Few books are written that touch so realistically and poignantly on the subject of slavery as it existed in the last century and how, in some ways, it still exists today. We, The Authors, feel that this book has touched on this subject with a clarity and feeling that is touching and rare.
The subject of slavery is still with us, as we experience the frustration of the Negro as he fights for his economic and social freedom in this day. Although there are no visible bonds, no brands to confine our Negro, it is the invisible ones that are binding him and plaguing our society.
The heroine in the novel is a woman who had come from a country that had not known the bonds of slavery, yet merchants from that country were exploiting the slave market, so they were just as guilty. This young woman came into a strange country and helped free just a few of the less fortunate, showing in the plainest sense that it doesn't take armies to conquer such a situation.
In the last century violence was a way of life, one could shoot and kill an enemy without much thought of reprisal, but we hope that we learn as we grow older and that people can resolve their problems without the bloodshed and killing.
The young woman in this novel was bound to slavery in a way of her own, forced into prostitution because she didn't have enough money to buy her freedom, enough money to escape from the way of life she despised.
Unfortunately, this is again, all too common in our present day society. Prostitution has become an out for some unfortunates, only to lead them further into a life of degradation, but few think of the consequences before taking this desperate step. Others are forced into the situation through blackmail or in payment for a debt. It's pitiful that we, as citizens, cannot reach these girls before it's too late and the only ones that we hear of are when they have made the headlines or end up in the state prisons. They are fighting to get out of a prison only to find themselves in a worse and more permanent one. The men who force these girls into prostitution are the ones that should be" punished, the pimps and procurers. They reap the harvest of the earnings while the girls are no more than their slaves as much so as there were slaves during our Civil War.
This book brings to light these two troubling, yet very real situations. The Negro question is as much a part of the twentieth century as it was in the nineteenth except the rebellions are occurring on our local streets, in our schools, in our homes. It is a question that must be dealt with, but not through killing and violence, but through understanding.
The men that have forced women into prostitution are the ones to be searched out and punished, the ones that are holding the girls in this illicit slavery.
These bonds are not always easy to see, and all too often we close our eyes to them, but they do exist and something must be done!
As you read this book, I'm sure that it will make you think and ponder the question, the challenge as to what you can do to remedy the deplorable situation.
Only if the citizens, black and white, work together can this world reach harmony. Another civil war is not impossible, but if we act NOW and wisely, it may be prevented.
-THE PUBLISHERS
Chapter One
The day was damp and cold as the ship pulled out from Liverpool and began the long voyage to Kingston. Louise Ireland pulled her heavy tweed coat closer around her shoulders as she took her last look at the small, port town in which she was raised. Her parents had been hesitant to let her accept Rodney Harris's proposal of marriage and his invitation to join him in the West Indies because she hadn't seen him in years even though they had been childhood sweethearts and their families had been friends as long as she could remember. Rodney had left England several years previous and gone to make his fortune in the sunny British island of Jamaica. He had sent her postcards and written her long letters about how pleasant the climate was, the slave labor was plentiful and how much he enjoyed plantation living.
Word of the slave ships from Africa had been featured in the London papers and many people were outraged, but after reading Rodney's accounts of how they were actually being done a favor to be allowed to work in the cane fields, she was not sure that she could agree with the staunch, more conservative generation of her parents.
Realistically, however, she wasn't sure whether she was going to Jamaica to marry Rodney because she truly loved him, or whether it was because she wanted to get away from her parents iron-clad rules and regulations that had allowed her very little social life. Her dreams were colored with visions of the sunny, sand beaches, the cool drinks that would be served by red-jacketed slave boys and her life of luxury as the wife of the overseer of one of the largest and most prosperous plantations on the Island.
"Come and many me," he had written. "I know you'll love it here as much as I do."
Her parents had argued with her, her mother had cried and protested, but she had just had her twenty-first birthday, so there was nothing that they could do to keep her home if she wanted to leave.
As the ship pulled away from the pier she saw the outline of her parents, waving and calling to her, and tears of sudden loneliness and frustration stung her cheeks.
"Good-bye," she called softly, as though she were talking to herself.
She wondered who the other passengers would be. She had not been able to afford a passenger boat, so she had booked the cheapest passage possible on a freighter that carried equipment for the plantations and other non-perishable produce to the islands. She had been told that there would be three other people sailing with her, besides the minimal crew, but so far, she had seen no one.
The captain had shown her where she would stay when she first came aboard, but he was a gruff man and obviously had spent too many years at sea to be diplomatic or even vaguely friendly. When she complained about the size of her cabin and the hardness of the bunk, he reminded her that she was lucky not to be on a slave ship. She had just stared at him, nodded, and put' her steamer trunk clumsily at the foot of her bunk as he had offered no assistance.
The dampness of the sea air and the salty breeze did not help to lift her spirits and she wished that she could be in the warmer, brighter climate at that moment. The voyage would take two to three weeks, depending on how many stops the captain decided to make at the various ports on the way. No definite itinerary had been arranged, because so much depended on the weather, the fuel and the temperament of the crew. If they were inclined to hard work, then the voyage could be as much as three or four days shorter; however, if they decided they were being treated unfairly, then they could delay the arrival for days, maybe even a week. She had written to Rodney to check for the arrival of the ship about two weeks after her departure date, but other than that she couldn't guarantee when she would arrive.
She took a picture from her coat pocket and stared at it. It had been a graduation picture taken six years previous, just before he had left for the island and she wondered if he still looked very much the same or whether the sun had darkened and toughened his skin, matured him, hardened him. His letters had not shown any radical change in his personality except for the blithe way in which he referred to the slaves, their work, his job in disciplining them, and every so often, the conditions of the cane fields. She had not thought very much about slavery until recently and she was anxious to see how the system worked. It sounded so simple, yet it was hard to comprehend how the colored men and women could accept it so readily, without protestation.
She was just leaving the railing of the freighter when a man about thirty spoke to her.
"Hello there," he said, "I'm John Stuart, I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other for the next few weeks."
He was smiling at her, and although he was not particularly handsome, he was friendly and she needed a friend.
"I'm Louise Ireland," she answered. "This isn't exactly the Queen Mary, is it? How's your room mine's dreadful!"
"Small, cramped and musty," he told her, "but it's cheap." They laughed together and began to take a walking tour of the ship, searching for any other passengers that may be aboard, or even a sign of the crew.
"Looks like we're on a ghost ship," he said, "or else they're all below, getting us out of the channel."
"Certainly doesn't look like there is much to do for amusement on board," she said. "It may be a long two or three weeks."
He grinned and said, "I'll see what I can do to keep you busy."
They walked to the bow of the ship and stood there silently until the captain appeared alongside of them and said, "We eat promptly .at five, but don't expect too much, we've got a new chef this trip and I'm not yet sure he can cook!"
They all laughed and Louise excused herself and said that she would see them at dinner, she wanted to unpack and get settled.
* * *
As it turned out, John and Louise were the only two passengers for that particular trip, the others had cancelled out for one reason or another. The first week they spent exchanging stories they had heard about the island, playing gin rummy, and discussing their plans for the future.
John told her that he had been hired as a bookkeeper and planter on one of the largest plantations in Jamaica, but he wasn't sure of the name. He was to meet a gentleman in Kingston who had arranged for his passage and he had handled all the details.
"My fiancee is the overseer of a large plantation," she told him, "I understand they have hundreds of slaves. I'm not sure it will be easy getting used to the idea of slavery, it seems so barbaric."
"It's an accepted way of life there," he assured, her. "The plantation owners feed, clothe and care for them in exchange for their labor. They an uneducated so it really isn't such a bad existence at least, I wouldn't imagine."
"I still don't know," she mused.
"I don't think you're too sure of anything right now," he commented, "except that you wanted to get away from home."
"Maybe you're right . . . maybe you're right,' she said quietly.
"How can you be sure you're still in love with this man you're going to marry?" he asked her.
She could tell that his eyes were saying more than he was allowing himself to ask her, and she felt a strange, exciting attraction for her new found companion. She felt she had probably got ten to know him better during the past week that she had ever known Rodney, but she couldn't let her thoughts haunt her.
"I'm not sure, I guess," she confided, "but it's too late now."
"Maybe not," he answered, "if anything goes wrong, you can always count on me."
She reached out and touched his hand, curling her fingers tightly over his wrist.
"Thank you, John, but I hope that everything will be all right. I pray that it will."
The weather was getting warmer as they headed further and further south. The tropical breezes were soft and scented with the smell of flowers as they passed by small islands, some of which were uninhabited. Every night after dinner they would stand on the deck and watch for other ships or signs of civilization as they weaved their way in and around the reefs and small bodies of land.
One night after they had been at sea for almost two weeks, the captain joined them on the deck.
"We should be in Jamaica in another two days," he told them. "Make the most of your time." He laughed heartily and then went to the small bridge.
"I have the feeling that he's been watching us and listening to our conversations," she told him. "He makes me feel uncomfortable."
"Don't let him bother you, he just has nothing better to do and it gives him something to talk about."
"I suppose you're right."
They were about to return to their cabins when John grabbed her arm as they turned down the narrow corridor and spun her around.
"Louise, I love you," he said with a fierceness that was unfamiliar to her, and he pulled her roughly to him and kissed her soundly and harsh- "Don't . . . don't," she protested, but his arms were holding her firmly, pressing her body against his with an animalistic urgency she had never felt before.
She tried to push him away, knowing that it was useless, but she had to make the effort. She had never been kissed like that, with such demand, such hardness and it aroused in her a feeling of wonderful helplessness, a complete submission that she couldn't explain. The boys she had dated had all been shy, afraid that her parents would walk into the parlor and catch their awkward and fleeting embrace, but her parents weren't there to protect her now and she wasn't sure what she should do. Her full, soft breasts were crushed against the hardness of his chest and his arms were strong around her tiny waist as he backed her against the wall. His body! pinned hers and his hands wandered down overt the small of her back until he cupped the resilient, spongy flesh of her buttocks and forced her! hips forward against the pulsing hardness of this throbbing, erect penis.
"Oooohhh," she groaned softly, half-protesting, half delirious from the erotic, daring sensation she was experiencing.
"Let loose, baby," he whispered in her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I know," she choked, but she trembled with the thought that it would hurt if she let him make love to her, that had been the one thing, if nothing else, that had stopped her before. She had been told that losing one's virginity was the most painful experience in the world and that men were nothing but animals and when a woman married it was her unpleasant duty to satisfy this lustful urge but still her body was responding to his rampant caresses as his hands crushed her pliant, supple flesh, pinching and kneading every curve and nerve center of her being that he could reach. Her legs were quivering and weak and she felt as though she could slump to the floor, but his strong, muscular arms held her upright as his fingers worked expertly, raising her skirt over the fullness of her thighs until it stretched tightly over her rounded hips and he could feel the white softness of her thighs just above her securely fastened stockings.
"No . . . nooooo," she protested, "Someone might see us."
She knew that this was a weak excuse and that most of the crew had already retired for the evening, but it didn't seem right for them to be so blatant, so brazen as to make love in a very public hallway.
He angled his hips harder into the vee of her loins and she could feel the heat of his rock hard prick bruising the bone of her pelvis. He was breathing heavily as he murmured words of endearment and love to her, urging her to return his passion.
"Let me love you," he gasped. "Oh, baby, I do love you."
She didn't know what to say, she had never felt like this before in her life, she had never let herself go this far and her hands clung desperately to the breadth of his shoulders as he rocked into her.
"I'm afraid," she whimpered as she let her hands drop to struggle with the hemline of her skirt. "Please don't . . . I'm too afraid!"
"Love me ... let me love you, it's so right," he insisted, dragging her bodily, gruffly to the door of his cabin, pushing open the door with one quick effort and pulled her inside. The room was small with the low, hard bunk taking up over half of the room and he pushed her backwards so that she lost her balance, her knees buckling as she fell backwards onto the bunk. In an instant he was on top of her, loosening his trousers with one hand as he fell over her. Her skirt had torn at the seams as she fell and now was in two pieces that hung loosely from her waist, secured only by the thin cotton waistband.
"Darlin," he groaned. "I love you."
She didn't really believe his words, but it seemed so good, so comforting to have someone love her and want to make love to her. She had always wondered what it would be like, the first time, but she had always believed that it would be her wedding night, not some brief affair on a boat when she was going to get married, married to another man!
She was sprawled out on her back, John beside her, one leg over her knees, pinioning her to the hard, spring-less mattress.
Her body was warm and her face was flush with the passion that he had already aroused inside her and she could feel a quick tightening grow more insistent between her legs.
"Honey . . . honey," he choked, his hands fumbling for the buttons on her blouse, unbuttoning it slowly and smoothing back her tangled hair with his other hand. He kissed her neck and shoulders as he eased the blouse from her shoulders, pulling it down over her back so that it held her arms pinned to her sides as he nuzzled his face between the rising swell of her soft, voluptuous breasts. Her breasts were much larger than he had expected because she had always hidden their perfect, inviting form with loose fitting clothes and he sucked in his breath as her round, luscious orbs were revealed to him. She struggled weakly to free her arms, but the cloth of her blouse prevented any movement whatsoever except for a helpless flailing of her hands in an up and down movement.
He reached in back of her and unfastened her brassiere, and pushed it up towards her neck, restricting her movements even more. She tried to wriggle her hips out from under him, but his knee dug into the juncture of her legs as he kicked and pulled on his trousers with his feet until they fell in a heap on the floor of the cabin. His hands closed over the melon ripeness of her breasts, tweaking gently on the nipples until they were hard and pointed, standing up proudly from the chalky whiteness of the soft globes. His male organ sprang out fully erect and jerked against the side of her thigh as he eased his body over directly on top of hers.
She tried to protest, cry, beg him to stop, but her mouth was dry and only mewling sounds came out. Her hands were helplessly pinned and she was totally at his mercy.
"First time, darling?" he asked tenderly, not really waiting for an answer, because he really didn't care.
"Yes," she gulped, tears of fright welling in her eyes.
"I'll be gentle," he promised, not at all certain that he could keep his promise and thinking only of burying himself so deep in her that he would drown in the ecstasy of her perfectly proportioned body.
His throbbing prick pressed desperately against the thin silkiness of her panties and he could feel her smooth, stockinged legs splayed out on either side of his narrow, demanding hips. His mouth covered her right breast and his tongue flicked the nipple up and down until she was moaning beneath him while his fingers skillfully began to pull her panties down over her knees. Her fingernails scraped desperately at the sides of his arms, scratching him lightly, but she didn't have enough leverage to do any real damage and her resistance only made his desire pummel into tumultuous heights. He yanked anxiously at the waistband on her skirt, pulling it completely away from her body with one tearing motion as he raised his hips just enough so that he could catch the waistband of her panties with his foot and kick them down over her ankles. He flattened his body against hers, his cock thick and hot, hard and demanding between her wide-spread legs. Her belly was curved in a gentle swell, soft and inviting and her full hips tapered into her long, slim, slightly muscular legs. He wished that he could feel the milk-white skin of her thighs and calves wrapped around him, returning his urgency, but he couldn't take the chance of removing her stockings without her getting free, giving her time to think and get away. He hadn't intended to rape her, but he wasn't sure that he could wait much longer before spilling his sperm on the bed and not inside of her.
"Nnoooo," she groaned weakly again, as he continued his delicious mouthing of her heaving breasts.
"Oh baby," was his only answer, he was too close to his climax to waste much time with the tenderness and words of reassurance he had planned for his complete seduction. He felt a wave of sympathy and tenderness as he angled himself into position, his hands gently plying her legs even further apart so that he could enter her with one, long, hard stroke.
She was writhing and squirming beneath him in one last futile effort to throw him away from her, but without the use of her hands she knew that he would take her, take the virginity that she had been saving for twenty-one years and for her marriage bed. His hands rubbed vigorously between her legs, flicking the tiny meat of her clitoris until it hardened in the hope that she would lubricate to make his entry less painful and smoother, but she was dry, her body was shaking with fright as he fingered the tender lips of her vagina and tried to force one of his thick fingers into the tiny, virginal slit.
"Aaagggggghhh," she gasped as his finger parted the lips of her vagina and delved into her dry, tight channel. "NNNNNOOOOOO," she shouted weakly.
He could feel his cock pulsing and growing thicker with each protestation, but he could feel the vaginal walls tight around his finger and knew that he could not take her until she relaxed some more. He put his finger to his mouth and wet it liberally with his own saliva, then rubbed it up and down over her minute aperture, easing his finger in and out of her once more. Louise's eyes were wide with terror as she looked up at the impatient, lusting man who was manipulating her body as though she were nothing more than a rag doll, yet a strange, terrifying excitement chilled her spine as she watched him go through the motions of preparing her for his impalement. She could feel the muscles of her thighs tighten and stiffen, quiver against the bones of his hips as he moved closer and closer toward her.
She was groaning and gasping loudly now, as his hands moved down the full rounded curves of her buttocks and pulled her cheeks up suddenly, tightly against his pelvis, entering her harshly with one splitting thrust as he buried his cock deep inside her, tearing the elastic, fleshy covering of her hymen away with his hip-splitting lunge.
"AAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH," she screamed, her voice echoing from the walls of the cabin, until his mouth covered hers with an urgent, cruel kiss, silencing her. It did hurt! She had never felt such pain in her life, she felt as though she were being torn apart, that her whole insides were ripped and pared beyond hope and that she would be left hopelessly scarred and bleeding.
Once inside her, he moved slowly at first, letting her adjust slightly to his rhythm as he rocked his hips and proud, stiff cock into her belly, feeling the wet tightness of her vaginal walls close warmly around his throbbing manhood. He had never felt anything like this before in his life, she was sooo tight, so fucking tight that he thought he would explode in her at any moment. She wriggled in painful contortions in an effort to ease her pain, but it only made his prick tingle and become thicker as his juices began to boil and burn inside his testicles.
"God honey," he crooned, "You're so tight. . . soo good. Fuck me . . . fuck me, baby!"
The sound of the word humiliated her and shamed her. It wasn't a word that a gentleman was supposed to speak, it was a word that she had seen scribbled on the sides of construction sites, but it had no meaning to her, not until now! She was being fucked, a man was planting his staff inside her, his hard cudgel, thick and painful had made her a woman and she could no longer go back!
She thought that she would faint from the pain, but his hands worked expertly over the nipples fend full fleshiness of her breasts until she tingled and the pain that was ripping through her loins began to subside. She could feel herself begin to react to this harsh, first fucking that she had ever experienced and she relaxed slightly.
John was moaning and gasping for breath as he rocked harder and deeper into her, feeling the warm, wet walls of her vagina cling and pull against the length of his stiff, pulsing cock, urging him, coaxing him to cum inside her, to fill her with life-giving sperm.
"I can't wait," he gasped, as he felt the head of his swollen prick touch the tip of her cervix with his last hip-thrusting stab, and a molten stream of his sperm shot deep into her womb wetting and soaking the depths of her belly with his manhood.
Her vagina was quivering, her legs shaking uncontrollably as she cried and groaned as he emptied himself inside her. Her insides ached as she lay there motionless, waiting for him to move from on top of her. She could hardly breathe as he lay, satiated and moaning as his hardened penis began to deflate and ease slowly out from inside her. He slumped exhaustedly onto her quivering body, covering her completely so that she could not move, then reluctantly rolled alongside her. He reached out and held her close, comforting her, kissing her tear-stained cheeks and neck, soothing her with gentle hands.
"It's all right, honey," he assured her. "I love you, it will be all right!"
"Oh no," she groaned, glancing down between her trembling thighs and spotting drops of blood that had already dried on the inside of her thigh "I hurt, I hurt so much!"
"You're a woman now," he calmed her. "My woman, you can't marry that other man, I won't let you!"
"Oh John," she cried, "I'm so confused!" He held her tightly, easing the blouse from her body, the blouse that had been restricting her movements and cradled her in his arms.
They had been too engrossed in their lovemaking to hear the shuffling sounds and muffled laughs that were coming from outside the door of the cabin.
"She must have been quite a hot, little lay," the captain chuckled to the ship's cook.
"Yeah," the cook answered hotly. "I wouldn't mind a piece of that myself, served for breakfast, lunch or dinner!"
"I wondered how long it would take him to get to her," the captain said lustfully, rubbing his hands over the outside of his trousers trying I to quiet his still jerking erection.
"I love you, Louise," he whispered softly against the perfumed scent of her long, shiny hair, but she didn't hear him, she was already asleep.
Chapter Two
John watched her sleep for a few minutes before dozing off himself. She slept fitfully for several hours, awaking just before the sun was visible over the horizon. Her insides still ached as she got up quietly and searched for her clothes that were in a wrinkled heap on the floor. She dressed quickly and tiptoed back to her own cabin to take a long hot bath and try to cleanse the dirty, degrading feeling that she had inside her. She wasn't sure how she could face John that morning, or how she could ever explain her indiscretion to her fiancee when he discovered that she was no longer a virgin.
She waited until it was time to go to the galley for breakfast, hoping that John would oversleep and she wouldn't have to face him first thing in the morning, but he was already seated when she arrived. He stood up and helped her with her chair that was next to his.
"You two sleep well," the cook chuckled knowingly. "These nights at sea can really sap your energy. You both look awfully tired!"
John shot him a menacing glance and Louise kept her eyes downcast at her plate. She didn't feel much like eating, but John reached over and grasp her hand beneath the table, squeezing it gently and whispering, "Good morning, darling."
She faked a smile and raised her eyes fleetingly for a moment, then picked at the scrambled eggs and bacon. The captain joined them in a few minutes and gave Louise an appraising glance.
"Well, good morning," he said, almost cheerily. "You look absolutely radiant today, you fall in love or something?"
She said nothing, but swallowed hard and nearly choked on a piece of toast. What could these insinuations possibly mean? First the cook had made some insinuations about their night's sleep, and now the captain. Was it possible that they had seen them in the hallway before they had gone into John's cabin.
Louise excused herself and said that she had some letters to write and quickly left the galley. John finished his breakfast, but just as he was about to leave, the captain winked at him and said, "How was she?"
"I don't know what you could possibly mean," he answered, his voice trembling and giving him away.
"Oh, come on now," he laughed maliciously, "I know you got to her last night. You were grunting loud enough for the whole damn ship to hear you. How was she?"
"Mind your own god-damned business," John retorted sharply, and stormed out of the galley. He couldn't let Louise know that they had heard them or she would never forgive him and he didn't want her to suffer anymore than she already had.
