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Archive name: first1.txt (MMF, nc, 1st, intr)
Authors name: Lworde (lworde@aol.com)
Story title : First Time In The South

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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2001.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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First Time In The South (MMF, nc, 1st, intr)
By Lworde (lworde@aol.com)

***

In 1845 a young, virgin man sees at first hand the 
control that southern slave-owners exert over their 
slaves when he visits his cousin in Kentucky. 

***

This short story excerpt is not intended to give any form 
of offence but it is set in slavery days of America's 
'Old South' and contains erotic and racist terms, 
language and themes.

FIRST TIME IN THE SOUTH

In the spring of 1845 my uncle who was a planter in 
Kentucky had sent my father a letter inviting me to 
travel to his plantation to join his son George at their 
home for a fortnight's vacation in the summer. My uncle 
explained that he and my Aunt would be visiting Europe 
for one month on business and that George, now that he 
was a grown man, would stay at home and supervise the 
family's plantation during their absence. 

My cousin George had suggested to his father that I might 
like to visit and give him some company (we had always 
got on well when they had been my parent's guests in New 
York). We had not seen one another for almost three years 
but we had corresponded almost every week and had 
remained firm friends. My father, having approved the 
necessary arrangements, allowed me to accept the 
invitation to visit south for the first time.

I was very much excited at the prospect of traveling on 
my own and spending two weeks with my cousin - I awaited
the adventure with great eagerness.

Consequently, I arrived in the Kentucky town ......... in 
the late afternoon of a beautiful late July day and was 
met by my delighted cousin with a hearty welcome and much 
backslapping!

George, driving the buggy himself, took us straight to 
the plantation and we chattered all the way. After a 
drive of about half an hour we arrived at the opulent 
mansion. I was astonished; it was even grander than the 
descriptions he had given me in his letters. Soon we were 
through the front door and George was ordering the young 
female slave who had been waiting for our arrival to 
carry my bags and show me to my room. As we ascended the 
stairs behind the servant he said, 'I'll give you twenty 
minutes to wash and change and then Phoebe here will come 
to your room and show you to the drawing room.'

And so, twenty minutes after my arrival I found myself 
being escorted by a slave from my large comfortable bed 
chamber along a splendid landing to the door of the 
drawing room of this southern plantation house, I had 
entered a different world from my own urban home back 
north. The girl opened the door for me and I walked in: 
The room was magnificently fitted out; ornate furnishings 
and fireplace, plush seating, expensive carpeting, a 
large chandelier suspended from the centre of an 
exquisitely moulded ceiling and a great many paintings 
hung on the walls. 

George was already within and he instructed Phoebe a 
slender, handsome quadroon of about 20 years in age to 
fetch a bottle of red wine. After the girl had curtsied 
and left we sat down and started to catch up on what had 
been happening with our families, and friends. We picked 
up just as if we'd never been apart in the last few years 
and I wasted no time in quizzing him on the mysterious 
birthday gift from his Father he'd mentioned in some of 
his letters to me.

We had both turned eighteen that year but he had refused 
to tell me in his correspondence what his main present 
had been. He had also written that he'd be happy to loan 
his gift to me when I came on a visit and I was very 
curious to know what it was. George said 'Be patient 
James, you'll see my gift very soon indeed.' Presently, 
the drawing room door opened and Phoebe returned carrying 
a tray with wine and two glasses. She placed the tray on 
a side table at the door, turned to us and curtsied. She 
was about to pour the wine when George stopped her, 
saying haughtily, 'Leave that. You run along and send 
Naomi up,' the girl curtsied, said 'Yes Masta,' and 
quickly left the room.

We had hardly resumed our chatting when the door opened 
again. A beautiful slave girl entered and dropped a low 
curtsey. ' You want me Masta?' George nodded to the tray 
on the table and ordered imperiously. 'Pour the wine and 
bring it over here,' she curtsied again and began pouring 
the wine. George turned to me and then motioning his head 
at the girl asked. 'What do you think of her?'

I watched her closely as she went carefully about her 
task. I felt rather awkward, what could I say? She looked 
about eighteen years old; her deep copper-toned skin 
appeared to shine as if oiled. Like Phoebe, she wore a 
long, simple light-blue servant's dress and white apron; 
the bodice buttoned at the front and was tight around her 
torso showing her figure to advantage.

