Black Master, Whiteboy Slave Pt. 02

Jamal awoke to the smell of brewed coffee. The door to the closet was slightly ajar. Apparently, Charles had risen from his makeshift bed there and tiptoed from the room earlier. Jamal looked at the clock beside the bed. Normally, he'd have to get up and rush off to work, but he'd arranged to have Jenine, a coworker, take over a couple of shifts for him. He was free as a bird. He stretched under the sheets, fluffed his pillow, and lay back to consider how he'd spend his day.

For one thing, he'd be getting whiteboy on track as to how to behave in his presence, and how to attend to the upkeep of the apartment. He felt he should get organized around these issues. Later in the day, he promised himself, he'd sit down and draw up a plan.

Jamal threw the covers back, got up, and walked barefoot from the room. He wore plaid boxer shorts, his preferred nightwear. He stepped into the living room and looked around. The place was neater than it had ever been, he reflected, and he hadn't lifted a finger! He walked into the kitchen where he knew he would find Charles. He was sitting on the floor in the corner sipping from a cup. He immediately rose up onto his knees, clearly delighted at the sight of Jamal.

"Good morning, master." he said softly, looking up.

"What you makin' all that racket for, dumbass? Can't a man sleep in his own house?" Jamal said, scowling.

A look of alarm crossed Charles's face.

"I tried to be very quiet, sir! Really I did. I'm so sorry, please..."

"Shut your ass up and bring me a cup of coffee." Jamal said, heading for the living room.

Soon, Charles emerged from the kitchen with a tray. He knelt and carefully placed it on the coffee table. On it were a cup of black coffee, a small pitcher of milk, a small bowl with sugar cubes, and a demitasse spoon resting on a paper napkin.

"What's all this shit?" Jamal said.

"Master, I wasn't sure how you liked your coffee, so..."

"Alright, alright. Just leave it. Where'd you get that tray from?"

The tray was black laquer with a hand-painted floral design on the edges.
"Sir, I bought it yesterday while I was shopping." Charless said. "I thought it would be useful in serving you, sir."

Charles sat back on his heels, his hands folded in his lap. He wore only his briefs, his 'uniform'. He cast his gaze down and smiled.

"I said WHERE did you get it from, not when." Jamal said impatiently.

"Oh! Sorry, sir! Yes, well, there's an antique store on Amsterdam, and I saw it in the window."

Jamal leaned forward and stirred milk into his coffee. He sat back and sipped. He put his feet up on the table, crossed at the ankles.

"Put a pillow under my feet, boy." he said, though there were several small pillows right beside him on the sofa.

Charles rose up gracefully, and selected one. He waited beside the table for a moment holding the pillow.

"you got to lift my feet before you can get a pillow under them, fool." Jamal said. "Didn't they teach you that at your private school?"

"No sir. " Charles said, reaching with one hand and lifting Jamal's feet. Jamal laughed.

"Well, whiteboy, they missed that part of the curriculum!" he said, chuckling as Charles lowered his feet onto the waiting pillow.

"They supposed to prepare you for your role in life. Isn't that right?" Jamal said, "Man, I'm bettin' there's more than a couple more of you rich white boys there just itchin' to be in your shoes."

"I'm very lucky, sir." Charles said, coloring slightly.

"You got that right, bitch." Jamal said. He sipped at his coffee.

"Bring the coffee pot out here and top me off." Jamal ordered.

Charles checked the pitcher and brought it with him into the kitchen to refill. He returned, poured the coffee, then resumed his position.

Jamal's cell phone rang.

"Yo. Hey, Terrell. How you doing, cuz?" Jamal said.

He held the phone to his chest and addressed Charles.

"How 'bout a foot massage, asshole? Don't just sit there." he said, bringing the phone back to his ear.

"Nah, took the day off. Got things to do around here, if you know what I mean?" Jamal said mischievously.

"Yeah, he right here... Uh huh,... that's right, bro. Yeah, he shapin' up okay."

