Incest/Taboo The Plantation

All characters are at least 18 years of age. If the "n" word offends you, in historical context, poor thing. Read something else.

In part 1, we introduced the Claiborne family, owners of a large plantation in Mississippi, shortly before the Civil War. Thomas is the cruel master of the plantation. His wife, Verina, is a kind, but sickly woman, who passes away in the first episode. Rachel is the beautiful young daughter who is, secretly, an abolitionist. Robert is her older brother.

Fall 1861

Rachel could not get used to the fact that both her father and brother were gone. They both had quickly enlisted when Mr. Lincoln had called for a 75,000 man militia after shots were fired at Ft. Sumter. To Southerners, this was a declaration of war. Almost every white male that Rachel knew had joined the rebel army.

She was very happy that her father, Thomas, was not around. She had never been close to him and he had never been particularly affectionate toward her. She had noticed that, since her body had developed, that his gaze lingered on her curves in a most "un-fatherly" way. That made her want to be completely out of his presence at all times.

Her feelings were quite the opposite for her handsome brother, Robert. They had become lovers several months before the war began. When their father wasn't home, they slept together practically every night. They couldn't get enough of each other. Robert was careful not to cum inside his sister except on "safe" days of the month. Rachel meticulously kept up with her menstrual cycle. They were quite satisfied to just pleasure each other with their mouths. From the very first, Rachel had loved sucking him off and swallowing his warm, thick cum. Her brother never tired of worshipping his gorgeous, tall, slender, blonde, blue-eyed, buxom sister with his mouth. There was not a place on her body that he had not licked or sucked.

Rachel had just turned 19 when Robert and their father went off to war. Thomas had been instrumental in recruiting a regiment and, since he was a wealthy landowner, was rewarded with the rank of Colonel. Robert was a Captain in the same regiment. Colonel Claiborne was the first in command of the regiment, while Robert (Captain Claiborne) commanded a company, one of ten in the regiment.

Colonel Claiborne, Rachel's father, had left the overseer, Mr. Johnson, in charge. Mr. Johnson was in his 60's and walked with a limp, the result of a hunting accident when he was a boy. Because of his age and disability he was not expected to join the ranks of those going to war. If there was a man, anywhere, that Rachel despised more than her own father, it was Mr. Johnson. He was harsh toward the slaves, often beating them, even without permission from her father. He always had a large wad of tobacco lodged in his jaw and constantly spat and cursed. He stank. Now that he had been left in charge, Rachel feared for the slaves. She wondered if Mr. Johnson would take advantage of the female slaves like her father did.

She feared most for Charles, a young, handsome, well-built slave that had been Rachel's companion when they were very young. She had secretly taught Charles to read and to do rudimentary arithmetic, but as they grew older they were not allowed to even talk to each other. Charles had been warned that he would receive a whipping if he was ever caught talking to Rachel. Rachel, who had always been very attracted to Charles, was careful not to even catch his eye if anyone else was around.

Rachel had quite accidentally come upon Charles and a young slave woman one day. She hid and watched and listened to them. The young woman was Peg, one of several slaves who were sired by Rachel's father. That made Peg her half-sister. She watched as the two incredibly attractive young people made love. Rachel tried many times after that to watch them again, but only was rewarded a handful of times. She knew that Charles and Peg were in love. She heard Peg talking about how she wanted to either escape or be set free to travel up north so that they could be married and have a family. As it was, few slaves ever married because plantation owners often split families up by selling one or other of the married partners. Rachel thought this was one of the cruelest things that slave-owners did. She fervently hoped that this war would somehow free the slaves.

Rachel had long fantasized about Charles. She considered him to be the most handsome man she had ever seen, even more handsome than her brother, Robert. Long before she and her brother had become lovers, she had often fantasized about Charles. As a young girl, she fantasized about kissing him and hugging him.

Now that Robert was off at war, even though she ached to have her beloved brother back in her bed, her mind sometimes wandered to Charles. She allowed herself to imagine scenarios in which she and the young black slave would make love. She longed to suck his prodigious member, which was even larger than Robert's! She wonder if his cum would taste different than Robert's did. She could almost orgasm just imagining Charles cumming in her mouth. She was aware that, besides the undeniable physical attraction she had for Charles, that there was a taboo element at work, as well. Academically she knew that she should not feel this way - as far as she was concerned, all men were indeed created equal. They were all human beings. Whites were not innately smarter or better in any way than black people. But there was no denying that the culture in which she lived had created the taboo between whites and blacks.

