool enclosure, just as Amos, or was it Andy, arrived.  It turned out to be Amos, and I told him what Mr Stryker had said about me taking over.  “And a good thing, too”, he answered. “Sometimes, on the weekends, Andy and me are really busy, and when one of us has to come out and do pool duty, the guests complain.  And then Mr Hawthorne beats us, for not taking care of the guests…”

He opened the gate to the pool enclosure, and we went in.  To my amazement, the first thing he did was to pull off the T shirt he wore, then drop his shorts, to stand there naked.  His black skin glistened in the morning sun, and he reached down and gave his dick a little shake to free it from his low-hanging sac. He saw me looking at him, and laughed. “Oh come on, Steve – shuck those shorts and let’s get started.”

“But why…?”

“I don’t know.   It’s traditional, I think.  Pool boys always work naked.  There’s a big buck comes in once a month to check the status professionally, and the moment he gets in here he strips off, and he says tat all pool owners insist on it.  So come on….”

I let my shorts drop and flicked at my dick to free it from where the morning humidity had plastered it to my sac – I suppose that’s one of the problems of having your balls shaved, as it makes your dick even more likely to stick to them with sweat.  Amos then showed me how to connect the sweeper to the pump system, and we walked up and down the edge together – him a deep black, and me tanned on my upper half, with a very white ass!

Amos grinned as he saw the bands of colour across me, and said that a few mornings like this and I’d soon start to turn a nice shade of brown.  “These masters are really funny, when you think about it, Steve – they pay huge prices to get you and your dad as white slaves, and then the want to see you get all nice and tanned and brown!  They might just as well have bought an octoroon in the first place, and saved money.  But then, I guess they wouldn’t have got that handsome face of yours…. And you and your dad are both so well hung that you might as well be niggas….”

He laughed as he said this,  and stroked his own dick suggestively.  “There’s no one much looking “, he whispered, “Let’s go into the pool house, and after I’ve shown you where all the chemicals and stuff are stored, we could see whether your dick is a good as a real nigga’s…  I fancy a good jerk off, or maybe you want to fuck?”

“Hey, no way… I’m no fag…”

He just laughed.  “You’ve got a lot to learn, Steve! Haven’t you ever been with another guy?”

“No way!”

“Well, you will!  Didn’t Mr Hawthorne fuck you the first day?”

“Yes.”  I mumbled this out, as I was still embarrassed to think about it.

“Look, Steve, that’s the real reason owners down here buy whiteys – they like the idea of fucking a man just like them, rather than a nigga.  So you’re going to be fucked lots and lots, so why don’t you loosen up a bit, and get some practice in…”

As he said this, Amos had kind of sidled up to me and put his arm around my shoulders.  Before I could stop him, his other hand had gone down and taken hold of my dick.

“Hey, cut that out….”  My words were cut off as Amos tightened his arm and pulled me towards him, then pressed his lips to mine.  I was so startled that I didn’t know how to react.  I’d never had another guy try to kiss me before, and even as my brain struggled with what was going on, Amos’s strong tongue was in my mouth, almost forcing itself down my throat.  I started to gasp and almost struggle, but his grip on my dick, which had disloyally reacted by sporting an erection, tightened and he began to gently stroke me. Somehow I found myself responding – well, before, when I’d been kissing, it had always been me trying to get my tongue down a girl’s throat, and now it seemed exotic, and really erotic, to have this big strong nigga doing it to me.  I found myself almost trembling with excitement as his tongue beat against mine, and I couldn’t help it, somehow – My own arms went around him, and I ran my hands up and down his back, feeling his lovely skin texture, and running my fingers up and down the prominent ridges of his backbone.

As our bodies came together I realised he was erect, too, and he stopped stroking at my dick for a moment to take hold of my hand and move it down to take hold of his own erection – I’d never felt another guy’s dick before, and at first it felt odd – so firm and yet so soft.  He was rampantly erect, and yet it wasn’t like holding a broom handle or anything – no, as you all know, there’s something very special about gripping an erect dick:  it’s firm, and yet you somehow know you can bend it.  And it’s warm, and moist…. I moved my fingers along it almost in awe at what I was doing, and it was odd not to feel a ‘skin as  I sort of bumped into the flange around his dick head.  Even though our mouths were locked together I heard him moan as my finger scraped over his piss slit, and then he began to stroke my dick, very slowly and gently, teasing my ‘skin back as he did so.  I found myself repeating his gestures – his tongue was thrusting in and out of me, and mine in turn thrashed against his;  his hand was stroking and teasing my dick, and I was mirroring his actions on his;  and his other hand now rested on my ass, and then started to probe down my ass cheeks…. And almost to my surprise, I found myself doing the same to his, almost revelling in the hard, firm muscle slicked with his sweat.

