OK this next post is dangerous to put out...here's why. On the surface it will seem extremely offensive. I have to assure anyone reading this that I have an online friend who is an older black man. He and I spoke about the erotic side of the relationship between a slave and or indentured servant with his owner master. Obviously in today's day and age we have the luxury of choosing to look at it this way, and in fantasy we get to control what happens and when we want to stop fantasizing about it. He and I totally understand this, we went back and forth about what would be off limits. Political correctness and sensitivity would kill the raw savage erotic thrill. He and I agreed that pull no punches would be the hottest. This was written for him, and we don't need anyone to lecture us about it. It's a sexual fantasy that deals with slavery. If you can't handle it as fantasy stop reading this post.

I have a scene in my head where you are the slave butler for a rich white family. I'm the master I'm a little drunk and I'm nit picking your performance in front of my gentlemen guests other land owners over for dinner and drinks....you are getting nervous because I'm being harsh with you and encouraging my friends to do the same...you finally make a mistake and spill something because I have you so on edge ...in front of everyone I order you to go to your quarters and strip down to nothing, I say to stand in the corner bare as the day you were born and wait for me to come up to punish you. You whimper a little and plead "Nooo sir pleeasseeee no sir, I'll clean it up and I'll be more careful....I tell you that I know you'll clean it up, but not before you're punished like a horrible child.

you know that you have no choice if you run most of the times you're caught and that would mean punishment beyond belief and you can't reason with me when I'm drunk and in front of my friends and peers ....you're almost in tears from anxiety fear and embarrassment, but you know you must go strip naked and stand in the corn to await what is sure to be a hard harsh thrashing.

You'r in position and waiting 5 minutes which feels an eternity to wait for the abuse. you hear our voices down stairs laughing. It burns in you to hear us getting enjoyment out of your suffering. You are our sadistic entertainment for the night. My footsteps thump drunk and heavy as I coming up the stairs, but it’s not just my footsteps you hear, it sounds like the entire dinner party is on it’s way up. Two men made excuses and left to go home, but 3 of the more sadistic guests are interested in watching you being beaten in the nude, and they stay for the show.

The four of us reach the door way and look in to see you naked and shaking with fear in the corner. I yell “Boy it’s time for your strappin!” My voice was loud and abrupt. It startled you as it shattered the tense moment. You cower in the corner and plead for me to spare you. You have turned toward us and your large black cock dangles for us to see. It’s bigger than any of ours and we resent you for it but also look at you as being like an animal, like livestock. Our horses have cocks long as our arms. Your large cock allows us to justify our position of treating you like animals.

I tell you to stand up straight arms up hands behind your head. You do it and we all look at your naked body none of us admitting our curiosity for it. I make you stay like that as I lecture you about your poor performance, but the lengthy browbeating is just to keep you facing forward for our peering. Finally it’s time to give you what you were sent up for. I’m still finishing the final few words and you see me reach down to my belt and unbuckle it. I point to the bed. This isn’t the first belt whipping I’ve given you. You’re all too familiar with the required position you’re expected to assume.

You nervously get onto the bed face down and you push your ass up as high as it will go in this position. You hear the sound of the leather strap flipping out from around my waist as it zips through the belt loops. You know it’s close now, and you’re right. I have it doubled over in my right hand and I lash down across your bare ass hard. Again, again and again. You’re yelping and that nigger ass has fallen flat down to the mattress. You’d move it down lower if that mattress wasn’t holding it in place now. Lash after lash the men are cheering me on telling me what a good whipping I give. You’re crying “Pleaaaaase, pleaaaaaase masa, no mo masa...I’ll be a good nigga masa” I stop whipping you and you think for a moment that your cries have helped you.

You couldn’t have been more wrong. I was simply giving the belt to another guest so he could enjoy the entertainment portion of the night’s program. Archibald J. Fraumstohler had the strap now accompanied by a crazed look in his eyes. He ordered you to your feet and made you face the men arms up fingers interlaced behind your head. Then he stood back behind you and let the belt unfold from it’s doubled [stance] He drew back and let it land where it did, no real guidance for it’s direction on his part. The first landed across the back of your legs the next went diagonal across your back with the very tip coming around to sting your ribs the next landed more across your hip with that menacing tip stinging your balls. This one drops you to the floor.

The men force you back to your feet muttering things like “get up boy, you aint near done yet.” and “This animal is going to learn to stay put for the business at hand or he’s going out to the post for a real whipping.” Back on your feet Mr. Fraumstohler gets back to his turn at torture. He gives you a few more you’re teeth are gritted as tight as you can keep them to hold in the screaming any other man would be doing. Mr. Fraumstohler stops and appears to be a bit winded. He announces that all the ale has caused him to seek relief. Instead of ending the entertainment, and always the good host I offer you up as a source of relief.

