Dalton's Trailer Park - Part 8

By M. Greene - mgreene70@yahoo.com
published February 23, 2019
Summary

The finale

Part 8#

September

Adam

It’s the final Saturday in September and the last weekend of the summer vacation. Students will be starting back at the university on Monday and tomorrow is going to be a very busy day indeed for the park. After I’ve eaten my breakfast, I sit outside my trailer enjoying the warm sunshine. This summer has been spectacularly hot and, although it’s a tad cooler now than it was in August, the fine weather shows no signs of ending for a while yet.

Darry comes out with the fresh cup of coffee I ordered. He places it on the table next to me, bows low and then kneels down next to me, waiting for his next instruction. I light another cigarette and regard my slave with a great deal of satisfaction. Sadly for him, Darry won’t be resuming his degree course next week; these days, he’s far too dumb for that. This thought makes me smile. He really is totally perfect…

I completed the remoulding of his personality around five weeks ago. The only real memory I left him with was that he was born in Los Angeles. Everything else is ‘false’. He thinks he was raised in an orphanage from which he ran away at the age of ten. He believes that he never went to school, never learned to read or write and that he ran around with a street gang committing petty crimes until, after a couple of short prison stretches, I generously gave him the job he presently has.

He remembers absolutely nothing about his real former life as Darius Gordon. I’ve completely erased his parents, siblings, teachers and friends from his mind. To forestall any possible embarrassing encounters with any of these individuals in the future, I employed the usual method I’ve successfully used with all the white boys I’ve trained. I took his phone, used it to record as many of his filthy sexual escapades as possible and then forwarded the pictures and videos to his contact list. I then dumped his phone in the landfill along with his books, clothes and other possessions. After seeing a gang of skinheads pissing down their son’s eager throat, I doubt that his religious family will ever seek to find him. Works every time…

I sip my coffee while running my eye over Darry’s smooth body and extensive tattoo collection. Axel has been very busy with my slave over the past eight weeks… Given his dark skin, all of Darry’s tattoos are done in black ink, of course, and they reflect the criminal background I have constructed for him. He’s got a pair of crossed guns on his belly with the words ‘THUG LIFE’ above, ‘LA SOUTHSIDE’ as a huge back-piece, complete with various views and symbols of his home city, and various gang tattoos on his torso, arms and hands. ‘Only God Can Judge Me’ is written across the front of his chest, the words stretching from shoulder to shoulder. No one would believe now that he was anything but a low-life thug from the ghetto…

The only clothing he ever wears now are his monkey boots and his clinging Lycra body suit. To these, I’ve added a heavy dog chain padlocked around his neck, a stud through his right eyebrow and a thick steel ring piercing his septum, which hangs from his wide nostrils giving him a very pleasing bovine appearance.

Although I’m his ultimate ‘Boss’, Darry’s been trained to be totally respectful and subservient to all the white guys who live and work here at the trailer park. Naturally, my aggressive skinhead boys give him quite a lot of trouble, but not only does Darry now tolerate his daily bullying and humiliation at their hands; he actively enjoys it. No matter what they do to him, his dick stays rock hard inside his tight spandex pants…

I stretch out my hand and pat Darry’s bald head. “As today’s Sunday, I want you on boot duty until midday, then come and meet me in my office. You got that, Boy?”

Darry bobs his head up and down in his usual servile manner. “Yessuh, Massa…”

“Good boy… Off you go then…”

I watch him scurry away towards his boot station. This is a new form of humiliation for my black slave that I dreamed up a couple of weeks back. Every Sunday, for a full two hours, he has to kneel down near the gas station where I’ve fixed up a little boot-blacking and shoe-cleaning stand for him, complete with polish, brushes and cloths. A sign overhead advertises his services for $1 a time and, to my great pleasure, he occasionally gets to charge a passing driver or downtown resident for cleaning their shoes. Usually, Darry’s skills are employed for free by my skinhead gang and watching him slaving away over their tightly laced bovver boots gets me particularly hard…