She had already crossed the taboo boundary of incest - sex with her brother, she admitted to herself, excited her much more than if he were someone unrelated to her. She knew that the taboo of interracial sex, while not founded on anything innately factual, was nevertheless real. Her body immediately reacted every time she thought of it. Her pulse quickened, her breasts tingled, and she became wet between her legs. Even her mouth watered.

One day, as she sat in the yard, reading a novel, she saw a young slave boy running toward the house. She could see from a distance that something must be wrong. She stood and dropped her book onto the grass.

"Miss Rachel, Miss Rachel, they's whippin' Charles! Come quick!"

"What do you mean they're whipping Charles," she demanded. "Who is they?"

"Masta Johnson! He whippin him!" the boy shouted, tears streaming down his face. "Please come, Miss Rachel. He mos' kill him!"

Bolts of adrenaline shot through her body as she ran, following the boy toward a large shed some hundred yards from the plantation house.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her as she rounded the corner and looked inside the shed.

Charles was tied to one of the foundation poles of the shed. He was stripped to the waist with huge, bloody whelps criss-crossing his back. Even his pants were pulled down to his knees and bloody whelps were on his legs; blood could be seen through his underwear. The overseer, Mr. Johnson, wielded a horse whip. Rachel's mouth fell open in a silent scream as the awful, rawhide whip made contact with Charles' back, ripping another stripe of his flesh. Charles, tears running down his face, made no sound.

"Stop it, damn you!" Rachel yelled as she ran toward the overseer. Mr. Johnson, shocked to see Rachel, stepped back, startled.

Then a malevolent smile crossed his face. "I'm in charge here, young missy. You ain't got no say in this. Get on back up to the house."

Rachel's eyes flashed fire. She clawed at Johnson's face and grabbed at the whip. "I'm in charge, here!" she screamed. "While my father is not here, our slaves are not going to be whipped. Do you understand?"

Johnson spat. "Nigger lover, are ya? Yo' old man is the owner and he put me in charge. When a nigger gets out of line, he gets whipped. That's the way it is."

Rachel glanced over at Charles, who only stared into space. His body was shaking and his breathing was ragged. His eyes met Rachel's. "They done sold Peg," he moaned.

Rachel looked at Johnson. "Is this true? You sold Peg?"

"Peg and a bunch of the others. Yore daddy's orders. He sent a message," he said, matter-of-factly, then spat again. "I'm just doing what I was told. Then this un tried to follow em."

"Mr. Johnson, you are relieved of your duties," Rachel said, through clenched teeth.

Johnson laughed. "You can't fire me, missy. Yore daddy gives me my orders."

"Cut him down. Now!" she shouted.

Grudgingly, Johnson took his knife and cut the ropes that were binding Charles. Charles fell to the ground like a sack of rocks. He moaned.

Rachel, for the first time, noticed that a great many of the slaves were gathered, watching. She turned to them and, with her voice shaking, said, "I hope to God this war ends slavery in this country. If I had the power to do it, every one of you would be free today."

Turning to Johnson, she said, "What would happen, Mr. Johnson, if all of these people here decided to do to you what you just did to this man?"

For the first time, Johnson looked unsure of himself. "They know better. Any of em try to do anything to me, gets shot!"

Rachel looked over the crowd of at least 30 slaves, many of whom were able-bodied, grown men. Then she looked back at Johnson. "You have one hour to get your sorry, white-trash ass off this plantation. These people will do what I tell them. Are we clear?"

Johnson spat. "Your daddy oughtta whip your ass, nigger lover."

"Are we clear?" she shouted.

Johnson spat again, took a long look at the throng of slaves, threw his whip to the ground and walked away.

Rachel squatted and called the boy who had reported the beating to her earlier. "You keep an eye on him. If he tries to do anything to harm this property or anybody here, you come straight up to the big house and get me. When he leaves, you come and tell me."

The boy grinned, despite everything. "Yes'm! I sho will!"

