BOUGHT AND PAID FOR

by Jamal



TAGS: MM MF bd sad sm Mdom Fdom hist interr BM WM WF caution



WARNING: This story deals with the BDSM fetish of Raceplay/Racial Domination and as such contains potentially racially offensive discourse and descriptions. Do not read this story if you are likely to be offended by such material, when you are under 18, underage in your jurisdiction and/or otherwise prohibited from downloading/viewing such material. Author extends his sincere apologies to anyone taking offense and wants to make clear this story is entirely fictional, and that he by no means intends to advocate, justify or condone racism and bigotry in any guise and form on the reality level. Its a BDSM inequality play kink story along racial lines of an entirely fictional nature: the Author cannot be held responsible for anything closely or remotely related to this story.

Copyright 2011 by Jamal Brun - do not alter or use in any way without the authors permission.





BOUGHT AND PAID FOR

by Jamal



The middle aged white man grabbed Jamal by his jaw and forearm and pushed the frightened young black male forcefully with his back against the wall.

"Goddamit, you're going to be your very fucking best in a bit!" the Overseer raised his knee and held it firmly against Jamal's groin and growled:
"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Massa please Massa don't hurt me!"

"If I get to take you back in the evening, goddamit boy, hurt does not begin to describe what I'll do to you.." Jamal's eyes grew wide, knewing full well Massa Jenkins was a man who always kept his promises. The Overseer grabbed Jamal by the rope loop around his neck and pulled him to a bucket. He looked at Jamal, eyes shooting fire and barked:
"Pants! Off!" Jamal hastily complied, untying the cord that held up his white canvas pants and quickly pulling them down his slender legs, dropping them on the ground. He immediately got a slap to his cheek and the command:
"In your fucking hand nigger! I did not have you wash it this morning for you to get dirt all over it you black bastard!" Jamal quickly grabbed his pants and held them.

The Overseer plunged his hands in the bucket and retrieved them glistening with oil. Without as much as a look he began rubbing Jamal's chest with it, making it shine like dark molten chocolate. He firmly grabbed Jamal's wrist and began slickening his slender arm. Jamal let him, not resisting, and the Overseer said, still harshly but in a calmer tone:

"Look Jamal I don't want to fucking do this any more than you do, but you knew Master Thompson bought you at five to sell you as a buck, you're nineteen now and he wants to see money."  Jamal moaned softly.

"I'm scared Massa Jenkins Sir."

"Shut up." the Overseer grabbed his shoulders and turned Jamal around, rubbing him with oil hastily but with care.
"Of course you're scared. You were trained as a houseboy and that's what you're sold for. You're not going to be cutting rocks in some ditch someplace. You got it good for a nigger, be grateful. No one who's going to pay over the ask price is going to do you harm." The Overseer plunged his hands in the bucket again and began oiling and kneading Jamal's bulging buttocks, making the dark brown orbs shine. Then he grabbed Jamal's slender waist and turned him, and began oiling his abdominals. Jamal whimpered softly as the Overseer rudely handled his cock and balls and the Overseer went a bit easier, before continuing on his leg.

"Look this is a goodbye for me too Jamal.." the Overseer continued, as he crouched down oiling Jamal's right calf,
"You were a cute pickaninny and a fine young buck all these years I saw you grow, never had to teach you twice when you were wrong, but you're a man now and your Master wants to see returns for his investment." The Overseer rubbed Jamal's feet with the oil and  Jamal started sobbing, realizing his life as he knew it, cruel as it had been, would end this day. The Overseer shot up and slapped his cheek firmly.
"No tears! Not a fucking god damn tear will be shed this day you black ape! goddamit you should be over the fact that you're a nigger by now." the Overseer raged in strong emotion.,
"If you start fucking crying on the block I swear to God I'm going to drag your black ass to the field nigger auction. UNDERSTOOD?"

"Oooohh yessah yessah Massa please no.." The Overseer grabbed Jamal's cheek and barked:

"Don't yessah ME and hold still." then with his fingertips started carefully oiling Jamal's face. In a calmer tone he said, wiping the tears away with slave oil:
"Jamal.. You were a good nigger and I'll miss having you around. Just don't cry now, can you do that? For me." Jamal closed his eyes and got a grip of his feelings while the Overseer gently applied oil to his eyelids.

"Thank you, Massa Jenkins. You.. you were fair to me Sir." The Overseer patted his shoulder and said, almost friendly:

"Now now, put those pants back on again." Jamal opened his eyes and saw the Overseer's eyes were a bit moist.  He knew that could turn around just like that so he quickly put his pants on and tied the cord on while the middle aged Overseer regained his fortitude.
"Nigger, you are young, you're at your best and you're gonna carry yourself that way. You're not gonna swing your arms like a wild baboon and you're not gonna shuffle like a sick donkey either. Push your chest out." Jamal obeyed and the Overseer slapped his hand to it, the took Jamal's inner elbows and spread them a bit.
"And your elbows like this, not too much, just so they see you're young and strong. NO! Not that much, that looks fake." Jamal quickly nodded.
"You are going to thank your Master for the roof over your head and the food and your training by looking and acting the best nigger you can be and fetching the highest sum you can get. I want you to be the highest prized buck of this day, you sure got what it takes and I know you well nigger." Jamal carefully smiled.

"Thank you Massa Jenkins Sir."  The Overseer gave his cheek a light corrective slap.

