You Got the Power

"You like that well enough, do you, boy?" Calvert asked.

"Yes, massa," Angel answered, lightly panting at the touching.

"You don't mind taking a man's cock, do you?"

"No, massa."

The look the young man gave the man while Calvert was examining him, told Calvert that Angel would welcome his cocking. But would he welcome what more Calvert would demand of him, Calvert might have wondered--if he cared what the young man thought about it.

"Ah, good, he enjoys the touch of a man," Calvert said, pulling Angel's breeches back up onto his hips and allowing the young slave to go back to his serving duties.

"You would find the darkie of use to you?" Leonard asked, giving more attention to the carving of the piece of beef on his plate than to Calvert's close examination of young Angel's body.

"At the gentleman's club, certainly. In my own bed, quite possibly," Calvert responded. "That depends on how enthusiastically he took the ride."

"So, mayhap he can go to satisfying my gambling debt?" It was quite a reach for Lexington. Angel had been acquired quite reasonably in view of Crosley's interest in getting a young man looking so much like him away from King's Hall. But Lexington's gambling debt at Calvert's in Charleston was a large one. It would be a profitable benefit to Lexington if one could wipe out the other.

"Quite possibly," Calvert responded. "It would remain to be seen if the whole debt can be forgiven. I would need to achieve a great deal of satisfying sport from him in bed myself. He is comely, but how, to my tastes, does he take the cock?"

"Well, perhaps I can satisfy you on that account after supper. He takes mine splendidly. We can let that be our evening's entertainment, if you are interested."

"I, indeed, am interested," Calvert said, turning his head toward Angel, now standing in ready service next to the buffet, with Elias standing at the other end, looking inscrutable. Calvert gave the young slave a wink of his eye, and, without looking directly at the man, Angel returned a small smile.

"What do you say, young man? Are you up to riding my cock this evening?" It was more a notification than a question, and Angel understood that it was.

"Yes, massa. Thank-you, massa."

"You take all right to the whip?"

"Yes, massa. I think so." Angel wasn't as sure of that, but it wasn't he place to quibble.

Angel was willing and interested. He just wasn't experienced enough to know how cruel and taxing unfettered men like Leonard Lexington and Clive Calvert could be. He had felt the whip, playfully, from Lexington. Calvert was not as playful.

* * * *

This was more than Angel had ever been forced to endure before. He was bound, nearly naked other than his black leather slippers, his breeches pulled down to below his buttocks, and spread-eagled between the sturdy mahogany corner posts at the foot of a guestroom bed in Reveille's big house. The young man's arms were raised and bound high on the posts at either side. His legs were spread, his ankles bound to the base of the bed's corner legs. A thick wooden peg had been shoved up his anal canal.

Standing behind him, stripped to the waist, his breeches hanging low on his hips, the front panel flared, a cruel, upturned erection projecting from his groin, Clive Calvert was gripping the young slave's head hair with one hand, cruelly arching the young man's torso back toward him, while, holding a many-stranded leather hand whip in the other, he was switching the young man's buttocks and back in long sweeps of the leather strands.

Angel was crying out and gasping at the attention such as he'd never received before. It wasn't all pain. This was a new, arousing sensation for him. He was being taken totally. He realized that and was aroused by it, calling out, "Oh, Massa, put it in me. Be good to your little black boy."

The slave was in erection, so Calvert knew that his cries of passion weren't all feigned.

The fucking was to come, but he was being prepared, not only to take the big cocks he would entertain--albeit it not being as big as that of Black Bill he had taken earlier in the day--but to take more than one of them.

Sitting off in a chair at some distance from the bed was Leonard Lexington, stripped down to his breeches puddled around his ankles, his hand stroking his shaft, his flashing eyes watching every strike of the whip, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in anticipation of being included in the play. He and Calvert had discussed how they would go about this--what they could do together to maximize the pleasure of each--and they had come upon a sexual agenda that surpassed anything that Lexington had participated in before. As the owner and proprietor of Calvert's, a Charleston gentlemen's club, where gentlemen came to take their pleasures of male prostitutes, Clive Calvert had much he could teach Leonard Lexington--and Angel too, for that matter--in one man taking sexual pleasure with the body of another man--or, in Angel's case, a young man.

Calvert released Angel's ankles from the restraints, stripped his breeches fully off his legs, and applied attention to the young man's pert buttocks with hand slaps, followed by the whip, and eventually, going down to his knees behind the young man, his lips, tongue, and teeth. He pulled the wooden peg out of the young man's ass, and Angel emitted a long sigh.

"You now, massa," Angel cried out. "Put it in me now. Fuck this little black boy." But Calvert wasn't ready for that yet. Angel's cry was replaced by a gasp and writhing as Calvert's face pressed into the young man's buttocks crack and he began tonguing Angel's anus. There was every indication that Angel liked this just fine.