He walked to her cabin and knocked quietly on the door.
"Who is it," she choked, trying to stifle her sobs of rising indignation and shame.
"It's me, sweetheart," he said softly. "May I come in?"
"Not now, John, please, I'm too upset. Maybe later."
"Very well, darling," he said, "but I just want you to know that I love you."
She broke into audible sobs and he walked slowly away from her door, dejected and not knowing what he could possibly do to make her feel better. He couldn't give back her virginity that he had taken so roughly the night before, and just the remembrance of her voluptuous body squirming and bucking beneath his caused his loins to tingle once again with an uncontrollable excitement.
She lay on her bunk, shivering and sobbing, the warm tropical breeze caressing her body as she lay there. It would only be a day or so before she would be in Jamaica and she wasn't sure that she could fully regain her composure before meeting her fiancee. She felt so alone, so dirty and ashamed that she was certain that people could tell by just looking at her that she was no longer a virgin. John's caresses had excited her, stimulated her to a height that she had never known before, yet she was ashamed that her body had reacted to him, that she had allowed her passion to overrule her mind and she had let him take her. She tried to convince herself that he had raped her, yet deep inside she knew that it never would have happened if she hadn't let him go so far with her before they went to his cabin. He was not entirely blameless, but then neither was she.
She was just drying her tears when she heard footsteps coining toward her cabin. They were heavy and plodding and as she listened silently she could distinguish that it was not one man, but two, coming down the hallway. The footsteps stopped just outside her door and she held her breath, wondering who it could be and what they could want. She waited, her heart pounding nervously, almost afraid to breathe for fear that they would know she was there, when she heard a loud, insistent knock on her door.
"Who is it?" she asked, her voice soft and shaking. "What do you want?"
"It's the captain, miss," he said cheerfully. "You left your cigarettes at breakfast, I was just returning them."
"Oh, just a minute!"
She straightened her skirt and opened the door slightly and reached out for the cigarettes, but his fat, meaty hand grabbed hers and wouldn't let go as he grinned at her lustfully.
"Thought I'd drop by and finish what your little friend started last night," he said threateningly. The cook was standing behind him, nearly hidden by his massive shoulders and stomach, "and I've brought along a friend to help!"
She tried to pull away from his grip, but he shoved the door open and stumbled inside. Although it was only eleven in the morning, she could smell whisky on his breath as he came toward her.
"Get out of here," she ordered, her voice quivering with fear. "Get out, or I'll scream!"
"And just who do you think is going to help you?" he asked, laughingly. "I'm the captain of this vessel!"
The cook was twittering and giggling like a lunatic as he watched the captain intimidate her and push her backwards against the wall of the cabin.
"She sure looks like a nice piece," he giggled. "Man, I can't wait to sample some of that!"
"NOOOOOO," she screamed, before the captain's strong hand clamped down over her mouth, bending her head backwards until her body was twisted forward against his fat, sweaty body.
"She's a live one all right," he rasped. "A regular little tease, but we'll take care of that!"
"I want to see her tits," the cook gasped. "I wanna see those big things!"
"Wait a minute," the captain reprimanded him. "Maybe the little lady isn't quite ready for our affections yet. Maybe a drink would loosen her up, get the bottle!"
The cook reached in his back pocket and pulled out a pint of cheap Irish whisky, uncorked it and handed it to the captain.
"Open up," he told her, holding her head in one monstrous hand and forcing the bottle to her lips.
She started to scream, but when she opened her mouth he poured some of the foul-tasting liquid down her throat, almost choking her. She tried to spit it out, but she gasped on a sob and the burning alcohol streamed down her throat.
"That'll loosen her up, I'll bet," he laughed raucously.
She stared, wide-eyed with terror at the two men who had forced their way into her cabin, afraid of what they would do, and knowing full well what they had in mind.
"No . . . please . . ." she whimpered. "Please leave me alone!" She begged them with tears and protestations, but she may as well have been talking to deaf ears, for the captain began to tear roughly at her clothing, ripping it piece by piece from her shaking, struggling body.
"Finish the job while I hold her," he ordered the cook, "She's a regular hell cat. Watch out for the nails, she's a scratched" The cook didn't need any more encouragement before he leaped toward her and began to rip and pull at her outer garments, letting his hands feel the warm, soft globes of her breasts, the narrowness of her waist and the plumpness of her buttocks as he tore the last shred of her clothing away from her body.
"What a set of knockers!" he gasped as her breasts quivered, half exposed from the top of her brassiere. "I knew she'd be built like this," he whistled.
Her knees went weak and she started to fall to the floor, but the captain's arms held her upright as he looked down at her angelic face, now frozen in fear and terror.
"Such a young one, bet she's as tight as a drum," he wagered.
"I wanna fuck her," the cook cooed. "Let me fuck her!"
She cringed at the sound of that forbidden word and the captain laughed. "Careful, you're bruising her delicate ears, old man!"
"My cock is so stiff, it's about to burst," he implored.
The captain dragged her to the bunk and threw her down on the thin, hard mattress, watching her try to keep her balance as she fell. Her legs splayed wide apart, revealing just a hint of the soft blond down of her pubis from under her sheer, silk panties. Her breasts bounced like two bowls of gelatin as she fell and the captain reached down and grabbed the lace of her brassiere and ripped it from her rib cage. Her arms flew up to protect her breasts from their menacing gaze, but he quickly moved along side her and held her arms straight out so that they could view her more than ample orbs as they stood out from her body. Her nipples stiffened from the sudden contact with the air and became hard and erect like two tiny pinkish rose buds.
"Oh god," the cook murmured. "Let me at them."
"Hold her," the captain ordered him, and he moved next to her on the bed.
The cook leaned down and planted his hard, demanding lips on the swelling nipples of her breasts and mouthed them like a suckling pig, pinning her arms back over her head and holding them there.
"Noooo . . . stop," she cried, and she tried to break free from his vice-like grip.
"Come on, baby," the captain challenged. "You know what it's all about. We heard you and your little boy lover in his room last night, now you'll get a chance to sample a man ... a real man."
She watched horrified as the captain quickly stripped out of his clothes, revealing a hairy, barrel sized chest, a good-sized paunch and short, muscular legs. His penis was already full erect and bobbing up against his fat belly and she gasped at its size. It was thicker and longer than she imagined any man could be and she knew that he would tear her apart if he tried to take her.
"God no," she gasped, as he came nearer to her, strutting like a peacock, his rigid prick jouncing up and down as he walked. His testicles hung loosely from between his stubby legs and he looked more like an ape than a man.
"Like it, baby?" he grunted, fondling himself as he approached her. "Just think how it's going to feel inside that tight little cunt of yours!"
"Christ," wheezed the cook, "I can't take any more of this, I've got to get at her."
The captain reached down and traced a light, ticklish pattern up the inside of her thighs as the cook continued his voracious mouthing of her breasts as her body was wracked with sobs and pleas.
"Mmmmmm, like velvet," he crooned. "Sweet and soft as butter!"
"Move," the captain ordered the cook. "I want to see what she's got inside those lace panties that made our little friend so hot last night. It's got to be something special."
She could feel the captain's hands working industriously at the waist elastic of her panties and urge them downward towards her ankles. She tried to push her buttocks harder into the mattress, but his strength and lust was too much for her.
She could feel the roughness of his hands and the calluses on his fingers as he pulled the thin panties away from her feet and grab the soft, pliable flesh of her thighs and spread them cruelly apart.
"Hold her head . . . and keep that mouth of hers closed," he ordered the other man, "I want to look over this hot little body."
The cook moved up on the bed and knelt just behind her shoulders, holding them harshly against the wooden slats of the bed. His penis was hot and thick inside his trousers and he put his one hand over her mouth while he undid his j fly with the other. She couldn't believe the horrible rape that was happening to her, the cruel degradation, the humiliation and she wished that she could die. She heard the buttons ripping away j as he undid his fly and freed his long, hard prick in the open air just above her head.
"This ought to keep her quiet," he laughed wickedly, nodding to the captain who was busy licking and nibbling his way between her legs, moving closer and closer to her vaginal opening while his hands held her thighs firmly apart.
"Right," he grunted, too involved in his own passion to pay much attention to what the other man was doing.
The cooks sweaty fingers dug into either side of her face, forcing his thumbs into the corners of her tightly clenched mouth. She could feel him rise on his knees and then lower just slightly until she could feel his hard, throbbing prick bouncing just above her nose, his testicles brushing loosely over her forehead.
"Suck it," he demanded. "Open your mouth and suck it!"
She gritted her teeth, but he dug his fingers into the juncture of her jaw bone and forced her mouth open as one would a dog's. She gasped in pain as he shoved forward, filling her mouth and throat with his hot, jerking organ.
"Mmmmmmmpppppffff," she choked as his thick cudgel pushed over her tongue and deep into her throat.
She felt as though she would be sick, but she couldn't move, his urgency was too overpowering, and a tingling sensation was beginning to torment her thighs as the captain moved closer and closer to his goal.
She could feel his fingers prying at the folds of her vagina, separating her tender pink lips and fingering the tiny, raw slit of her defenseless cuntal passage. She still ached from the night before and she knew that he would kill her if he made love to her now. There was a crazed look of passion in his eyes as he moved slowly, tantalizingly up on her body. His hands ran over her hips and waist until his fingers grasped her two heaving breasts. Her knees were trembling half from fright and half from the erotic, craving feeling that the captain was stirring in her loins. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to fight her own animalistic instincts, sick at the thought that her body could react to such a harsh and crude man, a rapist!
His tongue flicked out and licked the upper, inner parts of her thighs, wetting them thoroughly, nibbling on the supple, porcelain flesh as his nose rubbed against the tiny bud of her clitoris, feeling it grow hard beneath his caress. She quivered and shook as she felt his tongue lick out and separate the lips of her vagina and tease up and down the small slit of her slowly pulsating vaginal passage.
"Oooohhhhh," she groaned, barely able to utter any sound because of the rock hard prick that was still slipping in and out of her mouth with increased rapidity.
The cook was bouncing up and down on the bed, growing closer and closer to his climax. Although he was still able to keep his body rigid, the groans that escaped his trembling lips as he shoved into her deeper and faster, feeling her tongue on his prick, wet and sucking as he pivoted his hips, grew louder and louder. The blood was racing and pounding in his temples with the same pulsation that was tormenting his buried prick and he knew that he was going to cum.
"Here it is, baby," he groaned, feeling the wave begin at his testicles and surge through the length of his pulsing prick. She tried to force his hardened penis out of her mouth as she felt him swell even more, but his hands were clasping the sides of her face and holding her mouth firmly around his ejaculating cock. She could taste the foul sperm as it shot down into her throat and she was forced to swallow as he slipped greasily out from between her lips. She felt sick, but fought the urge as her head rolled deliriously from side to side.
The captain was now sucking lustfully between her wide-spread thighs, sucking and mouthing on her vaginal lips until she thought she would scream in torture. Her legs were trembling and her body seemed to be demanding satisfaction, yet she feared that he would tear her in half. She moaned loudly and her lower body twisted in agony as he kept his face buried brutally between her legs.
"Oooooohhhh," she moaned, "God, I can't stand it!" She was too caught up in her own passion to hear the knock on the door. The captain paused for just a minute and muttered for the cook to answer it and invite whomever it was to join their little party. Louise was about to protest when the captain's mouth closed over her vaginal lips again and his tongue darted quickly into the tiny aching slit.
Her eyes were closed as she rolled back and forth in complete physical abandon when she heard John gasp, "Oh my god . . . what are you doing to her!"
He ran towards the bed and started to grab at the captain and pull him away from her, but the huge cook grabbed him and held him fast.
The captain raised his head and laughed, "Let him watch, maybe he'll learn something about satisfying a woman!"
Louise opened her eyes and stared horrified at the struggling John, the man who had said he loved her. She started to cry and fight against the captain, but it was useless. Her strength was no match for his.
"Tie him," he ordered the cook, who was already preparing to bind his hands to the bed post. "Let him see what his little lady can really do!"
The cook secured him tightly to the bed, just far enough away so that he wouldn't hinder any plans that the captain may have in mind, and just close enough for it to be an unbearable torment.
Now . . . turn her over," he told him. "I want to look at that cute little ass. I've already sampled the front!"
Before she could protest, four hands were pulling her and turning her until she lay face down on the mattress. And, in spite of her horror, her loins were on fire with desire from the captain's licking tongue and she wondered how they could leave her like this. She couldn't cry out and beg them to hick her, her mind wouldn't allow that, but she wished that someone would quench the raging fire that was burning through her thighs and belly. She could feel the roughness of the wool blanket against her sore and swollen breasts as the captain's weight fell on top of her, gripping her hot buttocks in his hands and spreading and stretching them wide apart as she heaved and sobbed.
His prick was hot and thick and he was determined to use it on her now, but he wanted a virginal orifice, not something second hand. His cock felt like a cannon between his legs, a gutting shaft of reprisal, as he gripped her haunches and lifted her closer and closer to him, nearer to his thrusting shaft of indictment, knowing that she was about to be impaled, impaled so that she would suffer through every hard, cruel inch of it!
She let out a scream, a choking guttural sound, horrified and quaking.
"Noooooo, please, nooooo, don't!" She shrieked louder and louder as he jabbed one long thick finger into her tight, clenching anal orifice right up to his knuckle. He wiggled and prodded his finger, widening and tearing at her, preparing her for his final and total degradation.
Her body was a mass of quivers and sobs as he aimed his long powerful prick at her tortured, torn back passage. His fingers wriggled in the soft, tight opening of her anus as they explored and tugged ruthlessly at the elastic ring of skin around the aperture. He raised up on his knees and aimed the head of his prick at her anus, pushing slowly into the tight, aching opening. She tried to collapse on the bed, but his hands held her upright, pulling her back onto him with maniacal force.
John stood horrified and hurting for the helplessly bound girl, his mouth dry and parched, not knowing what he could do to help her, knowing that she would never be able to recover from such a humiliating and degrading experience.
"Give it to her," the cook urged. "Let me see you dog fuck her!"
The captain ripped at her buttocks cheeks, tearing them cruelly apart and aiming his hard shaft at her tiny puckered rectum and shoving into her with all his meaty strength. She let out a horrible scream as he met with an seemingly impenetrable wall of flesh, but slowly it began to expand and slip glove-like over his thick, hard manhood and he eased himself in with one cruel thrust after another.
"Aaaaaagggggghhh," she screamed as she could feel the thickness of his hard, cruel cock delve deeper and deeper into her open, defenseless rectum.
It felt so tight, so wild and constricting as he slowly wormed every last inch of the thick, hardened cudgel into her tightly straining back pass- age. He clutched at her cheeks and dug his fingers into the crevice of her rectum as he lunged in thickly, in and out of the clamping, capturing cavern.
"It's so sweet, so fucking tight," he gasped as he could feel the foreskin of his penis being pushed back roughly over the staff of his battering rod.
"Oooohhhhhh," she groaned again, wishing through the pain and horrible humiliation that she could get used to this stiff ramming at her backside.
Behind her, the captain felt his balls tingle and jerk and he knew that he was about to cum inside her, fill her back passage with his hot, spewing liquid and he gripped into her thighs, holding her against him as he jerked and ground out his lustful orgasm.
"Here it is, baby," he grunted, "I'm filling you. . . . I'm filling you!"
She felt his sticky sperm gush into her anus and his penis become flaccid and small once again as he eased out of her and collapsed next to her on the bed.
"Louise . . . Louise," John gasped, his voice choked with emotion and pity.
He struggled with his bonds until the cook finally set him free. He rushed over to her and cradled her in his arms, trying to comfort her.
"Let me alone," she begged. "I don't want to see you again. I don't want to ever see any man!"
"Oh baby," the captain laughed. "You'd get lonesome without some man to take care of you.
You're going to be the hottest thing to hit Jamaica, I feel sorry for that fiancee of yours."
"Maybe she'll find a nigger stud to service her. You know how they're hung and straight from the jungle, maybe that will keep her happy."
The two men laughed and dressed and walked out of the cabin. John glared at them, and bent down to kiss Louise.
"I said, get out of here, I want to be alone!"
She kicked and squirmed until John released her and stumbled backwards, confused and hurt. He couldn't know that there was still a burning fire in her loins, that she hadn't been satisfied and if he didn't leave she would be begging him to take her, fuck her, make her complete. She couldn't do this, she had to be alone and hope that this terrible, gnawing feeling would go away.
Chapter Three
The ship eased into the harbor at Montego Bay shortly after noon the next day. Small canoes paddled by husky, broad-shouldered blacks converged on it, shouting and begging, hawking gaily colored cloths, small carved statues, beads and coconuts. Louise stood on the deck letting the warm air envelop her, watching the huge negroes entice the passengers on other ships to buy their crudely made wares. These were negroes who had escaped from slavery or had been set loose by their masters and they looked healthy, happy as their ebony skins glistened in the sun. They grinned invitingly at her as their canoes passed by the cargo ship and whistled, begging her to throw them a shilling or tu'penny and called her "Masser!"
John sidled next to her and threw a few coins to the men in the canoes, watching them dive head first into the clear water to retrieve it.
"Oh!" she gasped, noticing for the first time that none of the men wore any covering of any kind.
"Yes, Master," they called to him and he smiled back at them. In Liverpool he had been a mere low-salaried employee in a big office and he had to call the other men "sir." It gave him a feeling of importance and power to have these groveling black men call him "master."
The word chilled Louise and she shivered and shouted, "I'm not your master . . . no . . . no!" The thought of these other human beings being so subservient to people they didn't even know just because they were white gruelled her and she was not at all sure that this was a custom she would be able to accept.
"But they like it," John insisted, "it is fun to watch them dive for the coins, this is how they make their living."
"It's just not right," she insisted, "I don't like it." "I'm afraid that you'll have to get used to being called "master or mistress," it's their way of life and on the plantations they are considered little more than small, helpless children at best and animals at worst.
John went to throw another coin and Louise caught his hand. "Don't do that," she pleaded. "Don't make them dive like animals after meat. Let them have some pride!"
John ignored her and flung the coin near a canoe that was just a few feet from their boat and a huge buck dove in the water after it. He came up clutching the coin in his hand and jumped back into the canoe, holding the coin in the air and yelling, "Thank you, masser."
"See how happy he is," John insisted, and as Louise looked toward the huge Negro he stood up waving the coin, begging her to throw one, his long, muscular legs shining with the drops of water, his body firm and his genitals casually exposed to the sun, full as a ripe banana, and she couldn't take her eyes away from this stallion of a man.
"You act as though you've never seen a man before," John said almost nastily. "He's quite a stud, I must admit."
She blushed and turned away from the railing, giving John a disgusted and annoyed look.
"It's quite natural, my dear," he told her. "You only have the curiosity of all other white women, that is, to see if it's really true what they say about black men."
"Don't be so crude, John," she reprimanded him, "it's not like you."
"Last night wasn't very much like you either," he rasped. "You didn't seem to mind the captain's lusting after you so terribly much!"
She didn't answer him, but went below to gather her belongings so that she would be ready to disembark as soon as the ship was secured to the pier and the gangplank was lowered.
She hoped that Rodney would be there to meet her and she wondered what he would do, what she would say, it had been such a long time since she had seen him. It would be like meeting a stranger.
John wished that he hadn't been so sharp and sarcastic with Louise, after all the tropics were new to all of them and this was the first time she had been away from her home and there had been no reason to upset her more than was necessary, but he couldn't help but remember the look on her face after the captain had left her, after the torturing sodomy. She had been crying, but she didn't seem to be as upset as she had been the night before with him when she had lost her virginity. He shook his head and thought that he would never understand women. He had felt that he loved her, but after seeing her with another man his feelings were cooling and although he would love to be in her bed again, it would be for other reasons, not for love. He felt a stirring in his loins as he visualized her voluptuous body, the way she trembled and squirmed when he had entered her, and her violent reaction to his love-making. Maybe he had primed her for other men, maybe not, but he knew that he would have her again if it was the last thing he ever did.
He had never been one to coddle women, but this one was special and he would have to treat her with kid gloves if he were to accomplish everything he planned to do.
Louise sat in her cabin staring out of the small window and watched the ripple of the waves as the boat pulled nearer and nearer to the dock.
Her heart was pounding with excitement and apprehension, wondering what she would find in this new land, this new way of life. She couldn't help but feel that John had been unduly cruel to her when she had been standing next to him, yet she couldn't blame him entirely for his attitude. She still felt a tenderness towards him, he had opened up a new way of life for her when he took her virginity and he had been so kind and loving, he had said that he loved her, but now she wondered if he still felt the same way, if she still felt the same way about him, and if seeing Rodney again after all these years would make any difference. There were so many things that were clouding her mind that she didn't feel the jolt of the ship as it slid easily into the pier, or the laughing chatter of the dock boys as they ran to tie it to the huge wooden pillars that were buried deep into the sand.
The ships whistle blasted out two long, low sounds that announced their arrival and she heard the captain knock on her door and tell her that they were docked.
"Don't take on too many of them native boys," he laughed maliciously. "They'd tear a little girl like you apart!"
She cringed at the sound of his voice, but slowly got up, checked around the cabin for anything she may have left behind, then walked slowly to the upper deck.
John was waiting for her and apologized for being so brash and told her that he hoped that she would forget it and they could remain at least friends, if not more than that. His words sounded so weak, but the look on his face revealed that he meant he was sincere and she took his hand and squeezed it affectionately.
"There are a lot of things that I'd like to forget about this voyage, John, but be assured, that you are not one of them" "I hope not, Louise," he said quietly, "I certainly hope not."
She shaded her eyes against the sun and scanned the milling crowd on the pier, searching for some glimpse of Rodney. The welcoming contingent was mostly comprised of blacks with only a few whites scattered here and there, but finally her eyes spotted someone that looked like Rodney. She waved at the man in the light suit and he waved back at her, smiling. The man was walking to the end of the gangplank and she turned to John. "Do you suppose they'll let him on board to help me?"
"I doubt it, they're afraid of fever, remember. These ships are pretty well quarantined except for the crew."
"Oh, that's right," she remembered and began to walk toward the end of the ship to leave, John following along in back of her.
They moved down the gangplank into a shouting mob of blacks. John steadied her arm as they walked, pushing their way through the crowd. She could hear someone calling her name and she looked beyond a group of people and she could see Rodney pushing his way to meet them. He reached out to kiss her, but she held him off and looked at him. He had gained quite a bit of weight and his face was badly scarred and covered with tiny blotches of blood as though he had nicked himself one hundred times while shaving.