"What you mean, 'come over'? Terrell, I ain't runnin' no party here."

"No. I said NO! That's just two letters. You can figure that out." Jamal said.

He listened for a moment then laughed. He looked at Charles who was rubbing the soles of his feet.

"I got to get him trained, dude. Broke in, you know?"

Jamal wriggled his toes.

"Hold on a sec, bro." he said, and put the phone on mute.

"Now you can start kissin' my feet, boy." he said, then returned to his conversation.

"It takes time, but he payin' attention real good... " Jamal laughed.

"That's right, he sure do like his reward." Jamal said, watching Charles's soft lips caress his feet.

"Look, I said 'no'. Maybe next week...(pause)... hell, he ain't got no say in it!" Jamal said, his brow furrowing angrily. "What kid of question is that? He do what I say!"

Jamal listened for a few moments.

"Alright... yeah, maybe. You gonna be at Micky's later?... I might drop by. ...Okay. Later."

Jamal put the phone beside him.

"A friend of your's, sir?" Charles said.

"Who told you to talk, boy"? Jamal snapped.

"I'm sorry, master." Charles said, resuming his attentions to Jamal's feet.

"Goddam dummy." Jamal, said, still clearly miffed at his friend's ignorance.

"You know what he asked me? He asked me if it was okay with YOU if he came over here."

"He knows about me, sir?" Charles said between kisses.

"You gettin' a bit nosy, bitch." Jamal said, giving Charles a serious look.

"Hey, you pretty good at kissing my feet, you know that?"

"I'm glad it pleases you, sir." Charles said, softly kissing the side of Jamal's big toe.

Jamal spread his legs and arranged his boxers so that his penis lay visible on the sofa. As Charles continued his kissing, the cock shifted subtly on the cushion.

"Looks like you wakin' up your new friend here." Jamal said, and looked on as Charles watched the slow dance.

"Yeah, that's right, boy. He likes you, too. You two are going to get to know each other real good." Jamal said.

"You want to say hello to him, boy? You haven't said so much as a 'good mornin' to him. How come?"

"You're right master. I'm sorry. I..."

"What you apologizin' to me for? It's Mr Johnson you done offended. You owe HIM an apology."

As Jamal spoke, his penis was inching its way forward on the sofa cushion. It occasionally raised itself up like a warm-blooded snake seeking prey.

Charles, resting his hands on Jamal's ankles, continued his kissing. He stopped and spoke to the cock.

"I'm very sorry, Mr Johnson, sir. You were so good and generous to me last night, and I was rude in not greeting you properly this morning. Please, won't you forgive me?"

Jamal looke on with keen interest as a tear rolled down Charles's smooth cheek.

'Damn!' Jamal thought, 'this white dude is apologizin' to my dick! Fuck, yeah!'

"Well, he still a little bit angry." Jamal said. "He wants to know if you really like him and respect him."

"Oh! I do, I do!" Charles cried out, and his fervor sent a thrill through Jamal's loins. Charles's lips were trembling, and tears now flowed freely down his cheeks.

'This is some kinda strange shit!' Jamal thought, 'but I sure am diggin' it.'

"So, how you gonna make it up to him. He wants to know." Jamal said.

He tossed the paper napkin from the tray to Charles.

"Clean yourself up, whiteboy. Man, ain't you a sensitive one."

"I'm sorry for being emotional, sir. I know I'm..."

"That'll do." Jamal said, and Charles stopped talking. He dried his eyes.

"So?" Jamal said, looking at Charles.

"Sir?"

"So how you goin' to make amends with your friend here, dumbass? You fucked up, boy. Now you gotta make it right. You got to make it right with Mr Johnson, here." he said, pulling his shorts closer to his groin so that the full eight inch length of the cock was in view.

"I'll do anything he..."

"Don't you get it? you got to talk to HIM! You got to show HIM you're truly sorry." Jamal said with exasperation.

