Clara turned and faced the tall, ebony-skinned man standing in the doorway of her bed chamber. His presence surprised her. She wondered how long he had been standing there watching her admire herself in the mirror.

"Ezra, where in blazes have you been?" she asked, tossing her long, auburn hair over her shoulder. "Daddy is coming home tomorrow, and I want all the silver polished."

"Iz been ta master Stuart's wid Boss Tom ta gits news of da war, Miz Mackenzie," he explained, in a serious tone.

Clara rolled her big green eyes back in her head.

"The war, fiddlee dee," she chirped, placing her hands on her hips. "My daddy says the Yankees don't stand a lick of a chance."

Ezra smiled. He seemed unusually self-confident. It made Clara uneasy. Her own self-confidence had been waning recently.

With her father and uncle off fighting the Yankees, the task of running the plantation had fallen on her and her older brother, Tom. Whenever her brother was not around, she found the burden a bit overwhelming. She was less sure of herself than she had ever been, and Ezra's demeanor caused her to fidget as she asked him, "Where is Tom now?"

"He's dead," Ezra said, with a grin. "Master Stuart's niggers killed him."

Clara couldn't believe what she was hearing. Desperately trying to keep from swooning, she whimpered, "It's not true. It can't be."

"It's true all right," Ezra continued, excitedly. "The Yankees done crossed da river. Dey be here in da morning. When Master Stuart's niggers heared of it, dey went crazy. Dey killed all da white folk. Alls except da master's daughter. She hid herself, but deys found her. Dey done ravaged dat poor girl."

Clara's eyes opened wide in horror.

"Molly?" she gasped.

Ezra nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am. Dey carried her upstairs and put her on da master's own bed. Den, one by one, dems boys got in ta dat bed wid her and forced demself on her. I hear tell, pretty near twenty boys done it to her. And some of dem took her mo den once. When weez got dere, da womenfolk had here tied to da whippin' post. Dey done beat that girl near ta death."

Suddenly, Clara's feelings of disbelief turned to a churning mixture of sorrow and anger. Then, just as suddenly, those emotions gave way to terror as she began worrying about her own safety.

"Oh my God!" she cried. "I've got to leave here. Ezra, I've always been good to you. You've got to help me get away."

"Yes, ma'am. Iz got a horse an wagon waiting," he said, proudly. "Weez can go down da back stairs wid out nobody seein' us."

Whirling around, totally flustered, Clara tried to decide what to take with her. Her mind reeled. Her eyes flitted from one thing to another. She didn't want to leave anything behind. But, nothing seemed worth risking her safety for.

Suddenly, she realized that Ezra was standing directly behind her. As she turned to face him, she saw that he had closed and bolted the door.

"Yaz bin good ta me, an Iz gonna help yaz git away, Miz Mackenzie. But, afore I duz, I wants ya ta be really good ta me," he said, with his eyes shifting from her face to the bed and back again. "Seein' dat pretty Miz Molly nekkid, give me hankerin' for a woman. I wants you, Miz Clara. I wants you ta get on dat bed wid me, and gimme yaself."

Clara was stunned. Moving away from him, her eyes darted from side to side in search of something to use as a weapon.

"I'd rather die," she said, her voice quaking with fear.

Shaking his head, Ezra moved closer and said, "No, ma'am. Iz not gonna let ya duz yaself no mischief. Iz gonna has you, Miz Mackenzie. If'n ya don't gimme what I wants, Iz gonna wrassle ya ta da floor an takes it myself."

Backing herself against the wall, Clara began shaking uncontrollably.

"D-d-don't you dare touch me," she stammered, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop him.

"Iz gonna does mo den jist touch ya, Miz Clara," he laughed. "Iz gonna git right up insides ya. Now, doncha makes no fuss ana ruckus. If'n ya starts ta hollerin', everybody will come a runnin'. When I tell em what Iz knows, dey ain't gonna letcha gits away. Ya would get yaself took by a whole passel of niggers, 'stead a jist me. Now, you jist hush up and gimme what I wants."

Being forced to give herself to a nigger, was more horrible than anything Clara had ever imagined. It was only the prospect of suffering the same fate as Molly that kept her from resisting as Ezra began unbuttoning the front of her dress. All she could do was to stand there speechless, in total submission, letting him scoop up her large, milky-white breasts into his big black hands.

"Please, Ezra," she pleaded, "don't do this."

From the look of lust in his eyes, it was obvious he wasn't going to stop. She had known it would be useless to beg. But she felt she had to do what she could to preserve her honor-escape was impossible.

Gently, Ezra squeezed the two big snowy-white globes of soft flesh nestled in his hands. With a boyish grin, he told Clara, "Yaz a fine lookin' woman, Miz Mackenzie. Iz can hardly wait ta sees ya wid all ya's clothes off."

Clara wanted to run, but she just stood there, trembling like a leaf, watching Ezra's face move closer and closer to her naked bosom. Chills ran up and down her spine as his thick lips closed around one of her tiny, pink nipples.

With tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, Clara turned her face toward the ceiling. Covering her mouth with her hands, she tried as best she could to stifle her own sobs. As Ezra alternated back and forth from one breast to the other, Clara's ears were filled with the sound of his soft groans, and the slurping of his mouth sucking on her wet flesh. She felt his fingers undoing the remainder of the buttons down the front of her dress.