I could see she was blessed with a slender, supple body 
and easily guess that long elegant legs lay hidden 
beneath her skirt. The low-cut dress left her finely 
sculpted neck and most of her arm and shoulder bare - as 
was the upper part of her bust. She had lithe arms and 
well developed, high, firm breasts. She had a most 
beautiful and tender face with huge dark eyes framed with 
an abundance of curly black hair escaping the front and 
sides of her white-lace bonnet style cap.

Despite her lowly position she somehow seemed to posses 
an innate dignity and she moved with perfect grace. I 
hadn't even seen a slave before my arrival at the 
plantation and I felt uncomfortable but strangely 
excited. 'She seems top quality,' was all I could think 
of saying. I didn't want to embarrass her or myself by 
saying anything more than that. She brought the tray over 
and asked in a meek, soft voice. 'Some wine suh?' 

I thanked her as I took my glass, keenly observing her 
elegant movements. Smiling with approval George said, 
'Yes, she's a top grade house wench and one of our most 
valuable nigras, she's worth more than most of the field 
bucks. Father gave me two gifts for my birthday; Naomi 
here and a whip to keep her in order, isn't that right 
Naomi?' She had moved over to her owner, extending her 
slender arms, proffering the remaining glass to him and 
answered without any trace of shame, 'Yes Masta.' 

The implication of his remark had an immediate and 
profound effect on me for I remembered what George had 
said about loaning me his gift. I became instantly 
aroused. George sensed my reaction, he smiled at me then 
turned to her and said in the same slightly terse tone 
he'd used whenever he'd spoken to the two slaves. 'Mr. 
Roberts is here for a fortnight's vacation Naomi, and 
during his stay you and the others must treat him as if 
he was a master, do you understand?' 

'Yes Masta.' came the instant reply. 

He took the wine from the tray and laughing said: 'Now 
James, I think you should inspect this gal and see if she 
pleases you, Naomi, go to your new Master!' The girl 
quickly returned the empty tray to the table and then 
stepped over to me, standing to attention about four feet 
in front of me, chin up, eyes lowered and hands by her 
sides awaiting my close scrutiny. I was transfixed - 
unable to move or speak. After a moment George said, 
'Mister Roberts isn't used to handling slaves Naomi, help 
him,' without raising her eyes she said softly. 'Do you 
want me to take off my dress Masta?' 

My manhood swelled still further and I croaked. 'Yes,' 
then recovered enough to say, 'Yes Naomi, take off your 
dress please.' She had immediately started to unbutton 
her dress but George laughed loudly and said. 'Wait! 
Naomi, we must teach Mr. Roberts how to be a master. You 
don't ask a slave James, you tell her! No "pleases" or 
"thank yous", try again!' 

I coughed and squirming with discomfort I said in the 
most commanding voice I could muster. 'Take off that 
dress!' Naomi curtsied, hurriedly removed her maid 
uniform and carefully placed it on the floor by her 
side. She was magnificent - more beautiful than I could
ever have imagined. She now stood almost naked before me
wearing only her shoes and cap. She showed signs of 
embarrassment for the first time - she crossed her hands
in front of her sex and had her legs pressed together 
but George ordered: 'Hands by your sides gal and put 
your feet apart!' 

I noticed an almost imperceptible wince cross her face 
but she obeyed instantly, exposing her small triangular 
'bush' to my gaze. He rose from his chair, walked to the 
fireplace, took a stiff riding crop hanging at the end of 
the mantelpiece and came over to us. 'Stand up James, now 
I'll show you how to look over a gal like this. Show 
Master Roberts your teeth.' 

I stood up and stepped over to the girl - she was only 
slightly shorter than me. She pulled her luscious, full 
lips back into a forced grin. 'At many slave auctions, 
the wenches are put in a room to let buyers view the 
goods before the sale begins,' he explained, 'now, lets 
imagine that she is for sale and we are looking her 
over.' He pushed her jaw up still further with the end of 
the whip and then placed his right hand round her chin. 
'Open up girl.' he ordered.

Naomi complied - opening her jaws wide and George invited 
me to look into her mouth. She had large, even and 
startlingly white teeth, all in apparently good 
condition. 'Good,' he said and firmly turned her delicate 
head to her left side. He then removed her cap and threw 
it on top of her dress. 'Run your hand through her hair,' 
he said to me. 

I felt a thrill run through my body as I touched her soft 
lustrous hair. He now spoke to her in a very brusque 
manner 'How old are you?'

'Ise sixteen suh.' She replied, answering 'suh' - obliged 
as she was to play along with the scenario.