Charles turned his gaze to the erect cock. He took a moment to take in its regal beauty: the dark brown, intricately veined shaft, then the pinkish-red section that extended up to the rim of the helmet, and then the crowning proud head itself, plump and swollen, now. It was of dark maroon hue, and shone dully in the morning light. Charles realized that for the first time in his life, he was in love.

"Mr Johnson, sir, again, please allow me to express my regret and my shame for not having greeted you as I should have. I feel so bad about it. Will you please forgive me, sir?" Charls said with a sincerity that moved Jamal.

"He says there is a way to make it right." Jamal said. "You see, he's got a friend livin' close by to him that don't get enough attention. Mr Johnson says if you please his neighborhood friend, then he might be of a forgiving nature."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Charles exclaimed happily. "Thank you Mr Johnson! Thank you, sir!"

"So you gonna be sweet to his friend? It's the only way. Mr Johnson says so."

"Oh, Certainly! I can't wait to meet him, master!"

"Well, you can meet him right now, boy!" Jamal said, rising up from the sofa. His erection pushed the boxer shorts out to an impressive degree.

He swung toward Charles so that the peaked section of his shorts pointed directly at him. He then proceeded to arrange the fly hole so that just the gleaming helmet poked through. From where he knelt, Charles looked on, fixated on the swollen glans that seemed to survey the room from its vantage point.

"He lookin' at you, boy. Wants to know if you're ready."

"I'm ready to make amends. sir. I'm so sorry." Charles said with sincerity. He could by then smell the odor that the cock head emitted, and once again, it excited him considerably.

Jamal watched Charles's face with amusement as he pulled the waistband out and down to free his erection. He stepped out of his shorts, then came around the coffee table to where Charles waited on his knees. Jamal ran his fingers through Charles's blonde hair.

"You sure are a pretty white boy, you know that?" he said.

"Thank you, master. You are kind."

"Now, you ready to meet Mr Johnson's friend? He's heard about your visit and is very excited to meet you."

"Yes, sir. I do so want to meet the friend."

Jamal turned 180 degrees so that his ass was in Charles's face.

"Well, say hello, stupid." Jamal said, looking over his shoulder.

Charles's heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird's.

"So pleased to meet you, sir." Charles said, his voice quavering. He had often fantasized about makng love to a black man's ass.

"You gonna be nice to him, boy?" Jamal asked.

"Oh, certainly, sir! I'll be so very nice to Mr Johnson's friend."

"Okay, then. Remember, you're gonna want to do a good job if you want Mr Johnson's forgiveness." Jamal reminded him.

Charles couldn't believe his eyes. Jamal's ass was ever so cute, he thought. He pressed his lips to one of the buttocks and delighted in its softness. The skin there was smooth and warm.

"He liked that. Good boy." Jamal encouraged.

Charles ventured to the other cheek and gave itt a kiss as well.

"That all you got, boy? I'm gettin' the impression you not so interested."

"Oh, I am sir! I am! I'm just, well..."

"Well what?" Jamal said impatiently.

"I just feel a little shy, that's all. I've never..."

"You've never got down on your white faggot knees and kissed a black man's ass before? Is that what you sayin'?" Jamal said, snickering. "Well, now, here you are, bitch. Show me what you made of."

Charles lost no time in shedding his shy inhibitions. He showered every inch of Jamal's ass cheeks with fervent kisses. Jamal could feel Charles's face grow warmer as it pressed itself against him.

'mmmmm. Ain't this the life.' he mused silently as he pleasured in the feel of Charles's soft lips.

"Now, look here, slaveboy. You realize, don't you, that you ain't met the friend yet."

"Sir?"

"That friend is hidin' on you, boy. Where you suppose he is?" Jamal teased.

"In between, sir?"

"you got to be more specific, little man. Between what?"

"Your buttocks, sir?"

Now, just what's up in there between my buttocks?" Jamal said, enjoying the exchange.

"Your anus, sir."

"Bingo. That's right. And that's Mr Johnson's good friend. I believe you want to meet him, don't you? It's the only way you gonna make Mr Johnson happy."