She stood and motioned for a couple of the men to help her with Charles. "Bring him up to the house. Take him upstairs. We'll put him in Daddy's room. Some of you women bring some medicine - whatever you can find. We have plenty of whiskey. He needs salve and whatever else you can find. We have some laudanum left of mama's for pain, too, I think."

The women hurried off as the men helped to get Charles to the house and up to their master's bedroom.

A week later

Overseer Johnson had left within a couple of hours of the incident. Rachel was sure that she would hear back from him, in one way or another. Right now, however, most every able-bodied man was away at war. She was sure that every slave in the area could just walk off the plantations if they were minded to do so. The problem, of course, was that there was no place to go.

The day after Charles' beating, when they were sure that he was out of danger and that he would recover, she called all the slaves into the yard and talked to them from the porch. She asked them to continue with their assigned tasks, as usual, but assured them that, if it were ever up to her, that they would all have their freedom. She told them that she thought slavery was a terrible evil and that she would devote her life, if need be, to abolition. Some of the slaves had cheered. Many more wept openly. Several were heard to say, "God bless Miss Rachel."

She spent long hours helping with Charles. She tenderly rubbed salve on his wounds and found, on more than one occasion, that she couldn't control her emotions. Charles and the other slaves informed her what had happened. Peg and some of the other slaves had indeed been sold to someone in Louisiana. They were gone. There was no getting them back. None of them even knew who bought them. She would have to wait until her father came home to find out and then, she promised them, she would do everything she could to persuade him to purchase them back. She knew, though, that it would not happen. Charles and Peg would never see each other again.

Late one afternoon, a week after the beating, Rachel found herself alone with Charles in the darkening room. She found herself talking with him about when they were small and had played together. She asked him if he could still read and do arithmetic. For the first time, she detected a tiny smile on his handsome face. "I can read fine, Miss Rachel. Do numbers, too. I done taught some of the others."

"Charles, please call me Rachel. In God's eyes I am not your master. I don't own you and I don't want to own you."

"Rachel... You're the best person I ever met," he whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek. "You the onliest one..."

She took his hand and stroked the callouses with her fingertips. "These hands... they're so big and strong and calloused from all the hard work you've done in your life... It's not right, Charles. You should be paid for your work. You should be able to marry who you want and have children... you should be free," she sniffled.

"I love Peg," he moaned. "I never gonna see her no mo. I feel like I done died. That whupping don't hurt near as bad as I do inside, Miss Rachel..."

"Loneliness is a horrible thing, even for me," she said. "I sure don't miss my daddy, but I miss Mama and Robert. I really miss Robert. I know it sounds silly, but he was almost like a boyfriend to me after Mama died."

"I thought about that a lot, Miss Rachel... uh, Rachel. I knowed you must be lonesome. I knowed when Master Robert leave that you gonna be lonely, here by yourself, no white people around 'cept old Johnson."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "That man is way lower in my eyes than any slave - I have no use for white trash. My daddy is in that category."

"I ask you somethin', Miss Rachel?"

She smiled. "You can ask me anything."

Charles grinned, then said, "No 'fense, but you know yo daddy is daddy to a lot of the slaves, including my Peg?"

Rachel couldn't help but laugh. "Of course I know it. Everybody knows it. I just hope my poor Mama didn't know. Now can I ask you something?"

Charles nodded. "Sho."

"Someone told me once that Peg and I favored. You ever notice that?"

"Oh, Miss Rachel, we ought not talk 'bout that!"

"You brought it up, Charles. After this person said that, I noticed it, too. Come on, tell me."

"She a little fatter round de middle. Darker, 'course. Yeah, I noticed it."

Rachel continued to hold his hand, but laughed. Without thinking, she brought his hand up and kissed it.

Charles pulled his hand away as if he had been scalded. "Miss Rachel!"

"I'm sorry, Charles. I didn't mean anything by it. That's just a way that us white folks have of showing affection," she said calmly. "Charles, I'm going to say something to you now. Believe me, I mean no offense at all. I swear."

"What, Miss Rachel? I do something wrong?"

"No, absolutely not. Here goes," she said as she took a deep breath. "You stink."

A deep scowl crossed his face, but when he saw that Rachel was smiling, he started laughing. "I guess I do. Ain't had no baf since I got whupped."