Darry

Of course, is my bad luck dat da first one who want his shoes shining today is Mister Josh… It jus’ had to be him… He’s got Mister Vince and Mister Todd wid him. Da three of dem swagger over to me an’ Mister Josh puts his big boot on da stand in front of my face…

“Get on with it, Boy; I ain’t got all fucking day…”

I bow my head like da good nigga I is… “Yeah, Mister Josh, Suh…”

As I work da polish into his boot, da White boys ignore me and chat wid each other…

“The Boss says Master’s coming over today,” Mister Vince says, grinning. “I can’t wait…”

“Hmm…” Mister Josh says. “Better get ourselves lubed up…” He lights up a cigarette and blows some smoke around.

I take up my rag and start buffing up his boot…

“You reckon He’ll want us to rim him?” Mister Todd asks his homies.

“He always does,” Mister Vince replies.

Dem all make pig noises and laugh loudly at dis comment. Mister Josh flicks some ash over my head but I ignore it…

“It’s been ages since Master visited,” Mister Todd is saying. “Must be nearly two months back when He last came.” He starts feeling up Mister Vince’s ass. “It was the time He branded you, remember?”

Mister Vince nods. “I remember that it hurt like fuck!”

Dem all laugh again.

“We’ve all gone through it,” Mister Josh says, flicking his cigarette butt far away across da street. “It’s the price we have to pay for being owned by Him…” He looks down at me wid his cold grey eyes. “Haven’t you finished yet, Boy? Fucking hurry up!”

“Yeah, Mister Josh, Suh,” I say, buffing his second boot as hard and fast as I can. It got a real good shine on it now; I can see my face in da toe…

“They say Master’s been away on a long cruise abroad,” Mister Vince says. “That’s why he hasn’t been here for a while.”

Mister Josh nods. “Yeah; I’ve missed Him a lot…”

“Missed His spunk, piss and shit, more likely,” Mister Todd says.

Dem all laugh.

When I finish, Mister Josh thanks me for my work by leaning over and spitting on my bald head. Dis action makes his homies laugh again. “Thank you, Suh,” I say, bowing low, my dick as hard as fuck in my pants.

Dem all walk off, still laughing.

I wipe my head wid a spare rag and sigh. Could have been worse, I guess; last time dem pissed on me…

At noon, I pack away my shoe-shining stuff and lock up da stall. I walk over to da office where Massa is waiting.

“Ah, Darry,” he says, as I enter and bow low. “We have a very important visitor coming today who will be using our special guest suite, so I need you to give it a thorough clean…”

“Guest suite, Massa? What dat?” I got no fucking idea what Massa going on about…

Massa laughs. “Don’t worry, Darry; you’ve never been down there before because we only use it for our VIP and he hasn’t visited us since you started work here.”

I nod my head.

“Go get your mop, bucket, some detergent and a few cloths and bring them downstairs…”

I get da cleaning stuff and walk down to da basement. Massa’s opened up dat big steel door and is waiting for me inside. I get a real shock; it a huge room… In da middle, dere’s a huge TV wid a screen almost as big as in a movie house. In front of dat, dere’s sofas an’ chairs an’ a big bed all in black leather. One corner is tiled wid showers, urinals, baths and toilets. Another corner has a hot tub wid steam rising up from da water. A third corner has a small swimming pool an’ another is a bar area wid glasses and bottles of liquor on shelves…

“Wow…”

Massa smiles. “Impressive, huh?” He looks around. “The place was cleaned after the last occasion it was used, so all I need you to do is mop the floor and wipe down the surfaces with a damp cloth. Our VIP guest won’t be here until this evening, but you need to be out of here before He arrives, so I’ll come back to get you at around four. Did you understand all of that, Boy?”