"Pay close attention!  Are you listening? I did this dozens of times now." Jamal nodded quickly.
"Listen close: The one that pays the highest sum for you, especially when that's real high, is least likely to mess you up. You see that every time. Got that?" A quick nod.
"Now they're going to be mean and hard on you but that's to test you. Do you promise me you'll be a good docile nigger no matter what?" Jamal meekly nodded.
"Look, you are a smart, handsome young nigger buck. Good manners. We always paddled your black ass and never whipped you so your back doesnt look like a plowed field. That's all good things most of those sorry niggers out there ain't gonna have." Jamal gave a soft squeak at the mention of the paddle, recalling vividly this aspect of his education. He looked at Massa Jenkins and softly whimpered:

"Massa you can beat me all you want but.. Please Massa can you take me home?" The Overseer punched him in the gut, making Jamal double over. He grabbed the braids in Jamal's neck and pulled him up straight with it, tapping his full brown lips with a threatening index finger.

"You SHUT THE FUCK UP nigger! Want me to sell you to the biggest bastard with the biggest whip and tell Master Thompson who paid for your LIFE that you were one big failure after all?! No don't you go fucking cry on me now nigger! Suck those nigger tears back into your eyes!" Jamal struggled to contain himself.
"No I can't and WON'T fucking do that. Damn you nigger, I've had it. Are you gonna be a good Thompsons buck and not a sniveling little nigger disgrace?" Jamal nodded hastily, and the overseer grabbed the rope loop around his neck and dragged Jamal behind him.
"Then make me proud goddamit, last time of your life!"

Jamal blinked into the sunlight, overcome with emotion, trying to walk with dignity.  Chest out, elbows a bit apart but not too far, arms not flailing like a baboon. Look docile, make Massa Jenkins proud, highest sum means best place to end up in. The pavement was seering hot and coarse under Jamal's feet, as he got dragged to the town square, looking around worried at the large group of white people of all ages that had assembled. Massa Jenkins dragged him through the crowd, and Jamal flinched nervously as men and women groped and grabbed him all over his body as they made way to the holding cage on the left side. Massa Jenkins halted at a small table where an elderly.white man with a dark blue coat sat with feather and ink and a sizable white haired wig. The elderly white man smiled.

"Ah Jenkins my good man! No need for ceremony. Name?" Jamal wanted to answer but Massa Jenkins gave the rope loop around his neck a firm twist.

"Nigger Jamal of the Thompsons House." The Overseer answered and the elderly man scribbled it down.

"Age?" 

"Nineteen years old, it's on record of his purchase at age five."

"Yeah yeah. Marks?"

"None, as you know we paddle em."

"Smart that.. Disease and illness?"

"You can write him down as a reluctant breeder." Jamal squeaked softly and got a sharp tug on the rope loop round his neck, deeply ashamed his fondness for males over females was hinted at.

"Can't breed?" Overseer Jenkins gave Jamal's adam's apple a light tickle not to be misunderstood.

"Seems he doesn't care for it too much."

"Oh, one of those." the elderly man said and gave Jamal, who blushed fiery hot unseen by them a disapproving glance. Jamal cringed, then remembered he should stand tall, chest out and elbows apart but not too much. 
"Have you seen seed?"

"I have. It was white and plenty, I'm not sneaking a buck past you that ain't virile, I represent the Thompsons House here." Jamal moaned softly in humiliation, and Massa Jenkins gave a slight corrective tug on the rope loop.

Suddenly the old man commanded:
"Hands on your head nigger!"  Jamal immediately obeyed.
"Touch your toes!" Jamal immediately bent down and grabbed his big toes. The old man said, Jamal still in his humiliating bent over pose,
"Bet he did that a lot." Jamal gulped, closing his eyes at being made a white man's joke of.

"Never caught him with his pants down." Massa Jenkins smiled and Jamal bit his lip.

"Stand!" Jamal obeyed.
"Good, at least I can write him down as compliant." the old man said and wrote it down. Then he looked at Jamal, cold, uncaring.
"Does the nigger speak?" Massa Jenkins said nothing, then as a silence fell he tugged the ring loop to prompt him.

"Uhh Yessuh, suh! Nigga can speak suh!" Massa Jenkins pulled the ring loop, making something crack in Jamal's neck, forcing the young black male to face him.

"Jamal! If you're gonna babble like a field nigger I'm gonna make goddamn sure you'll end up as one!"  Jamals gasped and quickly said:

"Umm Massa I mean yes I can speak Sir. I have been taught to speak well and listen well." The old man looked at Jenkins,

"What was that all about, does this nigger have attitude?"

"Jamal has no attitude of any sort." Jamal squeaked softly at the words.

"Aggression?" 

"Nothing to mention. He's a nineteen year old black buck so he's gonna be feisty at times, but nothing the paddle can't handle, ain't that right nigger?"

"T-thats right Massa Jenkins Sir." 

"The times I punished him it never was for aggression. The nigger knows his place."

"Any more health matters I should know of?"

"The boy has soft feet, he's gonna need sandals." Massa Jenkins said and Jamal gave him a grateful look.

"I bet he's got soft hands too. What type of nigger is this?"

"Definitely a housenigger. He is trained for it and he won't put muscle or fat on, we tried. Houseboy with garden work, but nothing productive. Definitely not a field nigger, but the price ain't in that ballpark anyway."

"Ah yes, what's your ask price?"

"Nine hundred bucks."