Rachel stood and busied herself lighting the kerosene lamp. Then she brought the water basin and sat it on the bedside table. She took a bar of soap and soaped up a wash rag. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and started washing his face.

"Miss Rachel, no! You ain't gon' bathe no nigger..."

"Charles, do not EVER refer to yourself in that way again. You aren't a nigger. I detest that word. You are a man. You've been injured and you need a bath. I'm not too good to wash you off a little."

"It just don't seem right, Miss Rachel..."

"Charles, do you know any Bible stories?" she asked, as she began to wash his bare, muscular chest.

"Oh, yes'm. I know a lot of Bible stories. I can read it a little. Old Miss Jenny got a Bible hid. She can't read it, but I go over there and pick out a little of it sometimes." Jenny was an ancient slave who was so aged that she wasn't expected to do much work.

"You remember what Jesus did the night before he was crucified?" she asked, scrubbing now at his stomach.

"Well, lemme see. He ate a meal with his 'postles. That what you mean?"

"His Apostles got in a fuss. They were arguing over who would be greatest..." she prompted.

"Yes'm. I member that..."

"Jesus knew that he was going to be killed the next day, but he got a pan of water and washed their feet, with them sitting there arguing about who was the greatest." Suddenly her voice caught. She reached for a towel and wiped her eyes. "Don't you think, Charles, if the savior of the world can wash the feet of that bunch, that I can wash you?"

"You a good woman," Charles said. "I 'preciate you. You don't know how much."

"Raise your arms up," she said. When he did, a look of disgust crossed her face. "You stink!" she smiled as she lathered the rag and began washing his underarms.

She reached for the sheet and, without hesitation, pulled it down to the foot of the bed. Charles was completely naked underneath. She already knew that he was because she had been in attendance several times, and even helped, when they put salve all over the whelps on his back, buttocks, and legs. Until now, however, she had not seen his naked penis. It gave her a thrill to see it, especially since he seemed to be semi-erect.

"Miss Rachel, I be nekked!" he yelled, then moaned at the pain of the sudden movement.

"Listen here, Charles. You are injured. I'm going to give you a bath, and you have to be naked for that to happen. Right now, this is my duty. Don't make it hard on me. Okay?"

Charles reached and lay both hands over his genitals, but nodded.

As Rachel scrubbed his feet and then up his legs, she could smell the funky, unwashed smell, of his genital area. Potentially, this naked black man could turn her on like nobody else on earth, but the foul odor emanating from his loins was disgusting. She lathered up his inner thighs as he continued to stare at the ceiling, unmoving as his hands lay over his massive genitals.

"Move your hands," she said gently. "I know it's embarrassing, but it has to be done."

Charles moved his hands and kept his arms straight by his sides. She noticed that his cock seemed to have shriveled, but it still looked huge to her. She felt a distinct tingling in her breasts and pussy as she began to lather up his horse-size balls. She tentatively swiped the washcloth over his penis, trying to wash the entire thing without touching it with her hands - the very thing that she intensely desired to do.

Unexpectedly, Charles grasped his penis and held it by the head with his fingertips, giving her easier access. She swiped the cloth on the underside, and dared look in his face. He was looking into her face with an expression that was totally indiscernible. Was it fear? Embarrassment? Pleasure? Expectation? A mixture of all of these?

She smiled and almost laughed. "That expression, Charles. Do you always look like that when a woman washes your penis?"

Charles emitted a short, quick snort. "Sheeittt, Miss Rachel. Don't be joking when you doin that!"

"I don't have to tell you that you can't ever, ever tell anyone about this, right?"

"Don't you worry, Miss... I mean, don't worry, Rachel."

Rachel rinsed the cloth and lathered it up again. This time, she took his penis in her hand and made sure that she washed the entire thing. It started growing in her hand as she washed his nuts and then behind them. The feel of his massive penis growing hard in her tiny hand caused two simultaneous thoughts to pop into her mind - that she wanted to continue to do this for hours and that she needed to get this done and get out of there as quickly as she could. She knew that her nipples were hard and that her pussy was lubricating itself. Her mouth watered - she wanted nothing more than to take this magnificent man's cock into her mouth and give him as much pleasure as possible.