"What happened?" she asked, shocked to see him like this and slightly nauseated.
"Nothing," he reassured her. "Just had a touch of the fever and it left me with a few scars, but it should be all gone in a few more weeks."
John was standing in back of her, shuffling nervously while they had their reunion, when she remembered that he was still there and said, "Oh Rodney, this is John Stuart, he was another passenger on the boat with me."
Rodney reached out to shake John's hand and the men nodded, acknowledging their introduction. Louise glanced furtively back at John as he started to excuse himself to go meet the liaison who had arranged his job for him.
"You going to work here in Jamaica, John," Rodney asked, stalling him for another moment.
"Yes, naturally," he replied curtly.
"Do you mind my asking where, maybe I can be of some help."
"I'm not sure yet, the man who arranged my passage has all the particulars, but I know that I am to be a bookkeeper on one of the larger plantations."
"Very interesting," Rodney said, noticing the look that Louise was giving the other man.
"I hope we'll be seeing more of each other," John added, "Nice to have met you Rodney."
Louise reached out and touched his hand briefly and thanked him for being so nice during their trip, then turned and followed Rodney to a carriage that was waiting to take them to the plantation.
"Do you know where John might be working," Louise asked him. "He seemed like such a nice man that I'd hate to see him in a place that he didn't like."
"Strangely enough, sweetheart," Rodney told her, "I have a feeling that he might be the new man Celia Williams has hired at Manor Road."
"Manor Road?" she asked, "Is that the name of where we are to live?"
"Yes, darling," he told her, patting her hand affectionately.
"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" she asked. "I mean a fellow Englishman and all." Rodney laughed and looked at her. "You like the chap, sweetheart?"
"Oh Rod," she said, "He was just very nice to me during the trip, but remember, I'm here to marry you!" Her voice shook as she spoke the words and she hoped that he couldn't detect the disappointment in her tone, after all, everything was so new, so strange, she had to give herself time.
"That's right," he winked at her. "Shortly you'll be Mrs. Rodney Harris, wife of the overseer at Manor Hall."
"What's it like there ... at the Manor," she asked.
"There is so much that you'll have to learn, darling," he told her, "but the plantation is run by a woman, Mrs. Celia Williams, her husband died a few years ago and it has hardened her somewhat so don't let her upset you. She's used to being the only white woman on the place and I'm afraid that she wasn't too keen on the thought of my getting married and bringing you all the way from England."
"Really," Louise queried. "Was she in love with you?" She tried to say it jokingly, but deep inside she was serious and almost hoping for an affirmative answer. Maybe somehow this could be the reason for postponing their wedding.
"I doubt that she's in love with me, but she does like to be the center of attention, and another white woman threatens this. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
"I think so, but I do hope that she will like me once we get acquainted. I think it would be very lonely without another woman to talk to from time to time."
He smiled at her and kissed her cheek. "How could anyone not like you, sweetheart," he reassured her.
They drove for miles through the flat land of the island, passing groups of negro women carrying baskets of fruit or water balanced carefully on their heads, washing clothes by the side of the road in the irrigation ditches, and groups of young pickaninnies playing with stones or crude, hand-made toys.
From the market place you could hear the squeal of pigs, the incessant squawk of chickens, the shrill cries of the negroes as a whip cracked out and lashed across the back of a bearer as he carted his master's produce and wares to be sold. The air smelled foul, the odor of sweating bodies, stale urine and the spoiled fruit permeated the immediate area of Montego Bay. As their carriage moved along the narrow dirt road to the outer part of the island the ocean breezes carried some of the stench out to sea and Louise could take a deep breath without feeling sick. Her clothes, although they were the lightest she had brought with her, were sticking to her body from the heat of the blazing, scorching sun. Her hair clung in damp ringlets around her cheeks and forehead and she tried to cool herself by waving an old piece of cardboard back and forth in front of her face.
"This heat is stifling," she commented, watching Rodney who seemed to be completely unaffected by it.
"It's cooler out by the plantation," he told her, "and you'll get used to it after awhile."
An old Negro slave jogged alongside of their carriage carrying a large umbrella in a useless effort to keep the sun from beating directly down upon their heads, but the horses trotted along at such a pace that it was difficult for him to keep up.
They reached large, expansive fields of cane after they had been riding for about a half an hour, and Rodney told her that they were approaching the first section of the plantation.
"The main house is about a mile further down the road and off to the right."
"Is all this property Mrs. Williams?" she asked incredulously.
"All this and then some," he said, "she's one of the wealthiest women in the island."
"What happened to her husband," she enquired.
"Some say that he died of the fever many years ago, others say that she had him killed by a slave, had him poisoned."
"But why?"
"He was much older than she and it seems that she had a roving eye when she was younger. I understand that she was quite beautiful, in fact, she still is a remarkably handsome woman, and that her husband found out about her indiscretions and threatened to have her whipped like a slave!"
"So she killed him?"
"I don't know which of the stories is true, but believe me, she is entirely capable of killing a person. She has ordered some severe whippings for the slaves when they do something wrong."
"Is it necessary?"
"Sometimes, unfortunately, it is. Unless the whites keep a firm hand on these critters they are likely to rebel. It's been known to happen, a whole plantation burned out, the women ravished and maimed by the attack of the slaves."
Louise shivered at the thought. She couldn't imagine being raped by someone as large as the black she had seen diving for coins, it would be murder in itself!
"Are all the slaves really just savages?" she asked. "Don't any of them read or write?"
"Oh yes, some of them have been taught, but it is rare. The slave market is a booming trade here, some of the plantations raise slaves, selective breeding you might call it."
"How do they manage that?"
"In the past the masters of the plantations, their sons and male relatives may have sired children by some of the prettier and younger slave girls. These children were often light in color and would go for a higher price on the slave block. Although the men would never admit their parentage, the crossed blood lines were obvious and these slaves were favored. Sometimes they would be taken from the fields to work in the house and a kind master would teach them to read or write. It's all very complicated and intricate, but you'll learn as you live here."
"What about at Manor Hall? Are there educated slaves there?"
"Certainly, there are a few, but by an education we mean just the basics of adding, subtracting and reading and writing what's involved in a grocery list."
"Oh," she said simply.
It didn't seem possible that there were still people like this in the world, that people would be content to be someone else's slave, yet it did exist and she would have to live with it.
The carriage was just pulling up in front of the gate when they were greeted by field hands yelling, "Hello, master," giggles from the women as they stared at Louise, then went back to their work. The driver let them off directly in front of a small cabin to the left of the big house.
"This is where you'll be staying for the time being. Mrs. Williams has already assigned several slaves to attend to you, so if there's anything you need, just ask them, that's what they're there for."
"Where do you stay?" she asked him.
"My cabin is further down, in back of the big house, nearer to the slave stables."
"When will I meet Mrs. Williams?" she asked.
"I'm sure she will invite us up after you've had a chance to get settled."
He helped her down from the carriage and instructed the big slave to carry her things into the cabin. An old Negro woman had already cleaned the three small rooms and had prepared a bath for her.
"Louise, this is Maebelle. Maebelle, this your new mistress."
Maebelle smiled an almost toothless grin at Louise and scurried to bring out some fresh towels and help Louise with her hat and shawl.
"Maebelle was raised right here on the Manor," Rod told her, "She's just like one of the family."
Maebelle didn't seem to be paying attention to what Rod was saying except for a nod of the head every once in awhile. She had been serving at the big house and Louise sensed that she felt she was being slighted by being asked to work for a new woman, but she said nothing.
"Maebelle will take care of everything for you for awhile, the cleaning, cooking, your clothing, anything you desire, then after a while you can work out your own schedule and way of doing things. Right, Maebelle?"
"Yes master," she said softly.
Maebelle looked as though she was about sixty and told Louise that she was the mother of about fifteen of the young buck slaves and the grandmother of about twenty to thirty more on the plantation.
"She was choice breeding stock at one time," Rod said coolly, "but there's nothing left of you now, is there Maebelle?"
"No suh," she giggled. "I'se done worn out. I don't care to bed with another man again."
"But I caught you watching that young Buford and Elvira out in the woods the other day. They teaching you something you didn't know in your day!"
"The mistress, she was looking for Elvira, she not suppose' to be lying with any man, she too young and the mistress don' want her breedin' yet.
"Oh," he said, surprised. "What did she do?"
"She tol' her that if she catch her in the woods again, she get the noggin' of her life, and she'd bed her down with Hoss!"
Rod laughed, knowing that the legend of Hoss had spread throughout the entire slave quarters. He was one of the lowest field hands with the mind of a three-year-old, but the body that was Herculean. It was estimated that his manhood measured somewhere around nine or ten inches!
"She'd never want another man if Hoss got to her," he chuckled, kissing Louise quickly on the check and telling her that he would be back in a few hours.
"Who is Hoss, Maebelle?" Louise asked.
"Oh, miss'ress, he the biggest stud on this here farm, a monster of a man. No one woman could ever take all of him, she'd be torn clean apart!"
"Mmmmmm," was all she answered.
It was strange how the slaves took the matter of love making as though it were just the process of animal breeding and nothing more. Maebelle told her that she had bedded with many men and had children by five or six of them and had never been married.
"They're some of the biggest boys in the field," she said proudly, as though she had whelped a champion litter!
Louise undressed slowly and slipped into the cooling water in the tub letting it soak away the dust from the ride from the ship to the plantation.
"What's the mistress of the plantation like, Maebelle?" she asked finally, toweling herself off.
Maebelle looked at her new mistress for a moment then answered. "I reckon you'll have to find out for yourself. Some folks like her, some don't."
Louise knew that she was evading the question and it made her feel uneasy, the whole plantation made her feel uneasy. She wasn't used to having someone wait on her, bathe her, lay out her clothes, and she wasn't sure that she could ever get used to it.
Maebelle felt just as uncomfortable being with Louise. She had always been a house servant at the main house and she felt a slight resentment at being asked to leave to care for the new white woman. Mrs. Williams had explained the situation to her and had tried to make her understand that it was not a demotion, but she would be doing her a great personal favor. She wanted to have a person she could trust keep an eye on the new woman, a person who would follow her orders unquestionably and report any findings to her. She didn't want Louise on the plantation, much less as Rodney's wife and she was going to do all she could to prevent the marriage from taking place.
The night before Louise's arrival she had called Rodney to the main house and invited him to stay for dinner. She implored him to reconsider bringing Louise to the plantation, begged him to put her on the next boat back to England, but he seemed adamant about having her as his wife and was just as certain that she could adjust to the new way of life.
"I won't let another woman interfere with our relationship," she threatened him. "You know that I could make life very difficult here in Jamaica if I wanted to." Her eves had been hard and unyielding and he knew that she had meant every word she said, but still he didn't want to live without Louise.
He wished that he hadn't let himself get involved with her in any other way than overseer, but he had been lonely and the slave women, even the young, nubile girls had never appealed to him. He didn't like the coarseness of their hair, their eagerness to go to bed with a white man, so when Celia Williams had invited him to share her bed one night, he had been all to anxious, and now she was holding it over his head. It was no secret around the plantation that he had been sleeping with her, nor was it a secret that she had slept with several of the lighter and more handsome field hands. She was a passionate woman in everything she did and she ruled the plantation with an iron hand. There wasn't a slave that wouldn't jump when she commanded it or who would not cower when she was angry. She had had to order beatings from time to time when a slave had disobeyed her and the others on the plantation were always forced to watch the cruel thrashings as a warning to them. She clothed her slaves, fed them well and worked them hard, thinking of them as no more than children, innocents who must be told every little thing and who must be punished when they disobeyed. Several of the slaves had been born and raised on the plantation and would die there, she had never been known, nor had her husband ever freed any of the Negroes, manumission was unheard of as far as Celia Williams was concerned.
Rodney paced up and down his small quarters, waiting and giving Louise enough time to get settled before he showed her around the acreage and introduced her to Mrs. Williams. He wondered how she would react, what she would sav, and wasn't completely without fear of consequences that he had insisted that Louise come to be with him.
Louise watched Maebelle while she put her clothes away and brought in some water for her bath.
"That's all, Maebelle," she told her. "I want to bathe and then will you tell Mr. Harris that I'm settled and rested."
"Yes ma'am," she said quietly, and closed the cabin door behind her.
Celia Williams was sitting in her room deciding what she should do about the new turn of events. She couldn't let Rodney get away with defying her wishes, yet she couldn't openly order Louise off the plantation without the risk of losing her overseer.
She sent one of her house boys to the slave quarters and ask that Maebelle come to the big house. She wanted to know every move that Rodney and Louise made, and she would have to find a way to force Louise to leave of her own volition.
Maebelle sat and listened while Mrs. Williams described her bizarre and frightening plan, and she shook from the very thought of it.
"Yes, mistress," she nodded, "I understand, but ... but . . ."
"But what, Maebelle," she demanded. "Will you do as I say or must I have you thrashed?"
"No, ma'am, I sure wouldn't like that, but you know what happens to niggers who touch a white woman. It isn't going to be easy to find the bucks that'll be willin' " "They wouldn't dare defy me," she continued.
"It isn't as if I don't know what's going on, I'm ordering it!"
"Yes, ma'am," she answered meekly, waiting to be dismissed.
"I want two or three of those breeding studs to go around to the cabin at night, watch her carefully, let them get an eyeful of what a pretty, young white woman looks like. If that doesn't harden their britches I don't know what will."
"Oh yes, mistress, I'se sure that it'll do that, but some of them studs, they hung pretty heavy."
"That's exactly what I want, Maebelle, the heavier the better. Let our little miss prim get a sample of a real man. Mr. Harris wouldn't be able to satisfy her after one of the bucks has had her, and what's more, he wouldn't even want her!"
"Yes, ma'am," she said, and got up to leave and pick out three likely boys for the diabolical scheme.
She felt sorry for the new white woman from England, but she couldn't disobey her mistress, she couldn't do that no matter what she had asked. She walked to the row of shacks where the young bucks were bedded and called to one named Reuben.
A midnight black face peered out from a broken window and answered her, "What'd you want, Maebelle, I'se restin'."
"Come on out here, I got to talk to you, and bring Ezra and Hoss."
She waited for several minutes before three of the biggest bucks in all Jamaica walked lazily from the cabin. In hushed words she told them what the mistress had ordered, and she watched their shocked and frightened expressions.
"We ain't supposed to touch no white woman," they said. "I'm a'feared that they'd string me up for that!"
Maebelle tried to sound harsh and demanding as she insisted that they would meet a worse fate if they didn't comply with the mistress's wishes. The three looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.
"I never thought I'd cover a white woman," Ezra giggled. "Sure hope that Mr. Harris doesn't get wind of this, we'd be dead sure."
Maebelle told the bucks to come around to the cabin about nine that night. She would leave the window shade open so that they could get a look at what was in store for them. She'd make sure that the new woman's bath was in plain view from the window, but they were just supposed to look that night and only when she gave them a signal were they to make some noise so that the new mistress would know that she was being watched. She wouldn't be able to see their faces in the dark, but they would sure get a good look at her!
When Maebelle returned to Louise's cabin she was gone and she knew that Mr. Harris had come for her and was taking her around the plantation. Celia Williams watched them walk hand in hand down the narrow dirt road that led to some of the fields and she couldn't help from smiling. She wondered how long Rodney Harris would want to hold her hand after she had been fucked silly by a few of the nigger studs! She knew that Maebelle would not disappoint her and that when the time was right, she would have Rodney just where she wanted him, and that was in bed with her!
"I know that you'll like it here," Rodney told her, squeezing her hand. "It won't take long for you to get adjusted to the heat and way of life."
She looked at him, felt her hand in his yet felt as though she were walking with a stranger. She didn't feel the excitement that a woman who is about to be married should feel, she felt nothing. The man beside her was almost a total stranger, the years had changed him, aged him, hardened him, and she wished that she hadn't been so impulsive and left England without giving this venture more thought. She remembered how she had felt when John had kissed her and made love to her. She felt more affection for the stranger she had met during her voyage than for the man who walked beside her now. She listened half-heartedly as he pointed out the different buildings on the plantation, showing her where the Negroes lived, what fields were being worked and the barn. The field hands were just getting ready to leave their work for the day and several of them stared at her as she walked with Rodney. They had heard through the gossip that a new woman was coming to live at the Manor, but the hadn't expected one quite so young or so beautiful. Their looks made Louise feel uncomfortable as they filed past her dressed in little more than rough loin cloths, their ebony skin glistening from the sun, their muscles rippling from their day's work. They were the strongest looking men she had ever seen, built like pictures of the mythical gods she had seen. The women all wore head scarves tying back the crinkly wool of their hair. Most of the women were stocky, even fat, with only the younger ones lithe and reasonably feminine. They eyed her with distrust, as a threat to their standing on the plantation. Several of the young girls had openly offered themselves to Rodney, cornering him during the day or in the evening when he went to inspect the Negroes' quarters.
When Mr. Williams had been alive he had the privilege of deflowering all the young girls when they came of age and could be bred, and since his death the slaves assumed that this would be Mr. Harris' duty or pleasure, depending on how one looked at it. Williams had always enjoyed this duty and looked forward to the day that a young girl would be ready, and as a result there were several light skinned Negro bucks and wenches around the plantation. Although Celia Williams would never admit it, and didn't treat these light-skinned slaves any differently from the rest, it was widely known that Mr. Williams had been their father. Mrs. Williams knew that her husband had had several of the wenches that he had bedded quite frequently, but she never mentioned it to him, she found it too degrading and mean. It wasn't until after his death that she had considered any physical contact with a Negro.
She was still a young woman and before the arrival of Rodney Harris, she had no one, except the slaves for male or female companionship. On several occasions she had ordered Maebelle to go to the buck's quarters and bring her one particular buck, a mulatto, who would join her in her bed. He had made her feel like a woman again, and even though she treated him as little more than an animal, he had brought her to a height of ecstasy that she had never known with her husband. He had not tried to be careful with her, he had never been tender with her and this had excited her more than any words of love or fleeting caresses could have. When Rodney Harris came to work for her, she had seduced him and had become very demanding as a bed partner. He had tried to stay away from her at first, but the thought of sleeping with a serving wench disgusted him more than excited him. He knew that these girls would be eager to please him and perhaps would make good bed partners, but there was something about them that prevented him from ever bedding one. Celia Williams knew this and therefore would plan her invitations to the big house when she knew that he would be most vulnerable. She had threatened to tell his fiancee about their affair and he knew that quite possibly she may do this, but it would be in a very subtle way.
He looked at Louise as they walked slowly back to her cabin, praying and hoping that nothing would ever hurt her, that she would grow to love the island as he had and that they would be happy. He could sense that she was uncomfortable, but it had been several years since they had seen each other and many things had changed, it would take time.
It was still early in the evening when he left her at the cabin door. The pink and orange sunset was just beginning to slip into the waves of the ocean and she could smell the sweet scent of the wet foliage around the plantation. The air was beginning to cool as a breeze flickered through the trees, moving the leaves in a slow rhythm and it felt as though it may rain.
"I'm very tired, Rodney," she told him. "Would it be all right if Maebelle made me something to eat here and I got a good night's sleep, I really could use it."
She could tell that he was disappointed, but he didn't want to rush her, so he kissed her lightly and told her that he would call for her in the morning. There was plenty of time for her to meet Mrs. Williams and she should get her rest.
"Maebelle," she said reticently, "Would you please make me some tea and something light to eat, then I'd like another bath and some sleep."
Maebelle nodded and put on some water for her tea. She watched as Louise unbuttoned the top of her dress and loosened the belt. "I wish it would cool off," she commented, weak from the stifling heat from the sun and the humidity.
"Oh, it do," Maebelle said grinning. "It rains mos' every day during the season. Should be starting any time now."
Louise looked out of the small window at the side of the cabin, opening it to let a cross breeze circulate in the small rooms. She could see flashes of heat lightning emblazon the sky with a threat or a promise of rain.
In the distance she could see the fields where the cane cutting had gone on, the rows that had been cut, making a wide scar on the neat carpet of sugar. She wondered if that was the sweetness that permeated the air and closed her eyes for a moment taking in the scent of Jamiaca, the cane fields of the Manor and the musky odor of the warm earth.
"Your tea, miss," Maebelle told her, handing her a cup of the steeping leaves and then busied herself in the small kitchen preparing a meal of chicken, fish and greens.
"You'll have to order from the big house so's I'll know what you like," Maebelle said apologetically. "Tonight we'll just have to have wha's here."
"Anything will be fine, I'm sure," Louise told her, and collapsed on the soft mattress of the bed. She wished that she had at least seen Mrs. Williams, knew what she looked like, so she would at least have some idea of what to expect. Rodney had seemed hesitant to talk about her and she had the strangest feeling that they would not get along, not at all.
Maebelle served Louise her dinner, then went to the back to draw some more water for her bath. It was just beginning to get dark and she knew that it wouldn't be long before Reuben, Ezra and Hoss would be peeking through the window. She hoped that everything would go as planned because she didn't want to get a whipping from the mistress.
Louise began to undress slowly, lazily, her energy sapped from her trip and the heat of the sun. She stretched out on the coolness of the sheets, feeling the crisp white cotton against her soft skin. She propped her arms behind her head and closed her eyes. She wondered what John was doing, where he would be working, and if she would ever see him again.
She remembered how she had felt when he had made love to her, how gentle he had been afterwards. She looked down at her body as she relaxed on the bed, watching her full, voluptuous breasts rise and fall as she breathed. She ran her hands over her rib cage, touching her breasts for just a moment, then feeling the narrowness of her waist and the smoothness of her thighs. She wondered if Rodney would ever be able to make her feel like a woman, wondered what kind of a lover he would be. She thought about the roughness of the captain and the cook, but yet it had stimulated her, turned her into an animal reacting with a passion that almost matched their own.
She could feel tiny bumps of goose flesh rise on her skin as she thought about her lovemaking. She knew that Rodney would be able to tell that she was no longer a virgin, but somehow it didn't matter to her anymore. She wasn't even sure that she would be able to go through with her marriage to him. His face had disgusted her, his body had become fat and flabby and nothing at all about him appealed to her any longer.
Her reverie was interrupted by Maebelle's knock on the door. "I've brought your bath water, m'am," she told her.
