Blac Master Whiteboy Slave

"I know you got somebody in there, Jamal." Terrell said, buttonholing his friend on the steps of the building.

"You don't know nothing. You hearing things. Told you to stay off of that PCP shit." Jamal said, bending over to retie his shoe. "What the fuck you doing spying on me anyway, dog?"

"Who's spying? I can't walk past your window anymore? Maybe you should rope it off with some of that yellow police tape."

"Shit." Jamal said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I gotta get to work. Ain't got time for your foolishness."

The two walked down the street, skirting the hop-scotching girls. It was mid-summer, and heat radiated from the old buildings and off the sidewalk.

"You take in a roommate? I don't know how you can do that, place as small as your's. Where you gonna put..."

"Will you shut up, T? All right, someone offered to help me do some cleaning round the place. That's all."

"Cleaning? What? You paying someone to clean that raggedy ass broom closet of yours?" Terrell said, smirking incredulously.

"I got a busy life! A man needs help with shit like that. Besides, i ain't paying nobody. More like a trade."

"What you got to be trading on?" Terrell asked. "Your rare coin collection?"

Jamal gave Terrell a shove, and he stumbled laughing towards the curb.

"Man, you GOT to come clean." Terrell said. "I heard someone moving around in there and I KNOW you was down at the Y. Now give it up. Come on, Jamal. We friends, right?"

Jamal felt a pang of guilt at not being open with his friend. At the same time he knew that Terrell was working him.

"It's just somebody." he said, vaguely.

"Well, I figured that out all by myself." Terrell said.

Jamal took a deep breath. "Alright. But you gotta keep your mouth shut. I mean it, T."

"Hell, you know me. Lips are sealed, motherfucker. Come on, bro. Give."

"It's just some guy I ran into over on 8th. He was buying."

"Yeah? And?" Terrell encouraged.

"I told him he could stay with me for a little while. That's all."

"And this 'trading' business? What's the dope on that?"

Jamal stopped and gave Terrell a searching look.

"You gotta keep this totally the fuck to yourself, you hear me?" Jamal said. Terrell was taken aback by his friend's serious tone.

"I swear, dude. Whatever you got to say, it stays right here and that's it. On my mama's grave."

"She ain't dead yet." Jamal said.

"Well, you know what I mean. You know you can trust me." Terrell said.

Jamal looked around, then turned to Terrell.

"This guy is a white boy. I was just hanging with Marcus, keeping him company while he was dealin', and he come up. The white boy."

"Yeah? Go on." Terrell said, and they began to walk again. Jamal looked at his watch There was time before he needed to clock in.

"Well, he was this tall, skinny white dude. Standing there looking around. Marcus sized him up right off. Anyway, Marcus signals to him, and he comes over, all nervous. I just step back and lean on the building, watching them. They do the deal - 4 grams, and Marcus smells money, so, you know, no family rate here." Jamal said, laughing.

"Anyway, while they're passing back and forth, I notice the white boy is looking my way. I take out my phone and check for messages, but I'm wondering about what white boy is up to."

"Maybe he sweet on you, bro." Terrell said, nudging Jamal with his shoulder. "You being a hansome young, black man with your pretty face, your smooth skin." he said, bending forward and slapping his knee. "Keep goin'. This gettin' good!"

Jamal watched his friends antics, smiling.

"You're not too far off, T. So, after those two wrapped things up, the white boy sort of wanders over toward me.

"Nice night." he says, and I just say'yeah'. I look at him. He's got these big blue eyes. Skin's super white and smooth, got these full, red lips. I'm thinking: some white fags with money will pay top dollar for a black dick to suck on. And you know me, T. I can always use the money."

"Yeah? So? What's next? You let whitey suck you off?"

Jamal looked away, feeling embarrassed.

"I just figured I could take him over to the park, get behind some bushes, and leave with some bills in my pocket. Didn't need to look at him, or nothing." he said.

"So we go over to the park, and he's all nervous and excited. He offers me a dip into his coke, and, you know, I was down with that. Anyway, we got a good jolt. Marcus's shit is always grade A. So, white boy is looking at me, and I know what he wants. I just said 'follow me' and, before I know it, my dick was getting the deluxe treatment from this dude. Fucker sure was hungry for it. Anyway, he give me a C-note for that, so I was happy. He sure could suck dick." Jamal said, with the look odf someone reliving a memorable moment.

"And him staying up your place? What's with that?" Terrell asked.