Once again she rinsed the cloth, then wiped all the soap that she could off of his cock and balls. By now, his cock was almost fully erect. She couldn't help but look at it and was reluctant to stop holding it. Her breath was shallow and she suddenly felt helpless.

Her right hand held his erect cock while her left hand lay the cloth in the basin. She looked into his eyes, then down at his cock. She held it perpendicular to his body and allowed her hand to stroke it. She looked back into his face and noticed that his eyes were half closed and his mouth was open. Never had she felt as weak as at that moment as she leaned down and took the head of his cock into her mouth.

"Fuck," he moaned, but didn't try to stop her. She opened her eyes and looked into his face. He was staring down his muscular, black body at her.

She opened her mouth wider and took about half of his immense member into her mouth. She was salivating copiously, her heart was beating out of her chest, and she could feel her undergarments soaked with her juices. She forced her head even farther down his shaft and moaned her passion.

"Miss Rachel, Rachel... oh that feel so good, Miss Rachel..." he groaned.

She came up to take a breath, but continued to stroke him, his cock coated with her saliva. She smiled at him. "You'd be surprised how long I've wanted to do this, Charles."

"Miss Rachel... you gonna..."

She quickly removed her hand from his cock. She didn't want him to cum just yet. If she was going to do this, it had to last longer than a minute or two. "So did you ever think about me, Charles? Tell the truth."

Charles nodded but didn't say anything.

"Did it excite you to fantasize about taking the little white girl and showing her what a big black man can do to her?" she teased.

"Miss Rachel! No! I neva, eva think about doin anything to you..." He seemed to search for words. "Not TO you, Miss Rachel... wif you."

"Oh Charles, that's so sweet. So you've been attracted to me because... why?"

"Miss Rachel, don't make me say it..."

"Please tell me, Charles," she begged as she grasped his hard, thick penis again and slowly stroked it.

"You pretty, Miss Rachel. And good. Good to old Charles. You a good person. That make me think about you a whole lot in a whole lotta ways!"

"I have a confession to make, Charles," she said as she very slowly ran her hand up and down his throbbing cock.

"Yeah?"

"I watched you with Peg."

"What you mean?" he said, his voice rising.

"I heard something and peeped through a crack. She sucked you, then you fucked her. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw... and I have always wanted to do this..." she took a few inches into her mouth, then came back off of it. "...Ever since. But I never thought I really would."

Charles looked at her incredulously.

"I'm serious, Charles. I was attracted to you way back before I even knew what it was. You were my best friend. It broke my heart, growing up, that we couldn't play together and talk to each other. I never stopped caring about you. Ever."

With that she took him back into her mouth. When she heard him moan, chills of unadulterated lust coursed all over her body. She knew that it was impractical to try to fuck him. He was hurt too badly. This would have to do. She knew, however, that were he healthy, that she would eagerly give herself to him. She knew that she would revel in the joy of this magnificent black man making love to her. She took as much of his thick member into her cock-hungry mouth as she possibly could, eager now for a warm load of his semen. She felt almost as if she might orgasm when those first delicious spurts started to pump into her mouth.

She felt the head of his cock enter her throat. She was so enthralled with the lewd act of sucking this colossal organ that she hardly noticed her gag reflex. She stuck her tongue out, licking at the length of man-meat that remained outside her mouth. She grasped the base of his cock with her fist, realizing with amazement that fully 3 inches was still outside her mouth. She didn't think she could take any more, but she ached to be impaled on it, sunk to her very depths.

Charles was moaning and warning her that he was about to cum. She allowed his massive length to fall from her mouth, but leaned forward to lick and suckle at his nuts. She took her hand and forced one of his plum-sized nuts into her mouth. She felt she might pass out from the excitement and passion of this taboo act. She moved to his other nut and moaned as she took it into her mouth. She imagined that both of his bull-balls were filled to bursting with a substantial load of his cum.

She allowed the nut to fall from her mouth, but licked and kissed both of them, moving now up his lengthy shaft. "Oh Charles, it's so beautiful! I love it! You're hung like a horse! I want you to cum in my mouth! Please?"

"Suck that thing, Miss Rachel! Put it in yo pretty white mouth..." he moaned in abject pleasure as she sank her mouth back down his shaft, her saliva running in rivers down to soak his pubic hair and drip off of his balls onto the bed.