We carried on, stroking at each other and jerking each others dicks, all the time kissing deeply, then we both screamed – we leaped apart, and I stood there feeling the pain where a tawse had been slashed across my shoulders.  My Stryker was there, looking at both of us.

“So… You fucking slaves can’t be trusted for an instant to get on with your assigned work without starting in on the sex!  I should have expected it from Amos, as niggas just can’t control themselves sexually, but you, Steve…. You were supposed to be a well brought up white boy from a good home… I should have known better:  no father who allowed himself and his son to be enslaved could possibly have brought his kid up properly!  Look at you – another minute, and you’d have been rutting away.

“Please, boss, I didn’t…”

“Silence!  There’s no excuse, not even for a horny sixteen year old.  Slaves are not allowed to indulge themselves sexually unless it’s to please their owners.  Now, both of you – bend over that lounger.”

“No, Mr  Stryker, boss, please….”  It was Amos now, and he sounded terrified.

“Fucking slave, do as you’re told!  You’re in enough trouble already….”

Very reluctantly, Amos went down on his knees, and then spread his chest and belly over the mattress on one of the heavy teak loungers that was in the pool house.  Mr Stryker tapped his foot impatiently, and I did the same, feeling the cotton fabric against my nipples, and the warmth of Amos’s body beside me as out thighs and shoulders touched.

“You two are lucky I came in when I did”, Mr Stryker said.  “If I’d found you fucking without permission, the punishment would have been severe.  As it is, I’m just going to warm your asses to remind you that I won’t tolerate messing around, especially when it’s preventing you doing your work!”

As he said this, I heard a kind of swishing noise, and then a scream from Amos.  Another swish, and I too shouted out, quite involuntarily, as Mr Stryker’s tawse cut across my bare ass.

He gave us six strokes each, in all, and every one hurt more than the last – if anyone had asked, I’d have said that your ass got numbed as punishment like that went on, and that subsequent strokes wouldn’t hurt as much.  But either that’s not so, or else Mr Stryker just gauged the power of the lashes so exactly that they inflicted the maximum hurt as they landed without desensitising the nerve endings for the next one!

When he’d finished, both Amos and I just stood there, eyes cast down.  I had a huge desire, no, need, to rub at my ass, but I saw Amos had adopted to “slave rest” position, and so I did the same, so as not to upset Mr Stryker more.  “Let that be a lesson to you, and to you especially, Steve!  Now, both of you, get on with your work:  I want to see this pool sparkling, and you both off to your other jobs….”

So for the next hour both Amos and I were very subdued as he showed me the controls for the pool filters, the chemical store and the tests that had to be done every day, and all the other stuff needed to keep everything in good order.  I couldn’t help noticing that even though he had dark black skin you could see that his ass had been punished as the red soreness showed through, and I wondered how I looked:  on my pure white butt, the lash marks must really be showing up, I thought!

When we were done, Amos loped off back to the house, waving suggestively at me, and I bent down to put my shorts back on.  It felt so odd – I mean, I’m not a fag or anything, and yet when Amos had been kissing me and stroking at my dick, I’d really wanted him to go on and on.  There was something good about feeling another guy against you like that, being able to touch his hard muscles, and feel his dick….  I might have stood there for some time thinking about it, when Mr Stryker appeared again.

“I told you to run off and get on with your normal work when you were finished”, he snapped.  “Or are you one of those slaves who actually likes the feel of the lash on his butt?  Now, run back to the mower shed – it’s time to cut the grass again, and you’ll be really useful to that father of yours – it’s really just too much for one slave alone.  You’ll find the uniform there – he’ll show you.”