I bow my head. “Yessuh, Massa…”

“Good boy…” Massa pats my head. “I’ll treat you to a nice fried chicken dinner if you do a good job…”

Massa leaves and I start cleaning…


Adam

I’m just about to go and fetch Darry when I see Master’s expensive silver car draw up. Shit! He’s three hours early! Master has seen me already, so there’s nothing for it but to go over and greet Him. Maybe I can stall him for a few minutes so I can get Darry out of the basement…

Master looks to be in excellent health. Obviously, His Caribbean cruise has done him the world of good…

“It’s good to see you after all this time, my slave,” Master says, as I kneel and kiss His outstretched hand. He dangles His keys in front of my face. “Park My car in the usual place and then bring all the pig-slaves down to My suite for inspection.” He fixes me with His hard stare. “I trust that everything is ready for Me?”

I take His keys, of course, but I’m desperately racking my brains for a pretext to waylay Him. I start to panic and can’t help nervously stammering. “Yes, M-master, b-but You’re a t-tad early… I d-didn’t expect you until s-seven…”

Master frowns; a sight I always hate to see. My bowels turn to jelly. “My plans have changed, slave… I have an important meeting this evening which slipped My mind.”

“M-maybe You would like a n-nice drink in m-my t-trailer first, Master?”

Master shakes his head. “Why would I want to spend time in your filthy white trash trailer when I have My own collection of delicious vintage wines to savour downstairs?” He asks.

I bow my head. I can’t think of an answer to that…

“So do as I say, slave; park My car, round up My pigs and meet Me downstairs…”

He sweeps off towards the office block leaving me a total quivering wreck. When He sees Darry, I’m in total deep shit… With tears almost blinding me, I climb into His car and turn on the ignition…


Darry

I just finish da job and light up a cigarette when another brother walks into da basement. Dis surprise me as I’m da only nigga I ever seen in dis trailer park before…

“Who the hell are you?” he asks.

I give him a friendly smile. “My name’s ‘Darry’, Suh…”

He comes closer and looks me up and down for a few moments. He’s a big brother, taller den me and big boned, wid grey hair and a stern face. “Do you work here, Darry?”

“Yeah, Suh…”

“What exactly do you do here?”

I point to my mop and bucket. “I clean up after da White Mens, Suh…”

He steps right up to me and stares into my face. “Wait a minute… I know you! You’re one of my students at the university. Darius! That’s it! I never forget a face…” He frowns. “What in the devil’s name has that idiot Dalton done to you?”

I shrug and suck on my cigarette. I got no fucking idea what dis old guy is going on about…


Master

I’ve just poured myself a restorative glass of vintage Burgundy when my slaves come clattering down the stairs in their heavy boots.

I wait until they’ve got about halfway between the door and where I’m standing before shouting my command: “DOWN!”

As a lecturer, it pays to have good voice projection…

The punks all fall to their knees and press their pale bald heads to the floor. Picking up my glass, I walk over to where Dalton is prostrating himself. “Miserable white worm…” I say, before sipping another mouthful of my wine. It really is excellent…

Dalton whimpers and tries to kiss my feet, but I kick his face away with my shoe like the worthless piece of shit that he is.

“Forgive me, Master…” the wretch whines.

“Explain exactly how you have dared to go against my express commands…”

“Master… I…”

“There can be no possible excuse for enslaving a Black Brother,” I say, turning away from his grovelling form in total disgust. “Dismiss the pig-slaves for today and then go and get your medical kit,” I say over my shoulder. “You and I have some serious work to do…”

My little skinheads all look longingly back at me as they are herded reluctantly out of my presence. Ah well, I think; there will be future occasions… I walk over to where Darius is still standing. He looks pretty shocked at the domineering way I’ve been talking to his Master. I give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, my boy; I will soon have this perversion of the Natural Order straightened out, or my name isn’t Earle Garvey Parks Rose…”

Dalton soon returns with his medical bag. He looks real nervous and he’s quite right to be so… I nod towards my hapless brother. “Give him a shot of the serum,” I order.