She moaned as she felt his cock head cut off all her air as it sank into her throat. Aside from having this horse-cock sunk deep into her hungry pussy, she couldn't imagine anything in the world being this exciting and pleasurable. She held his nuts and gently squeezed, but then felt a tremor course through his body. Not wanting to take his load directly into her throat, she quickly relinquished about half of his cock as it began spewing into her cum-hungry mouth.

"Mmmmmmhhhhhmmmmmmm," she moaned as her orgasm hit her simultaneously with the first spurt of his delicious cumload.

"Ohhhh FUCK!"Charles cried as gargantuan ropes of his viscous cum began to shoot into her mouth. "Take that nigger cum, white girl!"

His words in any other context would have seemed harsh and hurtful, but they were music to her ears. She loved that they were both so into this and she couldn't help but imagine, even as she eagerly swallowed mouthful after mouthful of his scrumptious man-seed, that one day he would be looking directly into her face, saying similar words, as he fucked her deep and hard.

Charles continued to moan, incoherently, telling her how good she was, as she took the remainder of his cum into her mouth and swallowed it. Then she eagerly licked every remnant from his cock and balls, squeezing his cock to get the last drop out of the head. Finally, satisfied that there was no more, she kissed his dwindling cock and then got up and sat where she could lean over and, for the first time ever, kiss his mouth.

Charles eagerly kissed her back, placing his hand on the back of her head, snaking his tongue into her mouth. Finally she sat up and smiled down at him. "See what happens when you don't stink?" she laughed.

"I sorry for what I said..."

"Stop. I loved what you said. It was in the passion of the moment. Don't ever apologize for that."

April, 1862

Rachel had imagined that she and Charles might engage in regular illicit behavior, but after the one time, another opportunity never presented itself. Many times she thought about making it happen. She knew that she could write him a note to sneak up to the house, or to meet her down by the river, but she always talked herself out of it.

As much as she had loved it, her heart belonged to her brother, Robert. She had gotten a few letters from him, telling her where his regiment was. They had been involved in a few minor skirmishes, but his letters indicated that, thus far, army life was boring and wet and uncomfortable.

One day in mid-April a soldier rode into the yard, asking for her. One of the slaves went to the house to get Rachel. She went out onto the porch and saw a young, gray-clad soldier dismounting and removing his cap.

"Miss Rachel Claiborne?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, that's me..."

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry to report to you that both Colonel and Captain Claiborne were killed in the recent action in the Shiloh battle, up in Tennessee. General Chalmers sends his condolences."

Rachel slowly sank to her knees, then bowed forward, her face in her hands, weeping.

"I'm so sorry to bring you this news, Ma'am," the young soldier said, walking nearer. "It was an awful thing, Miss. It was like the world was ending. Thousands of our boys were killed and wounded."

Rachel looked up at him, gasping, tears rolling down her face. "Their bodies?"

"Buried on the field, Ma'am."

Rachel could not eat for nearly a week. She barely came out of her room. She lay all day, mourning her brother. She prayed, however, that she would be forgiven for the relief she felt that her father would never return.

About a week after she was informed of the deaths of her father and brother, Rachel sent for all the slaves to come to the big house. She came out in the yard with them and accepted their heartfelt condolences. Some of the slaves hugged her. Some grasped her hand. Most asked God to bless her.

"Good people, you all know by now that Mr. Claiborne and my brother, Robert, were both killed at the big battle up in Tennessee. You all are well acquainted with grief, so you can imagine how I feel, but please don't pity me. I am now the owner of this plantation and, as such, I own you - I don't even like saying that," she said as tears came into her eyes.

She dabbed at them, then continued, "I want you all to know that, as of this minute, you are free men and women."

They all started laughing and shouting and jumping up and down and weeping with joy. Rachel waved to get their attention. "This, of course, will require paperwork. A lawyer. Until I can get all that done, I want you to work this plantation as if you own it. When this war is over, I intend to deed it over to any of you that are left. I love you all. I will do anything I can to make your lives more tolerable and pleasant. Don't hesitate to come to the house to talk to me... any of you."

Instead of cheers, they turned and quietly asked each other if Rachel had actually said what they thought she said. Rachel motioned for Charles to come near her. She reached in her pocket surreptitiously and handed him a note.

