The Story of Michael

by Damien Dsoul

  Master Ghandi told one of the Overseers to unlock his chains on his arm. He folded his aviator shades and put it in his shirt pocket then unbuttoning his black shirt. The two white boi-slaves dropped their buckets and came to attention before him. He handed one of them his shirt and took off his boots and then his black combat pants and stood there in his briefs and gave his pants to the slave holding his shirt and to the other gave him his boots to hold. Master Ghandi flexed his arm and leg muscles. The man’s figure was impressive. Every muscle seemed to add content to his awesome stature. He had an apparent bulge showing in his briefs and I turned to observe the crowd of slaves, especially some of the bitch-slaves and I realized their eyes too was drawn towards the bulge in his crotch. I wondered how many of them might have had the pleasure of sucking his cock.

  Master Ghandi folded his arms behind his back and one of his men came with the chains they’d removed from Hugh’s arms and wrapped it around his. Now Master Ghandi was the one in chains while Hugh’s arms were free and he put his in a boxing stance. The murmuring that was running amongst the crowd died off as everyone watched the seriousness of what was happening. The Overseers and the two white boi-slaves stepped backwards to give the combatants room.

  Hugh and Master Ghandi trotted about, circling each other. Hugh came forward and swung his fists at his opponent. Master Ghandi was calculating. He seemed to anticipate Hugh’s punches before he even made them. He taunted Hugh to get at him. Hugh would feint with a move and then swung with his other fist at him, but each effort he tried he only succeeded in punching the air where Master Ghandi’s head used to be. Getting frustrated, he lashed out with his foot and still Master Ghandi was lightening quick to avoid getting hit by him. I watched them hover around each other and it occurred to me that Master Ghandi was wearing out his opponent. He was making Hugh tire out from chasing after him and not getting at him. Hugh still kept throwing punches and cursing each time he missed and was growing frustrated by it.

  “Come here ... fuck! Stand still and take this punch, you black bastard!”

  That made the Black Master stop. He glared at Hugh. “What did you just call me, white boi?”

  Hugh was about repeating what he’d said when Master Ghandi came at him. He jumped into the air in front of Hugh and head-butted his face. Hugh wasn’t expecting such and he staggered backward, holding a hand to where the blow had landed. Master Ghandi came at him again and this time rammed his head into Hugh’s mid-section. Hugh coughed out air and almost immediately the Black Master pushed his head up, hitting the underside of Hugh’s jaw with the back of his head. Hugh fell on his back. Master Ghandi walked around his, stalking his prey. Things weren’t going in Hugh’s favour anymore; still the crowd remained quiet and watched. Hugh got to his feet, tottered backwards and fell once again. He cursed at himself as he came back on his feet. There was a cut on the side of his head and he wiped blood that came down his eyes. He lunged at Master Ghandi, roaring with every ounce of strength he had.

  Master Ghandi was expecting him. He stood his ground, watched as Hugh approached, and at the last moment spurned into the air and threw out his foot like the Belgian actor, Jean Claude Van-Damme often did in his movies. Everything happened as if in slow motion. I watched as the side of his foot connected with Hugh’s face, practically throwing him into the air as well. The crowd heaving a simultaneous ‘Awwwhhhh’ sound as the heard and saw the Master’s foot slam perfectly into the side of Hugh’s face who then fell like a sack of bricks. Master Ghandi landed on his feet and surveyed the crowd with a triumphant look that dared anyone to come step into the ring with him. None did.

  Hugh tried to get up but couldn’t. He groaned as he lay there on his backside with blood trickling off a cut in his mouth. One of the Overseers came to Master Ghandi and undid the chains from his arms. The crowd cheered at the sight of this, some of them swung their arms in the air and whopped as if they had just watched an impressive baseball game. I was numb all over and didn’t know what to feel or even what to make out of what just happened. Master Ghandi hovered over Hugh’s lying form urging him to get up and fight some more.