“Knees boy!” your glad to be done with that heavy leather strap, but now you fear you know what is expected of you and what would happen if you refused. You kneel down and I tell you to open your mouth for Mr. Fraumstohler’s use. You look at me and your eyes plead for consideration. “I’m waiting.” Your mouth opens slowly knowing what it’s use will be. I instruct you on my expectations. “not a drop on my floor beast, do I make myself clear, every bit in your belly.” You look at me and give a sad sheepish nod yes. Mr. Fraumstohler steps up before you and unbuttons the flap of his trousers. He removes a small plump pecker that most prepubescent lads could rival. It smells of his warm sweaty crotch. He inserts the tip just into your mouth and pauses. Nothing is coming out yet he gives it a wiggle and a tug and finally a stream of hot piss hits the back of your throat. You swallow it as fast as you can to try to get this out of your mouth so you don’t taste it. there is a brief pause then another stream rushes out this one goes on for a while and you need to gulp down swallow after swallow to keep it from over flowing. You hear me reminding you. “No a drop on my floor.”

He finally runs out of urine to fill you with and begins to pull away. I stop him and ask if his mouth could serve another form of relief for us. I urge him to slide it back in and order you to carefully put your lips around it. I tell Mr. Fraumstohler to look at it and tell me if your lips wrapped round his cock didn’t bare similarity to a maid’s most favorable feature. He gave thought and pushed in a little deeper. “Indeed it does good man” he responded back as he made a face that conveyed the feeling he was experiencing. He began to hump your skull using you as a surrogate to his wife’s warm wet gash. Not too long after the first thrust forward you tasted another fluid in your mouth different in both viscosity and flavor from the last fluid he bestowed on you.

He stepped back out of breath and looking quite surprised at how well this recommendation of mine worked out. He looked at Francis and demanded that he give it a go. Francis need not be asked twice. He stepped up unbuttoned and unbuckled allowing his trousers to fall and pool around his ankles. His cock stood straight out into the air as if it were trying to reach the ceiling. This was much more impressive than Archibald’s short plump thumb of a cock. He pointed it down and slowly, deliberately slid it in. He twisted your ear hard and said “Nurse on it, nurse like a babe on a teat.” you suck and drops his back and lets out a gasp of pleasure. He pumps while you suckle and before long he gives you the same warm salty mouthful Archibald did.

You’ve finished off two of the men, and it’s clear that you’re not done yet. I order you back onto the bed in whipping position. You’re confused thinking the whipping was over. You push your meaty cheeks as high as possible, like two hams being raised in an offering. I grab your hips and pull up with a hard yank causing you to get your knees under you but your chest is still pressed to the mattress. I look to Phillip and ask him if he wants to ride the stern or the bow. He didn’t speak his answer instead he simply took position at your mouth and began to take out a cock for you to service.

I removed my trousers completely to enable freer movement. I ordered you to reach back and open your back door. You understood and pulled the thick cheeks apart to reveal the puckered stinking hole. I spit on it several times to moisten it then on my cock. I asked for Archibald and Francis to lend their spit as well. They obliged. I rammed my hard thick cock into your hole causing you to squeal out in pain. I rapped you in the ribs and said “Quiet boy, take it like a whore” I thrust forward into you again and you fought back a moan. I pumped harder and faster until it plateaued into a good fast rhythm.

At this point Phillip was able to safely insert his rod into your mouth without fear of biting. He pumped, I pumped you were getting it from both directions. Archibald surprised me by reaching in from behind and working my plumbs as they hung and bounced in the commotion. I enjoyed the extra stimulus and before I knew it I seeded you. I did several spasms and convulsions as I shot my seed up deep in you. My breathing was staggered and finally like a demon had been excersised from my soul, I regained my composure and got to my feet. My cock reeked of ass, and needed a good washing. I waited for Philip to give your mouth the final taste of custard that evening then announced that it was time for us to say good night.

I left my pants off and escorted the men out saying our goodbyes. When they had all gotten into their carriages and rode off, I called your name loudly with a hint of frustration. I told you to fetch warm water, soap and rags. I made you wash my rod clean of the scent that wore off of your hole. You did as you were told and I rose to the occasion once more. I ordered you to keep washing I told you to add more soap. You did. I ordered you to put your finger back behind my sack and wiggle, you did, and soon I was there again, arching tightening and breathing sporadically. A warm blast of my seed crossed your cheek and shoulder. I was spent, exhausted. I told you to head to your room it was time for bed. I locked you in, and went to my room to sleep like a baby.

Adult spanking. Being an adult and getting spanked is nothing like being a kid and getting spanked. As a kid you have no choice, and your dad is so big and powerful to you that you submit immediately. I think looking back that the pain of my spanking wasn't the worst part it was the psychological side of being handed down a sentence of "The Belt" having to report to my room and get into position to take it. I had so much anxiety and nervous energy built up by the time he came up to tan my ass that he could have patted my butt and I would have melted down.