"Thank you," she said, getting up from the bed and unhooking her brassiere and hanging it over one of the iron posters. Her ripe, full breasts fell free and bounced slightly as she walked into the other room and looked around for fresh towels that Maebelle had laid out on a small table.
She was humming softly to herself as she slipped into the tepid water, letting it soak the tenseness and perspiration from her body. She didn't hear the tree young bucks slip up to the window, nor did she see them staring at her as she splashed around in the water, jiggling her sensuous white breasts as she moved.
The three boys stared, transfixed by her loveliness.
"She's got skin like milk," Reuben said. "I've never seen anything so beautiful."
"I can't take this," Ezra commented, "I'm all hot and hard now!"
"Sssshhhh," Hoss chided, "Remember what Maebelle tol' us. Be quiet until she says so!"
They were nervously shuffling their feet and rubbing their hands over the hard bulges inside their trousers. They had never seen a white woman naked before and even though most of her body was hidden by the rim of the tub, their imaginations were creating an image of what she would look like when she stood up.
She lay back in the tub for several minutes before balancing herself on the rim and standing up. The water streamed down from her back in little rivulets over her buttocks and down her thighs. She had her back to the window and because of the darkness of the night and the blackness of the boys' skin, she had no way of knowing they were there ogling her, desiring her.
Maebelle came up alongside them quietly and peered through the window with them.
"I'm going to go back inside," she told them. "When you see me in the room, then make soma noise so that she knows she was being watched."
"Man, I want to bust in there and take her right now!" Hoss said.
"She couldn't take all of you, Hoss," Ezra said. "I'll go first and break her in for you."
"Ain't none of you gittin' it tonight," Maebelle warned. "The mistress said to wait a day or so, just to taunt and scare her for the next two days."
"Ain't hardly fair," Reuben muttered, "Gittin' us all hot like this and then not lettin' us fuck her."
"Bed yourself down with one of the wenches from the quarter when you get back if you have to, but stay out of this cabin for the night!"
Maebelle slipped around to the front door of the cabin and knocked, then waited until Louise told her to come in. She was just wrapping a transparent, lacy robe around her shoulders that couldn't hide the rounded curves of her body as the light shown through the material.
Maebelle walked to the center of the room and started to drain the water from the tub, just as Louise turned around to face the open window. Reuben whistled and Ezra and Hoss giggled. "You is sure some woman," Reuben chided. "I'm going to get some of that li'l tail."
"Yeah man," the other chimed in. "Wait 'til you've had some dark meat shoved up 'tween yore white li'l legs."
Louise stood there stunned and shaking. She knew the voices were coming from outside the window, but how long had they been there, what had they seen. "Maebelle," she screamed, "someone's out there!"
"I'll see who it is," she replied, rushing out the front door pretending to look for the boys who had been out there.
Louise ran into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed shaking as tears of fright began to stream down her face.
"Maebelle," she screamed again, just as the dark woman appeared in the doorway.
"They ran away, ma'am, before I could see their faces, but I'll tell the mistress in the morning and she'll find out whot it was."
"I'm so frightened," she choked out. "I feel so strange, I wish I'd never come here!"
"Now miss, you don't mean that. You're going to marry a very fine young man."
"I wish I were more sure of that, Maebelle," she confided.
Maebelle felt sorry for the young girl sprawled out on the bed trembling. She wanted to go to her, hold her like a mother would a child, but she had just met her new mistress and she didn't want her to be offended. She knew that Mrs. Williams would go to any extreme to drive her out of Jamaica and the knowledge of what was going to happen to the young girl made her feel nauseous and ashamed, but there was nothing she could do, no way she could stop the older woman's vengeance.
She lay awake for a long time, listening to the strange new sounds of the island, the very stillness almost deafening. The air seemed to be pregnant with the sweetness of the cane and in the distance she could hear a few of the slaves singing chants and songs from their native land. She could see the sky from where she lay and could watch the cumulus clouds gather across the moon as it moved slowly across the darkened sky. A slight breeze rippled the freshly starched curtains on her window and the air carried the promise of rain. It wasn't the damp foggy warning that she had known in England, but rather a warm, stifling closeness that seemed to permeate to the bone. She shivered and pulled the covers closer around her.
"If you like, I'll sleep out in the other room tonight," Maebelle said quietly.
"Oh yes, please do, I don't want to be left alone," she answered, glad that she would have company in case the boys came back to torment her and watch her. She had heard stories about rapes on the plantations, rebellions, but she hadn't expected to encounter any trouble on her first night in this new home.
Maebelle made herself a pallet from some blankets and slept by the stove in the front room of the cabin, wishing that there were someway that she could warn Louise, but deep inside knowing that it would mean punishment, perhaps even death if Celia Williams wishes were not carried out.
Louise tossed and turned for about an hour before falling into an exhausted, but troubled sleep. Her bed was damp from "her perspiration when she awoke the next morning and she shaded her eyes against the already blinding sun. Morning came early and without stopping in Jamaica. The moment the sun was up, the earth became hot, the air still, and she could hear the field hands already on their way to cut the cane. She glanced at her watch and realized that it was barely six o'clock, but she was wide awake and she wished that Rodney would come for her so that she could tell him what had happened the night before. She rinsed her face in a basin of cool water and tiptoed into the other room, but Maebelle was already busy making her a breakfast of fish and grits.
"Mr. Harris should be here shortly, miss," she told her. "We rise early around here so that we can work before the sun gets too hot."
She sat down and ate, nervously drumming her fingers on the wooden table, waiting for Rodney.
Rodney looked at the big house as he headed for Louise's cabin. He looked at the manor, serene and magnificent. I wonder what she'll do to ruin my day, he thought, unconsciously contemplating what plans Celia Williams may have for him. He felt happy in spite of her threats because his fiancee was there with him and they were going to be married, no matter what.
"Mornin', Mr. Harris," Maebelle chimed, greeting him at the door. "Your young lady is waiting for you."
"Thank you Maebelle," he said, leaning down and kissing Louise on the forehead before he sat down.
"How was your first night in Jamaica?" he asked innocently. "I hope you slept well."
"Oh Rodney, it was awful!" she cried, blurting out the story as best she could between her sobs.
"Is that right, Maebelle," he said firmly and angrily. "Did you see who it was?"
"No suh," she said emphatically. "I sure didn't!"
"I believe you, Maebelle. You needn't worry, but I don't want you to be out of Miss Louise's sight at any time that I'm not around. You understand that?"
"Yes suh," she replied.
"Darling, I'm so sorry. I'll do my best to find out who it was and believe me, they shall be punished." He stared at the floor, knowing that it had to be Celia who had prompted the whole incident, but he couldn't tell Louise; he couldn't explain why she would act this way, it would chase her away and he would lose her.
"I want to leave here," Louise protested. "I'm afraid."
"Don't be afraid, darling, I'm sure that this whole thing can be settled today. Do you want to be married right away? That way, I'll always be around to protect you."
"No Rodney," she hesitated, "I think that I'd rather wait, get used to my new home before I have to get used to a husband too. Please understand, it's just too much at one time and I need some time to adjust."
"I understand, darling," he assured her, but the gnawing fear that she would decide to leave was ripping at his brain.
She was just finishing her breakfast when a boy from the main house came with a message that the mistress would like Rodney and his fiancee to join her for coffee before he went out into the fields to supervise the work crews.
"Do you feel up to it?" he asked her. "You have to meet her sometime."
"Certainly Rodney," she agreed, her curiosity outweighing her fear.
"Let's go then," he said, taking her hand and leading her up the tree lined walk to the Manor.
They walked past fiery bougainvillea leaves, deep red hibiscus blossoms, and mango trees, heavy with green, unripe fruit. The walk leading to the house was lined with every type and color of island foliage imaginable and she stopped to smell some of the dew dampened flowers.
Rodney knocked when they reached the front door and a red-jacketed boy of about twelve asked them to follow him into the dining room.
Celia Williams was seated alone at the far end of a heavy mahogany table sipping slowly a cup of steaming tea. Her eyes did not look up from the cup when she told them to sit down.
"Raphael, bring Mr. Harris and the young lady some biscuits and tea," she said, "or would you prefer coffee."
"Tea is fine," Louise said, her voice trembling, not knowing how to cope with this woman's seeming rudeness and aloofness.
"You are Louise," she said finally. "Welcome to Jamaica and to the plantation." Her voice was cold even though her words were cordial enough and Louise just nodded and thanked her.
"Rodney," she continued, completely ignoring the fact that Louise was there, "do you think that such a young, frail creature will be able to endure the heat and humidity of the island?"
She laughed cruelly, knowing full well that she was being impertinent and embarrassing him. "I must admit, however, that she is very lovely."
"I'm sure Louise and I will be very happy here," he said harshly, glaring at her, a warning in his eyes.
"I want to tell you, dear," she said, looking at Louise, studying her face and trying to imagine what the three bucks had seen the night before, "this is not an easy life, although it may seem like it . . . the servants, slaves, the abundance of the crops, but believe me, it isn't easy."
"I'd be happy no matter where Rodney was," she lied, disliking the woman from the first moment and wanting to get back at her.
"Maebelle is a good wench," she told her. "She'll take good care of you, she was here in the house for years. Born and raised on the Manor."
"She seems very nice, thank you," she answered simply.
Rodney started to say something, but Celia Williams interrupted him and went on directing her conversation at Louise. "Let me warn you to stay away from the bucks' quarters. Although most of them are well trained, the sight of a young white woman may just tempt them and slaves have been known to rebel and then there's no telling what would happen."
"Yes . . . yes, of course," she stammered.
"Naturally, I keep pretty close watch on everyone here at Manor Hall and the disobedient ones are punished, but I can't watch everyone all the time, that's why I hired your fiancee."
Louise sensed that Celia Williams was not a woman to make idle comments, that every word she spoke, she weighed and pondered and presented it with just the right emphasis, the correct intonation to get across her meaning. She had the chilling feeling that she knew what had happened the night before, and even suspected that she might have been the instigator, but she said nothing, she couldn't offend the mistress of the Manor the first day.
They finished their tea in silence, Rodney glaring at Celia when Louise wasn't watching. He excused himself and Louise and told her that he would see her later.
"Please do come by later," she chuckled. "I'd love to see you!"
There was no doubt in Louise's mind that she hadn't been included in the invitation, and she was more inclined than ever to leave the Manor and Jamaica and return to England.
Rodney stood up and helped Louise with her chair and glared at Celia once more, his stare warning her to let Louise alone. She returned his look with a challenge that she knew he could not deny. She knew that he would return to the main house that evening, that he wouldn't jeopardize his position at the Manor the first day of Louise's arrival in Jamaica.
"I don't like her," Louise said finally, "and it's obvious that she resents my being here. I'm not sure that I'm going to like it here, especially after what happened last night, and now her reception."
"Don't take her too seriously," he reassured her. "She's just not used to changes and she had been the only white woman on the plantation and I suppose it's natural that she would find you competition."
"Competition?" she queried. "Have you been leading her on, seeing her other than as your employer?"
He realized that he had opened a door that he had wished would remain shut, but the words had slipped out and it was too late to take them back. He looked at her and said, "I've had dinner at the house with her, no more."
He knew that she knew he was lying, but she would accept his answer and not question him further.
"I think I'd like to go back to my cabin now," she told him. "Besides, you have to check up on the workers in the fields. I heard Mrs. Williams ask you to."
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to ride out with me, that way you could see the rest of the plantation?"
"No, I'm quite sure," she told him. "It's too hot and I'd like to stay inside."
"Very well, I'll see you later in the day. If you need anything, I'm sure Maebelle will get it for you."
Celia Williams didn't waste much time in calling Maebelle back to the main house that morning. She wanted a full report of what had happened the night before, check if her plans had been carried out and know what Louise's reaction was to the intrusion. She was humming contentedly when Maebelle knocked on the door to the library.
"Come in, Maebelle . . . please. Sit down."
Maebelle had never been asked to sit down in the main house, she had always been told that she must stand in front of the master or mistress, so she hesitated.
"It's all right, go on, sit down."
Maebelle settled nervously in a large chair opposite Mrs. Williams and waited to hear what she had to ask. When she had satisfied her that her orders had been carried out to her satisfaction, she paused, thinking about what she could do to expedite Louise's return to England.
"I've invited Mr. Harris to the main house this evening, Maebelle. Mr. Harris, not Miss Ireland.
He should arrive here around dinner time and while he is here I want you to fix Miss Ireland something special to eat, something special like you've made for the wenches who have refused to bed when we ordered them to, do you understand? When she has eaten I want you to get Reuben and Hoss to come around to the cabin and take care of her." She laughed as she gave her orders, just thinking about what would happen. She knew that Maebelle's potion had worked on even the most stubborn wenches, so she was certain that it would work on Louise.
"Hoss is a pretty big stud for such a little girl," Maebelle interjected, feeling pity for the new woman. "Maybe I best git another buck."
"No, Hoss will do just fine. You tell him that he's supposed to break her in right!"
"Yes ma'am," she muttered, not liking what she had to do, but afraid to disobey.
Celia Williams smirked, then laughed as Maebelle left the room. She couldn't wait for evening to come, for Rodney Harris to learn that his precious fiancee was just like any other woman. She knew that he wouldn't believe her when she told him that she was taking on two young bucks while they sat there talking, so she would have to show him. She couldn't wait to see his face when he saw Reuben and Hoss giving it to Louise. Just the thought of it excited her and she found it hard to control her own desires until that evening . . . until she could get Rodney Harris in her own bed again.
Louise sat in the cabin all day, wondering what .
she could do and wishing that she could get in touch with John Stuart. He said that she could call him if she needed anything, and at this moment she needed something, someone, advice and a shoulder to lean on. She wished that she had gotten his address before she had left the ship, but she hadn't. After the previous evening, she knew that Rodney would want to get married right away, that he wouldn't want to wait for a month like they had planned in the beginning, and now she was less sure than ever that she wanted to marry him and stay in this strange country.
It was nearly five o'clock when a boy about six or seven knocked on the door of the cabin and told her that Mr. Harris would not be able to come by until later that evening, he had to keep an appointment at the main house, but that she shouldn't worry, he'd be there as soon as he could. She shut the door and began to cry. She wondered what kind of hold Celia Williams had on him and why he had to jump every time she called him, it didn't seem fair. Maebelle tried to comfort her and told her that she should have a brandy and she would make her a nice dinner.
"It's too hot for brandy, Maebelle, I'd prefer a rum and tonic if we have any."
"Yes ma'am," she told her and mixed her a tall, cooling drink.
Maebelle began to prepare dinner, a type of shrimp creole so that the drug she had to give Louise could be disguised in the sauce. She hated to do it to her, knowing what affect it would have, but as she stirred the thick tomato and pepper sauce, she poured an extravagant amount of the aphrodisiac into the mixture. She had been to the buck's quarters that afternoon, so Hoss and Reuben knew that they were to appear around seven o'clock and they could hardly wait. Maebelle had not told them that the girl would be drugged, but they knew that they were to take her that night and that was all that mattered to them. They had never dreamed of sleeping with a white woman and they pranced around the bunk house like two proud roosters.
"What're you goin' to do to her?" Reuben asked, giggling.
"Don' know yet, haven't given it much thought. Why?"
"I hear that white women are built small, much smaller than our wenches. Maybe you won't fit, you're mighty big."
"Don' worry 'bout me, I'll make it fit and after me, she may not even want you!"
"She'll want me, I'll make sure of that. I know a trick or two myself, Hoss."
The boys paced up and down their quarters, waiting for seven o'clock. It seemed like an eternity, but it was worth waiting for, they were sure of that.
Maebelle set only one place at the table since Mr. Harris would be eating at the main house, and poured Louise another drink.
"Your dinner's ready any time you are, Miss Louise," she told her. "Hope you like it; it's special."
"I'm not very hungry, Maebelle," she told the stocky colored woman, "but I suppose I should eat something."
Louise sipped on her second drink and picked at the Creole with her fork, nibbling distractedly on the shrimp.
She wondered if Rodney would still have to be at Celia Williams beck and call if and when they were married. She knew that her presence on the plantation was a threat to Mrs. Williams as far as Rodney was concerned, but she didn't seem like the type of woman who would give up gracefully, without a fight.
"Eat your dinner and don't fret so much," Maebelle encouraged her, freshening her drink. "Mr. Harris will be here in no time at all."
"I know, Maebelle," she answered, "but I can't help being uneasy here. It's as if I don't belong and never will."
"Nonsense, you're just feeling sorry for yourself because Mr. Harris has some business to take care of, but it'll pass, believe me. Now eat up!"
She smiled at the old colored woman and said, "I suppose you're right."
Louise finished her meal and poured herself another drink. The rum and tonic was cooling on the hot, cloudless evening, but she became increasingly restless, as though she were being stifled by some unknown presence and she began to pace up and down the cabin. Maebelle knew that the drug was beginning to take effect and that it wouldn't be long before she would be incited to a lustful frenzy, frustrated like a bitch in heat. Louise sat down on the couch, shifting her weight nervously back and forth, chafing her thighs together, not knowing that there was nothing she could do to end the feeling that was beginning to take control of her body.
Maebelle listened carefully for the footsteps of Reuben and Hoss outside the cabin, then turned to Louise and said that she'd be leaving for a short while if it was all right with Louise.
"Of course, Maebelle," she said, wanting to be alone, not wanting anyone to see her in this strange and frustrated mood.
Maebelle left quickly and met the two boys on the way down the path to the slave's quarters.
"Give her a few more minutes," she told them, "then she'll be ready for you, and probably a lot more!"
The boys giggled and began to walk faster up the walk toward Louise's cabin.
"Man, this is going to be something," Hoss choked, his passion showing in his voice. "I can feel me inside her sweet li'l pussy already. . . ."
The boys tiptoed up to the window where they had watched her the night before. Louise was stretched out on the couch, her skirt pulled up around her waist and she was wriggling her buttocks into the soft down of the cushions. Her hands were stroking the soft, white smoothness of her thighs, inching their way closer and closer to the elastic of her sheer white panties. She couldn't understand this queer feeling, but she knew that she had never felt such a burning desire before, especially without any stimulation from a man. She felt the same gnawing tightness in her loins that was there when John had kissed her and fondled her as they had lain naked in her cabin on the ship, but this was different, a more demanding urge, an insatiable urge.
"Oh God," she whispered, "what's happening to me?"
She squirmed and wiggled on the couch until her blouse had become twisted tightly around her breasts and ribs and she reached up to unfasten the confining buttons. The boys stared, wide-eyed, as they watched her slip the blouse from her shoulders so that her breasts were visible in two rising mounds above the constricting cloth of her brassiere. They looked like two full, soft, white pillows and they gasped, sucking in their breath loud enough so that she could hear them.
"Rodney!" she called. "Is that you Rodney?"
They giggled and began to walk to the front door. Louise got up and turned off the overhead light so that the room was lit only by a small lamp on a table beside the couch. "Rodney," she called again, hoping that it would be him, hoping that he would be back and would make this terrible feeling go away. She went back to the couch and lay down, her back to the door, her hands held firmly between her thighs, as though she were sleeping. She heard the door open quietly and footsteps move toward her on the couch. She moved on the couch so that she lay on her back and opened her eyes slightly, expecting to see Rodney and feign surprise and embarrassment at his seeing her like this, but when she looked up she saw Hoss and Reuben standing over her, their black skins shining as they smiled down at her. They wore tight-fitting, worn slacks that were molded to their thighs and hips and she could see the outline of Hoss's anxious manhood as he bent down to cover her mouth with his hand so that she couldn't scream. Her eyes were wide with terror as she watched the hesitant, but lustful exchange of looks between the two blacks.
She tried to struggle away from them, to sit up and run into the other room, but her strength was no match for theirs as Reuben bent over her and held her hips and buttocks firmly, pressed deep into the couch.
"You wantin' a man," Hos giggled. "Well, we're here to see that you get all you want."
She was trembling with terror as she knew there was nothing she could do, but worst of all was that the burning sensation between her legs wasn't quenched by the sight of these two ebony bucks, her passion knew no color line.
"Strip her naked," Reuben urged Hoss. "Let's take a look at her!"
Hoss didn't need any encouragement as he bent over the helpless, frightened girl.
His fingers were already reaching behind her and fumbling with the hooks on her brassiere. He felt it give and pulled it away from her body, revealing her high, round ovals of flesh, crowned by swelling pink nipples. His fingers tweaked at the nipples until they stood erect, then buried his thick lips over their vast, smooth whiteness, sucking noisily. Reuben had hurriedly stripped down completely so that his huge, throbbing penis stood out from his glistening body like a boom. He knelt next to the couch and reached up and tugged mercilessly at her petticoats, skirt and finally her thin silk panties until they were lying in a heap on the floor.
"Oooohhh nooooo," she moaned, as the two bucks began to caress and tease every inch of her vulnerable, tortured flesh. Reuben began to fondle the soft down of her pubis, enjoying the cottony texture until he could feel the sensitive lips of her vagina throbbing between his fingers. Her skin looked like porcelain next to the blackness of theirs, and her long, blond hair billowed out as she rolled her head back and forth in a weak, drugged protest, knowing that she should fight against them, but her body not caring. Roughly, they pulled her to the floor so that they would have more room and Reuben put his full weight on top of her body. She could feel the immensity of his penis as it jerked against her legs and his hands reached down and forced her thighs cruelly apart.
"Take it slow," Hoss warned him. "We have hours to enjoy this li'l white bitch."
Reuben wasn't sure he could wait, but he held her pinned against the hard, uncovered floor with his body while Hoss quickly shed his tight-fitting slacks. She stared up at Hoss and groaned, knowing that she would never be able to take a man of his size without being torn in half. His penis was the hugest thing she had ever imagined. It was thicker than two men's and so long that it passed his navel when it bobbed up expectantly.
"NO . . . NO . . ." she screamed. "Don't . . . please don't!"
She felt as though she were being raped by a thousand men, as hands roamed and pinched every part of her body, prodded and probed insatiably.
She opened her eyes and implored them to stop, but Reuben's hands were stroking the slenderly-muscled firmness of her calves, over the slim inside smoothness of her knees, and up to the buttery flesh of her inner thighs. Hoss's mouth was busily sucking and pulling at the tender nipples of her breasts and even against her conscious will she could feel her body begin to react to their rough, demanding caresses. Reuben ran his tongue over the milky white smoothness of her belly, pulling her thighs apart as he moved until he could feel the soft down of her pubic triangle tickle his lips and nose as he buried his face greedily between her legs.
