Confederate Gold Ch. 02

"Not all in the freight cars," Singleton demanded, as they got close to the last of the cases to put on board, and bringing Eaton's flagging attention back into the frantic here and now. "Line the far side of the passenger cars with cases up to the bottom of the windows as well." It was only later that Eaton realized why the captain had ordered that.

The last of the trains wasn't ready to go over the river bridge until midnight. By then they were able see the torches on the other bank. The vanguard of the Union troops was arriving.

"Time to go," Singleton called out. "You, Eaton, into the train. Keep yourself low, behind the cases below the windows."

"Me? You want me to go with you?"

"We have to unload at the other end—and I told you I wanted all that I paid for at Temple's. Don't question. Do it!" Singleton yelled, and Eaton dutifully climbed up into a passenger car with the soldiers and the slaves who were being commandeered. Once inside the train, he stood in the center of the car, confused. "I said get low," Singleton growled and pushed Eaton down onto the floor of the car behind the leather cases that had been stacked at one side.

They were only half way across the river bridge when Eaton realized why Singleton had ordered this. As they were coming into rifle fire range, bullets began pinging off the sides of the rail cars, with some entering through the windows. The soldiers were lined up, crouched on the sides, elbows and rifle stocks resting on the top of the insulating leather cases on the side toward the southern river bank, and returning fire. Eaton and the other slaves crouched down on the center floor of the carriages, praying for their lives.

At the other end of the bridge, the train came to a stop, and several of the soldiers piled out on the northern side of the carriages. The remaining soldiers maintained a withering barrage of gunfire into the Union positions to the south.

"Oh, Lord Jesus, the train is broke. We gonna die here!" a hulking jet-black slave who was huddled against Eaton wailed. This palpable fear was contrasted by his massive musculature, revealed by a hard body clad only in tattered cotton breeches, his chest gleaming with the sheen of sweat of having been worked hard all day and marked with African tattooing and whip welts.

The young man had no answer for that. He was almost immobile from fear and dread—and totally exhausted from the day's hard labor and how long he'd been pumping adrenaline already. He looked up into Captain Singleton's face, looking for guidance, understanding . . . protection. Earlier that day, the reddish-blond cavalry captain had been just another client, a man wanting to release his seed into Eaton, albeit one who had taken his time with Eaton and given the young man much pleasure in the process. Now, Singleton was Eaton's new master and, if that was possible, his protector and deliverer . . . and, Eaton could hope, the master of his body as well.

"We have to blow the bridge," Singleton said to Eaton as an explanation of why they were stopped. "They can't just waltz into Richmond across a railroad bridge."

At that moment, there was a loud series of explosions, and the jet-black buck of a slave grabbed Eaton hard and close and exclaimed, "Sweet Jezzuz, we all gonna get exploded to smithereens!"

Soldiers were piling back into the passenger carriage, and the train was starting out again. Singleton reached down and took Eaton's hand. "Don't worry, little one," he said, "We will get through to Danville. If you stay with me and lie under me willingly, I will protect you." Then he rose and left Eaton to give firing instructions to the riflemen lining the side of the carriage.

For some strange reason, despite not having any proof whatsoever that the captain could deliver on that promise, Eaton believed him, and his heart stopped racing in his chest as the train made a mad dash through the sporadic gunfire from the approaching Union troops. Singleton, still stripped to the waist and showing how hard bodied his torso was, had become a stud stallion to Eaton. The young slave's heart started to thump in his chest again, and with visions of writhing under the captain's strong, cut body, with Singleton's churning cock pinning him to the floor, going through his mind, Eaton found himself going hard. Unthinking who might be watching, he reached down to grasp his cock through the thin material of his trousers. The slave who had been huddled beside him and had cried out that they all would die was equally keyed up and pumped up with adrenaline after the day of back-breaking, frantic work to transfer the bank assets to the train.

He too was hard and obviously, from the way he was looking at Eaton, randy now. It was impossible not to notice both that Eaton was also randy and that Eaton was a fine piece of ass. The slave had seen how Singleton and Eaton responded to each other during the day and he knew that the captain was humping the fine piece of ass because he had just said so. He wanted to be humping him for hours too.

"It's good to be alive, ain't it?" he called out to Eaton, a big grin on his face, his hand reaching out to touch Eaton's cock through the material of his breeches. "A man should celebrate that."

Eaton took his own hand away and let the other man feel him up, jutting his pelvis forward to let the man know he was fine with it. The black buck's fondling became more possessive. "You want what I want?" the black stud asked. "You want Josiah's big one? I's a gonna stick it to you unless you cry to your captain for help." He was gripping Eaton's hard cock through the material of his breeches. Eaton didn't cry out to Singleton, who was obviously distracted with the problems at hand of escaping the Union troops. Nor did he object to the black bull feeling him up. He jutted his crotch up into the black buck's hand and moaned for him. He was no stranger to giving men what they wanted from him, and his mind went to the black field hand bulls on the plantation who had satisfied him like none of the clients at Temple's had done.

His captain was busy and Eaton was randy from the exhilaration of still being alive.