He gave me a dismissive gesture, and I jogged away, back to the building that housed the mowers and all the outdoor machinery, and where dad and me slept.  He was crouched down sharpening the blades of a big rotary mower as I went in, and he pointed at a big strimmer and told me to make sure it was full of the plastic wire it used, and was properly gassed up. “I’m sure glad you’re here to help, Steve”, he told me.  “There’s a lot to do, and Stryker only allows one afternoon for it – if you do the edges and around the shrubs, we’ll get through it easily.  That strimmer’s a bit bigger than the one you used to help me with at home, but it’s the same principle:  fill it up with gas before we leave….”

It was almost being in our garage at home again as dad and I got ready for the grass cutting ritual, but just before we went out, he went over to a cupboard and came out with a couple of pieces of cloth.  “Here…. This is grass cutting uniform….”

I looked at the piece of stained cloth he was holding:  it had been white once, evidently, but now it was streaked with dirt, and grass stains.  As I watched, dad dropped his shorts and folded them neatly, then held the piece of cloth in front of him, fumbled for a moment, then tied a bow on his left hip.  “Come on, Steve…. Put it on….”

I looked at dad standing there with this scrap of cloth just covering his dick and balls, his whole body otherwise naked.  “Dad, what is this…?”

“It’s the way Stryker has the grass cut, Steve.  You know how the mower and strimmer throws up dust, grass and muck:  well, he doesn’t like the shorts to get all stained.  He told me that it’s easier to wash grass stains off a slave’s hide than it is to get them out of the fabric of slave shorts, and I guess he’s right…. You’ll get covered in muck as we work, and afterwards it will all wash off in the shower.”

I looked at dad, and saw that the scrap of cloth barely covered his dick and balls.  And as he turned, the big “M” seared into his butt was clearly visible. I began to understand now why dad was so tanned all over.  “Dad, I can’t wear this… I’ll be naked….”

“No, Steve.  Nearly naked, to be accurate.  But so what?  We’re slaves, remember?  And if Mr Stryker ordered us to cut the grass absolutely in the nude, we’d have to do it, wouldn’t we?  As it is, he lets us cover our dicks and balls, and that’s better as sometimes there can be small pebbles and stuff flying up, and that’s really awful when they hit your balls…”

“But dad, it’s not right… Making men work naked…”

“Steve, you saw all the niggas in the coffles on the plantation.  They live all their lives bare-assed, so what’s the problem with you and me going outthere and cutting the grass just showing our butts?”

“But dad…”

“There’s no arguing, Steve.  Those are Mr Stryker’s orders.  Now, come on…. “

I dropped my shorts, and dad whistled.  “I see Stryker’s lashed you already… What did you do?”

I blushed as  I didn’t want to tell dad about me and Amos, and just mumbled “I guess I wasn’t quick enough…”

“So you’d better hurry up now, or else he may do the same again….”

I tied the string holding the scrap of cloth around my waist, and dad smiled at me.  “Now, it won’t hurt you to get a bit dirty – in fact, make sure you get a load of dirt on that ass of yours as soon as you can:  I don’t want you moaning and groaning with sunburn tonight, and you’ve not been exposed before down there…”

“Dad, it’s still not right…. I mean, making us go out like this….  What if someone sees?”

“So, someone sees.  Look, when I first came here it was explained to me that things like that don’t matter any more.  An owner has total responsibility for his slave, and if the owner tells the slave to go around butt naked, then that’s what the slave does.  He’s not responsible for disporting himself naked, not like if you deliberately waved your dick around on a public beach or something.  Don’t you remember?  When we went to the beach we wore swimming shorts, and so did all the other free guys.  But the niggas who did the beach cleaning were always naked, weren’t they?  And no one thought that was odd.  Well, we’re like those niggas now, Steve – if our owner tells us to work naked, we do.  Only free men can fell embarrassed about being naked – slaves just know that if they do as their owner orders, then that’s OK.”

Dad saw me staring at him almost in disbelief, but shrugged, smiled, and added “Anyway, this turns out not to be so bad!  Cutting the grass in this heat and humidity is pretty unpleasant, and at least doing it this way helps to keep you cool and stops the sweat making your shorts so wet that they chafe!  Now, come on….”, he gave me a friendly slap on the butt, and we went out into the bright sunshine.

To be continued …

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