"Stop," she groaned, but she could no longer deny the fact that her body was reacting to their lewd caresses. She could feel the tightness in her loins begin to melt as Reuben began to mouth her slowly, torturingly, his tongue flicking between her vaginal lips and into the tiny, vulnerable slit of her sex.
She was completely within their power to do with as they pleased, limp as a rag doll, moving when they pushed or prodded her, rolling back and forth, a reaction for their every action.
Rodney shuffled his feet nervously while he sipped on a stiff whiskey and water and waited for Mrs. Williams to join him in the library. He wished that he had told her to go to hell when she had insisted that he meet her that evening, but she did have a certain hold on him and he couldn't deny it. He couldn't afford to lose his job now, not when he was going to be married and his fiancee had come so many miles away from her home to be with him. He couldn't do anything that would jeopardize their future together.
He was helping himself to his second drink when Celia Williams entered the room.
"I'm so glad you could come," she said sweetly, as though he had joined her of his own volition. "I've had the kitchen prepare a very special dinner for us tonight, just like old times!"
"But it's not old times, Celia," he told her. "I don't know what you have in mind, but I really can't stay. I must see how Louise is doing."
"Sit down, Rodney," she told him more firmly. "There's something I want to tell you about your precious Louise."
He sat in a chair opposite Celia and waited to hear what she had to say. He knew that she was a jealous, vindictive woman, but he wasn't prepared for the shocking story she was about to tell him.
"You know," she began, "Maebelle has been a very special and trusted slave on this plantation since she was born, so take that into consideration."
"Go on," he said, "what does that have to do with Louise?"
"Maebelle told me that she didn't want to work for Louise any more because she was doing some things that no white woman should do. It seems that she has developed a fascination for some of the studs here on the plantation, and that she has walked down to their quarters and been watching them."
"I don't believe it," he said. "Louise doesn't even know where the young bucks stay."
"Rodney, you know as well as I that some white women have an insatiable curiosity about the sexuality of the Negro, and it appears that your Louise is one of them."
"No," he said simply. "I know what your game is talking this way."
"I'm only telling you this for your own good, Rodney, so that you can stop it, but Maebelle heard her invite some of them to her cabin . . . tonight."' "Tonight ... I don't believe it, she wouldn't!"
"But you told her that you'd be here tonight, didn't you, so why couldn't she invite them?"
Rodney sat speechless, unbelieving and stunned as he listened to what Celia had to say. He knew that some white women on the island had seduced the Negro bucks, but they were the whores, the common women whom no man would look at, but not Louise, not his fiancee.
"Maebelle was frightened when she told me this, because she knows what would happen if one of the bucks ever raped a white woman, but Rodney, this is different, it was Louise who is tempting and inviting them to her cabin."
Rodney got up and poured himself another drink, this time straight whiskey, and gulped it down. He didn't really believe" what she was telling him, but the idea that she might be right preyed on his mind. He hadn't seen Louise in a long time and they really hadn't had a chance to talk, to rediscover each other again, but he felt certain that she wasn't the type to seduce any of the bucks, yet he didn't know ... he really didn't.
"Celia," he told her, "you can't change my mind about marrying Louise. I love her and I don't believe what you're saying."
His words were authoritative, but there was a shade of doubt in his voice, and she noticed it.
"You're not sure, are you Rodney?" she said slyly. "Would you like me to prove it to you?"
"What do you mean, prove it?"
"Why don't we just walk down to her cabin and then you can see for yourself. She asked Maebelle to sleep in the slave's quarters tonight so that she could be alone."
Rodney knew this didn't sound likely, especially after what had happened the previous night, but then he thought maybe this was the reason the bucks had been at her window, maybe they were there because Louise had led them on.
"I'm sure the reason she asked Maebelle to leave was because she was expecting me, and, you know, we haven't had any time together alone since she's arrived at Manor Hall."
There was a challenge in Celia's voice when she spoke and repeated, "Why don't we go down and find out. If I'm wrong, then we can invite her to the house for dinner. Rodney, dear, I'm only doing this for your own good, believe me." "I don't believe you, Celia," he said harshly, "but we'll go . . . and you'll be the one to see!"
Celia couldn't help but smile to herself. She had achieved what she wanted and now Rodney would be hers completely. She knew that he would never marry Louise after he saw what was going on in her cabin!
They walked down the tree-lined path that led to Louise's cabin. The night air was still, with not a breeze to relieve the stifling heat of the tropical night. The scent of the flowers permeated the air with a sickeningly sweet odor and Rodney felt a nauseous grinding in his stomach as he walked with Celia down the short path.
They stopped just a few feet away from the window where Reuben and Hoss had watched Louise the night before.
"Sssshh," Celia warned. "We don't want them to hear us."
Rodney didn't like the reference to the "we," but said nothing. They could hear some sounds coming from inside, but it was difficult to distinguish the voices, so they edged their way to the window and peered in. Louise was sprawled out on the floor with the two huge bucks bending over her, caressing her, making love to her and she was moaning softly.
"My God!" Rodney exclaimed, but the three inside didn't seem to notice the faces of Rodney and Celia at the window, or could not have cared-they were too engrossed in their own carnal activity.
"Oooohhhhh," Louise was groaning, and Rodney realized that it was not from fear, but from pure lust. She was actually enjoying what the two dark-skinned boys were doing to her. He couldn't believe it as he watched Reuben burying his head between her thighs as she raised her hips up salaciously from the floor to meet his demanding caress.
"What a beautiful ass," Reuben muttered, lifting his head for just a moment, watching Hoss as he pressed his mouth cruelly against her soft, hill breasts, biting mercilessly at the nipples until she was groaning in pain. Hoss's prick was jerking against the side of her arm and she could feel the heat from his loins against her body. Hoss moved up in back of her and held her head between his hands. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth opened and shut in a fish-like movement, uttering inaudible sounds as he raised up on his hips and angled his massive, long, hard penis at her mouth.
"Suck it, baby," Hoss commanded her, lowering his hips slightly until his jerking rod was touching her full, rounded lips. Her arms were flailing on either side of her, but reached down desperately to hold Reuben's head between her legs when he began to move away. Hoss pushed his pulsing, rock hard penis between her even white teeth, watching his thick black organ disappear into the damp coolness of her mouth and throat. She started to choke from his size and turned her head to shake the huge intruder from her mouth, but he held her head firmly. Reuben began to pull himself up on her body, his huge black cock aching to be buried deep inside the vulnerable girl's body.
"Oh man," he groaned, "I can't wait ... I can't!"
Louise knew Reuben was about to take her and the aching longing that was now a raging fire between her legs was consuming her beyond all hope to resist.
"Now . . . now . . ." she groaned, not realizing that she could no longer control any part of her body. She had never felt so alive, so wanton, and it didn't matter what they did to her, how they humiliated her, debased her, she had to have them. She had to have a man between her legs, pounding his rigid flesh deep into the channel of her vagina, torturing her, teasing her, satisfying her! Her hands groped at Reuben's body, her nails scratching thin welts across his back as he positioned himself to take her.
Hoss could feel the fluid in his testicles begin to boil and churn, readying for release and the muscles in his thighs became taut as he shoved his anxious prick deeper and deeper into her throat until he could feel the nub of her tonsils against the bulging, swollen head.
Reuben stayed where he was, lying on top of her as she made muffled noises, as though his weight were crushing all the breath from her body. She no longer struggled, but seemed to be waiting for his vicious plunge into her. His hands grasped her buttocks insistently, pulling her hips off the floor so that his genitals pressed into her soft, white flesh. He felt her thighs squirm under him as he forced her legs, slightly apart with his knees.
"They make a lovely couple, or should I say threesome," Celia hissed at Rodney who was watching the lewd spectacle dumbfounded. "I told you she'd have company!"
Rodney just looked at Celia and said nothing; there was a lump in his throat and he wanted to scream, run into the cabin and tear the two men from his fiancee, but he was frozen to his spot outside the window. He had never witnessed anyone making love before and he could feel his own penis begin to swell inside his trousers as he watched the horrible rape. Celia sensed his excitement and gently put her hand on his thigh and began to slowly massage his tight muscles.
"Interesting, isn't it? These bucks don't know what tenderness is, it's just so primitive, so purely animalistic. Marvelous!"
She was enjoying the sadistic thrill of seeing one of her own sex being completely degraded, totally subservient to the two men that were hovering over her, forcing her to submit to whatever they desired.
Hoss's face was glistening with perspiration as he could feel the weight in his testicles begin to explode and the first spurt of the warm, milky fluid shoot from his rigid prick deep into the young girl's wildly contracting throat.
"Oh Christ," he groaned, as he rocked back and forth on his hips, his head thrown back as though he were delirious, and his eyes gleamed crazily.
"Bet you thought you'd be the first," Celia murmured. "Too bad she just couldn't resist our little stud farm. Looks as though she's enjoying it!"
"Shut up," he hissed at her, pushing her hand away from his leg.
Reuben's hand was worming its way between her trembling, wide-spread legs, searching for the tiny slit of her vagina, feeling a shudder 'run through her whole body. He moved his fingers around inside against the jelly-like surface of her vaginal lining, pushing deeper until he could feel the tip of her cervix. She writhed and wriggled with desperate energy, wanting to feel something larger inside her, knowing that her own climax would be almost instantaneous when he entered her. Hoss was just pulling his deflating prick from her mouth as he watched Reuben busy preparing to take her in the other orifice, and he grasped her breasts and squeezed them tightly.
"Hold her down," Reuben half shouted at Hoss. "She's tight, ain' goin' to be easy!"
Rodney shuffled his feet nervously as he watched them hold Louise down and Reuben raise up slightly and aim his huge, throbbing ebony prick at her tiny, denied slit.
Celia moved in closer to Rodney and grasped his genitals with her hands, feeling his hardness between her fingers.
"See how it affects you? I'll take care of you in a few minutes, but we can't miss the finale, can we?" Rodney hated himself for watching the lascivious and humiliating scene, but he couldn't break away, he had to stay and see how she would react to this colored boy's pulsing, demanding cock when it was pounding away at her very insides.
Reuben lowered his eyes and watched his moist prick probe at her tiny aperture, probing it, slipping into her between his guiding fingers.
He thrust slowly, deliberately, agonizingly into her, sensing her tiny cuntal muscles tighten and squeeze around his huge, jerking cudgel as he entered her. It was a tight fit and he had to shove harder until he could feel the head of his penis slip beyond the tight opening ring of her vagina, bringing moaning sounds from his lips.
"AAAAAGGGGHHH," she groaned loudly. "Stop . . . stop." she whimpered weakly, feeling her insides being torn by his size. He threw back his head and let his loins carry themselves deeper and deeper into the helpless girl, his penis bursting and smashing inside her as he ground further into her tight unresisting vaginal channel. Hoss was watching Reuben, his long black prick skewering her, contrasting against the soft, milky whiteness of her thighs and he could feel his own manhood begin to come alive again.
Reuben pulled her buttocks up against his onrush, burying his cock inside her to its fullest extent as he revolved his hips against the wet tender walls of her pulsating vagina.
She was moaning softly now, moving her hips slightly as he pummeled into her in an effort to relieve the pressure from his massive organ, trying to adjust to his insistent drubbing.
His fingers were bruising her buttocks as he pulled her up with every inthrust, and grasping her thighs tightly with every withdrawal. He was breathing heavily, irregularly as he forced her thighs further apart until her knees were almost flat against the floor.
Rodney and Celia had a clear view of the girls wide-stretched vagina clasping around his cock as Reuben raised and lowered himself on the drugged girl. She was wriggling frantically beneath him, muttering strange and hoarse sounds as her hands scratched over his hard, smooth back.
She was a source of pleasure that he never thought he would experience and his penis tingled and enlarged, the head of his monstrous prick becoming swollen with every thrust. He felt a great exhilarating sense of power which was foreign to him, a feeling of punishing this one white woman for every misdeed and torture that the whites had inflicted on his race throughout the century, and he lunged at her with renewed strength. He wanted her to suffer, to bear all the pain his people had felt from the whip of their masters, to scream in anguish and in pleasure, to lose herself completely to his power.
"Ooooooohhhh, uuuummmfff," she gasped as he stabbed his powerful prick deep into her opening, buffeting her back and forth each time he sank deeper and deeper into her. She moaned with pain at his every movement, yet her own juices were flowing in her loins as never before. He was going to bring her to a climax, make her realize that she was nothing more than a female animal reacting to a male!
"God . . . god ... I can't stand it," she choked, tears of frustration and pain running down her face.
"She's quite a hot one, Rodney," Celia taunted, knowing that he was horrified, yet enjoying this awful spectacle. "Think you could make her squirm like that?"
Rodney didn't answer Celia, but his hand was massaging her knee, slowly working its way further and further up her dress until he could feel ' the soft bulge of her thigh between his fingers.
"Oh baby," she whispered in his ear, letting her warm breath tickle the back of his neck. "Let's go back to the house!"
Rodney's fingers were working their way under the tight elastic of her panties and he could feel the already damp lips of her vagina as they stood there.
Reuben slackened his thrusts momentarily, feeling his swelling prick about to burst inside her, savoring every moment.
He felt himself soaring into the very deepest, softest part of her body as she moved and groaned beneath him. Hoss was playing steadily with her hard, erect nipples, his own penis now fully hardened again and bobbing against the side of her neck.
"Fuck her good . . . now . .." he urged Reuben, getting a vicarious thrill at watching the other boy bury his cock in her belly.
Reuben began to shudder and his body tensed as he threw his entire weight forward onto the squirming girl as he felt a flood of semen break and rush into her battered orifice like blood from a severed artery.
"Aaaaggggggghhhh," he gasped as he could feel his prick jerk and empty itself into her waiting well. "Yyyyeeessssss!" , Louise was bucking up at him now, trying to keep him inside her, not having reached her climax. She had been so close, but she had never felt like this.
"No . . . no . . . not yet," she groaned, her eyes imploring him to keep his penis inside her, to satisfy her.
"See, she hasn't even had enough yet," Celia giggled. "Wish some of our wenches were so willing!" Rodney was breathing harder now and he needed a woman to satisfy him. Celia took his hand and began to lead him away from the window and back to the house. As he glanced backward he saw Hoss taking Reuben's place between Louise's legs, lowering his massive, thick staff at her vulnerable and now eager opening and he shuddered, but could not think about anything but taking Celia to bed and fucking her like he had just seen Reuben do to his fiancee.
Chapter Four
Rodney lay next to Celia, panting and trying to catch his breath. They had made love before, but never with such urgency and they were both spent quickly, but totally satisfied. His fingers idly traced up and down her thighs and stomach and breasts as he lay thinking about what he should say to Louise. He sensed that Celia had been responsible for the girl's circumstances, but it was still too early to tell. He couldn't just shut off his love for her like one would shut off the water from a tap, yet he wasn't sure that he could ever marry her knowing what he did even if it weren't her fault.
Celia seemed to sense what he was thinking about, so she remained quiet, knowing that it I would be better if he came to his own decision without any offerings from her. She had already done all she could to change his mind, and now it was up to him.
Louise fell asleep on the floor, her battered and bruised body aching every time she moved, but she couldn't bring herself to go into the bedroom. It was already too late and she knew that Rodney wouldn't be coming that evening and in her stupor she wondered what had happened to him.
Maebelle came back to the cabin early in the morning and helped Louise into a bath and then into her bed. She didn't ask what had happened, she didn't have to and Louise didn't seem as though she wanted to talk about it.
Rodney stopped by the cabin later that morning and apologized for not being able to see her the night before. He hoped that his voice didn't show any traces of guilt, guilt about watching her with Reuben and Hoss, and guilt about staying at the main house the whole night. Louise looked tired, but she forced a smile and told him that she understood and had gone to bed early anyway. He thought that maybe she would tell him what had happened, give him some sort of explanation or tell him that she had been raped by two of the slaves, but then this would be too humiliating for any woman. He stared at her in her bathrobe, imagining her lovely, supple body beneath and he wished he could take her then and there, make love to her and hold her, but their relationship had never been a physical one and he knew it would be awkward under the circumstances.
"Oh Louise," he told her, trying to sound nonchalant. "That young fellow you met on the boat-Stuart, I believe his name was. Well, it turns out that he is to be our new bookkeeper!"
"John . . . coming here to Manor Hall ... to work?" She didn't know whether to be excited or afraid. Suppose he told Rodney about their affair on the boat, what would happen then. Yet he may be her way to safety and home again.
"When did you find this out?" she asked him.
"Celia told me last evening when we were discussing business. I knew she had written for a new man since her husband died, but I had no idea it would be the one I had met."
"He's really very nice, Rodney," she said. "It will be nice having another Englishman here at the Manor anyway, don't you think?"
"I suppose so," he admitted, sensing that Louise was looking forward to seeing him again.
"He's arriving this afternoon, and Mrs. Williams has invited us all to the main house for dinner tonight, so you can talk with him then."
"That'll be wonderful," she replied, wondering if now Celia Williams would be less insistent about having Rodney to herself. Maybe she would find John more attractive, but then that would prove to be an even bigger threat for her. Louise wasn't sure she wanted to marry Rodney, and she wasn't sure how she felt about John. It had been such a short passionate affair that she wasn't sure anything more could develop, but she couldn't marry Rodney without finding out exactly how she felt. With John at the plantation she would have the chance!
Rodney kissed her cheek and told her to be ready for dinner about eight that night and he would stop by and pick her up.
The thought of John being on the plantation lightened her spirits. She wondered if John would still feel the same way about her as he did on the boat, or whether he just said those things thinking he would never see her again.
All day long she watched the path to the main house in hopes for a glimpse of John's arrival, but he must have come in from the other side of the plantation, because not one cart passed by her cabin.
She spent most of the afternoon deciding what she would wear for dinner and arranging her hair. She wanted to look especially nice that evening, fresh and young, so that no one would suspect the nightmares that were preying on her mind. She wanted to tell Maebelle what had happened the night before, but she just couldn't, she was too embarrassed. Maebelle looked for some sign that Louise would tell her, but she didn't. She felt sorry for Louise, so far away from home and the center of the mistress's diabolical plans. She wished she could warn her, but it would have meant severe punishment if she breathed a word about the plot. She was glad that Louise seemed happy about John's arrival and told Louise that she looked the happiest she had seen her since her arrival in Jamaica.
"I am, Maebelle," she said, "and maybe I shouldn't be, but I can't help it."
"You're fond of this Mr. Stuart, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yes . . . yes," she answered thoughtfully. "I guess I am."
Maebelle smiled and hoped that Mrs. Williams would condone a relationship between Louise and John if not between Rodney and Louise, but she doubted it, the mistress was a very selfish and domineering woman.
It was almost seven thirty when Rodney came for Louise and they walked to the main house together.
John had arrived shortly after noon and had spent the whole day with Mrs. Williams going over the books and finding out what his chores would be on the plantation. Besides being the bookkeeper, he discovered that he would be running some of the slave crews along with Rodney during the harvesting, and he would be expected to run them with an iron hand, showing no mercy, working the crews from dawn 'til dusk when necessary.
"Otherwise the cane can rot in the fields and we lose profit," she explained.
He nodded and accepted this chore passively, yet wasn't sure he would be able to do exactly as she demanded. In just the short time he had met her he knew she was a hardened woman and would not be easy to work for.
"We breed some of our slaves," she continued. "That way we can be assured of a new crop as the older ones die. Even if the law is passed to free them, we will still have the babies, the young ones that we own and no one can take that away. It's becoming more and more difficult to buy good slaves anymore, so this way we insure our own survival."
He nodded and shook his head. The thought of breeding people like animals was beyond his conception, but he believed her. He would have believed anything she told him; she was capable of doing anything, he was sure of that.
During their conversation, Celia Williams studied John. She liked his broad shoulders, his little boy good looks, his freshness and eagerness and she wondered what he would be like in bed.
She smiled to herself thinking what a frustrated, scheming woman she was becoming, just to get someone in her bed. Her husband had never satisfied her and now she wasn't going to waste time with propriety, she would pick and choose as she wanted.
"If you'd like to dress in one of the guest rooms, I'll have a servant show you where everything is."
"That will be fine," John told her. "But where will my quarters be? I'd like to get settled this evening."
"You'll be sharing a cabin with Rodney for ;he time being, or you can stay here in the big house with me, it's up to you."
He knew there was more than an invitation to stay in the house in her voice, so he said he'd think it over and get settled somewhere in the morning.
"I have planned a special treat for the four of us this evening, I'm sure you'll find it interesting."
There was a sinister tone in her voice and he didn't like it, but he went to a guest room and began to dress for dinner. In a room down the hall he could hear a young girl crying and an older woman trying to comfort her. He put his ear against the partition and listened.
"I'se too young to bed," the young girl cried. "I don't want to have a baby."
"Hush, hush," the woman told her, "the mistress might hear you and then it will be worse."
"But I know it'll hurt . . . I'll die," she protested.
"Nonsense, baby," the woman comforted her. "We all went through it and we's all still alive. Don't let it scare you!"
"But I've seen the buck the mistress has for me . . . he's too big, he'll kill me."
"We ain't got nothing to say about who the mistress beds us With, she knows best."
John couldn't believe what he was hearing even though Celia Williams had told him about their breeding methods, but it seemed so harsh, so cruel. The girl's voice was terrified and she sounded as though she were no more than a child. The thought chilled him, but he finished dressing and went down to join Mrs. Williams for cocktails.
Louise and Rodney were already seated in the living room when he came down. Rodney stood up and shook his hand and welcomed him to Manor Hall. Louise lowered her eyes and blushed, not knowing what she should say.
"You're as beautiful as ever, Louise. The islands seem to be agreeing with you," he offered, kissing her hand.
"You're kind, John," she murmured. "Welcome to the plantation."
Mrs. Williams ordered an old Negro man to make them some more drinks while she excused herself and went upstairs.
The three others talked about the plantation and the way it was run while she was gone.
"Celia rules with an iron hand, John, be careful, she's not an easy woman."
"I've noticed that in my short time here. This isn't going to be all the glamour and fun they promised us when we left England, is it, Louise?"
He was trying to get her reaction as to what she had experienced since her arrival, but she just said, "No ... no ... I guess not."
"Oh cheer up you two, it isn't torture, you just have to know how to handle her," Rodney interjected.