"You got to be fucking joking me. For that there? A reluctant breeder with soft feet?"  Jamal cringed and moaned softly, but a tug on his neck made him straighten up again. Chest out, elbows a bit apart, not too much.

"We trained him well and it took. The nigger's a gem and we spent 14 years polishing it. Gems cost money"  Jamal followed the talk with interest, filled with mixed emotions.

"You sure you want to sell him then?"

"Life's getting more expensive, his Master seeks to buy a new horse." Jamal closed his eyes and shivered. That part he didn't know about. So.. he was to be sold for a horse, his entire life wiped away for an animal? Jamal clenched his teeth. He should not cry, not now, not today. Tonight in whatever was to be his new bed, then he would, but not now.

"I think I'd rather have a horse too. How about I put him down for eight hundred and twenty five?"

"Ask price is nine hundred, theres plenty of strangers in town, I'm sure the nigger will fetch it if he behaves like I know he will." The latter was half said to Jamal, and carried a warning about the vow made if Jamal wasn't sold that day. Jamal gulped and gave a slight nod at the stern look cast in his direction.

"Nine hundred. Six years ago you'd have cheek to ask for seven hundred for a buck like this."

"We live in expensive times my good man."

"You're not helping it. Let's see that buck's ass." The Overseer turned Jamal around and swiftly pullled the backside of Jamal's white canvas pants down, bringing his round brown buttocks to light. Jamal gasped and carefully held onto the Overseer.
"No bruising, so he didn't fight being sold?"

"This ain't a fighter, he obeys."

"I've seen enough." Massa Jenkins pulled Jamal's slave pants back up and gave him a firm slap on his buttock.  Jamal quickly let go and faced the elderly man behind the table again.
"Charming. We'll charge three percent commission for your nine hundred dollar buck and eightteen dollars if there's no sale."

"As always, fine." 

The old man snapped his fingers at a blavk girl Jamal's age, holding a can of white paint and a brush.
"Twenty four." The girl stepped up to Jamal and grinned apologetically, then dipped the brush in the can and painted a white number 24 on Jamal's chocolate brown left pectoral, then walked behind him and by the sticky wet feel of it, another number 24 was carefully painted between his shoulderblades. The girl walked back behind the old man's chair again and gave Jamal another apologetic expression who slightly nodded that it was allright.

"Cage him." Two strong white men in their mid thirties grabbed Jamal firmly by wrists and arms and roughly pushed him forward to the cage. Jamal tried not to resist but looked at Massa Jenkins in complete panic, who averted his gaze and turned.

At the cage, a third white man unlocked the door and held it open, and the two handling Jamal swung him back then threw him into the cage, which was promptly locked behind him. Jamal looked around the cage and saw two males and three female slaves in the cage with him, their breasts exposed and white numbers painted on their ebony skin.  Jamal hopped from one foot on the other as the steel floor was unbearably hot under his sensitive soles.

"Twenty four, lay one finger on those wenches nigger and I'm coming in there and damage the goods! GOT THAT?" The white guy at the door barked and menacingly shook a two inch thick stick at him.

"Uhh Yes Sir! No touching Sir promise! Wasn't going to Sir really Sir!"

"You'd better not! Now face the front and look like you're worth something!" Jamal quickly got to the front side of the cage and stood there, facing a crowd of white people gawking at them. Jamal glanced at the slavegirl next to him and whispered a greeting.
"There will be absolutely NO TALKING NIGGER or I come in and rip your tongue out and stick it up her ass!" Jamal quickly nodded.

Okay.. this was it. Chest out, elbows a bit apart, not too much.  Look docile. Do not cry. Jamal stood there looking downward, trying not to make eye contact, consumed by deep humiliation. He saw two high heeled riding boots walk up to him, and carefully looked up a bit, not too much.

"What's your name, nigger?" a cold Lady's voice demanded.

"uhhh.. I'm Jamal Miss.."

"LOOK AT ME!" Jamal looked up, seeing the beautiful, well dressed lady of about thirty-five years old. Jamal tried to stand proud like told but his eyes cringed in fear. She gazed at him coldly, as if inspecting an animal.

"Show your muscles, buck!" Jamal bent his arms in front of him, clenched his fists and made his slender arm muscles, pectorals and abs tighten. A thread of her spit, it actually *felt* cold, splattered across his cheek.
"Worthless."

"I'm.. I'm a housenigger Miss.." Jamal whimpered a bit as he spoke it and she laughed.

"Ha! A piece-of-shit-nigger is more like it. You're the darkest turd in this cage did you notice?"

"uhhhhh.. Yes Miss.."

"Got a big dick nigger?"

"uhmmm.. Normal Miss..."  Jamal cringed.

"Show me."

"Miss.."

"NIGGER!" the white man at the cage door shouted and slammed his heavy stick across the bars so hard that the entire cage rung. Jamal quickly untied his slave pants and quickly stepped out of them, holding them as he remembered to do. The Lady looked directly at his snake and grimaced in amusement.

"Ha! Mary Anne, come look what passes for normal these days!" A rather well fed Lady got beside his tormentor and chuckled.

"Does that thing of yours do more than dangle nigger?" 

"Uhh Sometimes Miss.."

"Not now though does it?"

"No Miss." Miss Mary Anne spat and her spit hit Jamal right on the dick.

"Pathetic. Better put those pants back on boy if you wanna be sold." Jamal moaned in humiliation and as fast as he could slipped into his slave pants and tied them tight as if he was afraid to lose them. He looked at the ladies and saw the cold amusement in their eyes. He remembered what Massa Jenkins said, that they would test him.