Late that night, Rachel heard the back door open and footsteps coming up the stairs; then an almost silent knock on her door.

"Come in," she said.

When Charles came into the room, she was sitting on her bed, wearing her nightgown. Charles sat beside her on the bed and took her in his arms; they kissed each other tenderly.

"All de slaves be celebratin, Miss Rachel. They all say you an angel. You serious about givin this place to de slaves?" he asked, incredulously.

She nodded. "Absolutely. I'm going to get the best lawyer I can find to make sure that it can't be taken from them."

"Where you be goin, Rachel? Up North?"

"Well, wherever I go, I want you to go with me," she said, taking his hand in hers and looking deep into his eyes.

"So you want me to be yo house slave?"

"Hell no!" she exclaimed. "Sorry. You're not going to be a slave to anyone, Charles. Never again."

"Then what you mean? Ole Charles 'plexed."

"Charles, I love you. I want to marry you. Don't you want that?" she implored.

"Miss Rachel! Can't no white woman marry no nigger!"

"Charles! Please don't say that word. You know I hate it. Up North, or in California, or other places, we can marry."

Charles got up and began to pace. "Rachel. I just don't know 'bout dis."

"Do you love me, Charles?"

"You know I loved you all my life, Miss Rachel... Rachel. You know dat. But I just think you lookin for trouble talkin 'bout marryin'."

"We don't have to settle it now. There are other options. If we move up North, you can pose as my servant - NOT SLAVE - and nobody will question it. We can be secretly married, or just live together - although I don't much like that idea."

Charles smiled. "You a mighty fine woman," he said as he sat next to her again.

Rachel stood and, without hesitation, pulled her nightgown over her head, leaving her totally naked. She saw how he gazed at her, from head to foot, his eyes resting on her majestic breasts and at her most secret place between her legs. "What do you think now, Charles?" she smiled.

Charles reached for her and, as she stepped forward, grasped her buttocks and pulled her belly to his face. He kissed her stomach, inserting his tongue in her navel, then smelled deeply of her feminine scent. He pulled her to him, kissing her clitoris and then her labia. Rachel moaned as he squeezed her buttocks and began to lick at her lust-slickened crease and sucking at her clitoris.

"Oh Charles, that's so good, baby. Oh I knew it would be. Oh Charles, yes!"

Charles guided her around until she was against the large bed, then gently eased her back onto it. He pushed her legs wide apart and began to delicately kiss and lick her inner thighs, her labia, and clit. Becoming more aggressive, he licked and sucked, her buttocks still in his large black hands.

"Ohhhhh, it's like you are eating me, baby," she moaned. "Oh I love it!"

Charles began to insert his thick index finger inside her wet pussy, causing her to moan and sigh with passion. As he began to thrust it in and out of her, he sucked at her clit, causing her to thrust herself eagerly at his mouth.

"Charles! Charles! Charles! Oh, you just don't know how good that is! I've wanted this forever!" she panted and groaned.

Charles moved up to her breasts, now in a frenzy of lust for this gorgeous young white woman - the object of his desire for most of his life. It was true - he had always loved her, desired her, lusted for her perfectly proportioned young body. He sucked at her breasts as if he were starved for her. She pushed up at him as she placed both her hands in his hair. He licked and sucked and bit her breasts as her loins began to heave themselves, of their own volition, in a fucking motion.

"Oh Baby, Charles - Baby. Oh it's just so good. You like my breasts, baby?" she groaned.

Charles stopped to peer up at her, nodding his head. "These the best titties I ever see!" he said, causing her to giggle.

"Charles, fuck me!" she begged.

Charles stood and shucked his shirt off, then began to unfasten his pants. He sat down briefly to remove his shoes and socks, then stood to remove his pants. Rachel's eyes were locked on his crotch as his immense black phallus sprang into view. She was used to her brother, Robert's, rather prodigious manhood, but, as she already knew, Charles' was bigger, both thicker and longer. It was glorious! Her mouth watered, as it had on the other occasion when she had delighted in pleasuring him with her mouth.

"Oh FUCK!" she moaned. "That thing is HUGE! Give it to me, baby. Split me open! Make me yours, Charles. Make me yours!" she begged.