The two sat at a bench outside the drug store where Jamal worked.

"Well, he went on to tell me, I mean back then in the park, tell me how he's got money. Seems his daddy set up some kind of account for him that keeps him flush and then some. Like more than he knows what to do with, sounded like."

"So, you on the account now?" Terrell said, giving Jamal a sly look.

" I ain't gettin' specific, T. I want this under wraps as much as possible."

"I told you I'm top secret on this."

"I know, I know. And I trust you. I just don't feel like gettin' into details, is all. Anyway, he's payin' rent for staying there."

"You callin' it rent, eh?"

Jamal looked at his watch. He still had time before going into the store.

"I can tell you this much. That boy look up to me. Said he always respect black men, that they was strong and masculine. Said a white boy like him ought to be serving a black man."

"Serve you what? Tea and cookies?" Terrell said.

"Man, he want to serve me like a slave, bro. Just like a goddam slave." Jamal said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Terrell sat there a moment, absorbing what his friend had said.

"Shit, Jamal. You mean you got him doing whatever you want him to?"

"Yeah, dude. Exactly. I already had him doing all kinds of crazy shit. Had him kissing my feet, calling me 'Master'. I walk around the apartment with just an old T-shirt on, johnson swingin', and that boy's eyes are just glued to me! Gotta admit, it felt good having that power, after all that black folks been through in this country; him on his knees, and all."

"My great auntie, she been dead a long time now. She would tell us stories from HER granny 'bout slaves being done wrong back in those days. Them plantation fuckers were whipping their slaves, raping the women, sometimes right in front of their husbands - doing just 'bout whatever they please." Terrell said.

"Yeah. I heard stories, too. And this here white boy, he's hip to that. Says he knows we were done wrong. He tells me he wants to do his own personal part for reparations, and all." Jamal said.

"Damn, bro. You struck gold! You got you a real live white slave to do your biddin'! Plus, he payin you for the privilege. Shit, you can throw away your video games, dog. This here's for real."

Jamal smiled at his friend.

"Yeah, it's cool. and we's just gettin' started. I got ideas coming to me all the time." Jamal said grinning, then gave Terrell a serious look. "Like I said, you gotta keep a lid on this. This gets out and, who knows, his rich daddy might get a lawyer on my ass."

"How old is this boy?" Terrell said.

"He's eighteen. Made him show me his I.D. Got his address, too. Up in Riverdale."

"Well, he's legal to do as he please, Jamal. That's a fact. His daddy got nothin' to say."

Jamal checked the time.

"I'm due inside, T. So, it's just between us, got it."

Terrell looked cross.

"How many times I got to tell you? But I sure do want to know more. You gotta keep me in the loop."

While Jamal was working at the drug store, Charles was staying very busy. he washed the dishes in the sink, scrubbed the floor, cleaned the cabinet shelves, tidied the bedroom, and did Jamal's laundry. As he worked he reflected on the amazing turn his life had taken. After so much time imagining serving a young black man, here he was, actually DOING it! The image of Master Jamal walking nonchalantly through the apartment with his gorgeous cock in full view aroused him as he worked, and made him work harder still. He wanted Master to be pleased with what he found when he returned. He had already called home and told his mother that he would be staying with a friend in New Rochelle for several days.

Jamal lived in a basement apartment of a seven-storey building. The front door of his unit led into a common walkway in the basement. Along this walkway were a storage room, recycling bins, and a laundry. The apartment also had a door for a rear exit onto the back courtyard that was a requirement of the fire code. Jamal told Charles before he left for work to only use that rear door. People had no reason to use the courtyard. It was dingy and got little sunlight. Charles could come and go through there unnoticed.

After looking over his work and feeling satisfied with it, Charles slipped out the rear door to do some shopping.

When Charles heard the key turn in the lock, he immediately went to the center of the small foyer and knelt. His heart was beating fast. Jamal entered and handed his shoulder bag to Charles.

"Put this away, slave." he said, taking in the very clean and straightened environment.

Charles rose up quickly, took the bag and hung it on the hook on the back of the bedroom door. He returned to where Jamal was standing in the middle of the living room, and resumed his kneeling position before him.

"Well, slave-boy, you've been busy." he said. He noticed the small vase of fresh flowers on the coffee table. He took the blooms from the water, dropped them on the floor and ground them into the floorboards.

"Clean that shit up, boy." he ordered.