"So the nigger is not a breeder and not a worker of any sort. what do you do, coon?"

"I'm a housenigger Miss. Housework, cooking, garden work, I'm good with children and pets."

"What do they want for you?" Jamal lowered his gaze, then stood proud again.

"Nine hundred silver dollars Miss." The ladies laughed without holding back.

"Not in nine hundred years nigger! I'd rather buy a fancy horse for nine hundred and be going places, instead of going nowhere with you."  Jamal moaned softly.
"Aww cute. Do you gotta pee nigger?"

"N-no Miss.."

"Then why are you trampling?"

"Uhh floor's hot Miss.."  The lady laughed loud and put an arm around the other's shoulder.

"Come Mary Anne, let's have us a bite to eat." They strolled off, leaving Jamal utterly humiliated in the cage under the watchful eye of the crowd. The slavegirl next to him briefly patted his back then answered questions again to the elderly white man intent on her. Jamal glanced in the cage at his sisters and brothers in there with him.  Master Jenkins had not lied, all but one bore scars of whippings, the girl next to him was branded, three broad stripes in a row on the side of her waist.

The cage door was opened and a black woman was rudely puhed in along with a little boy and girl, the three of them marked with the white number 25. The children were crying uncontrollably and the woman, her eyes wild with fright, frantically tried to hush them.

"FACE THE FRONT! PICANINNIES TOO!" The white man in charge of the cage shouted and the woman pressed her children against her as she faced the crowd. Jamal was looking at them, when he was suddenly gripped by the balls and pressed against the hot steel bars, facing a wrinkled old white woman.

"Are you a breeder, nigger boy?" she asked with great urgency, her fingers groping him eagerly. Jamal tried to contain himself as she painfully played with his balls.
"You could have a good life with me!"

"Umm n-no Miss I'm not a breeder.."Jamal whispered,
"They say something's not right."  The old lady immediately let go and rubbed the perceived filth off her hand on his pants.

"Pity.." she said and walked off. Jamal looked aside and caught a wink from the slavegirl to his right, and winked back.

"BIDDING RESUMES WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES!" someone yelled over the crowd and Jamal gulped, knowing soon it would be his turn. He looked to the black mother who now finally had her children quiet, she held them tight to her. He saw that she and both her children bore marks of whippings, even the little girl, barely six years old. He looked at the woman, not even thirty, and her panicked gaze met his.

"I'se gonna die if I lose 'em.." she whispered in utter horror.

"Same number on the three of you sista, they's gonna sell you together." the girl to Jamal's right whispered, and the woman sighed in relief, but startled and her children wailed as the white man guarding the cage door made the cage ring with a clap of thunder of his beating stick.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU GOD DAMN COONS!"

Jamal closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, trying to contain himself. In the chosen darkness, he heard the noises of the slave market, from the mother trying to calm her kids close by to some poor slave getting his hide tanned far away.

Jamal felt a bump to his belly, not too hard, and opened his eyes. Before him were a rather well dressed Lady and Gentleman, obviously quite well off, the man poking his belly with  his walking stick.

"This nigger right here." he said with a calm voice,  a slight French ring to it.
"Number twenty-four."  Jamal's eyes widened as he saw Massa Jenkins was with them.

The cage guard rammed his beating stick to the cage door, just a few inches above where the little boy held the bar and shouted:
"STAND BACK!" The slaves hurried to the back of the cage, needing no further incentive. The cage door swung open and Massa Jenkins demanded:

"Jamal, Out!" Jamal quickly came out and almost sighed in relief as Massa Jenkins' familiar hairy hand grabbed hold of the rope loop around his neck again. He looked at Massa Jenkins and was amazed to see a slight wink.
"Come nigger, these *fine people* here want a private viewing." Jamal noted the slight urgency in those words and what that implied for him. He pushed his chest out, and spread his elbows, just right, and took in some extra breath.

"So hard to find unmarked niggers in towns like these.." The Lady commented, and Jamal let himself be led to a tent which was pitched not far away, behind the scaffold. They got inside. Despite the tent being white and open at the top, it was quite hot in there. Massa Jenkins pointed at a low wooden crate and hissed:

"Get on there!"  Jamal obeyed and stood at his best, the sunlight coming in from above shining upon the oil on his body. Massa Jenkins went to stand behind him, the Gentleman and Lady stood in front.

"So, Jamal.. a good name for a nigger like you." Jamal bowed his head briefly in gratitude, surprised the Gentleman apparently knew the meaning of his name and praised him with it.

"Thank you Sir." The Lady smiled.

"Tell us what you do, nigger." she said casually, eyeing him closely.

"Umm Miss and Sir.. I'm a house nigger, I cook, do housework, I can work in the garden and I also am fairly good with children and pets."  The Gentleman spoke to Massa Jenkins,

"My,.you weren't kidding. If it were darker here I'd wonder where that perfect English came from!"

"The House of Thompson stands for quality bucks and wenches, well trained and presentable. Jamal is a good example of the quality bucks we deliver." Massa Jenkins said.

"Let's see him." The Lady said and before Jamal could obey, Massa Jenkins had hold of the waist of his slave pants and yanked them down onto his ankles. Massa Jankins took Jamal's ankle, then hjis other, helping him step out of them. Jamal bent and took the canvas slave pants in his hand, which didnt go unnoticed by the Lady.