"Yes, sir. Please, may I meet him, sir?"

"Let's see." Jamal said, then reached behind, took hold of the flesh of his right ass cheek and pulled it aside.

"There you go, fagboy. Meet your new friend." Jamal said.

Charles was speechless as the anus came into view. Jamal used his left hand to pull the other ass cheek away, and the brown sphincter was on full and glorious display.

"Oh, Jesus." Charles whispered. "Oh, my God."

"You like, boy?" Jamal said, pleased with Charles's response.

Charles knelt and gazed at Jamal's asshole. Oh,he would surely make friends here! Such beauty! A shock ran through him as the first invisible tendrils of the anus's aroma reached his nose.

"You remember this moment, boy." Jamal said with gravity. "This is your place in life."

"Yes, master. I am so fortunate."

"Damn right you are. Now, why don't you say hello to your new friend."

Charles cleared his throat.

"How do you do, sir." Charles said, and Jamal couldn't help but laugh.

"What you gonna call your new friend? He needs a name, don't he?"

Charles was a bit thrown off by this. He hadn't expected to be asked for any input.

"We're waiting!" Jamal said.

"Could I call him Mr Bum, sir?"

"Bum? Who you callin' a bum, fucker. I ought to slap the shit out of you!" Jamal fumed, turningto confront Charles.

"No! No, sir! It's an English term for... for a bottom, sir. I meant no offense! Please, sir! My mother is English. She called it that when I was a child."

"Your mama, huh?"

"Yes, master."

"Alright then. Mr Bum. We can try it out. Go on. Introduce yourself." Jamal said, walking to the side of the sofa. He draped his arms along the back of it so that his torso was at right angles to his legs, thus giving the best access.

Charles followed on his knees. He was deeply aroused by the sight of Jamal's anus, and the bulge in his slave shorts reflected this. He took up position behind Jamal.

Hello, Mr Bum." Charles said softly, his heart pounding. He came forward and pressed his lips to the sphincter. It tightened in response, much to Charles's delight.

Jamal knew from the first touch of Charles's lips that he would be wanting this on a regular basis. No girl he'd been with had ever suggested that she would be willing to do this for him. But now he could have it any time, day or night, he thought, smiling to himself. It increased his pleasure further that he would have a sweet, hungry whiteboy drooling at the opportunity to pay homage to his asshole! All the resentments he had harbored over the years from mistreatment, unequal treatment, all of it, felt remedied in the new 'arrangement'. He rested his chin in his cupped hands, and savored the feel of Charles's lips.

""How about doing some licking, slaveboy? You know, lap at it like a dog would. You get the picture?" Jamal said, looking over his shoulder.

"Hey! Look at me when I talk to you, bitch!" he yelled. Charles immediately raised his head up from between Jamal's asscheeks. His eyes had a dream-like quality to them, and his lips were redder than they normally were from their exertions.

"Yes, master?" he said, eager to return to his new 'friend'.

"I want to feel some long tongue strokes going over my asshole, you hear me?!"

"Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" Charles said, and turned again to Jamal's ass. He began to lick with slow, long strokes.

"You like the way it tastes, boy?" Jamal asked, a tone of derision in his voice.

"I do, sir. It's wonderful." Charles said. "It smells good, too."

"Well, keep at it. You're doin'good, boy. You just a natural at this, ain't you?"

"For you I am, sir. I've never been happier."

"Like I give a rat's ass about your happiness. Just keep lickin' my ass, whiteboy."

As Charles licked energetically at Jamal's anus, Jamal was giving thought to the ways he would train Charles. there needed to be standards. Standards of respect. And there would need to be discipline.

"Slave, next time you go home, find some pictures of your parents to bring to me. Many as you can. And some with all three of you over the years. I want to see what kind of people got together and made something like you."

He wasn't sure exactly how, but the pictures would play a role in shaping Charles into what he wanted.

"Yes, sir." came Charles's muffled reply.