I lost sight of him in the confusion as it became every man for themselves. We were flogged and called every vile name imaginable. They went about the...r task with a wild glee. It was designed to degrade and humiliate us. But the blow of a baton woke me from my daydreams. The guards enjoyed beating us and got carried away sometimes, laughing in our faces. There was one who was a good and fair one. He was tall and blond and only rarely struck anyone. I had a wet dream about him one night. I. I couldn’t deny the good sensations.Pou appeared, watching his friend. “White Bitch can suck on me.” He took my hand and put it inside his shorts. He was hard again. These boys were rape machines! Their ability to perform in dire circumstances had nothing to do with how the camp had brainwashed them. Their sexual energy was a product of unnatural selection over hundreds of years of breeding slaves. I had a personal epiphany. It’s no wonder that jazz performances, most often from black musicians. More

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