The man was tall, solidly built, and muscular—a field slave who had been worked hard and to hardness. He was a black bull. Eaton had noticed the tracings of the welts on his back. He hadn't taken to being a slave lightly; his tattooing indicating that he wasn't long from the wilds of Africa either, which Eaton found arousing, pulling a sense of primeval want from him. The black bull obviously was accustomed to using the power of his body. He could have snapped Eaton in two if he wanted.

With Singleton and the soldiers occupied with firing outside of the train as it dashed for safety, the black bull, hunched down below the level of the window sills, dragged Eaton by his ankles across the floor of the carriage and behind a stack of leather cases. Jerking Eaton's breeches off his legs and tearing at the buttons of the fly of his own tattered breeches, he had Eaton on his back, a beefy hand clutching Eaton's throat to keep him quiet, and quickly pushed his knees between Eaton's thighs. The man was a stallion stud, hung as well as any slave Eaton had taken in the field, and he was hard as a rock in erection. Far from fighting him, Eaton arched his back, dug his heels into the rough wood of the carriage floor, and raised and rolled his pelvis up to give the huge cock straight access. The bull slid his cock inside, meeting little resistance from a well-used passage although still making Eaton open and stretch to him as he stuffed it in.

"Ass opens right up. You wanted me. You're a little man whore, ain't you?" the black stallion muttered. "Seen you goin' in and out of Temple's, ain't I? You can take it hard. You gonna git all of it."

"Yes, give it all to me," Eaton answered with a raspy voice.

And then Eaton, with a gasp and arching his back again, did get all of it. Deep and hard. Again and again and again.

The black bull was pumping in long, deep slides. As keyed up and randy and glad to still be alive as the bull slave was, Eaton was his match in lust. He threw his arms around the massive torso of the slave, holding the man's bulging chest into his own muscular, but slighter, one, the slave's taut nipples rubbing Eaton's hard. With the slave emitting a deep, satisfied laugh, Eaton moved his pelvis with the rhythm of the fuck, moaning at how well and completely he was being plowed.

Eaton closed his eyes and imagined himself back in the cornfields of the plantation, being fully taken by one, two, or three of the field slave bulls in succession. He was being taken just as well now. There was no reason for him to have any inhibitions. He took four or five men a day, rarely as totally possessed and worked as this, though. He had been on edge when the captain hadn't completed taking him. This black bull was taking him masterfully, and totally. Eaton was taking the black stranger back, slamming his pelvis hard into the man's groin with each thrust of the cock, both of them grunting and groaning in primeval need, straining to get it in as deep as possible and then holding, tensed up, Eaton's claws buried in the black bull's whip-scarred shoulder blades and the slave's teeth pressing into the side of Eaton's neck, as the bull discharged—one, two, three prodigious loads, and, with a long sigh, Eaton ejaculated into the stud's belly as well.

They held there, unmoving and listening to the clack clack of the train wheels and the occasional murmur of a soldier and a rifle shot from across the stack of leather cases, the increasingly distant sound of enemy rifle fire, and the occasional ping of a nearly spent bullet off the walls of the carriage. All of that was another world. The two of them were alone, one unit, fused by the big, jet-black cock. Then, engorging again, the black bull stud started a slow pump, and, with a sigh, Eaton started to roll his hips again as well, undulating his passage muscles over the moving cock until, building up speed and intensity, they once more were frantically moving—pounding—against and with each other to a second ejaculation.

And holding there, both breathing heavily. The black bull covering Eaton's throat and chest with his lips and nipping teeth and Eaton waiting for a separation between them, a separation that didn't come. Although momentarily flaccid, the pitching and rumbling of the carriage floor under them kept the virile and needy black stallion's cock moving inside Eaton's channel. Eaton sighed at the pleasure of it sliding languidly inside him and laid back, arms akimbo. The heels of his feet rubbed the meaty calves of the field slave in invitation and surrender. This interlude was almost more sensual than the pumping inside him and the release of ejaculate. Almost. And only an interlude. Young, virile, full of juice still, strong, and rarely with an opportunity like this, the black stallion, knowing the sweet, yielding little piece was fully open to him, hardened again and restarted the fuck.

Gripping, raising, and separating Eaton's buttocks wide to give himself maximum access, the black giant started pounding, pounding, pounding. Clutching him close, Eaton bucked with him for some moments, but giving up a weak stream of cum and having tired, although fine with the pleasure the stud was continuing to give him, he laid back, legs hooked on the black bull's hips, and reveled in how long the black stallion could remain hard, thrusting to yet another flooding of hot cum deep at his core.

The two, both grinning and satiated, rolled back, Eaton more gingerly than the stud slave, into the center of the carriage when they were done. Without, Eaton thought, Captain Singleton realizing they'd not been there all along. This thought was shattered a short time later, though, when Singleton came over to him, nudged him with his foot, and said, "Enjoyed the black cock, did you?"

Nothing more than that for the moment and then the captain was gone back to talking to and encouraging his soldiers. A few minutes later, though, he was back. "I watched you two for a while. You going to give it to me that good when I'm fucking you? You were holding back earlier today. I don't want you ever to hold back with me again."

This time he didn't wait for an answer before he left.