  “You giving up on me so soon, white boi? You ain’t looking so tough now, are you, slave?” he spat down on him. “That’s for spitting on me. But don’t worry, I ain’t done with you yet.”

  He turned to the crowd and pointed at one of the bitch-slaves standing there watching. Numerous bitch-slaves raised their hands like cheerleaders hopping it was them he meant. Master Ghandi smiled, amused at the attraction, and motioned for two bitch-slaves to come over. Two of the bitch-slaves left where they stood amongst the crowd and ran over to him, their breasts shaking out of their half-cut tops. They came to their knees and pulled down his briefs and once again the crowd moaned at the sight of his dick hanging down from his crotch. The bitch-slaves took turns sucking his cock and caressing his thighs and balls. His prick hardened in their mouths and still they kept on sucking him; several of the bitch-slaves that stood in the crowd watched with envy glitter in their eyes at the black treasure their colleagues were worshipping. Master Ghandi groaned from the assault; every muscle in his body came alive and his torso heaved. He caressed the bitch-slaves’ heads and helped pump his cock back and forth in their mouths while they took turns passing his prick back and forth to each other, moaning while they kissed and licked his shaft. Some of the white boi-slaves, I noticed, too couldn’t help but lick their lips at what their counterparts were enjoying. I know they too would have given an arm if only to kneel before Master Ghandi and let him play with their mouths as well.

  Master Ghandi felt his moment of ejaculation approach. He pulled his prick from the slaves’ grasp and walked to where Hugh still lay on the ground and he pumped his cock over his face. He splashed his cum over Hugh’s face, groaning as he emptied his sac of cum on him. It was the ultimate degradation.

  “I hope you like that, white boi,” he said to him. “You’re my bitch now.”

  Master Ghandi walked away from him and strolled towards the main building, walking like an emperor even though he was naked with the two white boi-slaves carrying his clothes trailing him behind. The two bitch-slaves got up and they too ran after him, not wanting to be left behind. Other bitch-slaves and white boi-slaves rushed at Hugh but instead of coming to help him up they instead bent over him and started licking Master Ghandi’s cum off his face and whichever part of his body his semen had splattered on.

  The event now over, I thought we were going to get a reprieve but two of the Overseers approached us and ordered myself and the other slave to lie back on the bed of salt. We did as told and I groaned through my teeth as I felt the salt once again burn into the wounds on my backside. The Overseers snapped at the crowd to hurry on back to whatever they were doing; they called two bitch-slaves to wait on them while everybody else walked away. The bitch-slaves took off their slave attired and knelt before then and unzipped their fly and right away sucked their cocks. One of them laughed at us while the slave worshipped his prick. He bent over and fingered her ass while she went on doing it.

  The Black Masters slug their rifles behind their shoulders but not after they’d gotten out of their clothes first. The sun was probably approaching noon by now; the sky was clear of any cloud banks. One of the Overseers brought his bitch-slave over to where we lay. She stood over me with her legs spread either side of my face and bent forward while the Black Master tucked the head of his prick between the folds of her cunt. She wiggled her butt at him and squealed when his prick found entry and pushed its head inside her and he began fucking her that way. She was squirming and moaning at the same time; the Black Master grabbed both her arms and just kept pounding away at her. Some of her pussy juice dropped on my face. I looked at the other two and they too were fucking over the face of my other escapee. The bitch-slaves hollered at their Masters to fuck them harder. I was in pain but I couldn’t help not feeling a little stirring down in my
groin. Watching the sight of the Black Master’s cock driving between the bitch-slave’s pussy folds, watching the sight of his balls bounce each time he rammed into her was so exquisite.

  The Black Master was groaning louder too, in time with the bitch-slave hollering that she was cumming. The Overseer’s cock came out of her on purpose and he sprayed my face with his semen, shaking with laughter while he did it. The bitch-slave fell to her knees and caught some of his load before he emptied everything down on me and she sucked it out of him. I ran my tongue over my face, licking off as much semen I could catch. The bitch-slave knelt over me and helped clean the rest of his cum off me. She gave me a peck on the cheek then got up to attend to her Master’s needs. The other Black Master was still fucking his bitch-slave. He pulled his prick out of her but instead of ejaculating over my escapee colleague he urinated on his face instead; he was gushing with laughter too while he did it.