'Have you any children?' He asked her.

'No suh.' 

He turned to me and said. 'Now we must examine her arms.' 
Grabbing both wrists he stretched them out before her. He
ran his hands from the girl's shoulders to fingers, 
pinching and squeezing all the way down he then turned her
palms upward and said. 'You can see that she's no field 
nigger, look how soft and unblemished these hands are, 
'What kind of work are you used to gal?'

'I'se always been a house gal suh. I used to serve as 
maid to young Mistiss at my last place.'

George then asked her. 'Are you trained to serve at 
table?'

The girl replied. 'Yessuh, I'se worked as parlour maid 
too.'

'Why are you being sold off?' He demanded.

'Well suh,' she began, 'young Mistiss just got hersel' 
married and is going to France on a long tour an' she say 
she doan need no nigra help over there,' the girl spoke 
quickly as if nervous, continuing, 'ole massa say I 
should be sold off an' she can git a new gal when she 
comes home, suh.'

Through all of this humiliating enactment Naomi had kept 
her eyes downcast but now he told her to look at me. I 
studied those huge, dark almond shaped eyes. They were 
beautiful, bright and intelligent but I could see pain in 
them too. 

'Now gal, turn around.' Her back was glorious; a deep S 
curve, wide at the shoulders and tapering to a slender 
waist - statuesque, smooth and muscular - a work of art. 
I gasped at her breathtaking physique. 'No whip marks!' 
Exclaimed George in mock surprise, 'that's a good sign, 
means she's obedient or perhaps her young mistress was 
too easy on her, which was it gal?" 

She answered humbly, 'I is a good gal suh, I always does 
what I'se told. Missuss 'n' massas at the last place 
nevah had no cause to whip me hard, suh.' 

George snorted and said. 'Feel her over James.' 

By now I was becoming overcome with lust for this slave, 
never before had I seen a woman naked, let alone been 
free to touch one - and a girl as beautiful as this! I 
ran my thumbs down her spine and splayed my fingers over 
her ribs, mesmerised with the feel of such nubile female 
flesh and bone. 

George ordered: 'Spread your feet more, bend forward and 
place your hands on the floor gal,' she did as he bid. I 
was having great difficulty controlling my emotions as I 
gazed at her magnificent bottom and beautifully turned 
thighs, naked and just inches from me. 

George parted those beautiful cheeks and I stared in awe 
at her sex but he quickly smiled, winked at me then 
slapped her rump. 'Stand up and turn around.' He barked, 
she rose, turned and looked me directly in the eyes - I 
reddened at her searching look, I imagined that she was 
judging me and would see that I was excited by witnessing 
and taking part in this scene of shameful humiliation.

I felt deeply for the girl in having to endure this 
ordeal, I considered it immoral but I could not deny that 
feelings of lustful desire had never before stirred so 
deeply within me. George brought the whip against her 
left thigh with a light thwack, I could see it didn't 
actually cause the girl pain but it was a significant 
gesture.

'Keep your eyes down nigra!' He thundered.

Now he moved his hands to her bosom and weighed her 
beautiful, firm, brown titties, then he showed me how to 
kneed the upward pointing dark nipples until they swelled 
and hardened. Remarking favourably upon their 
responsiveness he gave way to me, inviting me to apply 
the same techniques. I began caressing her flawless 
globes but immediately had to stop; I could no longer 
continue this act without losing control. 

Fearing utter embarrassment at what might happen I sat 
down and drained my glass. George exploded with laughter 
and slapped his thigh. 'Oh poor James, this has been too 
much for you on your first day! I've been very 
thoughtless,' I ignored his jibe, 'this is only fun, I 
promise you I don't want to cause you any discomfort!' 

Turning to the degraded girl he spoke lightly to her for 
the first time since I'd arrived, in fact he said almost 
with kindness, 'Come Naomi, put your things on and then 
pour Master James some more wine, I'm afraid we have 
shocked him.' 

The girl curtsied, saying, 'Yes Masta,' dived for her 
clothing and was soon at my side, demurely refilling my 
glass as though the little scene we had just participated 
in had never taken place. After serving George more wine 
he sent her downstairs to 'get ready to serve dinner,' 
and after curtseying humbly she slipped silently from the 
room, I relaxed, relieved that she'd gone.

George turned to me and said in a low voice; 'You'll get 
used to having slaves around while you're here James,' he 
paused and smiled, 'soon you'll be wondering how you'll 
manage back home without them.'

END OF PART I


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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