In the interest of continuity, it's recommended that Parts 1 and 2 be read first.
***
Charles went back home to reassure his parents that he was okay, that he was enjoying staying with his friend Alec in Connecticut, and that they were not to worry.
How is Alec?" Charles's mother asked from her writing table at the far end of the room. She was a devotee of the neglected art of hand-written correspondence. "You roomed with him didn't you?"
"What was that mother?" Charles responded. He had been thinking about the feel and taste of Jamal's cock in his mouth.
"I said, you roomed with him, right? Last year? We met him, do you remember, Roger?" she said, addressing the man sitting at the table in the adjacent dining room, papers spread out before him, and a laptop screen illuminating his tanned, angular features. He closed the screen shut, then looked in the direction of his wife.
"I do. Nice young man. His father is a doctor. Isn't that right?"
"An oncologist." Eustace, his wife responded. "He's much in demand, I hear. Were Alec's parents at home, Charles?"
Charles, in fact knew that the couple were vacationing in Denmark for most of the Summer.
"No. They're away." he said, picking up the magazine beside him. Not that he was about to read anything in it. He simply went through the motions, all the while thinking of Jamal.
He looked over to his mother. 'I have a black master, mother.' he imagined himself saying to her. 'He calls me whiteboy, and sometimes he slaps my face. But I like it when he does that. He treats me like shit, and I love it.'
"So, you're going back tomorrow, son?" his father said.
"Yes. Just wanted to pick up a few things, and see the both of you, of course." Charles said.
"Well, give him our regards."
"I will." Charles assured him.
Before returning to Jamal's the next day, Charles selected some framed photographs from his bedroom. He chose one from his high school graduation the year before. He was in the center with cap and gown, smiling broadly, his parents to either side of him. Charles studied the photo. his father looked natty, as always. Even in a photograph, one could see the quality of his suit. His mother, to his left, smiling serenely, beautifully coifed, a strand of pearls around her neck.
He chose another of a family reunion at the lake house; a group photo with his many cousins, aunts, and uncles. The lake glimmered in the background.
Charles took the precaution of parking in a garage several blocks from Jamal's place. The neighborhood didn't seem all that dangerous, but late at night a car could be stolen without too much trouble, he imagined. And how would he explain that to his parents?
He stopped at a liquor store on the way and picked up a bottle of Martel XO cognac. He hoped it would make a pleasant surprise for Jamal. He had already stocked a cabinet shelf with a variety of high-end liquor, and felt the cognac would complete the collection nicely.
As he came to the rear door of the apartment, he could hear the television, and knew that his master was at home. He knocked softly. In a moment the door opened.
Jamal stood there with just his underwear shorts on. Charles looked hungrily at the smooth chest and belly.
"Hey, how's my favorite cocksucking faggot? Get your skanky ass in here," he said. He seemed somewhat intoxicated.
Once inside, Charles detected the odor of weed, so knew that Jamal was both high and a bit drunk.
"Picked up some goodies from down the corner. Weed, a bit of blow. Your rent money comin' in handy, boy." Jamal said, putting a flame to a glass pipe. He handed the pipe to Charles.
"Here. Knock yourself out. Got some nose candy over here, too." he said, walking to a shelf by the wall where a piece of folded white paper lay open.
"Hit yourself up, boy. Get you all horny for tonight's duties." Jamal said, lifting a small spoon to his nose and snorting. Charles liked cocaine. He liked the way it freed him to really become his true self. It amazed him how he, normally, could cling to his privileged circumstances, his destiny to be a 'success' in life when, as he powerfully discovered when high on coke, all he really wanted was to be treated like a dog by a black man. Once he was high, he knew this is what he really was in his very core. And he reveled in it. This was his 'success'.
"Thank you, sir." Charles said, coming over and helping himself.
"How's that? Good shit?" Jamal said.
"Yes, mmmmm. Very nice." Charles said, feeling the drug move through his body.
As Jamal ambled over to the sofa, Charles watched the lean brown body move. And Jamal, of course, knew that Charles was watching him. He flopped onto the sofa, draping his frame acrosss the length of it.
"Get me a drink, fag." he directed.
"Yes, sir. What would you like?" Charles said, coming to his side.
"Some of that Knob Creek with coke. 'Bout half and half. Hop to it, bitch."
"Right away, sir!" Charles said, glad to be of service to his master.
"And get into your slave clothes when you done. You got no right wearing regular clothes in here."
"Yes, sir." Charles said, heading for the kitchen.
He carried the drink back on a tray. Before placing it on the coffee table, he put a drink coaster before Jamal. On it the words 'MASTER JAMAL' were printed in bold black letters.
"Now ain't that cute." Jamal said. "My own personalized coaster." he said, then sipped his drink.
"I'm happy that you like it, sir." Charles said, blushung slightly. "There's a special store in..."
"Get me another ice cube, slave." Jamal said. "More ice next time, got it?"
"Yes, master. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, you sorry alright. You a sorry-ass dick-suckin' whiteboy."
"Yes, sir." Charles said, hurrying off to the kitchen.
He returned with the ice cube cradled in a spoon, and he held a paper towel under it so it would not drip on the floor. He carefully dropped it into the master's drink. He then went to the bedroom to strip down to his slave uniform. He returned barefoot in his underwear.
"You brought some pictures of your big shot rich parents for me to look at?" Jamal said as Charles knelt beside the sofa.
'Yes, master. Would you like to look at them?"
"Shit, yeah, why you think I told you to get 'em?" Jamal said, looking contemptuously at Charles.
"Dumbass. Go get 'em." Jamal said, leaning back and finishing off his drink.
"Then get me another. And make it right this time."
Charles went to his small travel bag he'd left by the door, and found the two photos. When he returned to the sofa, Jamal was filling the pipe with weed.