I think back to that time a few years ago when I discovered that Doctor Dalton had developed a chemical formula that could completely change a person’s personality. To my horror, it transpired that he had been using undergraduates in his experiments. Of course, there were complaints from parents and the whole thing threatened to become a national scandel which would rock the very foundations of the university. Naturally, I moved fast. I did not get to where I am today by being a sluggard… I got Dalton to tell me all about his serum, explaining exactly how it should be used. I then drugged him and injected him with his own invention, turning him into my devoted slave. I smoothed parental complaints via a few out-of-court settlements and covered up the whole matter of the experiments by sacking Dalton from his faculty. Then, realising the potential this invention had for providing me with a stream of pretty little white slaves to indulge my every perverted whim, I set Dalton up in this sordid trailer camp and went about recruiting my little harem. I like my cracker boys to be cute, dumb, dirty, skinhead trash. Call it perverted if you will; I prefer to lump my fetish under the umbrella term of ‘reparations’…

Dalton bows low to me and instructs Darius to sit down on one of the leather sofas. As soon as the formula has been injected into the brother’s bloodstream, I walk over to begin his reprogramming. I won’t be able to completely restore him to total normality, but I can end him wanting to be treated like some kind of latter-day black slave…

Then, I think, it’s also about time that Adam Dalton’s personality experienced a profound change for the better…


One Year Later

Darr

When I get back from taking a shower the lil’ bitch is still fast asleep in my bed, so I pull back the quilt and give his face a light slap.

“Shit!” He sits up on the crumpled sheet and rubs his cheek. “That hurt, Darr!”

I shrug. “I told you, man; you need to get up… Unlike all you fucking lazy students, I have to start work in half an hour…”

I light a cigarette and start to get dressed.

Tom sulks for a moment or two, then crawls off the bed to begin retrieving his clothes from the floor where he threw them last night in total abandon. As he bends over, I admire his bare butt-cheeks. His ass is real nicely rounded for a white guy; I enjoyed fucking it…

“Can I see you again, Darr?” Tom asks as he zips up his tight jeans.

“Maybe…” I say, breathing out a stream of smoke. “I’m not looking for a long-term relationship right now, so I prefer to keep things casual, if you know what I mean…”

He nods his head, but I can see he’s disappointed. Ah well… I can’t help it if most of the gay boys on campus are in love with me…

After he’s gone, I put on my smart black suit, straighten my matching silk tie and head for the front door of my apartment. I check my watch and see to my relief that I’m not going to be late for the Dean after all…

I call it ‘my apartment’ but it’s actually the top floor of the historic Dean’s House right in the centre of the university campus. It’s a real beautiful nineteenth-century building wid high ceilings and my floor is completely self-contained. I’ve got my own living room, bedroom, office, kitchen, bathroom and plenty of storage space. Since rescuing me from the trailer park, Professor Rose has been like a second father to me, giving me free accommodation and a nice salary as his personal bodyguard. He’s even bought me a new car which is real handy for getting around the city.

I walk down the main stairs and find Earle finishing his breakfast in the dining room. Dalton, his white manservant, is standing just behind him, ready to serve his Master as always… I smile. It’s good to see dat Dalton knows his place…

“Good morning, Darr,” the Dean says as I enter. “It’s a very fine morning, as I’m sure you will agree…”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply.

“From the muffled moans and cries I heard from overhead last night, it would seem that you enjoyed a very pleasant time with your young white man. ‘Tom’ wasn’t it? A somophore Philosophy Major, if I remember correctly…”

“Yes, Sir…” As the Dean intends, I’m a tad embarrassed by dis, so I change the conversation topic. “What are your plans for today, Sir?”