"Good. He respects property."

"Respect is trained into our bucks to perfection." The Gentleman and Lady looked closely to what was revealed, Jamal stood there with a hesitant embarressed grin. The lady reached out and cupped his balls, weighing them. Jamal gave a soft squeak of humiliation.

"He is properly endowed.. But not very responsive" she said as she played a bit with Jamal's flaccid cock and balls, and let go.

"You could say its an anxious day for him.." Massa Jenkins said,
"That's one thing one could say."

"Hold on dear.." the Gentleman said, lifted his cane and put the finely lacquered wood to Jamal's cock and balls, and slowly started rubbing.
"Look me in the eyes, nigger boy." he said casually. and observed Jamal head to toe as he rubbed on.  Jamal gave a soft frightened squeak as now, his snake started twitching, rubbed by the cane.  The lady smiled.

"It seems he likes wood hun.." She said.

"That, or getting it." the Gentleman said mildly and continued rubbing with his cane until Jamal was fully erect.
"I worried you were dead down there.." the Gentleman smiled,
"I'm glad that's not the case." The Gentleman hooked his cane behind his belt and stepped closer to Jamal, looking him closely in the eyes.
"How old are you, nigger boy?"  Jamal blushed fiery hot.

"N-n-nineteen Massa Sir!"

"I got confirmation of that." Massa Jenkins said, but the Gentleman folded his fingers around Jamal's erect cock and gave it a light squeeze, then did not let go.

"I got confirmation right here." The Gentleman looked Jamal deep in his onyx eyes.
"Tell me nigger.." he said calmly,
"..about you being on the books as a reluctant breeder. No.. don't look away."

"Umm.. umm.. Sir..umm.." 

"His English was so charming just now.. Now it's like he's from the Um Um tribe." the Gentleman smiled mildly.

"I'm sure he'll find words good Sir." Massa Jenkins said, with an urgent tone Jamal knew as associated with the imminent risk of a paddling.

"Tell me, nigger Jamal.. Been fooling around with slavegirls? I have dealt with enough dishonest niggers to see through deceit right away.. speak up."

"Uhh. I-i-it hasn't c-crossed my eye S-Sir.."

"Hasn't crossed your eye, well well.." Down below, the Gentleman's hand now started slowly but quite enjoyably kneading and massaging Jamal's excited cock, so agilely it made Jamal moan a bit, caught offguard.
"Then surely you played around with slaveboys a bit. I'm not naive as to what goes on in the minds of young buck niggers like you." Jamal's eyes grew wide with utter fright.  How could this Gentleman even say that?  How.. how could he possibly answer that!

"Speak up, Jamal.." Massa Jenkins said, now in his Okay voice.

"Uhh I have a little Sir, yes."

"Now now nigger Jamal, this doesn't feel so little to me."

"A lot.." Jamal confessed,
"Please don't punish me Sir." The Gentleman let go and stepped back, leaving Jamal standing there, panting, the head of his hard cock glistening with precum.

"I'm not about to punish you boy." The Gentleman said calmly,
"My dear wants of my buck that he leaves her wench alone, and I have use for such a buck, myself." Jamal gasped and stared mouth ajar, trying to fathom what was said. The Gentleman raised his cane, put it to Jamal's jaw and lifted it.

"Co'mon nigger boy, you seemed bright enough." the Lady said.

"I.. understand Miss." The Gentleman tapped his cane on the low crate and ordered:

"Down, nigger!" Jamal immediately dropped to his knees, the Gentleman stepped in and took him by the jaw and the back of his head, forcing his mouth open and bending over to inspect Jamal's teeth.
"Perfect rows of pearls, you were not kidding about the standards of the House of Thompson."

"All that the nigger knows of sugar is that white people want it in their tea!" Massa Jenkins cheerfully said. The Gentleman let go of Jamal's jaw and put his fingertip on Jamal's full brown lips, tracing them slowly, around and around, looking him deeply in the eyes, Jamal looked up, mesmerized, overcome by emotion.

"Would you be a good nigger buck whom I won't have to paddle too hard, too often?" the Gentleman half-whispered with surprising intimacy. Jamal slowly nodded, and the Gentleman went on ever so slightly tracing his full brown lips with his fingertip.
"Would you do anything I asked of you, nigger buck, and enjoy it if you could?" Jamal's throat clicked as he gulped, then he meekly nodded yes. The Gentleman looked down. and saw Jamal's cock was throbbing ferociously. He rubbed Jamal's cheek, then stepped back and cheerfully said:
"Thank you my fine man, this is precisely the kind of nigger I was looking for. I certainly will bid on this one if bidding doesn't get too rowdy. You can take him back now."

"I'll stay behind here with the nigger for a bit, talk some sense into him.." Massa Jenkins said,
"He'll be on the block when you need him."

"Fine with me my good man. I will remember the House of Thompson for fine niggers and well mannered nigger handlers. Come dear." The Gentleman and Lady steppedout of the tend, leaving Massa Jenkins and Jamal alone. Massa Jenkins showed his hand, Jamal lifted his chin, and Massa Jenkins took hold of the rope loop around his neck.

"Jamal.. I've been searching high and low and these two people are my gift to you, the best I could do. Pray to God they won't be outbid."  Jamal looked Massa Jenkins in the eyes and softly said.

"Thank you Massa. I'm gonna miss you Massa Jenkins, Sir."  Massa Jenkins' eyes moistened but he fought it back.