After he'd prepared the young man, Calvert stood and saddled up behind Angel. The young man's sighs turned into a gasp and then a cry and a long groan, as, holding the young man's belly with one hand, Calvert slowly moved the bunched and greased fingers of the other hand into the young man's channel, going deeper and deeper, as Angel writhed as best he could, arched his head into Calvert's chest, and babbled his pain-pleasure and total surrender. The hand went in to the wrist, and the brothel owner fucked the young man with it. After a few minutes of taste of this, the fist came out, Calvert brushed his own breeches off his legs, grasped Angel's thighs and pulled them back to be hooked onto Calvert's thighs, thrust his hard cock up into the young man's channel, and fucked him in long, deep strokes.

"Yes, Massa. Yes! Fuck this black boy," Angel cried out, giving himself fully to the moment. Regardless of the pain and degradation, Angel was playing the long game.

When Calvert was done that first time, he left Angel hanging from the bedposts and retreated to the chair next to where Lexington was sitting. A table set out with a decanter of liquor, crystal glasses, and some sweets separated the chairs. The two men, naked in Calvert's case now and as good as naked in Lexington's, sat, took refreshment, and chatted as if they were at a party with others swirling around them. When they recovered, Lexington called for Elias, who came in the room, unbound Angel's wrists, and let the young man collapse onto the bed at its foot, on his belly. He was whimpering and babbling a bit, but he had endured and learned more of what an inventive and cruel man could do with a young man.

He learned even more not long afterward, when Lexington went onto the bed on his back, Angel was saddled on top of him, skewered by Lexington's cock, and the slave young man went on a brief cowboy ride on his master before the visitor, Calvert, came up to join the ride. Clive's cock slid into the young man's channel on top of Lexington's, and Angel experienced his first double penetration taking.

Lexington had gone to his own room and Calvert was stretched out on the bed on his back, snoring, when Elias came into the room, picked up Angel where the lad had collapsed into a heap at the foot of the bottom of the bed, and carried him back to the bed the two slaves shared in a much smaller, more meanly furnished room off Lexington's bedchamber.

* * * *

The next morning, Elias brought Angel out to the horse barn square, where Clive Calvert's fancy carriage, hooked up now to the magnificent two horse that had conveyed the carriage to Reveille Planation, sat waiting for Calvert to emerge from the house. Black Bill sat on the driver's bench. Angel was carrying the cloth bag that contained all he owned in the world, so he understood that he'd been found acceptable to cover his master's--apparently his former master's--debt to the Charleston gambling house and male brothel owner, Clive Calvert.

Elias seemed sad that Angel was leaving. He'd have to finagle bringing another comely young slave in from the fields to warm his bed. As randy as Master Leonard was, though, that shouldn't take too long. Although Leonard accepted a young man for both of them to use, he wasn't aware that it was the smarter Elias who was picking the compliant slaves for their beds.

Angel was handed up to sit beside Black Bill and to tremble for the nearness of the man who had held him, and filled him, and worked him like no other man had--and now was quite likely to continue doing so as long as he wanted to. Calvert came out, accompanied by Leonard Lexington, both of them all smiles at the deal they had made, each of them thinking he'd gotten the better of the negotiations.

As they drove the road down the Ashley River and toward the city of Charleston, Calvert dozed in the back of the carriage and Black Bill spoke to Angel in low tones about what the young man would be encountering in his new life in Charleston.

"It do beat workin' in the fields, boy, and the two of us will be together some of the time." Black Bill gave Angel a knowing smile and a wink and Angel nearly swooned.

"I think it may be a bit rough in the gentlemen's club," Angel said. "I know what be goin' on there. I be on my back with my legs open a good long bit of the time, I reckon, takin' on any old man hankering to put his dick in me."

"That may be," Black Bill said. "But there be a chance you will be spendin' your time in Massa Calvert's bed, if you please him well. I be told you pleased him plenty well lass night. Massa Calvert, he be a cruel fucker, but he don't like a lot of other men fussin' around with who he be poken' at the time. You do right with him, you be in his bed for a long time before you have to go work in the gentlemen's club and take a mess of cocks every day there."

"You think so?" Angel asked.

"I knows so. Thems whites think they do own us, but some black boys--sweet little pieces like you--can own the whites hisself by usin' what he has that men like Massa Calvert sniff after. You play it right, boy, you can own Massa Calvert like you owned Mass Lexington. You got the power. Course you never own a big black stud like me. I always gonna own you. You can call the shots with Massa Calvert, though, if you give him all the sugar he could want."

"Yes, I see that. I understand."

"Really?" Black Bill asked. "So, why you sittin' up here with me? It's a long ride into Charleston. There ain't no time awastin'."

"What do you?... oh," Angel said.

When Clive Calvert came out of his doze a few minutes, it was to find that the delicious little Angel was kneeling between his legs, unbuttoning his breeches fly, and pulling his shaft out. Calvert smiled, sank back into the carriage cushion, ran his fingers into Angel's black curls, sighed, and began humming the pleasure of the young slave's servicing. At that moment it was unclear who had the power--who was whose slave.