Celia Williams knocked on the bedroom door upstairs then went in without waiting for an answer.
"Lisbeth, you have the young wench ready for tonight. . . right after dinner." It was a statement rather than a question as she glared at the trembling young quadroon girl who was huddled on the bed, clutching a rag doll. The girl was not more than fifteen and terror showed in her eyes.
"It's not so bad, Vera," Celia laughed. "You may even get to like it. You've always wanted to be an actress. I've watched you playing and you're quite good, so be sure to put on a good show tonight."
"She's scared, mistress," the older woman said. "She's just a baby herself."
"She'll live," she answered harshly "Just do as I say!"
"Yes ma'am," Lisbeth told her, and put her arm around the shaking Vera.
Celia Williams turned and walked out of the room, her eyes shining with anticipation of what was going to take place. It would be a rare treat indeed for her guests and for her, and she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before.
The men rose when she came back into the room, and she directed them into the dining room. They ate a sumptuous meal of seafood and vegetables, potatoes and several different kinds of wine until they were all a little high and relaxed.
Louise even found herself able to laugh at the jokes that were passed back and forth even though she couldn't enter into the conversation herself. For the first time since she had reached the island she felt safe, secure, now that John was there. He glanced at her several times during the meal and she knew he hadn't forgotten their love on the boat and it made her feel warm and tingly.
Celia noticed their exchanges, but just smiled and directed her full attention to Rodney. Things were turning out better than she had planned, but she would discover more as the evening progressed.
"Shall we have brandy in the parlor," she suggested when they had all finished. "The evening's entertainment should be about to begin. This will be a first for all of us, but I'm sure you'll enjoy it, and help you acclimate yourselves better to our way of life here on the island."
No one had any idea of what she had in mind, but they followed her into a dimly lit parlor near the back of the house. It was an elegantly furnished room with large sofas on either side and a thick, lavish Oriental rug thrown in the middle of the room. The deep mahogany of the furniture gave the room an austere elegance even though the furniture was scattered and bulky.
Mrs. Williams rang a small bell and told a servant to tell Lisbeth that they were ready for Vera, then sent him to the bucks quarters to bring Jason to the Manor.
"Yes ma'am," he answered and scurried off to deliver the messages.
"Vera?" Rodney asked. "What are you doing with Vera?"
"She's fifteen, Rodney, time to break her in. My husband used to break in the nubile wenches, but I thought that this time we'd have Jason do it. It should be very interesting. Could get a good offspring from Vera and Jason."
"That's barbaric, Celia," he protested. "It's bad enough that we breed them, but do we have to watch?"
Louise glanced over at John, not believing | what this woman was proposing.
"I'll have no part of it," Rodney went on, "and, I don't want Louise to have to see it."
"I'm sure she already knows what it's all about, don't you dear," she challenged. "It's no more than a game. It'll be fun!"
"I don't think you could call it fun," John said, the shock showing on his face. "I don't think I care to watch it either."
"I'm afraid you'll all have to watch," she said coldly. "I've had the doors locked, so you'll have to stay!" There was cold glint in her eye as she spoke. She enjoyed having this power over people, her employees as well as her slaves, and she laughed maniacally.
The old servant knocked on the door and led a trembling, crying Vera into the middle of the room. The lights were dimmed, but there was enough light so that they could see through the flimsy sheer garment the girl wore. It was obvious that she wore nothing underneath, her small, high breasts pointing out rigidly against the material.
Her skin was a golden yellow, smooth and shining, and her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, wavy and full, not like the kinky wool of the full-blooded Negroes.
What Celia did not tell the others was that she had a very special reason for debasing this girl. The lightness of her skin was due to the fact that her late husband had been the father of this girl, the mother had been a mulatto whom he had bought years ago, but whom Celia had since sold off as a field hand. Vera was a constant reminder of her husband's philandering and she wanted to see the girl punished.
"Please ma'am," she begged, throwing herself at her mistress's feet. "Don't let Jason near me."
She pushed the girl backwards so that she sprawled out on the floor, her dress rising up to her buttocks.
"Quiet," she hissed coldly. "You'll do as I say!"
Louise reached and grasped Rodney's hand, silently imploring him to do something, but he didn't move from his seat next to her. Celia looked from one to the other, then back to the girl who was sprawled out on the floor. She was still laughing when a second knock came at the door and the servant led Jason to the middle of the room so that he was facing his mistress.
"See the lovely wench you are to have," she told him. It was obvious that he was embarrassed, but said nothing, his eyes fixed on the terrified girl lying at his feet.
"You're to break her in for us, Jason," she ordered him. "And make it good, we want to know that you've done it properly, want a good offspring from you two."
"Here . . . now ..." he asked hesitantly. "But mistress. ..."
"You can do it Jason, I've seen you chasing the other wenches down by the barn, so now you have the opportunity to do it without having to catch someone."
"Get up," she hollered at Vera. "Get your man ready."
She rolled over and struggled to her knees, her hands clinging to Jason's legs for balance. She had never imagined having to go through something like this, especially with such a big black buck. She was light-skinned, almost white, and the master had promised her that she could have a man of her own choice when the time came.
"Strip," she commanded Jason. "Let's see what you have to offer this little wench!"
Jason had stripped in front of white people before, but it had been on the auction block, never in a living room and not for such a purpose. He thought Vera was the most beautiful wench on the plantation and had often wanted to take her as she played with the other girls, but he had never dared, she was still a virgin and had not been given out for bedding by the mistress.
"Strip," I told you, she repeated, and hesitantly he began to untie the string that was holding up his worn trousers, letting them fall to the floor at his feet.
"Turn around," she commanded him. "Let the others see how well built you are!"
Jason's eyes were on the floor as he turned around and Louise hid her face in her hands and John and Rodney started to rise to protest, but strong hands were holding them in their seats. Rodney turned around and saw that Celia had told several of the largest men on the plantation to stand guard over them in case they would try to leave.
Celia walked to the corner of the room and opened the window to the native sounds of primitive drums beating out a slow, but steady rhythm in order to incite the prisoner lovers.
"Get to him, Vera," Celia ordered, and she slowly began to rise, her hands grasping Jason's legs as she pulled herself to her knees. Her fingers were cool against his skin and without realizing it his huge penis was already beginning to rise and pulse with desire. He looked down at her pitiful face and took her head in his hands, pulling her closer against him. She turned her head so that she would not touch his heavy genitals, but Celia pushed her again so that she lost her balance and she fell forward, her head bouncing against the juncture of his loins.
"It's horrible," John choked out, as Jason's hands loosened the thin kimono on Vera's shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He knew that he would have to do as the mistress ordered or be flogged and he didn't want that. He wished that they were alone, but his desire was building as he looked at the trembling girl and he wanted her. Vera's breasts were small, but her nipples were erect from their sudden contact with the cool night air.
He pushed her gently towards the floor and lay down next to her. Her hands were clinging to him, clutching him for strength. Lisbeth had warned her that she should try to relax and it wouldn't hurt so much, but she couldn't. Her fingers touched his manhood feeling it's hardness and length and she knew that he would tear her. Jason's hands were roaming all over the prostrate girls body, exploring every curve, cupping her small breasts in his hands, then trailing down her belly until he could feel the heat-from the vee of her loins in the palms of his hands.
"Don't," she pleaded, "Please don't!!"
"Hurry on with it, Jason," Celia ordered, moving restlessly in her chair. She couldn't wait for him to take her, humiliate her, show her that she was no better than the other niggers on the plantation, even if her husband had been her father.
In spite of their shock, Rodney and John could not take their eyes off from the couple lying on the floor.
Jason's skin was glistening and his muscles were becoming taut as he fondled the helpless girl beneath him. He was no longer thinking about the audience that was watching him, the only thought on his mind was relieving the burning, pounding sensation that was boiling in his loins.
His penis was throbbing against the inside of her slender, smooth thighs, and his fingers searched for the tiny, virginal slit of her vagina.
"NOOOOOOOOO!" she screamed, feeling the lips of her vagina separate as he roughly inserted one long finger into her dry, tender channel.
Louise cringed at the girl's cries, knowing that the pain she was about to endure was the worst she would experience and it reminded her of that night she had spent with John on the boat, when she too had been a virgin.
His fingers were hard, cruel and demanding and she twisted and jerked against his vice-like grip. It was a fierce, stinging pain and she tried to fight him with all her strength in every way she could, but when she reached down to push . him away and touched the hardness of his massive prick, it merely incited him more. He was like a savage, an animal as he pushed his finger deeper and deeper into her vagina.
Her screams were choked with sobs as tears of pain and fear ran down her bronzed cheeks.
The others glared at her obvious delight at the girl's dilemma. They couldn't believe that she was enjoying watching the huge buck torture the helpless, quivering girl.
Jason withdrew his finger and began to rub the nub of her clitoris until he could feel it spring erect beneath his fingers and he threw his entire weight between her shaking legs. He reached down on either side of her buttocks, digging his hands hard into either cheek and jerked her thighs up off the floor. Her arms sprawled out on either side of her in order to keep her balance as he angled himself to plunge deep into her virginal channel.
His manhood was heavy with desire and he didn't want to wait, he no longer thought about the pain he would be causing, all his sympathy gone he stabbed his cock into her tiny vaginal slit, then drove on into her cunt like a pile driver. He felt the resistance of the thin membrane of her virginity, pulled out slightly then thrust again with all his weight until he could feel it tear like paper on either side of his bludgeoning prick.
"Eiyiiiiii," she screamed, feeling herself being torn in half, then fainted.
"My God," Louise choked, holding her head in her hands to fight off the nauseousness. Rodney's knuckles were white with rage as he dug his fingers into the arms of the chair. John shook his head in disgust, embarrassed for everyone present. The only one who seemed to be enjoying the show was Celia, who was watching with rapt intent as Jason continued to saw in and out of the unconscious bleeding girl.
He could feel the warmth and closeness of her vaginal passage close around his rock hard, pulsing prick and in a few minutes he knew that he would spill his seed deep into the nearly lifeless girl. She lay immobile under his increasing strokes, working faster and faster, twisting his buttocks and his hips until he could feel his semen spurting into her. He grit his teeth as his penis contracted and relaxed shooting his cum deep into her belly, hopefully planting the first seed of life. He ground out his climax, sweat running down his neck and chest until he sighed heavily, completely spent, then sat back on his heels, grinning up at his mistress for approval.
"Very good," she said sternly. "You may go."
Jason had expected more praise, but he got up, put on his trousers and quietly left the room.
Celia rang for the servants to come and carry Vera to a room and tend to her welfare. The girl was not moving and it looked as though she were barely breathing, but no one said anything as two of the older men servants came in and carried her out as though she were a piece of furniture.
"So that's how we break them in," she said, directing her words at John. "It is the first time I've seen it, and I must admit that expected more action from the wench, but that's the way it goes. Just hope she will have a strong son."
"May we go now," Rodney said sharply. "I believe the party's over!"
"Suit yourself, but remember, this is all part of running a plantation!"
Louise steadied herself as she got up to leave. She felt sick and faint, still not believing what she had been forced to witness. She felt so sorry for the young girl and she wished that there were something that she could do. She walked between John and Rodney back to her cabin. Maebelle was waiting for her and wondered why she looked so upset.
"Please put her to bed, Maebelle," Rodney said quietly. "I'll see her in the morning."
Maebelle took Louise's arm and led her to the bedroom. She dropped heavily down on the bed and began to cry hysterically, blurting the truth about what had happened at the house to Maebelle who stood there numb with shock.
Rodney and John walked to their cabin in silence, neither one of them knowing what to say, each one feeling completely emasculated for not demanding that Celia let them leave before Jason and Vera began their show, but neither one of them had and they both knew why.
Chapter Five
After Louise was safely asleep, Maebelle went down to the slave quarters and called for Jason to ask him if the story she had heard was true.
"Yes, Maebelle, it sure is. Didn't think I could do it, but I sure did!"
He seemed almost proud of his performance and wasn't ready for the resounding smack that Maebelle gave him.
"Have some dignity," she shouted. "We colored folk are bad enough off without paining our own!"
Jason looked at her, stunned, then shook his head. "I know, but the mistress commanded me to do it!"
Maebelle knew what it meant to disobey, but this incident would not sit kindly with the rest of the slaves.
The rape of Vera became the topic of gossip in the slave quarters for the next few days. The women and men were talking about rebelling, not working and planned a slow down in the work. They knew that it would be hard to discipline all of them and if they stayed together the chance of all them being flogged or put on short rations was minimal. For the next few days they went to the fields, but the didn't cut as much cane as they had been harvesting and Rodney was called back to the main house.
"I know that they're doing this on purpose," Celia told him, "and I want the instigators punished."
"That would mean flogging the whole crew," Rodney insisted.
"Then make an example of a few of them. Tell them that the rest of them can expect the same treatment if they don't go back to their regular work schedule."
Rodney knew that this was an untimely move on her part. The slaves were already rebelling and if they decided to rebel it would mean the end of the plantation, and surely their death. They would not let one white person live, they couldn't afford to, but he also knew that he had to do something to exercise their authority, so he ordered that seven of the bucks and four of the women be brought to the barn for floggings. The rest of the slaves were forced to watch while Rodney lashed the men unmercifully until their backs were bloody and raw. The women were stripped to the waist also and flogged until huge welts appeared on their backs and tiny trickles of blood dripped from their breasts where the tip of the whip had caught them. It was the first time that Rodney had been forced to flog so many slaves. He had usually punished them in some other way, because the ones who were flogged were not able to work for a day or so.
News of liberation of slaves had drifted in from the States and several of the plantations had already chosen to free their slaves, then pay them a minimal salary to work the land. The slaves that had been raised on the plantations knew no other home and wouldn't leave even if they were free. They had no place to go, no way to make a living and were satisfied to be fed and clothed by their masters and John tried to convince Celia Williams that this would be the answer to their problem, but she refused.
"My husband ran this plantation and there were no problems. Discipline, let them know that you mean business and they'll be no problems," she insisted, blindly ignoring the news that other plantations had freed slaves and some of those that had not had been burned by rebelling slaves.
Louise saw less and less of Rodney as he worked the slaves round the clock to harvest the crop, but John always found time during his day to stop by and talk with her. She knew that he still felt something for her, but he said nothing because she was engaged to Rodney and until she told him that she would not marry him, he would remain silent.
She and Maebelle had become close friends and she found herself confiding in her more than any other person because she was always sympathetic and comforting. Maebelle felt sorry for the young girl, knowing that little by little she was nurturing a growing dislike for Rodney. Maebelle told her of the beatings and Louise was horrified. She couldn't imagine the gentle man she had known in England as a schoolgirl being capable of such atrocities. He had even changed in his treatment of her, he was aloof and uncaring, treating her as though she were just another woman, not his fiancee. He stopped talking of marriage, with the excuse that they couldn't plan anything until the problems of the plantation were settled.
The unrest on the plantation seemed to grow and grow with each day. It was almost ritual now that Rodney would be called to the main house by Celia Williams after each day's work, and this day was no different, except that she had something more serious to discuss with him.
She poured him a drink and asked him to sit down. He didn't like going to the Manor, but he was getting used to it by now, used to her obvious passes to get him into her bed.
"Rodney," she began, "something's happened, something serious."
"What's that?" he asked.
"It seems that one of the slaves that you flogged the other day, well, his wounds became infected, he developed a high fever and he died!"
"Died!" he exclaimed. He had never killed a man no matter how severe the beatings had been.
The law on the island was fairly lenient when an owner killed a slave, but it had to be for a good reason, stealing, being with a white woman, but a thrashing that killed a man who had not worked as hard as the master thought he should could be punished and Celia Williams knew it. It was up to her to report the death to the constable, but she was giving him an alternative.
"I can keep this death from the constable if you ask your fiancee to leave Manor Hall," she said quite bluntly. "I can tell that things aren't as they should be anyway and I need you here as master of the plantation!"
"And if I don't agree to those terms?" he asked, knowing the answer that she would give him already.
"Then, my dear Rodney, I shall have to report you to the constable. Tell him that you administered the beating without my permission and a man is dead. You will have to stand trial and most assuredly, you will be convicted of murder." She had pulled her final coup and he was trapped. He knew that she would report him and that he would be sentenced to life imprisonment or to a hanging, so he merely nodded and said, "I'll see what I can do as quickly as possible."
"I knew you'd see things my way," she smiled, taking his hand and squeezing it. "I am really not as bad as you think, we'll be very happy here on the Manor. It needs a man to run it."
Rodney walked slowly to Louise's cabin wondering how he would tell her about the latest developments. It wouldn't be easy to ask her to leave, but his life was at stake and he was certain that she would understand. They hadn't been very close during the past few weeks and he could tell that she was spending more and more time with John, so maybe his request would come as a relief to her, he didn't know.
Louise was alone in the cabin when he knocked and went in.
"Sweetheart, there is something that I have to tell you. It isn't easy for me, but I pray that you'll understand."
She listened quietly while he told her the story about the death of the slave, but said nothing when he had finished.
"When do you want me to leave. You know the boats run so infrequently that it may be" out of the question for several weeks, and then there's the problem of the passage. I don't have any money."
"I'll have to see what I can work out," he told her.
He hadn't expected tears or loud protestations, but he had expected some sign of regret, but she showed no emotion whatsoever.
"I'll send for you later," he told her.
For the first time since she arrived in Jamaica she felt pity for Rodney, a certain tenderness for him. He had never been one to take orders from anyone and now this woman had him completely under her thumb.
"Louise," he said softly, "I do love you. I really do, please believe me. Maybe I can work something out, but at the moment I think Celia means every word she says. She's a very powerful woman on these islands and no one would doubt her word."
"I understand," she repeated.
What Rodney and Louise did not know was that Maebelle had come back to the cabin and had listened to their conversation. She had heard Rodney tell her about the old slave's death and she went quickly to the slave quarters to report the news, then returned to the cabin.
Louise was sitting in a corner, the room dark and solemn and she was crying.
"M'am," Maebelle began. "I don't know if I should tell you this, but I only want what's best for you."
"What is it, Maebelle," she asked, "What's on your mind?"
"I overheard what Mr. Rodney told you about the slave being dead. They know in the slave quarters too and they're planning a full scale rebellion!"
"But that's impossible, Maebelle," she told her. "They wouldn't!"
"If you want to get out of here before the uprising I think I can arrange if for you. For your own sake, please leave, because there won't be nothin' left of this land once they git started."
Maebelle seemed so concerned, so sincere, yet she did tend to exaggerate at times, so Louise wasn't sure that she knew what she was talking about.
"Please Miss Louise," she begged, "for your own good, leave Manor Hall before its too late."
"When will the uprising occur?" she asked. "How much time do I have?"
"It could he any day now," she told her. "I'd see what you could do as quickly as possible, there may not be much time!"
Her first reaction was to go to Rodney and warn him, but she knew that he would never believe her and Maebelle would be punished, so she couldn't take the chance. Instead she decided to confide in John, he'd know what to do and he'd told her that he would help her if she ever needed him, and she needed him now.
"I need some money," she told John. "I have to get off this island, I want to go home, back to England."
She explained the whole story to him and he promised that he would help her, but that she would have to arrange to go into Montego Bay with him in a few days so he could make the arrangements. The story about the uprising sounded fantastic to him but he knew that she was upset and perhaps a few days away from Manor Hall would help clear her mind. He knew that she was desperate, that she would probably promise or do anything so that she could get back to England and he saw his opportunity to make some extra money while he still worked for the plantation.
"There is so much that I'd like to tell you, about what has happened since I've come to Jamaica," she told him, "but it's all past now. I just want to get out of here."
She packed a few of her things during the next week and waited for Rodney to tell her when a boat was leaving, but he said nothing. When she couldn't wait any longer, she begged John to take her into town and that she would wait there until a boat was leaving, but he said nothing. When she couldn't wait any longer, she begged John to take her into town and that she would wait there until a boat was leaving for England.
"We can leave tomorrow morning if you like," he told her. "I have some business with the accountant anyway."
"I'll be ready right after breakfast," she agreed.
She didn't tell Rodney that she was leaving until the last minute when the carriage came to the cabin for her. She knew that he would understand and that he would send the rest of her things as soon as she let him know where she was staying.
The ride into Montego Bay was dusty and hot, the morning sun beating down on their heads unmercifully.
"It will be a relief to get away from this island and the heat," she commented. "I don't think that I ever would have fit in here, it just isn't my way of life and Rodney has changed so much, he's so much harder now."
"Everybody changes," he told her. "I'm sure you've changed since you've been here."
"Yes, I suppose I have, but I do feel sorry for Rodney, he has to stay here, I don't think that woman will ever let him go."
"That I don't know about," he told her, not mentioning that Celia Williams had made passes at him also.
"There's a small hotel in town and I've made arrangements for you to stay there," he continued. "It isn't fancy, but it's the best I could do."
"Anything will be fine," she said. "I just had to get away from the Manor."
John smiled at her, hoping that she wouldn't suspect what he had in mind for her. When he first arrived on the island and met his liaison who had arranged for him to work at the Manor, he was told that young blonde girls bring a high price on the island as prostitutes. The businessmen in Montego Bay were always anxious to seen with a beautiful fair-skinned girl.
There were several of the Negro freedmen who had organized the particular hotel where John had registered Louise and they set the girl's up with their customers. It was not an uncommon thing for some young girl to get stranded on the island and need money for her passage home They were frightened, alone and no one to care for them, and were, therefore, easy prey. Once they had worked as prostitutes for these men very few actually broke away and returned to their home. John had talked to these men and told them that he would bring them a girl, but had demanded a fee from them.
Louise did not know that she was being sold into prostitution, she wouldn't have suspected it from John, but he had thought about it for some time and now was his golden opportunity. He had sensed that things weren't right between Rodney and Louise when he arrived at the plantation and that eventually she would turn to him. He had felt a tenderness for her when they were on the boat, but after seeing her with the captain and the cook, and Rodney had told him about her session with Reuben and Hoss one night when he was drunk and feeling particularly sorry for himself, he no longer felt any pity or love for her. He was a businessman and she was his product. He knew that she would become very popular with the Negro men of the island, those that could afford her as well as the transient businessmen.
Louise looked a little leery when she saw the hotel where she was to stay, but she had no money and so she couldn't complain. John had been kind enough to help her out and this was all that mattered. John introduced her to the man at the desk, a light-skinned mulatto with fine features. He seemed quite polished and sophisticated and smiled warmly at Louise as she signed the register.