"Jamal, I'm gonna put you back in that cage and not look back boy. It'll be the last time you see me. I'll be back in the crowd somewhere to see whether you make it, but its the end of things. Jamal I absolutely will not punish you for it, and I ask you for your full honesty. I'll have to live with the answer you give me, but please let it be honest.."

"Massa?"

"Jamal, do you forgive me? Everything?" Jamal's eyes filled with tears, and Massa Jenkins rubbed his shoulder.

"Massa.. I forgive you, and I'm gonna miss you till the end of my days."

"Oh Christ here I go!" Massa Jennings exclaimed and hugged Jamal to hide his tears.
"You be a good nigger now damn you boy, like I always known you..."

"I'm gonna be if they let me Massa.."

"Dammit I'll pray for you nigger. Thank you for forgiving me."  Jamal hugged Massa Jenkins and put his nose to his shirt, inhaling his scent deeply, hoping to never forget. He closed his eyes, driving the tears from them. It came to him. He knew what to do now, to help Massa Jenkins one final time.  He softly whispered:

"Please be very angry Massa.." and with a slap groped Massa Jenkins' bulge. Massa Jenkins froze and whispered a soft:

"Thank you Jamal.." before exploding in rage.

"How DARE YOU touch a White Master like that! Goddamn black son of a bitch! Oh I'm gonna sell you fucking nigger! I'm gonna fucking SELL your black ass!" He grabbed hold of the rope loop again, grabbed Jamal's slave pants and dragged the young black male behind him through the crowd towards the cage.
"OPEN THAT GOD DAMN PIECE OF SHIT!" Massa Jenkins roared at the Cage Guard, who opened the door. Massa Jenkins pulled the rope ring so Jamal'd face him... then lost fortitude.  Jamal looked at him, helpless.  

Massa Jenkins held up his hand. Jamal laid his brown hand to his. They entangled fingers, white ones and brown ones, and Massa Jenkins whispered:

"Farewell Jamal." Jamal closed his eyes and said softly:
"Farewell Massa Jenkins, Sir." Then Massa Jenkins broke the entanglement of fingers and with the same hand pushed Jamal's chest, launching him into the cage, and throwing the slave pants after him. He turned like a soldier and started marching into the crowd, indeed not once looking back, making good on the final promise of a man who always kept his promises.

Jamal quickly got up and put his slave pants on, tying them tightly. Massa Jenkins, and with him his entire life lived at the House of Thompson, had left, gone forever, and he found himself in the nigger cage of the town's slave market. He looked at the mother and her two children, all marked twenty-five. Sister had told her they'd be sold off together but he knew from stories he'd heard that that meant nothing, the crowd would tear them apart like hungry wolves if the price was right. He hadn't spoken out. The hope she had would be her strength, it would show on her cute face, and maybe earn her a vote of pity that would make that white Man buy her children as well.

Massa Jenkins had sought all day in the hot sun to find him a buyer that he believed in, and found that in the guise of the Gentleman and Lady with the slight French accent. He closed his eyes and realized that if Massa Jenkins wanted them to be his new Owners, it would probably be for the best. He knew what the Gentleman wanted of him, and had his thoughts on why the Lady's wench was not to be touched.  They knew his secret and shared in it. It was clear to him, if there was any sense of justice in these cruel lands, and any grain of pity in the Gods that ruled it, it would have to be them. It just had to be.

"Nigger twenty four!" a young Master yelled, and he quickly turned to him. He didn't push his chest out and kept his elbows close to his body.

"Suh? What'cha  be wanting Suh?" Not at all wellspoken, gesturing just like a wild baboon.

"You a breeder, nigger?"

"Suh they say if I breed I's rot em all the way through till the puss come out tha back end Suh!"

"Jesus Christ no thanks nigger!" the young Master exclaimed and the crowd laughed.

"Dammit nigger your Master's not gonna come home with shit!" a Lady exclaimed, more laughing. Someone spat on his eye and he flinched, but his mind was made up, somehow, somehow he must land himself where his Massa chose for him to be.  
He looked around the cage and saw new faces and the old gone. 
He checked the numbers.
He was next.

He saw it coming, the two strong white men walking to the cage. He didnt remember being sold at age five, only a blur, but he just knew, this was the moment.

"GET BACK NIGGERS!" Everybody hurried to the back of the cage, and the door opened. One of the two strongmen barked:

"NIGGER TWENTY FOUR!"

Jamal quickly turned, hugged the mother and kisses her on the lips. 
"God bless.." he whispered, then cried as the beating stick landed hard across his back. Four strong hands grabbed his arms and wrists and dragged him out the cage which was slammed shut behind him.

Jamal didnt even have to walk, they pracically carried him to the block, and on top of it.  One of them let go and pulled down his white canvas slave pants so brutally that the cord broke with a loud pop, the pants were pulled off his legs and thrown like a rag on the dirty scaffold that was wet with the piss of slaves too scared to fathom. They each grabbed one of his wrists and held them apart, arms spread wide. He looked over the crowd, utterly frightened. There was a fourth man on the stage, behind a stand, dressed like a rich man with a high hat, who started addressing the crowd.

"Nigger twenty four, given name Jamal.."

"Aren't they all Jamal?" someone yelled and the crowd cruelly laughed at him Jamal closed his eyes and listened to his mothers voice, that he somehow remembered from before he was sold, that Jamal means 'beautiful'.