Charles hid his injured feelings and scooped up the crushed flowers.

Jamal flopped onto the sofa, and stretched his legs. Charles was still in the kitchen disposing of the flowers. His lip was trembling almost unnoticably. He, indeed, had been hurt by Jamal's action, but knew it was not his place to be emotional OR to have an opinion.

"Get in here, whitey." Jamal said brusquely, and Charles returned.

"Take my shoes off." he commanded.

Charles knelt and began to untie the shoes, not daring to look at his master. Jamal looked on disdainfully. 'Shit', he thought, 'I could sure get used to having this boy around.'

"Socks too, asshole." he snapped," and watched as Charles carefully pulled off the socks.

"Go get me a beer from the fridge, boy. And later, go out and get me some good liquor. I know what's good, so don't mess me around. You hear me?"

Charles smiled up at Jamal as he folded the socks and placed them on top of the shoes. Jamal was everything he'd dreamed of. He knew how to put a grateful white boy in his place, and keep him there. Everything was going so well, he thought.

"Yes, sir. Would you like me to prepare dinner first, Master?" Charles inquired.

"You bought some food?"

"I did, Master. There are chicken breasts, pork chops, italian sausage, things for a salad, I could..."

"Okay, that's enough. Stop tootin' your own horn, bitch."

"I'm sorry, I..."

Jamal leaned forward and slapped Charles hard on the face.

"I said to stop, moron. What does that mean to you?"

Charles's ears were ringing from the blow, but, still, he relished it. He wished that Jamal would deliver another one. He cast his eyes downward.

"I said gett me a beer. I didn't say to ask me questions. Now go!"

Charles returned with the beer and a glass. The imprint of Jamal's hand showed redly on his delicate skin. He knelt beside the coffee table and carefully poured the beer, leaving about an inch of foam at the top. He placed the glass carefully before Jamal, then sat back on his heels.

"Well," Jamal said with obvious sarcasm, "looks like our little faggot can pour a beer. You can tell me about dinner now."

"I could make a stirfry, sir, with chicken and vegetables. And some rice, if you wish, sir." Charles said.

"That'll do. First get out of your fancy-ass clothes. And don't leave them in my room. Put them under the sink in the bathroom. That's your closet, and it's right where it belongs: next to the toilet. Come back out here in your underwear. No socks, no shoes. I want you looking like a slave."

When Charles returned, Jamal sized him up. A bit on the skinny side, but not to where you could see his ribs, or anything. And, boy, was he white! His blonde hair was long enough to be tucked behind his ears. He had little body hair, just some on his calves, and a delicate line going down from from his navel.

"Take off your shorts, boy." Jamal said.

As Charles lowered his shorts, his erect penis came into view, crowned with a blonde pubic bush.

"That sure ain't no prize-winning pecker, is it boy?" Jamal said, stifling a snicker.

In fact, Charles's cock was truly only about half the size of Jamal's.

Charles colored some at this observation.

"Nothing like yours, sir." he said.

"You sure do like my dick, don't you, white boy?" Jamal said.

"I do, sir. It's very impressive."

"You ever dream about sucking on black dick?"

"I do sir. But now I have one that I can serve and get to know. I'm so happy!" Charles said, then wondered if he'd said too much.

"When I say so, that is." Jamal said, glowering at Charles.

"Yes, sir." Charles said, eyes downcast.

"Pull up your shorts, and get into the kitchen. Get me another beer, then get some dinner on the table. Let's go! Move!"

Charles scurried smiling into the kitchen. He finally had a real black master!

Jamal pushed back from the table. While he'd eaten, Charles had stood discreetly nearby ready to fetch whatever Jamal might need.

"That was pretty good, fagboy. Now get rid of these dishes." he said.

"Right away, master." Charles said. He was pleased that the meal had gone well.

He cleared the table, then began cleanup in the kitchen. When he'd finished, he came back to the living room and knelt off to the side while Jamal watched television.

When the program ended, Jamal turned off the TV, and stretched his arms overhead.

"You know, boy, I sure wouldn't mind blowing a load about now." he said, and began touching himself through his sweatpants. "Get your ass in my bedroom. I'll be there directly."

Charles, delighted to hear these words, made a beeline for the room. Not knowing what else to do, he took up a kneeling position in the corner. He was very aroused.

In a few minutes, Jamal entered. He began undressing.