Charles climbed onto the bed, moving himself between her legs as he leaned forward to kiss her mouth. She placed her hand behind his head, pulling his face to hers, opening her mouth wide to accept his thick tongue. As Charles fucked his tongue into her mouth, licking and sucking at her lips and tongue, she grasped his throbbing manhood and placed it at her entrance, wallowing it around her opening to lubricate it.

She broke the kiss for a second, gasping, "Slow at first baby. I haven't been with a man in a long time."

Charles stroked her cheek tenderly, looking deep into her eyes as he pushed forward and felt her pussy accept the head of his cock. She gasped at the sheer size of him, but her love-lust for him was so intense that she felt no discomfort.

He paused, only the head of his mammoth shaft inside her, looking into her face to evaluate whether or not she was ready for more. She nodded and he slowly pushed.

"Oh fuck yesssss," she whined. "Baby, fuck me!"

Charles was insane with the need to breed this incomparably beautiful young white girl. He violently pushed himself deep inside her, until he felt himself hit bottom. Then, realizing he may have gotten carried away, he searched her face to make sure she was ok.

"FUCK!" she gasped, grasping his buttocks, a signal that she and Robert had developed for her to indicate for him to slow down.

"You ok, Miss Rachel?"

She giggled. "Please stop calling me that. Call me something sweet," she said, kissing him briefly. Charles was deep inside her, not moving, instinctually giving her time to adjust.

"Ain't never no word been as sweet as yo' name, Rachel. I hear dat name and I think of nothin' but good and nice and comfortin'."

Rachel felt tears come into her eyes. He really did love her, just as she did him! "Charles, I love you, baby. I always have. Fuck me! Fuck me until you fill me up with your cum. Then fuck me again. And again. And again. Don't ever stop!"

Charles began to withdraw a few inches, then pushed back in at a moderate pace. He studied her face. Her mouth was open and her brow was furrowed as she intently gazed into the eyes of the man she loved with all her being. He picked up the pace, withdrawing more and more of his gargantuan member, then slamming it back home with ever increasing fervor.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, yessss! Charles! Oh you fucking stud! You're going to make this little white girl cum all over your big black cock! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" she panted, smiling and wrapping her legs around his body as he hammered at her without mercy.

Charles hardly spoke but kept his eyes focused on her face, drinking in the fact that she was deliriously enjoying his lovemaking. He had enough experience to know that he was a good lover. It wasn't something he would ever have bragged about, but it was something that was on full display as he made this young white girl his own. In his mind he knew that, if he did this right, she would always want more, whether love was involved or not.

"Charles!" she screamed, "you're going to make me cum! Cum in me! Give me your cum!"

Charles paused, causing her to hunch her loins up at him insanely, shaking her head, a look of panic in her eyes. "No, don't stop. Please!" she screeched.

"You don't want me to pull out, Rachel? You don't want no nig - black chile."

"Fuck me!" she implored. "Fill me up, Charles. Give me your baby. Make me your woman, forever," she whispered as she felt him begin to unload massive spurts of his man-seed inside her. This triggered her orgasm. "Ohhh, I am cummmming!" she gasped as her mind floated to another dimension - everything in the world was good for those few seconds that her orgasm gripped her, before she floated back down and realized that she was laying under a huge black man, his deflating black penis sunk deep inside her, his potent seed seeking out her eggs. She felt a small orgasm, an aftershock, at the thought of carrying this beautiful man's children.

Charles rolled off of her, his chest heaving from his exertions. He looked over at her and saw that she was laying on her side, smiling at him. "I probably need to get back to my cabin," he said.

"Um, NO!" she smiled. "You aren't done here. Not by a long shot. From now on, this is your bed. I don't care who knows it."

"You know we can't do that. Every nigger on the place gon' know we fuckin'."

"I don't care. Why would I care? Who am I trying to impress?"

"Rachel, they's still white men not in dis war. They kill a nigger that touch a white woman, whether she want it or not."

Rachel had not considered this, but she knew he was right. As long as they were in the South, their relationship would have to be clandestine. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She whispered, "It isn't fair, Charles. But I know you're right. I love you."

He took her in his arms and held her. "You my woman now, Rachel?"

She giggled and placed her hand on his hardening cock. "Every day, if you want me," she smiled.​