"I'm sure that you'll be comfortable here," John told her, but she was feeling uneasy. She didn't like the way the desk clerk was staring at her, then at John and back at her. She sensed that there was some sort of understanding between them, but she couldn't pinpoint it.
"You get settled and I'll be back in about an hour, I've got some business to attend to," he told her, and left her standing there.
The desk clerk called a young Negro boy to carry her suitcase to her room. She walked down the dimly lit hallway. A beautiful mulatto girl was coming out from one room and greeted them.
"She a new one to the flea trap, Louie," she grinned. "Good luck, honey!"
"You love it, Missy, you know it," Louise chimed in, laughing.
"Better than that plantation," she agreed.
"Don't mind Missy," Louie said, "She's just teasing. She's been with us longer than any of the other girls."
"You mean girls live here, I .thought that it was a hotel, not a residence."
"It's a little bit of both, miss," he told her, "but you'll see soon enough, I've said too much already." ' "You're right, Louie," a strong voice interrupted. "You have said too much."
Louise turned around and saw the desk clerk following them as they went to her room.
"Follow me, Miss Ireland," he ordered her. "Mr. Stuart will be back in a few minutes. It seems word of your arrival has been well advertised and we have some clients already."
"Will you please tell me what's going on?" she asked hesitantly. "I don't understand, what clients?"
The desk clerk laughed strangely and said, "You'll see soon enough. From what I understand, you've had plenty of practice already."
A frightening chill shuddered her body as she began to realize that John's helpfulness was not the charitable gesture she thought it would be, there was more to it, much more.
The desk clerk opened her room for her and she looked around. It was sparsely furnished except for a large iron-posted bed in the middle of the room, a dresser and a bath.
"This is it," he said simply. "You better try the bed, you'll be spending a lot of time in it."
"I doubt that," she challenged. "I only expect to be here for a few days before I can get passage back to England."
"Do you have your fare?" he queried, knowing that she didn't.
"Why, no, but I don't see that that's any business of yours. Mr. Stuart is arranging it for me."
"That's what I thought. This is what he'd arranged; you'll earn your passage working for me, right here in the hotel."
She was stunned, finally realizing what the men had in mind. She was to be a hotel prostitute for her passage, that's what the desk clerk meant by clients!
"*I think* there's been some misunderstanding, I can't, it's impossible, I think I'd better find someplace else to live."
He laughed openly and cruelly at her statement, walked to the door and closed it, locking it behind him. She heard the key in the lock, turning to lock her in and she ran to the door and began to pound on it.
"Shut up . . . cut that out," a voice echoed from down the hall. "I'm trying to sleep." It was the voice of one of the other girls who was probably in the same position she was. She couldn't believe that John would do this to her, but there was nothing that she could do except to wait for his return. She was sure that he had been tricked, that he didn't know what the desk clerk and the others in the hotel were doing, she had to believe this, it was her only hope.
She sat down on the bed, not bothering to unpack and began to cry. She wished that John would hurry, she couldn't stand being locked up much longer, she would go crazy.
It seemed like an hour or more before she heard another knock on her door. "John, is that you," she asked weakly "John?"
"Yes, Louise, it's me," he said, but his voice was no longer kind, it sounded harsh and sharp and she almost didn't recognize it.
"Just a minute," she said, but before she moved from the bed she heard a key in the door, opening it. John was standing there, a short, paunchy, dirty looking man was standing behind him, grinning and leering at her.
"Here she is, Mario," John said. "Like what you see so far?"
Mario walked into the room, nearly pushing John off balance.
"Don't be so anxious, Mario, you have a few hours you know."
"John, what is this, what's happening. I don't understand," she pleaded. "You'll understand," he said scornfully. "You're going to earn your passage and make a little money for me on the side as repayment. Now you understand."
"Yes," she said weakly, "but how could you do this to me, you of all people!"
"Listen baby," he replied. "You didn't seem to mind the bucks on the plantation, or the captain of the ship on the trip over here, only this time you'll be doing it for money. You want to get back to England, don't you?"
"God ... oh god," she whimpered through her tears. "Let me go, please let me go!"
"Too late for tears, my dear," he laughed. "Save your energy for the customers. Mario here is the first. His desires may be a bit different from what you've experienced before, but you be sure to make him happy. We don't want any complaints, or it will be worse for you. Believe me!"
Mario was just standing there staring at her, his eyes glistening with desire as he watched the crying, trembling girl.
"That's okay John, I like a little fight in a girl," he said, winking at him. "Why don't you just let us get acquainted. I'm sure she'll come around to seeing things my way."
"Have fun," John said, laughed and left the room.
"Oh no . . . god no," she cried out. "Stay away from me!"
"Now honey, you've got to earn your keep. It's not all that bad. You may even get to like it!"
She couldn't believe what was happening. Mario was moving toward the bed, his mouth partially open, his tongue wetting his thick, fleshy lips, rubbing the palms of his hands on his filthy trousers.
She turned her head away from the horrible, fat man as he came nearer to her, reaching out and touching her soft, silken hair, mumbling obscenities.
"Yea baby, you're going to fuck me. You're going to do exactly like I say, aren't you?"
"No . . . no," she groaned. "No, I'm not!"
His fingers tightened on her hair and yanked her head around so that she was facing him.
"Oh yes you are, baby," he growled. "Make it easy on yourself or I'll teach you a lesson or two!"
She tried to fight him off with her hands, but his other meaty fist reached out and grabbed both of her slender wrists in his grip, holding her there while he laughed at her.
He twisted her arms back so that she had to fall back on the bed to ease the pain. She thought he would break her arms and she tried to scream, but it stuck in her throat, no sounds coming from between her dry lips.
"Now, listen to me," he hissed. "Stand up and show me what you have to offer. I want to see you get out of those dowdy clothes, slowly, striptease fashion!"
He pulled up on her arms almost throwing her into the middle of the room where she stood trembling.
"Begin," he ordered. "NOW!"
She turned her back to him and began to work the buttons of her blouse, her fingers shaking at this horrible degradation he was forcing upon her, but she knew that the door was locked from the outside and it was useless to fight. She was afraid that he would hurt her if she didn't comply and maybe he was one of those men who just liked to look at nude women. She doubted it, but it was the only thing that she could hope for.
"Face me," he commanded, "or I'll have to get rough with you again, and I don't like my women bruised."
She wasn't sure that her legs would support her, they felt weak and shaky, but she turned around and looked at him for a moment, then back down at the floor.
He was sitting on the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, as she unbuttoned hers, his every move mimicking hers. His barrel chest was hairy and solid in contrast to his fat belly that hung over the top of his trousers. His stomach was so huge that his fly could barely close and it looked as if it would automatically go down if he took a deep breath.
She let the blouse fall around her shoulders, slipping one arm out, then the other so that he could see the full voluptuous curve of her breasts from the top of her brassiere.
"Nice knockers," he commented. "Yeah, baby, you've got plenty to make me happy."
She could see his hands fumbling with the buttons on his trousers, anticipating the removal of her loose fitting shirt. She unhooked the waistband of her skirt and let it fall to the floor so that he could see her long, slender legs, the plumpness of her thighs where they bulged from the top of her tightly gartered stockings. Her bikini panties did little to cover the hard, rising mound of her pubis as she stood there.
"Look at me," he ordered. "Look at me!"
Reluctantly she raised her eyes from the spot they had found on the floor and shuddered at what she saw. His short fat prick was sticking out from his torn shorts, bobbing up anxiously as he watched her. His hands were flat in back of him on the bed as he leaned back slightly. She felt a wave of nausea in the pit of her stomach as she viewed this gross, little man, obviously pleased with his stubby, pulsing erection.
"Walk around the room for me, and keep your head high!"
She began to strut around the room, undulating her hips as she passed close to the bed. She hoped that this would be all he would need to stimulate him to an orgasm, then she wouldn't have to worry about him wanting anything else. His eyes followed her lustfully as her slim, graceful body moved to one end of the room, then back again, passing by the bed each time she turned.
"The rest of your clothing," he panted. "Take the rest off!"
"Oh no," she groaned, noticing that his erection was still intact and that he was determined to subject her to further humiliation.
"Let me see those tits," he rasped. "Them first!"
She unhooked her scanty black, lace brassiere, letting her breasts fall free, bouncing slightly against her rib cage as she let her brassiere drift to the floor.
She could hear his sharp intake of breath as he stared at her full, ripe, firm mounds.
"Hold them for me, play with them!" he commanded.
She stood frozen to the spot, Unable to bring her hands from her sides to cup her luscious orbs, but when he started to move toward her, she shyly let her fingers cup her voluminous breasts so that spilled over the top of her tiny hands.
"Marvelous," he cooed. "Beautiful!"
Her nipples began to stiffen in a natural reaction, pointing out proudly like two bright red cherries.
"Okay," he growled, "Now the rest, I want to see that tiny little cunt of yours that John described so well!"
His voice was thick with passion and she kept praying that he would climax before he was able to reach out for her and that his fiercely pulsing cock would deflate and remain harmless. Her hands were trembling noticeable as she reached in back of her to unfasten the stays of her garters, as she began to roll her sheer silk stockings down her trim, slightly tapered legs. As she bent over her breasts hung tantalizing away from her body and Mario reached out and touched her, squeezing them fiercely, hurting her.
"Aaagggghh," she gasped as she tried to straighten up.
"That's it, baby," he growled. "I'll let go, but turn around. I want to see that ass of yours, feel its softness in my hands!"
Her stockings were lying at her feet as she stepped out of them and reluctantly turned around, her bikini panties the only thing that was protecting her almost nude body.
Mario's hands reached inside the elastic of the tops of her panties and slowly, sensually slid them over the smooth, firm mounds of her buttocks, letting his fingers dig into the softness of her smooth, white flesh. His touch made her shudder with humiliation and fear. He didn't seem particularly anxious to take her, but his thick fingers moved slowly, degradingly over her hips, thighs and buttocks, pinching her every few moments, letting her flesh raise in welts between his fingers.
"Oh baby," he groaned, "move back closer to me!"
His request was not really necessary as he pulled on her thighs, bringing her back to the bed so that she could feel the cold iron frame against the back of her thighs.
"What a lovely ass. You ever had it in the ass," he laughed cruelly.
"Oh no . . . please . . . NO!" she choked, tears streaming down her face.
"I don't put much stock in "please," "he told her harshly, "I paid my money and your mine to do with as I please for the next hour!"
He pulled her roughly on top of him so that she was sitting on his fleshy flabby thighs and she could feel the heat of his prick against the backside of her thighs. His prick was hard and jerking and he pushed and pulled her back and forth across his hairy legs. His fingers grasped her thighs as he reached in front of her body and pulled her back even further. His fingers began to play in the soft down of her pubis, rubbing teasingly over the nub of her tender clitoris until he could feel it react automatically to his touch.
She tried to squirm away from his grasp, but his meaty hands held her tightly against his sloppy body. His fingers slid between her thighs and began to tickle the sensitive lips of her vagina, separating the labia, feeling the tiny, warm slit of her cuntal opening.
"Ooooooohhhh," she groaned softly, as he let one fat finger slip lewdly into her tight, resisting vagina.
"Relax, baby," he chided, "you may even get to like it, besides I'm not going to fuck you there!"
His hands forced her thighs as far apart as they would go, hurting her, forcing her knees back against the rungs on the bed so that her vagina was open and vulnerable to his fingers. He worked his finger inside her, demandingly, insatiably, like a mad man until she could feel her own juices begin to lubricate her dry, tight channel.
"Oh yes, baby, that's it, get ready for me!"
She couldn't believe that her body was reacting to this gross little man's touch and she tried to break away from him. He let her stand slightly, easing his fingers from her vagina, but his hands held her thighs firmly so that she was only half standing. His thumbs grasped the globes of her buttocks and pulled them cruelly apart. She could feel the tiny aperture of her anus stretch as his hands forced her ass cheeks farther and farther apart.
"Bend over further," he commanded pushing her slightly until her arms and hands himg loosely in front of her.
"What a beautiful ass," he breathed. "Bet you've never been fucked there!"
His stubby erection was bobbing more anxiously now, pulsing until his penis head was blood red.
His fingers began to probe her tiny puckered anal ring, pulling at the tightly clenched skin until he worked his middle finger in to the first knuckle.
"OOOOOHHH, AAAAAGGGGGGHHHH," she screamed, the pain ripping through her body. "STOP!"
"Can't stop now," he panted. "I'm going to have you, have you right there!"
He ran his other hand over her moist vagina, smearing some of her lubricating juices back over her anus as he pulled her back toward him once again.
"Sit back ... sit back on me," he gasped hoarsely. "I'm going to fuck that ass of yours!"
"God no . . . please . . . noooo," she groaned as his hands manipulated her as though she had no will of her own.
She could feel the stub of his penis between the crease of her buttocks, probing for her tiny, tight hole. He pulled her roughly onto his lap, holding his fat prick with one hand as he angled it towards her tiny, puckered aperture. He tightened the muscles of his hairy thighs and pulled her down onto his short, stubby prick, shoving it into her with one cruel, splitting lunge.
"AAAAAGGGHHHH, MMMMFFFPPPHH," she cried, tears of pain and degradation streaming down her cheeks and trickling to her neck and i breasts.
He was panting and shoving into her with his bear like strength and she thought that she was being torn in half. He lay back on the bed so that she was sitting on top of him, impaled on his cruel, hard penis and his hands crushed her breasts as he pulled her down onto him with his every inthrust. She thought that she would pass out from the pain, but she couldn't lose consciousness, she had to suffer every harsh, stabbing hip thrust of the paunchy man, feel his hot, sticky hands pawing her breasts and pinching her nipples from behind.
"I'm going to fill that hole of yours, I'm going to cum . . . I'm going to CUM!"
She wished that he would get it over with and leave her alone. She had never felt so dirty and had never felt so much pain in her life and she wanted to die of shame.
"Here it comes, baby," he groaned, thrusting in cruelly for the last time. "Here it comes!"
His penis was swelling even more, becoming thicker inside her anus and she could feel the first spurt of his semen as it shot deep into the warm dark channel of her rectum.
"Oooooooo," he moaned, feeling his pent up lust spill inside her tight, clinging channel. She was so tight that he thought she would bruise his swollen prick, but as he ejaculated still more hot fluid into her he began to relax his hold on her breasts, and finally lay back on the bed completely satisfied and drained. She could feel his limp penis slide reluctantly from her backside with a wet sucking noise and she fell forward, sprawling ashamedly on the floor.
He was just about to doze off when there was another knock on the door.
"Okay Marion, your time's up with the little lady. Hope you're finished, because otherwise it's another twenty dollars!"
Louise rolled over on her side and clutched her skirt around her nude body as she heard the key in the door once again.
John Stuart was standing there looking down at her used and aching body and laughed cruelly.
"Better get cleaned up, sweetheart, you've already got another customer waiting!"
"God no . . . please ... no more," she pleaded, but he just glared at her and grinned lustfully.
"Wish you didn't have another customer, I'd like to sample some of you again," he told her, "but business is business and we've got to keep you busy to pay the bills."
Mario got up and sauntered out of the room as she staggered to the bathroom to cleanse herself. When she came back into the room there was another man waiting for her, already nude, with a huge erection. He pulled her to him and took her almost immediately, not waiting for her to be ready, his penis searing into her aching vagina.
She couldn't remember how many men John had brought to her that afternoon, she had lost track and it didn't really matter anymore. She was just a whore, getting paid to do as any wished. She was shamed and humiliated beyond all belief and when there were no more knocks on the door, she finally fell into a deep exhausted sleep.
Chapter Six
Each day she listened for news that there was a clipper or some kind of ship that could take her back to England, but no word came or reached her,ears. She asked John whether she had enough money to get back yet, but he just laughed at her and told her to be patient, they had a good thing going and there was no sense to rush it. She was completely in his power and she knew it. One day she tried to leave the hotel, but the desk clerk caught her and she was locked into her room as punishment. She wasn't even sure now that she wanted to go back to England anymore, she had no life left except as a prostitute and she could be that anywhere.
She often thought about Rodney back at the plantation and the binding situation she had allowed himself to be caught in and she wondered if he ever thought of her or wondered what had become of her. She wished that she had never consented to come to Jamaica, but she was there and now all she could do was hope to get away.
Celia Williams wasted no time inviting Rodney to be a permanent resident in the big house, and so the day after Louise left, Rodney moved all his belongings to the Manor to live with Celia. He found her to be an even more demanding woman than he anticipated and their lovemaking that had once been fairly exciting, because it had been clandestine, was now becoming boresome and a chore. She demanded that he make love to her every night, dreaming up new things for him to do to her and new things that she could do to him. Had he been in love with her, or had she not demanded so much sexual attention he may have even gotten to enjoy it, but when the sun went down every day, he grew to dread the pink and orange sunsets that he had once thought so romantic, because he knew it would only be a matter of hours before he would have to crawl into bed with the woman who controlled him. He felt no better than one of the slaves.
When John returned from Montego Bay several days after leaving Louise in the hotel under the care of the desk clerk, Rodney asked if she had gotten settled comfortably and when she would be leaving.
John was evasive in his answers and Rodney sensed that something had happened. He knew that it was a little late to have concern for her welfare after what he had done to her, but he couldn't quell the gnawing feeling that he still should check on her. After all, she had come to Jamaica at his bidding.
John was going into the city more and more frequently and this puzzled Rodney, because Celia did not like her employees to be away from the plantation very often, and only then if it were on business, yet she didn't seem to object to John's frequent trips.
"Celia," he asked about two weeks after Louise's departure, "I'd like to go to the city today to buy some new shirts and check on the new supplies. Can John run the crews by himself today?"
He felt like a child asking permission to go to the movies, but this was the only way to handle her, she had to be made to feel as though she were doing you a favor, and he realized this.
"I suppose so, Rod," she consented, "but be back before dark. I don't like to stay in the house unprotected and alone, it frightens me."
Ordinarily he would have thought she was just pretending, but they had heard rumors of a slave rebellion and it had made everyone uneasy, no matter how well guarded they were. If the slaves decided to attack with their full strength, no plantation would stand a chance, and they knew it.
"I'll be back late in the afternoon," he promised. He knew that he could leave early in the morning without John noticing his absence until he was nearly in Montego Bay, then it would be too late for him to catch him, and he couldn't leave the work crews unsupervised. He was determined to find out what had happened to Louise. He knew quite a few people in the town and maybe they would have some news of her. He wouldn't have thought anything was wrong except John would not answer a direct question, and his absences from the plantation only, made him suspect more.
When he arrived in town he checked the piers that had the freighters and passenger ships coming and going to and from all parts of the world. None of them had a listing for a Miss Louise Ireland, nor was she on any of the waiting lists. This only confirmed his suspicion that something had happened to her and that John Stuart was responsible. He checked with some of the local merchants in town whom he knew and described Louise, but none of them had seen her. A beautiful, blonde Englishwoman would be a rarity in the predominantly Negro town and this was strange. He wandered into a local tavern and ordered a draft of beer, gulping down the lukewarm refreshment in one swallow. Several transient sailors were sitting around talking and laughing with some of the freed native girls. He knew that there were several men around the taverns who carried the local gossip and if anyone had seen Louise or knew where she was, chances were it would be one of these men. He waited until a man called Raoul sat down at the bar and spoke to him.
"I understand you're looking for an Englishwoman, blonde, about twenty."
"Yes, yes," Rodney said impatiently, "Have you seen her? Do you know where she is?"
"Nope, haven't seen her," Raoul replied, "but for a price I could give you the name and address of someone who has."
"How much?" he asked, annoyed, but not having any choice.
"Twenty pounds," the man said, without batting an eyelash. "Take it or leave it."
Rodney reached in his pocket and pulled out the twenty pounds, all that he had managed to save. He was going to give it to Louise to help pay for her passage, but he had to find her first.
Raoul put it in his pocket and asked the bartender for a pen and paper. He wrote down the name of the hotel where they were keeping Louise and handed it to Rodney.
"There's been another English fellow in town to see her several times ... I can tell you that much. Don't know what his business is with her, but I can guess." He laughed as he saw the anger rise in Rodney's face, finished his drink and left.
He had been right, John had done something with her and that was why he was coming into Mo Bay so often. He wished that he had confronted John with his suspicions, beaten him until he had admitted that he knew where Louise was, but it was too late for that right now.
He went into the bright, scorching sunshine and walked to the address that Raoul had given him. He shuddered at the dilapidated state of the building that bore the sign, "Hotel." He couldn't understand why she would be staying at such a run down place, but when he walked into the cluttered, dirty lobby he overheard a man at the desk ask for a girl by name, hand the desk clerk some money and then be led down a hallway by a young Negro boy. He knew that such houses existed in Mo Bay as they did in every part of the world, but it didn't explain Louise's being there, not unless she was being forced, just as Celia had forced him to move into the big house.
"Louise Ireland," he said to the desk clerk. "I'd like to see her."
The desk clerk looked at him coldly, appraising him in his neat, clean suit, then shook his head and said, "That'll be eight pounds for the hour."
Rodney hesitated and said, "I'll have to come back, unless you'll take my draft."
"No credit, man," he was told sharply. "Come back with the money, but hurry, Louise is very popular and you may have to wait."
Rodney walked quickly to the only man in town whom he knew would loan him the money. He would have to tell him it was for some supplies for the plantation and that he had run short. He wouldn't be questioned, but when Celia Williams found out, she would be furious, but he couldn't think of that at the moment. He had to get to Louise and this was the only way.
The money tightly squeezed in his hand, he returned to the hotel and gave it to the desk clerk. He was told that he'd have to wait about fifteen minutes, there was someone else with her at the moment. He paced the floor of the lobby nervously, wringing his hands, knowing that Louise was at that moment making love to another man. He had to hear her explanation of this situation. He hadn't believed it when he had seen her with the two Negro bucks at the plantation and Celia had since admitted to him that she was responsible for that display, but that was when she thought Louise was safely out of the country. He knew that she wouldn't have gone into this sort of thing without coercion and he had to get to the bottom of it.
Finally Louie appeared and told him that he would show him the way to Louise's room. A huge Negro man was just leaving and turned and smiled at Rodney. "She's quite a good piece. None like her on the island!"
Rodney wanted to be sick, but he just nodded and waited while Louie knocked on the door.
"Show the man in, Louie," she replied. "I'll be with him in a minute."
