Disclaimers:
1) Some of these chapters contain strong descriptions of raceplay, ageplay, humiliation, CNC, bdsm, etc. If you are offended by such, don't read it.
2) Nothing in this sexual fantasy is intended to demean or insult any ethnicity, gender, or other categories of people. It is simply for entertainment purposes. It is a work of fiction and in no way glorifies or condones any past or present behaviour or crimes. If you are a real life racist, sadist, rapist, or paedophile, don't read it.
3) FYI the author is not a white male. Some bad language may occur because English is not the author's mother tongue.
4) All characters in this story are 18+.
5) Again, if you cannot handle outrageous and nonsensical attitudes or opinions described in this story between characters, you are hereby instructed NOT to read it. All such ingredients are solely meant for dramaturgical purposes, to build up the tension of the story and its characters. No actual political, religious, societal, or racial views are expressed here. The author does not condone real-life slavery, but condemns any form of it, including the transatlantic slave trade. All real life discriminations, harassments, and forced sexual activities, are also condemned by the author.
OBS! Links to images of the characters will be inserted later.
This story is a series consisting of many chapters, which will be added onwards.
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CHAPTER I : MARITIME CUISINE
Our protagonist's initiation into his new life as a crewmember at the slave ship.
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The Black Rose was ready to deport from the ivory cost.
This was a female-only batch. They came in all ages, shapes and sizes. Half of them were teenagers, many were virgins, but all were beautiful and regarded as sexual objects in their prime.
Such consignments only happened occasionally and were not as streamlined or dangerous as the bulk chattel shipments. However, it still paid off because they were selected to become pleasure girls for wealthy investors.
The manifest therefore read "Cargo: Luxury Goods".
The poor enslaved black girls - mainly of the Igbo and Yoruba tribes - had been waiting at the inshore fort for weeks, sometimes months, to be transported. There they had been forced to learn basic English, for the sake of efficiency.
Now they were boarding the ship in a row, fully nude and enchained by iron collars. The slavers had shaved their heads as was customary before a long journey across the sea. Their dark and sweaty skin looked oily in the bright sun light. It was a quiet daybreak, but for the sound of an occasional lash on a quivering swelling rump with its responsive moan.
The crew was naturally watching with gluttony - pointing, giggling, whistling, and whispering among themselves. It was no secret that these special shipments often turned into sailing brothels. It was a virtual free for all.
As soon as all the slaves were aboard, the Captain gave order to cast off. The crew started hoisting sails, while the slaves watched the disappearing horizon in silence. Soon there was nothing to see except an endless blue ocean. There was no sound in the air. No crying, no screaming, not even sobbing. The slaves just stood on the deck, stoically waiting for their next command.
The 60-ton ship was a relatively small and simple two-masted schooner with two decks above the ground. The top deck held the main cabin, the captain's quarters, a few offices, a lounge and officers' mess. On the main deck there were cabins where the crew slept, a ward, a galley and a dining area, plus some storerooms.
Below deck was the cargo space. There were several rows of benches holding the slaves. A few were caged in order to protect them from being spoiled by sneaky crew members. Another separated section had some rooms carefully designed for various usage relating to the slaves.
It would carry a crew of no more than 25 mates and a single Captain. The batches could count up to 130 slaves, which was the legal limit. There was no privacy and they were forced to sleep together in a crowded hall. It was very hot, especially during the summer months. The slaves were allowed to bathe once a week, but they were always naked and so there were no clothes to worry about.
The girls never posed a threat and were easily controllable. Therefore they were usually free to roam around, albeit always wearing collars and unfettered shackles for ankles and wrists. The slaves had to stay within the limits of the ship and under constant supervision. If any of them tried to escape or disobey orders, she would be punished severely.
This is the story of what transpired on board during one of its long and shameless journeys.
*
Stefan, the fresh-man Swede, was standing next to his mentor and fellow crew mate Svend - a middle aged Dane. Svend was sitting on a barrel chewing tobacco. He spat out some juice and glanced at Stefan.
"Pay attention boy. When the time comes, select a few wenches to your liking before they get plucked by your mates. She doesn't even have to be on the young side, you can have your pick with any of them. But mind those who are specially marked, they are untouchable."
"Why is that?" replied young Stefan.
"Because they either belong to the Captain, or are reserved for wealthy clients pining for our arrival at the other side."
Stefan nodded in understanding. His eyes followed the line of chained women, who were standing in attention. Every single one was stark naked. The sunlight was bouncing off their ebony skin. His big blue eyes were soaking in their exposed bodies, shaking breasts and gazelle legs - all of them well shaped and endowed with a bristling bulging booty. He had never seen nude female flesh in his life, let alone so much of it.
He turned over to his buddy and asked: "Svend, what's that smell?"
"That's the scent of nigger wenches, Steff. It's sweat, tears, piss, milk, and pussy juice - I call it Jungle brew", he said laughingly.
"What? Niggers?"
"You heard me. Niggahs! That's what they are called. See, these are not like the womenfolk you're used to back home. No sir-re, nigger females are more like human apes. They have been bred for centuries to serve men. They are all built to please. And when they do, they will make you feel like a god - which is what we are to them..." he paused. "But beware the virgins, they need to be taught with the whip."