  The bitch-slaves gathered up their clothes. The Black Masters walked away with them. We were left to remain as we were with no company except for the sun staring down at us.

  ***

  I was hungry.

  The saliva in my mouth felt dry; I perceived the taste of semen in my mouth. The sun was at its zenith; I thought I could feel it burning my skin. This was Hell, I know. Nothing could be as hot as this.

  Two white boi-slaves came to feed us with leftover meals meant for the dogs. Eamon came to my side and held my head up and gave me a bowl with water to drink from. I spat the water out as it turned my stomach somewhat with the semen I’d tasted. He held my head and urged me to drink more; someone did the same to my other colleague. I didn’t notice it but some of the slaves had carried Hugh away from where he lay. Later I heard they’d dropped him off in the Dungeon Room.

  “Why, Michael?” Eamon whispered with his face close to me, careful so no one would notice. “Why did do you escape?”

  My voice sounded cracked when I spoke. “I don’t know ... I really don’t know.”

  He gave me some more water and fed me some meat and vegetables. He told me he would return later in the evening to feed me again. I watched him and the other white boi-slave pick up their buckets and leave.

  Later one of the Black Masters came and told us to turn over and lie on our faces. I can only imagine the tan I must have received as I turned over and lay my face on the tarp filled with salt. The heat now felt intense with the sun on our backs. I looked across at my colleague and he too looked back at me. There was no words to be said between us to say what we were feeling. I don’t know about him, but for me I prayed for the pain to be over.

  Part Three

  BLACK MASTER SOLA

  I was heading to a new world now, heading to a new place towards a different time. I was seated in the back of a truck with three other white boi-slaves and two bitch-slaves having being bought at an auction and was being transported to the home of my new Black Master. What will he be like? How well will he treat me along with his former slaves, I don’t know. Too many questions and the fear of what was bound to come preyed on my mind.

  The days have passed since my attempted escape. The Black Masters hadn’t caught the other who’d ran off; Hugh had remained incarcerated. Master Abraham had talked about him during one of our devotion meetings and he’d declared that white boi Hugh would be subjected to intense reprogramming, as he still had loose bugs in his head that are frustrating his embrace of the Black Power. But in due time, he will succumb, Master Abraham told us. It’s either that or he will die trying. Myself and the other white boi-slave had remained in solitary confinement for another day after which we were allowed to join the slave population having learnt our lesson and declared that never would we be seduced towards going against our Black Master’s wish. They had fixed the other slave’s ankle and though he was still limping prior to when I got picked out of the camp for auction sale, I reckon he would be walking straight in no time. Thirteen of us had been chosen: six white-boi slaves and seven bitch-slaves. Eamon hadn’t been amongst them. He had held me in his arms and cried on my shoulder about how much he was going to miss me. I too was going to miss him. I was happy though that I recognised two people going to the auction with me - white boi Jason and his former woman, bitch-slave Kristine. I’d shared a seat with Jason during the ride while the bitch-slaves had been put on another vehicle. I’d hoped however bought me would do the same of buying Jason too. Unfortunately it wasn’t so. The individual who bought me was from a different client representing Black Master Sola (pronounced ‘Sho-la’), whom we were all soon to meet with. After the sales had been finalized, our Masters who’d brought us to the auction ground had handed over our white boi chastity keys to the representative who will in turn give them to our new Black Master. Already I was missing the camp and wished someone else had been traded in my place instead. I missed serving Master Shehu and prayed my new Master would have some character just like him.

  Neither of us made conversation as we sat beside each other in the truck while two armed Overseers watched over us. It felt like we’d resigned ourselves already to whatever was coming and in a way we had.