Louie opened the door and then left. Louise was in the bathroom and called out, "Be right with you, honey, if you can wait that long!"
Her voice sounded hard and calloused, not at all the Louise he had known in England or the same Louise that had left the plantation, she was different!
"That's all right, take your time," he said in a muffled voice, not wanting to shock her with his presence in the room.
"Well, that's a switch. Why'd you come here if you can wait," she laughed! "Be right there."
She was dressed in a thin, cheaply make nightgown when she came into the room. Rodney had his back to her and she gasped when he turned around and she recognized him.
"Oh Rodney," she cried, "I'm so glad you're here. You've got to get me out of this terrible place."
"Didn't sound like you were too anxious to leave a few minutes ago," he barked, his voice trembling. "You couldn't wait to get out here and have me fuck you."
"That's not true," she said, tears of embarrassment running down her cheeks. "I have to say those things in case someone is listening."
He listened impatiently as she told him the story of how John had tricked her and how she was trying to get enough money to leave the island, but so far she had not seen a penny of what she had made.
"What did you expect," he laughed. "He'll never give you any money, you should know that."
"But, I've got to get out of here, I've just got to!"
She was shaking and her breasts jiggled against the thin sheerness of her nightgown and Rodney moved closer to her and took her in his arms. He felt her go limp as he pulled her gently onto the bed.
"I can't wait any longer," he rasped. "I can't stand to see you like this and not want you. Forgive me."
"It's all right, darling," she said, almost automatically, forgetting for a moment that he was her fiancee and not just some other man who had paid for her body.
Rodney slipped her nightgown from her body and quickly undressed himself and then dropped down next to her. He was quick and demanding muttering words in her ear as he took her, roughly and unfeeling. She reacted to his brute strength, raising her hips up to meet his every wicked thrust in her body. His lovemaking didn't last very long, because of his urgent and frustrated need, and he soon fell alongside her, spent and sated. He looked over at her and the love and tenderness that he had once felt for her was gone, yet he felt that he had to get her away from the hotel if only to teach John Stuart a lesson.
"I'll make arrangements for you to leave, pack your things," he ordered her, all softness gone from his voice. "But you'll have to come back to the plantation with me, I don't have enough money to put you on a ship. John is at the Manor and we'll get it from him, but we can't let Celia know you're back." She didn't like the idea of going back to the Manor, but it was her only way out of the hotel.
She packed her few things quickly and waited for Rodney to go downstairs and talk to the desk clerk. He returned in a few minutes and carried her suitcase down the long hallway. The clerk glared at them as they left, but didn't say a word.
"How did you manage that," she asked incredulously.
"I can't believe he'd let me go."
"He wasn't going to, but I told him that I was from the Manor and that there was a law against "white" slavery. Said I'd report him to the authorities and he'd lose all his girls, so he'd better let you go if he wanted to stay in business!"
"I still can't believe it, it seems too good to be true. Thank you, Rodney!"
"Don't thank me," he answered angrily. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do with you yet. You've turned out to be nothing more than a whore and that changes things between us. I do feel that I owe it to you to get you away from the island, but don't ask me why!"
She had never seen him so angry and she almost wished that she had remained in the hotel. She knew that Rodney was capable of extreme cruelties, Celia Williams had seen to that. She hoped that Maebelle would still be at the plantation and not working at the big house once again, she may be her only hope of getting away. Maebelle would help her if need be, she was certain of that.
They rode in silence the whole way back to the plantation, arriving just at dusk. He dropped her off just on the perimeter of the slave quarters and told her that she would have to live there for the next few days, and then continued up to the big house.
Before telling Celia that he was back, he stopped by John Stuart's cabin and went in without knocking.
"What's this," John said startled. "You've got your nerve barging in like this!" He was sitting at a table counting stacks of money and dividing it into neat little piles.
"I'll take some of that," Rodney said. "It belongs to Louise anyway."
John was startled and couldn't speak, but his hand reached for a drawer to reach for a gun. that he had hidden.
Rodney caught his arm and bent it backwards until John was forced to sit down again.
"I know all about your little scheme and I've taken Louise away from the hotel."
"What do you mean," John said, trying to pretend that he didn't know what he was talking about.
"You know what I mean, and I'll take half of that money. You're lucky that I don't take it all."
"No," John shouted, "I won't give you a nickel of it, it's mine and I intend to keep it."
Rodney dragged John from his chair and threw him against the wall of the cabin, holding him up by the neck, choking him.
"You little pimp, you scum, I ought to kill you!"
John struggled against Rodney's grip, but he lost his balance and fell backwards, striking his head on the small iron stove in the corner of the cabin. Rodney watched as blood gushed from his head and his neck was twisted in a peculiar angle. He knew that John was dead and he began to shake. It was too light to hide his body, someone might see him, so he'd have to wait. It may take another day for Celia to discover his absence and then he could convince her that he had just left and wasn't coming back.
He scooped up the money and stuffed in into his pockets. He had never seen so much money in his life and even though he knew that Louise had made this money for him by sleeping with any and all men John had sent to her, he felt nothing. He locked the door before he left, planning to return later that night and bury him somewhere on the outskirts of the plantation where no one would find him.
He was trembling when he walked up the steps of the Manor and called to Celia. She greeted him with a drink and a kiss, saying that she was beginning to worry about him.
He tried to evade her pointed questions about his business in town, answering only in one syllable, either a yes or no.
"Well, darling," she said, "You're back and that's all that matters.
He knew that she would insist that he sleep with her that night, and he wasn't sure how he could manage it after his vicious and passionate lovemaking that afternoon but somehow he would have to manage.
Chapter Seven
Louise waited until it was dark, then crept quietly to the cabin where the women were housed. She peered in the window hoping that she would catch a glimpse of Maebelle and be able to get her attention. She couldn't let any of the other slaves know that she had returned or the news would surely reach the big house. She stood there for several minutes, but no sign of Maebelle. She thought that maybe she was still at the cabin she had occupied when she had arrived in Jamaica, so she went further up the path, careful to keep in the shadows so that the brightness of the moon wouldn't give away her presence. Just as she was passing the cabin that had been occupied by John Stuart she paused, listening for just a moment, hearing something or someone inside.
It was a scuffling sound, something dragging across the coarse wooden floor, and someone mumbling underneath their breath. She listened and peered through the window. The cabin was dark inside, but she recognized the outline of a man struggling with another figure and instinctively she knew that it was Rodney and John, but what had happened?
"You sure were a heavy bastard, Stuart," he mumbled to himself. "Christ, you weigh a thousand pounds, dead weight." He laughed at the term "dead weight." "Serves you right, you pimp, whoremonger," he muttered spitefully.
"Dead!" she said to herself. John was dead and Rodney was trying to get rid of his body! She couldn't let Rodney see her near the cabin, so she ran quickly up the path until she reached her cabin. There was a dim light coming from the living room and she could hear Maebelle humming softly. She knocked on the door and waited for Maebelle to answer.
"Who's dat," her low pleasant voice replied. "Who's der?"
"Maebelle, it's me, Miss Louise," she told her. "Open the door, I've got to talk to you!"
Maebelle scurried to the door and opened it quickly and Louise slipped inside.
"Land's sakes, Miss Louise, when'd you get back, and why are you sneakin' around here like a runaway slave?"
"It's a long story, Maebelle, but you've got to help me."
She told her what had happened in Montego Bay and how Mr. Stuart had forced her into prostitution, Rodney's discovery and what she had just seen in John Stuart's cabin.
"I know he killed him, Maebelle, I just know it, and I'm afraid that he'd kill me."
"Now hush child," she soothed. "Nothing's going to happen to you, not while I'm here."
Maebelle told her of the slaves plan to revolt ever since they found out about the fatal beating of the one slave.
"It's in the air," she told her, "it's bound to happen any day now. Lawd, I wish that you'd be safely away from here!"
"But Maebelle," she said, "maybe I can help you, and you can help me."
"How do you mean?" she asked, her eyes wide with interest.
"I know that Ceila Williams plotted to get rid of me in one way or another from the first day I set foot on the Manor, so I don't own her anything. She's been blackmailing Rodney about the slave's death, and Rodney won't spare me now that John's dead, especially if he finds out that I know he did it, so I can't go to any of them for help."
"How can I help you," she asked.
"When the slaves revolt, you can help me leave during the turmoil. You could go with me as my personal maid and no one would question that, then you would be free. I could get access to the house for you, none of the house servants would question a white woman knocking on the door. Once I get inside, the rest can follow. I love to see the look on Mrs. William's face when a hundred slaves march on the main house. I wouldn't miss that for the world."
"What about Mr. Rodney, you know they'll kill him along with Mrs. Williams, they'll spare no white person."
"That's what I'm afraid of, and that's why I want to help you. You know that I don't believe in slavery, but I don't want to be killed along with the rest."
"Don' worry none 'bout that, I'll see that nothing happens to you, Miss Louise."
"Thank you, Maebelle," she said. "I don't know what I'd have done if you'd turned me down."
"Now don't fret, just lie down here and get some sleep. Mr. Rodney's too busy these evenings to come by where you're supposed to be, so get some sleep."
She didn't need any more encouragement. Maebelle hung up her clothes and she slid gratefully into the large down mattress on the bed and fell asleep.
The next day Maebelle spread word among the. slaves that Miss Louise would help them in their revolt and she was to be protected, that Mrs. Williams was not to know that she was back on the plantation. With the encouragement of the white woman's help, they planned the attack for the next night. It didn't take much persuasion from Maebelle, who was looking forward to her freedom and she didn't want anything to happen to her ticket to freedom, Louise Ireland.
Louise spent the next day in Maebelle's cabin, nervously pacing back and forth, waiting for nightfall and her chance to get back at Celia Williams and Rodney. She couldn't wait to subject the arrogant woman to the same humiliations that she had forced on her. She wouldn't leave the Manor until her own vengeance had been satisfied and she knew that it wouldn't take too much to convince some of the bucks to rape the older woman before they killed her or left her. She looked forward to it with sadistic delight. She knew that Rodney would have to suffer along with her, but if Rodney knew that she knew about John's murder, her life was worthless.
Evidently Rodney hadn't looked for her that day, he had either been too busy running the crews so that Mrs. Williams wouldn't notice John's absence or he was going to wait until later that evening, but that evening would be too late.
Just as the work crews were about to break for the day and go back to their cabins for dinner, several of the larger men grabbed Rodney and forced him to go with them, back to the slave's quarters.
"You're all crazy," he shouted. "Mrs. Williams will have you all beaten for this, Mr. Stuart will take care of this display also."
"You can't fool us, Masser, we knows you killed Masser Stuart, so he won't be helpin' you!"
"W-w-what," he stuttered, "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, they do," a feminine voice interrupted, as Louise stepped out from the shadows. "I saw you do it!"
"Louise," he shouted, "what are you doing here?"
"It doesn't really matter, does it?" she replied. "I'm going to help them in their revolt and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
"Louise, be reasonable," he continued, reaching into his pocket. "I'll give you all the money that Stuart had. Here!"
Louise took the money, but said, "I was going to get the money anyway, but you've just made it easier, thank you." She handed the money to Maebelle for safekeeping, then turned back to Rodney.
"We're going to walk up to the big house together, Rodney. You're going to tell Celia Williams that I'm back and she can go to hell!"
"You're crazy, it won't work!"
"What won't work," she insisted. "These bucks will be right behind us along with their women. They're going to take over the big house, you and Mrs. Williams, the high and mighty, Celia Williams."
"You can't mean this, Louise, what's happened to you!"
"You know what's happened to me. Ever since I've been here I've been the brunt of everyone's wrath and sadistic pleasure, now I'm going to see to it that the score is evened. You've become a part of the diabolical plot, Rodney, I'm sorry, so you'll have to pay along with Mrs. Williams. Now come along, and make it convincing or you'll get a knife in your back."
Rodney knew that she was determined and that the strength of the slaves was no match for him and Mrs. Williams. He had always counted on their fear to keep them in line, but Louise had given them the encouragement and strength they needed and the Manor and the mistress was no longer a threat.
His knees were shaking as he headed up the path to the house. He knew that Celia would be waiting for him for dinner and he wondered if the house servants were in on the plot also, then realized that they would have to be, or they would soon join the others when they realized that they could all be free.
"What makes you think that they'll not kill you too," he asked her. "You can't trust these niggers, they'll turn on you to just because of the color of your skin."
"No, they won't, I know they won't," she said coolly.
He knocked on the big door and Celia greeted them, her eyes wide with surprise and shock when she saw Louise.
"But . . . but ... I thought that you were back in England," she said, "what a nice surprise," trying to remain calm.
"I know it's a surprise, and it isn't nice, Mrs. Williams, but I'm coming in anyway."
Celia Williams sensed that something was about to happen, and her hands were shaking as she told them to sit down.
Rodney was speechless, not knowing what to say, not knowing when the entourage of slaves would break into the house and hold them all prisoner. Louise had a self-satisfied look on her face as she sat down in a big chair in the library, and for the first time not intimidated by Mrs. Williams presence.
"I know you were responsible for the Negro bucks that were taunting me," she continued," and also for the night they raped me, but that's all water over the bridge, isn't it?" There was a mocking tone in her voice as she spoke and she grinned at Celia Williams.
"You don't understand," she told the girl, "it wasn't all my idea, was it Rodney?"
Louise looked at Rodney, waiting to see if he would take the blame for that along with the other things that Mrs. Williams saw fit to blame on him.
"You know I didn't, Celia," he said nervously. "You took me to the cabin that night because I didn't believe you, and that's the truth, Louise."
"It doesn't matter now, you'll both have to pay."
The night air was quiet, too quiet as they sat there, there weren't even the usual noises or singing coming from the slave quarters, instead they could hear the tramping of feet as they marched in a mob toward the Manor.
"Oh my God," Celia screamed. "They're going to kill us, Rodney ... do something!"
She got up and ran to a cabinet to reach for a shotgun that her husband had always kept loaded, but before she could open the doors, one of her house servants appeared and grabbed her.
"You'll not kill another one of us," he warned her. "We want our freedom and we're going to have it."
"Oh no, Simon," she cried, "not you too, not you. You'd harm me?"
Simon looked at her almost apologetically, but held her hands firmly.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the hall outside the library and fifty of the slaves came storming into the room singing and chanting. The first one to enter was Reuben.
"Reuben, you enjoyed fucking me, a white woman didn't you?" Louise challenged. Reuben didn't answer at first, embarrassed and ashamed. "Well, didn't you?" she repeated.
"Yes, miss," he said quietly.
"Well, I think that several of you bucks should take the mistress upstairs and show her what she's been missing. In fact I'd like to watch, it should be very interesting."
"So would I," Vera chimed in, remembering the humiliation that Mrs. Williams had made her suffer the night she lost her virginity.
"You can't do that," Rodney insisted. "It's inhuman!"
"I suppose the way you treated the slaves was human, Rodney," she answered coldly . . .
The bucks didn't need any more encouragement as a dozen hands reached out for her and began to drag her up the long, winding staircase to the bedroom.
She fought with her arms, legs and nails, font there were too many of them. Several of the bucks were already stripping in anticipation, never thinking that they would be able to fuck a white woman and not be killed, but they were going to kill her, so she could never tell.
"No . . . NO . . . NO," she screamed. "Please don't . . . I'll set you free, I'll do anything!"
The slaves were singing and chanting too loud for her pleas to be heard and they were caught up in the excitement of their forthcoming freedom.
Celia Williams fainted from her fright and had to be carried up the rest of the way, with the others forcing Rodney along with them.
"God, Louise, you've got to stop this," he begged, "you're insane, you've gone crazy!"
"No crazier than you were when you beat those poor slaves, or kowtowed to Celia's wishes rather than stand up to her!"
"Get some cold water, Vera," Louise told her, "I want Mrs. Williams awake and aware of everything that's going to happen to her, I want her to know what it feels like to be gang-fucked by half savages."
"Yes miss!" she said and went to draw some cold water.
Rodney was being held back by several of the slaves while the other bucks threw her onto the bed in the master bedroom and began to rip savagely at her clothes, tearing them off like they were made of paper.
For an older woman her figure was still curvaceous and solid. Her breasts were full and firm, much larger than her clothing revealed Her legs were long and trim, with just a slight hint of flab around the tops of her thighs, but they would still be a soft and welcome cushion for the hardness of any man.
One of the bucks mounted her immediately, shoving his long, black penis deep into her vagina. The others were pulling at her legs spreading them wide apart so that all could watch his quick and cruel impalement.
Vera returned with the cold water and Louise threw it on Celia's face bringing her back to consciousness.
She awoke to stare at the black body that was pounding into her, hurting her, tearing into her dry, unprepared vagina.
"God NO . . . make them STOP!" she screamed, looking helplessly at Louise who was laughing down at her.
"Spread her legs further apart," she commanded the slaves who were only to eager to reply. "Let everyone see what she's been saving for my fiancee," she giggled.
Rodney stood there surrounded by the others, stunned and transfixed at the lewd exhibition that was taking place. Celia's breasts were being fondled and crushed beneath black fingers, her mouth was being forced open by another so that his fat, pulsing ebony cock could slip between her teeth.
"Isn't that lovely," Louise laughed. "How does it feel to have a black prick inside you, Celia.
Too bad you won't live to talk about it or enjoy it again. These bucks can really spoil you, you know."
Celia was groaning, trying to turn her body away from the myriad of hands that were clawing at her, mauling her, mangling her, killing her.
The bucks were waiting in line for their turn to mount their despised mistress, venting all their resentment and hate on her helpless, tortured body. She was moaning and crying, knowing that she would have to take all of them before they would finally let her go, and only then to kill her.
Louise was standing by the side of the bed enjoying the spectacle she was witnessing, hoping that Celia was feeling the same humiliation that she had felt and Vera watched hoping that she was feeling the same pain that she had felt when she was deflowered.
"You girls," Louise said, "you can't ignore poor Rodney, he must be taken care of too!"
Rodney started to back away from the girl's reaching hands as they stripped his clothes from him, and one bent to close her mouth over his deflated and lifeless penis.
She quickly sucked and tickled his testicles until he was writhing in frustration with a full, pulsing erection.
"Don't satisfy him yet," Louise warned, "that would make it too easy, make him wait."
The girl rose from her knees, letting Rodney's huge organ bob freely in the air. The others were holding back his hands so that he could not satisfy himself in any way and laughed at him as he struggled to get free.
"You're not as well endowed as some of the bucks, Rodney," Louise chided. "Celia didn't know what she was missing!"
The blood was rising in Rodney's face from his obvious frustration and hate for Louise. He couldn't believe that she could be so callous and cruel, so uncaring about him. He wished he had left her in the hotel in Mo Bay, but it was too late for regrets.
One after the other, the bucks mounted and sodomized the weak and immobile mistress while the girl's teased and taunted Rodney, rubbing their small pointed breasts against his body, touching his genitals then pulling away.
Celia was now mumbling words that were no longer making sense, her eyes were glazed and teary and it was no longer necessary for anyone to hold her. She was beaten and there was no fight left in her.
Little by little the slaves began to filter out of the room as they finished reeking their vengeance on their dreaded mistress, and Louise began to get ready for her own exit.
"One of you girls can take care of Rodney if you like, I'd hate to see him die frustrated!"
Several of the older slaves were beginning to tie the mistress to the bed so that she couldn't get up even if she could muster the energy and were tying Rodney to the iron posters of the bed. Both knew that it wouldn't be long before they would be killed. They hoped it would be quick and painless, but this was not the usual procedure when the slaves rebelled and they both knew it, so they tried to prepare for the worst.
"So am I, Celia," he said, "but I'm mostly sorry for you Louise, you'll have to live with this!"
Louise turned as she was about to go out the door and stared at them helplessly tied to the bed. The slaves were already pouring stove oil throughout the house and by the time the flames reached the second story, they would both be dead from suffocation-of that she was certain.
"Don't be sorry for me, Rodney," she said remorselessly, "I'll be far away from Jamaica when the authorities discover, if they ever do, that I was behind this revolt. After all, you made it a big secret when you brought me back to the plantation. It is a shame to burn such a beautiful place, but I only hope that when something else is built here, it will be built on equality, not tyranny and lust, power and hate. I pray to God that that will be the case."
Louise walked out the front door of the house and looked back as Simon lit the first match that would ignite the whole, lovely old, Manor.
"Farewell Manor Hall, and all it stood for," Louise breathed quietly.
Maebelle was standing beside her, carrying their small suitcases and Simon was waiting with the wagon that would take them into town. The other slaves were dispersing one by one, making their way through the woods to avoid detection of the vigilantes. It would be hours before anyone would spot the flames from the fire, it would have to be after dark. The brilliance of the sunset would blend in with the flames for the next hour and by then they would all have a head start. "God bless all of you," Louise said softly, Maebelle was crying quietly, tears of joy and apprehension streaming down her plump black cheeks.
"I'se never been free before," she said, "I don't know what I'll do."
"You can come to England with me, Maebelle, if you'd prefer, but I thought that you'd choose to stay here."
"No ma'am, I'd love to go with you, if you'd permit me. You know about the outside world and I'se never been there."
"Of course, Maebelle, I'd be delighted to take you with me."
She was touched by the childlike dependence of the old Negro woman. She had been her friend when she needed one and she would be glad to take her along.
Simon drove the horses as hard and fast as he could without crippling them so that they arrived in Montego Bay in a little more than an hour. Louise quickly went to the pier and arranged for passage on a steamer leaving that night. She explained that Maebelle was her body servant and she would be going along, but was to be extended every courtesy of the ship.
The captain looked at her curiously, but accepted her explanation and showed them aboard.
"Maebelle, you understand why I had to say that don't you? You're not my maid, you're my friend, but I couldn't risk detection before we left."
"Yes, ma'am, I understand, and thank you." The two women stood on the deck of the ship as it pulled slowly away from the island. Simon waved to them and Maebelle cried. Louise thought about how much different it was from her arrival. It was night time and there were no little canoes with bright colored natives greeting them or waving good-bye, begging for coins. There was no one there to see them off but Simon, but then so much had changed since she had come to this part of the world. She had changed and she only hoped that she could straighten out her life once she returned to England. She desperately wanted to block out the terrible month she had spent in Jamaica, but the scar it had left on her was something that would take more than years and a change of climate to erase. She wasn't sure that her feeling of humiliation would ever go away. She thought that she could live with the murder of Celia and Rodney, but could she live with herself?