"You can look at me, boy." he said, as he pulled his shirt over his head. His lean, cocoa-colored torso caught the afternoon light that filtered through the curtains. Jamal tossed the shirt to Charles.

"Fold it. Put it in the top drawer."

As Charles was carefully following thesee instructions, Jamal let his pants slide down to his ankles.
"Come here and remove these." he said, snapping his fingers. Charles was immediately on the fllor gently assisting Jamal in stepping out of his sweatpants. Looking up, Charles let out a small gasp as he observed the shape of Jamal's cock shifting about against the cloth of his boxer shorts.

"Always nice to get out of those confinin' clothes." Jamal said, casually, all the while savoring the look of sheer wonder on Charles's face. Charles neatly folded the pants and stored them in the dresser.

Jamal reached under the waistband and scratched about in his pubic bush, all the while watching Charles's increasing agitation. He reached further down and scratched his testicles. He removed his hand.

"That felt good." he said. "You ever get a need to do that, fagboy?"

"Sometimes, sir. Yes." Charles said. His eyes were watching trance-like as

Jamal's erection increased, and the shorts were now pushed forward by its growth. As he watched, Jamal slipped the shorts off, and the penis bobbed freely in front of him. He came forward and placed the shorts on Charles's head so that the waistband came across his forehead, and the leg parts hung down the back of his head.

Ain't you pretty, though." Jamal said derisively, his cock now inches from Charles's face. "Maybe someday I'll have you get some makeup and I'll turn you into my own little whore. You'd like that, probably."

"I'll be your whore, Master." Charles said fervently, looking up to Jamal. He wasn't expecting the slap that Jamal landed on his face. His head spun off to the side from the force.

"you don't mind me doing that, do you, white boy?", Jamal said, lifting Charles's face up with a finger under his chin, to meet his gaze.

"No, sir. Please, slap me anytime." Charles said, mesmerized by the proximity of the turgid black cock in front of him. He could feel the warmth coming off of it, and it emitted an odor that Charles found very exciting.

Jamal began stroking Charles's face with the swollen head of the cock. Charles began to breathe erratically. He reached with trembling fingers and placed his hands on Jamal's firm thighs to steady himself. He was feeling lightheaded. He wanted very badly to rain kisses on the beautiful cock, but he could take no such liberty without Jamal's say-so.

Jamal continued caressing Charles's face with the cock.

"Man, this here johnson sure needs a warm, soft place to go." he said, now brushing the tip of the head against Charles's lips. Charles could feel the dampness of precum in his underwear. He was afraid he might cum, and tried to control himself. The warmth of the cock head on his face, along with the intoxicating smell, made this difficult.

Jamal pressed against Charles's lips with the head, and soon it was fully inside his mouth. Charles's eyes rolled back in their sockets, and a deep, animal-like groan rose up from his throat.

"That's it fagboy. Ain't you the sweetest thing?"

Jamal watched as his cock slid pleasurably between the red lips, the shaft glistening with Charles's saliva.

"Whoo-eee! Damn! This here's livin'!" Jamal crowed as he watched Charles's feverish attentions.

Charles was taking more and more of the cock into his mouth, and Jamal stroked his head encouragingly.

"There you go. Very nice. You're just a born cocksucker, ain't you, boy?"

Charles looked up with devotion into Jamal's eyes as Jamal peered down on him haughtily.

"You're my own little faggot whore, son. I do believe I'll keep you around awhile." Jamal said.

His hips began to buck reflexively, and Charles could feel Jamal's warm, viscous precum on his tongue. He reached behind Jamal and held each of his ass cheeks gently in his hands. Jamal clasped Charles's head and continued thrusting. Suddenly, Charles felt Jamal's body go tense, and felt his mouth filling with his warm, milky seed. The cock pulsed spasmodically as it continued its sweet delivery. Charles sucked vigorously on the head to extract all of the semen, while Jamal stroked his head.

"Whew! Good job, boy. You get a gold star for that. Shit. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be eating buckets of my jizz. Damn!"

With that, Jamal withdrew his now softening cock from Charles's mouth. It hung before him, jerking about and glistening darkly in the fading light. Charles placed a soft, tentative kiss on the head, and began cleaning the shaft with his tongue.

"Thank you, Master, I am so happy." he said, his voice breaking with emotion.

"Yeah, well, that's fine, but it's me you need to keep happy, bitch."

"I'll certainly try, sir!" Charles said, afraid he might have offended the master by thinking of his own happiness.

"See that you do."

To be continued