"Nigger twenty four was raised and trained by the House of Thompson, a House to reckon with.."

"Well I reckon they don't train em to work by the looks of him!" someone jeered, more laughing.  Jamal squirmed and writhed in the grip of the two white men, he needed out of there, away, away from there! He closed his eyes and it came to him. Somewhere in the crowd, hidden, was Massa Jenkins looking at him, or maybe looking away. 

He opened his eyes, stood up straight and pushed his chest out. His elbows were too far apart because of the grip of the slavehandlers, but Massa would understand. If this was the end of all his life and the befinning of God know what, he was going to face it with dignity. The speaker glanced at him and said under his breath:

"Good nigger..." then resumed,
"Nigger twenty four is nineteen years old, documentation available on request, and is trained as an all-round housenigger."

"Well not in MY house that's for sure!"  Someone remarked, more laughing. Jamal got hit in the face with somthing and flinched, then looked, a chicken bone, some meat still on it. The speaker made a gesture, the slave handlers walked and turned him, his back now to the crowd.

"Notice the lack of marks old and fresh.."

"Notice the fat nigger ass that comes from being sat on all day!" More laughter.

"The House of Thompson, a generations old nigger rearing house, believes in paddling their slaves so their skin is unharmed. How you choose once you own him, that's your business entirely, but its commendable they bring in niggers that don't look like they've been dragged across a gravel road..."

"But they don't feed them either do they? All that buck's fat is in his ass!" Jamal's tears flowed at the horrible humiliations. He closed his eyes and realized they probably were trying to discourage other bidders, and that scared him most of all. He was turned and faced the crowd heartbroken.

"This young buck has the usual skills for a houseboy, he's not suitable for the field or breeding.."

"One look at him could tell you that, Jesus imagine a litter of niglets as scrawny as that!" Jamal hung his head, defeated. Whatever would happen, would happen to him. He closed his eyes and prayed for lightning to strike him dead if the wrong Massa won the bid.

"EXCUSE ME!" A lady said rather loudly and the crowd hushed.
"Not good for breeding? Is he diseased? Does the nigger have a limp dick or no seed in his balls?"  The speaker looked at the paper.

"No that is not the case milady."

"PROVE IT! I'm not going to bid on a limp nigger and I don't mean his walking!" The crowd murmured and she exclaimed:
"WHAT?! I have four wenches and no buck at home!" One of the slavehandlers holding Jamal said under his breath, surprisingly not too unkind:

"I'll trade places with you if she wins nigger, she doesn't have any slaves!"  the other slavehandler chuckled:

"No buck at home allright, this could be your lucky day nigger!" The speaker resumed.

"Anyone else need proof this young buck has what it takes?" Some hands were raised, mostly by ladies and their slaves.
"Nigger: Make seed!"

Jamal gasped! His head was spinning when it dawned on him what was expected of him. One of the slavehandlers said:

"Listen up now nigger, if you make a run for it they will catch you and they'll hang you from that tree over there. See that low branch? That's the one they'll hang you from. Don't run. Understood?"  Jamal, absentmined by being utterly overwhelmed, nodded with open mouth and the other guard added,

"We want you sold, not dead nigger, don't be a fool now..." They let him go and Jamal stood there, on a block wet with the piss of brothers and sisters more afraid than he could think of, and the evidence that some brothers had been made to do the same thing in pearly white droplets and threads before him. Jamal grabbed his forehead, dazed.

"The nigger forgot how to do it!!" Someone laughed and the crowd roared.

"You try in his place." the speaker said, and that got the crowd quieter.

Jamal looked over all those white faces staring at him in varying degrees of amusement and disinterest. The crowd had no mercy. There, was that.. No, it was someone else. The speaker said under his breath:
"Co'mon boy, the ones that can do it are quick about it."

Jamal closed his eyes and forced his mind away from that horrible place, the circumstance, deeply inward where he was safe. He let his hand slide down his belly, until it found his snake. It never felt as small and lifeless as it did now, from all that fear, but he started rubbing it and his balls, slowly probing, then a bit more.

"We haven't got all day nigger!" Someone demanded, but it was far away for Jamal, the outside world. He needed to do this.

"If you want to actually see something happen you got to shut up now and let the nigger do his thing." the speaker said in a displeased tone, and Jamal let go of the world and dove deeper inward.

He rubbed his unwilling flesh and thought of home, now home no more.  His mind wandered to Massa Jenkins, how Massa sometimes did a paddling game with him, set him up for a punishment and then paddle him, hard enough to really hurt but not hard enough for him to hate it, teasing and challenging him to dare ask for a harder one...

Jamal was so deep in thought that he barely felt his snake coming alive, twitching in his hand, his fingers instinctively grabbed it and started working it, kneading and tugging..

Jamal was deep in thought, recalling the paddling games, how all the paddling and teasing got him hard as a stick, Massa Jenkins mocking him for it and paddling him more, but letting him tug it for him after the game. That somehow was what this was.  In that crowd, somewhere, hidden, Massa Jenkins was watching, watching him tug it for the last time of his life. He was not going to fail.  This was for Him, the Massa he knew all his life, the kindest of then all.

His oiled brown snake was now hard as a stick in his hand, he tugged it and eagerly thrust into his hand, faster, faster... His whole body twitched with every thrust into his kneading hand, the crowd almost forgotten, reduced to a murmur with Massa Jenkins somewhere in there. He didn't even think of him tugging for Massa, or the times he tugged Massa or Massa him, his mind was full with the paddling game itself, the teasing, the fierce smacks and the jolts of pain that felt so food in his balls when his dick was hard and he was so willing for more.. 