  We arrived at the compound of our new Master and the Overseers led us up the stairs into the opulent mansion. We were shown into a large living room and Master Sola came down a flight of stairs leading two people on a dog leash. A mature white boi-slave and a bitch-slave and it wasn’t until he came closer that I looked with shock of horror at the two slaves he’d brought into the room. The couple looked to have somewhat aged but I still recognise Tim and Pamela Morgan, Catherine’s parents. My future in-Laws. I tried to capture their eye but they were looking right at the ground and not up to have noticed me. Master Sola was dressed in a business suit and wore wire-rim glasses. He was a dapper and distinguished-looking man and sizing us up with eyes that seemed to see more than they appeared. He welcomed up to his abode and said instructed us to serve him to our utmost care and that he in turn will take care of us as well. One of the Overseers handed him our chastity keys and then he called over his head white boi-slave to show us to our quarters.

  I got to meet with them later that evening when Master Sola was out. Tim and his wife Pamela came to my cubicle room and we hugged and cried like we hadn’t seen each other in ages; to tell the truth, it was ages and another life time ago. They explained to me the situation of things: how they had gotten kidnapped at the same resort that I told them I had stayed while trying to search for them, how they too had been brought to a slave-run camp and later sold at an auction to Master Sola, and how Pamela was now the Master’s incumbent wife. I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “He lost his wife some months back,” Tim explained to me, “and even now he’s still mourning her. He got to like Pamela as she’s always being dutiful to him and so he’s been sharing both of us most times. He fucked Pamela and gets me to eat her pussy whenever he’s done.”

  I asked if they knew any whereabouts of Catherine and neither said they’d heard or even seen or know where she might be since they got split up at the auction trade. I mentioned to them about my desire to still find her. Neither said anything about this, though there was a look they exchanged with each other that made me assume that they doubt my words, or that they didn’t think I was being any serious. Actually I couldn’t blame them for that when I lay in my room and thought about my conversation with them. I’d never expected my coming to Nigeria would turn out the way it had. Everything looked so uncertain for me. I was finding it hard just remembering what my former life before now had been like. I could barely even picture my parents’ faces anymore and reckon by now they should be long aware that something bad has happened to me. I cursed myself for never leaving them any clues as to how to find me. I should have left them a hidden message, anything to at least point them in a direction should such a thing as this occurred. I sat down in my room, on my mattress, staring out my window which faced the east section of the co
mpound, staring up at the quarter moon that hung in the evening sky and thought of how far I’ve come to my present predicament and wondered what more lay ahead for me.

  I fell into my household duties in Master Sola’s household just as easy as I’d done back at the camp. We, the white boi-slaves, were given clean-up and maintenance works. The bitch-slaves did share some of the work routine with us, at the same time they provided entertainment for whichever guests that came to the house or for Master Sola himself.

  One afternoon myself and another white-boi slave were almost done cleaning his swimming pool, scooping out dead leaves that had fallen on the surface when Master Solo strolled into the sun with Catherine’s parents trailing behind on their dog leash. Master Solo wore swimming trunk; another bitch-slave came out to join his carrying towels in her hands. The white boi-slave and I retreated away from his sight and stood at a corner and watched as our Master dove into the pool and did five laps back and forth before climbing out of the pool. Catherine’s mother, Pamela, took the towel from the other bitch-slave and went to dry her Master’s body. She slid to her knees and wrapped the towel around his legs and pulled down his trunk to suck his cock. The white boi-slave and I watched everything from the hidden shade where we stood with our cleaning net in our hands. We both held our imprisoned penises in our hands wishing we were free to at least stroke ourselves to cum.

  I never would have dreamt to see the day of Pamela being fucked by anyone besides her husband. This was shocking to me at the same time revealing. The way she held and stroked Master Sola’s cock in her hand while her mouth slobbered over his prick and the look of love that was apparent in her eyes and I knew this was beyond any wild fantasy I can ever imagine.

  “Did my Master have a lovely swim?” she asked him, stroking her cock with one hand while her other parted her slave tank dress to squeeze her tits. Her husband remained on his knees watching.