Earle puts his knife and fork together on the plate and dabs his lips with a napkin. “As I have no meetings to attend this morning, I thought we might pay a visit to the trailer park to see how my little white pigs are all getting along…”

I smile. “I’ll go get the car ready for you, Sir…”

“Thank you, Darr…” The Dean throws his napkin on his plate and clicks his fingers. “Take this away, Dalton and be about your duties…”

Dalton bows and begins stacking up the dirty crockery…

I’m kinda hazy about what exactly happened at the trailer park last year, but Earle says that the white skinheads there treated me real bad and that I should never forgive them for the way they insulted me. Apparently, they tried to steal my identity by destroying all my personal documents, but Earle pulled some strings with his legal friends and got new papers drawn up for me, so I’m now officially ‘Darr Earleson’. It’s kinda funny, as ‘Darr’ was my street-name back in LA when I was running with my gang. As I can’t remember what my original name was, and there are no records of it, we decided dat ‘Darr’ was the best choice. We chose ‘Earleson’ as my surname in honour of the Dean, of course, which I’m real happy about. He has been like a second father to me and I don’t know what I’d do without him…

I drive slowly through the city traffic, heading towards the downtown area. I’m also the Dean’s chauffeur, which I don’t mind at all as I love driving.

“Are you armed, Darr?” Earle asks from the back.

“Of course, Sir; you know I always carry my piece when we out in the city…”

“Good,” he says, “although I hope you won’t need to use it…” He looks out of the window at the dirty streets. “This downtown area is so appalingly squalid…”

For the first few weeks I lived in the Dean’s House, I felt pretty freaked out, to be honest. To give me something to do while I recovered, Earle arranged for me to take a refresher course in the use of firearms. I told him that as an ex-gangster, I was pretty handy with a piece anyways and that training me to shoot straight wasn’t necessary, but he insisted and I gotta admit dat I enjoyed it. I’ve got an official certificate saying I’m an advanced marksman. I always carry an automatic pistol in an arm-holster now, to protect the Dean from any possible harm.

I park up next to the trailer park, get out and walk around to open the door for the Dean. As I do so, I salute him as a sign of respect. He nods his head in recognition of dis humble gesture and I close the door, lock his car and follow on behind. Glancing up, I admire the new sign; it says ‘Lindstrom Trailer Park’.

I guess the two of us look kinda intimidating when we walk along together. The Dean is taller and bigger than even I am, and, due to my regular workouts in the university gym, I’m packing a lot of extra muscle myself these days… With my dark ray-bans shielding my eyes and my black suit, white shirt and tie, I look like a darker, more buffed version of Will Smith in ‘The Men in Black’, except dat I’m totally bald, of course…

The crazy crackers at the trailer park made it so I got no hairs except my eyebrows. It’s permanent, so I’m always gonna be a ‘ball-head’, but I kinda like it as it makes me look real mean, and dat ain’t no bad thing for a body-guard…

One thing I was able to change was my various piercings. I substituted the steel rings in my ears for a pair of diamond studs. I lost the ring in my nose and the eyebrow stud, but kept my nipple piercings open. I replaced the steel bars with a pair of small gold rings and they look and feel sexy as fuck…

We walk past the tattoo and piercing place dat I remember is run by Axel, who owns dis whole trailer park now. He’s an okay guy as I recall, and was always pretty good to me… He sees us walk past and gives us a friendly wave. I wave back, but the Dean ignores totally him. Earle has very little time for white folks…

Seeing the tattoo place reminds me that I’ve got a lot of body ink. My upper body is pretty well totally covered and, two months back, I got a big black panther done on my left thigh. I think dat I got most of my ink back in LA when I was wid the gang, or maybe a lil’ later when I did my prison stretch for robbery; I’m not sure. I know dat one tatt, on my neck, was done at dis trailer park by Axel, and it used to read ‘Darry’, which was the lame-ass name dem white punks all called me. Last fall, Earle took me to a very expensive tattoo place to have the ‘Y’ covered up with a little black snake, so it now reads ‘Darr’, which is correct…