Suddenly he snapped out of it, bent over a bit, cupping his free hand and groaned intensely as his lions thrust the seed out of him into his cupped hand.  Jamal's toes gripped the wet block's surface, lightning surged through him as he came harder than he ever had in his life. He fell to his knees in the piss, still moaning and squirting his seed, the crowd laughted loud but it was drowned out by the overwhelming orgasm he had, the last one overseen by Massa Jenkins.

He got up and showed off his cupped hand to the people.  Not just had he never came so hard, never had it quite been this much seed, Massa would be smiling at him, somewhere in the crowd. Jamal shook the cum off his hand,. rubbed the wetness on his belly and without looking aside spread his arms, offering his wrists to the slavehandlers, who took hold of him again.

"Would that be to your satisfaction, milady?" The speaker said with a slight hint of irony and the Lady didnt answer.
"Nigger twenty four, so say my notes, has soft feet which would require slave sandals but no injuries, diseases or imperfections are noted. Important to know is that the nigger speaks properly and presentably."

"Again, prove it!" The Lady demanded.

"Speak, nigger." The speaker said and turned to Jamal. Jamal stood there, frozen. First thing he thought of was the Um Um tribe mockery. He gulped, looked at the crowd without seeing any particular face and said:

"My name is Jamal. I was raised and trained in the House of Thompson to be a housenigger, and I did my best to do all that I was ordered as best I could. The one Massa who always believed in me and helped me be the best I could be, was Massa Jenkins, the finest Massa I have known in my life. I will never forget him. I pray that the one that owns me this day will be as wise and understanding as he."

"Very good nigger." The speaker praised,
"Notice the tone, the vocabulary and the meaning. The nigger wasn't coached to say this. Now the ask price the House of Thompson has set for this fine young buck nigger is nine hundred dollars."

"Nine hundred for that black rope?"  the Lady exclaimed,
"The only muscle he has is his dick!"

"Ah but that one works, doesn't it milady? Nine hundred dollars." The Gentleman raised his hand, exclaiming:

"Aye!" The Lady looked at him furiously and shouted:

"NINE TEN!" a Master with a rather menacing rolled up bullwhip on his belt raised his hand.

"Nine twenty, I can use a nigger that can speak."  the Gentleman raised his hand and calmly said:

"Nine hundred and fifty dollars." The Master with the whip made a throwaway gesture and shrugged, the Lady exclaimed.

"HEY MISTER YANKEE! We don't skip bids like that here down south!"

"I'm Canadian thank you very much." the Gentleman calmly said,
"Nine hundred and fifty stands."  The lady fell silent for a while.  Tension was rising for Jamal, would it really happen?  The speaker raised his hand and the Lady shouted:

"NINE SIXTY!" Jamal cringed, tensed by this unexpected bid. Jamal looked at the scary Master with the bullwhip but he was chitchatting with the lady next to him. Jamal looked at the Gentleman with begging eyes. The Gentleman's eyes locked with his, as he raised his hand and said:

"One thousand silver dollars." The Lady exploded quite unladylike.

"You Canadian bastard!  We don't do things like that around here!"

"Pay a thousand dollars for a nigger? I think some here do, mademoiselle, I'm just not sure you would though." Some in the crowd went oooh at that challenge and the Lady went so red Jamal could see it from the block.

"TEN TEN YOU FRENCH FROG!" The Gentleman folded his arms. Jamal's eyes grew wide. No...Not like this..Please not like this.. Jamal felt his throat throbbing in the deafening silence.  The spreaker slammed his hand on the stand.

"Going once.."  The Canadian Gentleman's hand shot up and he said, calmly smiling:

"Eleven hundred silver American dollars."

"YOU ASSHOLE!" The Lady screamed, grabbed the hat off a bystander and threw it on the ground, then turned around and ran off.

Jamal's heart leapt in joy! He stared at who were bound to be his new Massa and Miss, grinning wide, so happy Massa Jenkins got his way, and because he felt truly the best thing that could happen that day had befallen him. In the background, only half heard, the speaker slapped his stand.

"Going once.."  He slapped again,
"Going twice.." And finally the slap that sealed it,
"Sold to the fine gentleman and lady from way up north!"

One of the slavehandlers softly said:
"Shewt nigger. I figured you would make it. Ah well, better luck next time." The speaker turned to a white man with a strange hat that had no top, who said:

"That's mister Robidoux, he's good for it, he's got that and then some at my vault." 

The man with the strange hat intercepted  Jamal's new Massa and Miss as they headed for the block, they exchanged words, then a slap of one hand in the other, and in reverse. 

The two slavehandlers took Jamal off the block to meet up with his new owners.

"I will take him off you gentlemen, come my nigger Jamal, away from this place." Jamal, despite all hardship, grinned and raised his chin.  For a moment Massa Robidoux didn't understand, then he grabbed hold of the rope loop around Jamal's neck, and the slavehandlers let go of his wrists, one handing him his drenched white slave pants back.. As his new Massa had a good hold of his rope loop, Jamal's eyes widened a bit and a smile formed around his full lips as Massa Robidoux, unseen by all, slightly tickled his adam's apple.

"Come my nigger, let's go home."



<<<



Got kind feedback about this story? Please email me at the following address:
mtumwapigo  X  gmail.com 

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