Then, with a noisy plop, he pulled his face from her jiggling bosom and stepped back. Obviously enjoying her humiliation, he smiled and said, "Weez ain't gots a lots a time. Dem field niggers gonna be comin' for yaz soon. Ya best hurrys and gits nekkid and gits yaself on dat bed if'n ya don't want dem boys ta gits ya."

With him watching her every move, Clara undressed herself as quickly as she could. As Ezra removed his shirt, she dropped her last stitch of clothing on the floor and climbed into bed. Covering herself with her hands, she lay there shivering, waiting for her last shred of dignity to be taken from her.

Ezra moved to the foot of the bed.

"Move ya's hands an open dem legs so's Iz can see me da place dis is gonna go," he said, opening the front of his britches.

Clara's entire body quaked uncontrollably as she uncovered herself and moved her legs apart. At the first sight his huge, stiff member, she gasped, making him smile.

"Yes, ma'am. Yaz a fine lookin' woman," he said, looking her up and down. "It's real good of ya ta lets me enjoy ya's favors. Iz bin itchin' ta has you ever since Iz seen ya givin' yaself ta dat soldier boy down by da swimmin' hole."

Although it was true that she had let her beau take her maidenhead the day before he left to fight the Yankees, Ezra's shiny, black tool was half again as big. The very thought of being penetrated by it terrified her.

As he moved to the side of the bed, Ezra stared lewdly at the lush patch of curly hair covering her womanhood. Placing his hand on her knee, he slowly slid his thick, black fingers up the inside of her creamy, white thigh. Then, grinning like a monkey, he began petting her between the legs.

"Right here, ma'am. Iz said Iz gonna git right up inside yaz. Iz gonna git right up insides of here, Miz Mackenzie. Right up insides of here," he said, pressing a fingertip into her most womanly part.

Clara covered her face in shame. Never had she felt such loathing. Never had she been filled with such dread.

As she lay there weeping, Ezra began sucking on her breasts, again. She felt his large muscular body climbing atop her own delicate frame. His knees pushed against the inside of hers, spreading her legs wider. His lower body pressed against hers, sending chills up her spine as he crushed the tiny bundle of nerves that lay hidden in her thick bush.

A moment or two later, he eased the pressure, and his hand snaked down between their bodies. Clara's heart pounded as she felt the huge, throbbing head of his engorged male organ probing at the entrance to her female opening.

With a soft grunt, Ezra pushed forward. Then, again and again, until he was firmly lodged in place. Then, grasping her by her narrow waist, he began working his way further and further into her warm, tight, love tunnel.

Clara winced with pain as her womanhood stretched to accommodate him. His massive tool pumped in and out, in and out, filling her fuller with each stroke, until she thought her belly would split.

"Mmm," Ezra said, pulling his mouth from her breast, "yaz like a youngun down dere. Ya feels jist like little girls do."

Faster and faster he slid himself in and out of her. Like some carnal beast with a mind of its own, his rock hard male member plunged deeper and deeper. It surged back and forth, harder and faster.

Ezra's breathing grew louder and louder. His sweat dripped onto Clara's naked bosom.

"Please," she pleaded, "not inside me!"

It was too late. The moment the words left her lips, Ezra let out a loud groan. Clara cringed as she felt his hot seed shoot into her.

Ezra slowed his pace, but continued to groan as he flooded her insides with his slippery male sauce. Then, with one final thrust, he withdrew from her wet, gooey orifice and got to his feet.

"Gits up and gits dressed, woman," Ezra said, pulling up his britches. "Leave dem petticoats. Jist puts on da dress."

Hurriedly, Clara did what he said. As she frantically buttoned herself up, Ezra moved closer to her. Shoving his hand in between her legs, he pressed her dress firmly against her womanly portal, until the thin fabric was soaked with the juices that oozed from within her.

"I wants ta does it ta ya some more. Soon weez gits ta da place weez goin', yaz gonna git nekkid an lets me git back in ya. Iz gonna has you agin," he told her, haughtily.

"No," she whimpered.

Tears steamed down her face as she backed away from him.

"You said you would let me go," she blubbered.

Ezra took a hair ribbon from her dressing table and grinned.

"Iz let ya go when Iz done wid ya," he chuckled. "Now, put ya hands behind ya back, and turns yaself around so's I kin tie ya up. When yaz in da wagon, iz tie up ya's legs. Yaz not gonna git away from dis nigger."

Far off in the distance, Clara heard the sound of gun fire. Wild with fear, she spun around and thrust her hands behind her back.

When Ezra finished binding her wrists together, he reached his arms around her and squeezed her big, plump breasts. Moving his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, "Iz got a mess a food in dat wagon. Enuff to last mo den two weeks. Iz let ya go when deres nuffin let ta et. Afore den, Iz gonna has ya agin and agin."

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, barely able to speak.

Sliding one of his hands down her front, he began stroking her between the legs.

"Dere's a cave dat don't nobody knows about. It's real close by. My sista tolds me 'bouts it. Boss Tom used ta take her dere. Dats why ya daddy done sold ma sista; she wuz gonna has herself a white baby. Who knows? Mebbe Iz gonna gives ya a nigger baby," he laughed.

Then, taking her by the arm, he led her to the door. As he slid back the bolt, he snickered and said, "Come on, girl, ya's gonna be ma slave now."

The End