Svend spit out some tobacco.
"Wow, they all look alike. What's up with that?" Stefan remarked in amazement.
Svend chuckled. "Hah! That's niggers for you! I guess it's on account of everyone screwing everyone all the time, like rabbits, so the lot end up being related. I think this batch is from two tribes in the same area, so they're probably all brothers & sisters. But I'll tell you this: They are a great fuck. It's not like the girls you're used to. A nigger cunt is something special."
Stefan replied: "To tell you the truth, Svend, I've never really been with a girl before. That's why I'm here. That, and the lack of decent work of course. See, back home my cuisine told me that if I signed on for this Dutch company who specialises in this kinda shipment, there would be free fanny as far as the eye could see. He claimed we could do whatever we wanted with it. Not at all like home, where I'm lucky just getting to marry any hag before being too old for impregnation. So I figured, what the hell, let's see if it's so great as they say. I must admit he was more than right. Albeit I never imagined all the available pussy he spoke of would belong to black beasts. Still, I do fancy them".
The truth was that Stefan had never seen a "negro" before. He was fascinated with them, studied their every feature and trait from afar. But his member recognised them for the sexually attractive females they were. The bulge in his pants did not lie.
"I know what you mean", Svend retorted. "When I first saw nigger bitches I was overwhelmed too. But trust me, they are even better than the home-grown ladies. These creatures only know base instincts, lust, and desire. They will do anything you can fathom - and I mean anything. Some of them are clever beyond their race though, so always keep a firm grip on your whip when dealing with them. You need to stay in control."
Stefan was perplexed. So they needed to be handled like certain farm animals.
"... But don't go all toddler on us," Svend continued, "and fall in love with any of them wenches, even if they put all their seductive juju into it. If the Boatswain gets wind of that, you will get a good beating and this will be your first and last trip with us."
"Sure thing, Svend. No way I would return home with one of them black monkeys all dressed up in my engagement suit. I would be the laughing stock of town."
Svend laughed heartily. "Aye, that would be a sight worth enjoying indeed. Anyways, as soon as the cargo is in place and we're all settled in, I will teach you the ropes. Then you'll be ready to take advantage of the situation."
"Thanks, Svend. I appreciate it."
"No worries, Steff. Now, let's watch the show. There's bound to be some action soon."
Stefan observed the slaves being driven along the deck. A tall and muscular man in a white shirt, black pants, and knee-high boots was leading them towards the rear, while the captain was watching closely from the bridge above.
"Hey Steff, look at that!" exclaimed Svend excitedly.
Stefan had already noticed the tall brute of a man. He was holding an oxen whip in his hand and was talking to one of the slaves, who seemed to be about thirty years old.
"What's going on?" asked Stefan.
"Oh, nothing much. He's just teaching them slaves what to expect. These sluts are usually obedient and subservient. But of course we always need to break in a few during the first days. It's a matter of routine. Afterwards, everyone eventually falls into place. And that's when they get to be free roaming. Cuz they will be so docile and easy to handle, that even you can enter their hold alone and have your way with any of them. I'm telling you boy, of all my years at sea this is the dream commission. Nothing but keeping the ship floating en route and wallow in pleasures of dark, fresh, meat all the way."
Stefan was star struck by the sight. He felt like this must be the closest thing to heaven on earth. Except all the angels were black as the Nordic Midwinter night.
Once the Slave Master approached the line of slaves, he gave them a light slap across their backsides. "Come on, you dirty animals! Get over here!"
The slaves came forward, shuffling and moaning softly. Their eyes were downcast, their faces sullen.
"Now, listen up, you little bitches," the Slave Master shouted. "You're here to serve our needs. You are our property now and until we board at the other side of the sea. We own you. And you will obey us or suffer the consequences. Understood?"
Butt-Cracker, for that was the crew's nickname for the Slave Master, then proceeded to walk behind the row of huge buttocks and gave each and every of them a severe lash, which resonated across the deck on account of his forceful muscles. Every girl whimpered, some whined.
Stefan was still observing the particular woman who the Slave Master had spoken with. She was tall, voluptuous, and standing more graciously and proud than the res - almost like she was nobility. When her butt got smacked she screamed some unintelligible curses with a flushed face.
Svend whispered: "Pay attention now boy, I believe Butt-Cracker has found his specimen to make an example out of."
It was rather quiet at deck. The Slave Master walked up to the woman, who was still shaken by receiving the kiss of the lash. He grabbed her by the collar and dragged her close to him. His voice was menacing and threatening.
"You again, slut? Do you think you are someone? Here you are nothing but a cock-pleasing nigger!" He slapped her hard across the face.
"I be not!" she yelled back in broken English.
"Wow, they speak just like us", Stefan whispered with big eyes to Svend.
"Aye, if you can call their mumbo-jumbo speech. But indeed, these jungle-bunnies are pretty clever I tell ya. That's why we can fuck them. They are almost like us, just without souls. Hollow bodies for us to play with. But shut your trap now Stefan, the show is about to begin."