Now don't get me wrong he did not pat my butt, he whacked it, and he whacked it hard enough to show me he meant business, but here's the thing, as kids me and my buddies all played games at one point or another where we made loosing the game, the bet, or the challenge punishable by whacks. The guy who lost would sometimes have to bare ass to take them. We would usually hand slap that ass, but sometimes we'd get the belt out or some implement like a wooden spoon or a plank of wood. The point I'm leading to is that when we did it we whacked hard...no joke and I have to say we did it harder than our dad's did, but we never cried. We might hoot and yelp jump around and hold our blazing hot cheeks to sooth them, but we didn't cry. Yet my dad spanking me half as hard would get me crying like a baby.

I wonder if it is, and have to conclude that it is the psychology of being truly at dad's mercy that made the emotions run full tilt and crank up the water works. This leads me to wonder if we as adults now had the opportunity to truly control and dominate men, could we get tears from a spanking? I imagine a prison setting or a war setting, where you can capture and control a man. If you took that prisoner and lets say you were significantly larger and better trained in hand to hand combat so that he knew even outside of the guards with guns he'd still have no choice but to submit, then declared that he was going to get the belt, made him go to his room and wait for it, then finally walk up to his room and give it the way dad did, would he cry?

When I was a kid, there was a different attitude about spanking. It was before the world went crazy and decided a "time-out" was the way to raise kids. Spanking used to be how you helped disobedient kids be better people. That being said it wasn't unheard of for other members of a kids family to spank him. Through talking to some guys, usually guys down south, they even had to worry about neighbors tanning them. In my case if I were spending time with my grandparents or aunts and uncles, and I got mouthy or bratty I could get a good old fashion ass tanning almost as fast as if I were at home.

Staying with my dad's parents almost certainly meant I was going to get strapped by granddad. Just like when he raised my dad, he had very limited tolerance for attitude disobedience or bickering between me and my brother or cousins. From time to time my parents would take trips and that meant we would get packed up and sent to spend the weekend with grandparents. Don't get me wrong we actually had fun with them. We would do fun activities and I have some of the greatest memories of these times, it was just that he ran his house tight. He was a Marine, then he was a plant manager that oversaw tough blue collar factory workers. He was a top dog, and alpha male, and he had a belt that could adjust anyone's attitude.

I remember being at the table one night and he was talking to grandma about the guy at work who has been being a problem. I can't remember what he said the guy was doing wrong, but in my head as a kid he was allowed to spank anyone he was in charge of, so I asked him in all seriousness if he was going to give him the belt at work the next day. He laughed really hard and thanked me for the good idea. I didn't understand what was funny. The guy was being bad and he was making grandpa angry. I thought he was really going to take this guy to his office and belt spank his bare ass over his desk. The next day after work I asked if he had to whip that guy. He chuckled and said "Almost Kiddo" and went back to his room to get out of his work clothes, so the conversation was over.

Now one of the belt whippings I got from him was pretty memorable. We had gone out for a day of errands stopping at the hardware store, the auto supply store, the barber shop. I guess I had been out too long and not doing fun kid stuff. I must have gotten whiny and fussy. Then I did what I was told not to do. I walked away in the last store and wound up dropping something and breaking it. He needed to pay for it and on the way out he said "You're going to get it when we get home" I started to melt down I didn't want one of his famous belt whippings, they hurt so bad. He had me by the arm taking me out into the parking lot and I was doing the collapse thing as if he wouldn't just lift me up and carry me home. He got me right to my feet and gave me 3 or 4 hard swats with his hand that stung like bees.

We got in the car and now he was really fed up with me. Maybe I was tired or something because looking back even I think I deserved it. Grandpa finally turned down a street that was off the beaten trail, no pun intended, He took me out of the car bared my butt, took off his famous belt, put his foot up on the bumper, Hauled me over it and whipped my little ass to a fire red glow. I think a car even passed us as he was doing it. When I had the demons whipped out of me he put me back in the car and drove us home. I cried myself out in the front seat and slept the rest of the way back to his house and then he must have carried me in and put me on the sofa to finish my nap.

I woke up and felt refreshed my cheeks didn't hurt anymore but they buzzed and or throbbed. They were warm and almost felt good in someway. I got off the sofa and saw grandpa doing some stuff to the car. I went out and acted like nothing was wrong, he asked if I was feeling better and I nodded yes with a little embarrassment because I got it but I didn't like to admit that I felt calm and clear after it proving that he really knew how to adjust an attitude and give a boy what he needs even if he doesn't think he wants it. He asked me to pass him the box wrench and we were back to being buddies again like nothing happened. We both knew the slate was clean and there was nothing to dwell on.