The Dean must’ve told his pig-slaves dat we on our way, cuz dem all waiting for us in the basement suite. As we enter, Earle’s entire harem of ten white boys all drop to the floor and prostrate themselves at our feet. The first thing I notice is the real strong musk they all give off; a mix of piss, shit, garbage, sweat and dirt. My dick twitches in my pants and I know Earle’s will be doing the same. It’s weird how we both got the same fetish about dumb, dirty lil’ white boys…

We not got a lot of time as Earle wants to be back on campus by the early afternoon, so he selects Vince and Todd and orders them to undress him. They do so, folding his good suit carefully and laying it down on a chair. As soon as the Dean is naked, he tells Vince to get on the bed wid his ass in the air. A few seconds later, Earle is energetically banging away at Vince’s pre-lubed hole. He’s truly amazing for his age…

I light up a cigarette and go pour myself a glass of wine. I know I’m driving, but I think dat one won’t hurt… I look over towards the other white boys. They’re all still prostrated on the floor wid their heads pressed against the stone tiles. I wonder which one I will choose today…

I finish my drink and my smoke and wander over to where they’re all crouched. It’s cute the way they all got their white-trash names tatted on the backs of their heads. It makes dem real easy to tell apart…

“Josh!” I bark.

He stands and bows. “Yeah, Master…”

“Help me get outta dis suit…”

Josh takes off my jacket while I undo my pants and step out of dem so he can fold dem up for me. I don’t bother taking off my dress shirt or gun holster, but I do loosen my tie. I yank down my designer briefs and my dick leaps out as hard as fuck.

“Suck me boy…”

Josh gets down on his knees and takes my stiff brown dick between his lips. I grab his ears and hold him steady while I start bucking my hips, sliding my manhood in and out of his mouth.

“You like dat big black dick, boy, huh?” I know he can’t answer, cuz his mouth is full of my cock, but I ask anyways… “You want dat nigga dick in yo mouth, lil’ cracker?” Earle would say dem are called ‘rhetorical questions’…

As I increase the pace, I glance over at the Dean who looks as though he’s about to cum in his own white boy’s ass. Vince… Dat was it… The lil’ skinhead’s moaning and groaning and clutching at the mattress as he gets fucked in the way only a black man can provide…

As soon as I hear Earle gasp out his orgasm, I know dat I gotta be quick if we gonna leave dis dirty shithole in time. I pull the lil’ bitch’s head up and down my dick, faster and faster until he starts gagging and ropes of thick saliva start flowing from his dirty lil’ cock-sucking mouth…

Hmm… Yeah…

I cum, filling my white boy’s mouth wid my sweet black seed. There so much spunk dat he chokes on it and some shoots down and out from his beaky nose. Sated, I let go of his shaved head and he falls to the floor coughing and retching.

I reach for my suit pants and smile. It’s time for us to go… Life sure is sweet…


Author’s note:

Well that’s it, folks. I hope you all enjoyed it. This was an interesting story for me because I have never had so many suggestions of plot ideas before and there was also an interesting ethical discussion in the middle. Thanks to all who contributed. It seems that the ‘skinhead’ genre has a dedicated following with very definite ideas about how such characters should behave, etc. I hope I didn’t offend the purists and that I was perhaps able to liberate a little pent-up seed on the way. I actually had the main plot idea worked out from the start, so I was a little constrained in what I could adapt, but I think I successfully accommodated a few readers’ fetishes on the way, to an extent, at least. I’ve been writing in the first-person present in my last three stories because I really like the immediacy of that mode, but it does have the disadvantage of trapping you in a character, so multiple viewpoints are the only way to go. Next time, I’m either going to finish ‘Earth to Earth’ [its incompleteness is bugging me] or do something entirely new. Either way, it will be in the third-person, past tense. Marvin x

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