Thunder Rumbled in the distance. It's echoes seemed to bounce endlessly. Lightning struck once, then flashed three more times in quick succession. Those in the mansion felt it was a portent of things destined to unfold.
A figure moved in the lighted second story bedroom of a huge Louisiana mansion known as Oakdale. There would be much anguish in the room that night. Lightning brought out the scene in stark relief. A large negro woman dabbed at her mistress's face with a damp cloth. Her brown, bloodshot eyes turned to the tall slender young man standing at the foot of the bed. He looked at the negro, trying to avoid the sight of blood on the bed. A huge pile of bloody sheets were shoved between the sick woman's open legs.
"She's dying, Captain," the busty woman said helplessly. He turned, ignoring her. The storm drew closer.
Mamet changed the mound of cloth between the woman's legs, dropping the bright red sheets into a bucket. A slender negro girl with a kerchief on her head ran out with her hand on her mouth, and the bucket in her hand.
The young man slapped a riding crop against his leg. Those in the room jumped at the startling sound. Captain Roget seemed not to notice the pain. He continued his helpless march from one side of the bedroom to the other. A baby screamed, protesting it's hunger. After nearly half an hour the noise got through to the young man.
"Mamet, get rid of it," he said with a snarl. "Suh?" the woman looked up, startled. "Get that murdering child out of my house. I don't care if you drown it, hit it over the head with an ax, or give it away. I do not want that thing within my sight. NOW!" he roared, pointing toward the door. The sound woke the woman on the bed. Her eyes fluttered open. She stared sightlessly for a moment before her eyes focused on her husband.
"My baby?," she said, her mouth working to say more. I'm sorry," she finally whispered with a weak smile.
He nodded with a quick jerk of his head. His anguished face and blurry eyes focused on a lightning strike somewhere out in the middle of the cotton fields. He did not want to remember her this way. When he looked back she was gone. She had died with a looked of sadness on her once-beautiful face.
Shuddering, the negro woman closed the dead woman's eyes and hurried out of the room. In a moment the screams of the child stopped.
With a cry, Captain Roget threw the riding crop into the corner and left the room. He spent the next few hour writing out instructions for his banker and lawyer. He placed the envelopes on the mantle and called the large negro woman back into the room. After a brief discussion he left. Captain Roget shipped out from the port of New Orleans the following day. He remained gone for the better part of 18 years.
"Oh look at that," an old negro woman pointed at the bay colt on the front lawn of the mansion. It flung it's head into the air, then tried to run, but stumbled into it's mother. Archie, the negro woman's son, stood holding the mare as the colt began to drink.
"He's born to run, missus. I think he's your best," Archie said proudly to the girl on the porch swing. A happy sigh came from the girl, hidden by the shadows of the porch. She stood and came to the railing. Her green dress flowed out and was pushed against the railing by the breeze. It billowed through in several areas. The woman's white pleated blouse did little to hide her full womanly breasts. Her brown hair and tanned face were those of her dead mother's. But only the old negro woman would have remembered that. The young woman was breathtaking, a beautiful and wealthy woman who did her best to manage the duties of running a plantation, under the stern eyes of her taskmaster Earnest Idlerod. Idlerod had been the plantation manager since he was hired by her father 18 years before.
"He has good lines," she agreed. "We'll call him Nightmare," she said happily. "We will do no such thing," Earnest Idlerod said, strolling out of the house. "He's my birthday present," she said, raising her chin defiantly. "Nightmare is not appropriate for a plantation of such prestige, Myrtle" he said pompously, flipping a hand at the horse.
"He's mine and I can name him anything I want," she insisted. "Not while I'm..." he stopped suddenly. His eyes widened. Captain Roget, still dressed for the sea, stood looking at him from across the back of the mare. Earnest rubbed his eyes, thinking it was a ghost. But the stern unblinking eyes stared holes through his soul. He felt himself shuddering. He leaned against the railing for support.
"She's right of course," Captain Roget said, strolling around the horse with his hands behind his back. "The young lady has reached the age of majority. Your services are no longer required," Captain Roget said. "You will be properly compensated for your loyalty." "But sir, she's not..." "Now," Captain Roget pointed toward the road, without raising his voice. Idlerod turned and fled. "Who are you?" Myrtle asked with wonder and excitement. "Your father," Mamet hissed from the side of her mouth. "Daddy?" the girl called excitedly. "Captain," he corrected, strolling up on the porch. Myrtle's face fell. She started to speak and stopped. Captain Roget stalked into the house. "He... he can't be my father," Myrtle gasped in disappointment. "He is, child, and show him the proper respect. He can be mean," her eyes went to the open door. "The death of your mother spawned a demon in that man. I wonder why he's here?" "For my birthday?" Myrtle asked excitedly. "He never came for your other birthdays," she mumbled. "I don't like it." "I will go in and soften him up," Myrtle laughed. "Stay away from him," Mamet warned. But she was talking to the girl's back. She bounced happily up the steps and disappeared inside. "Put those horses away," Mamet called to her son. "Call the hands in, the Captain may want to look them over. Tell your father that he's here, he's supervising the plowing of the south 160." "Yes mama."
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Mamet listened to the dozens of echoes, before the thunder clap murmured into obscurity. Mamet shivered and whispered a prayer. She wished she could hide until she saw the Captain retreating down the long driveway. But she knew she couldn't. And what if he never left?
Myrtle suddenly rushed out of the house. She was almost in tears. She looked stricken. "All hell is about to cut loose," Mamet said aloud, looking at the storm.
Captain Roget wiped his mouth on a white napkin and laid it on his lap. He looked at Mamet, standing by the mantle, and beckoned her forward.
"Mamet, turn the keys over to my daughter," he said without preamble. Mamet nodded wordlessly. The key's were symbolic only in most cases. Although there was a key to the family safe and smoke house on the ring. She kept the keys hanging on the wall of her room. The symbolism of the keys centered around the management of the plantation house. She who held the keys, controlled the home.
"Miss Roget," he spoke quietly to his daughter at the far end of the table. "Do you feel you are adroit enough to assume these duties?"
"Father?" she asked in surprise. Her glass of red wine tipped and spread over the white table cloth, and her flowing white dress. She gasped and jumped up with an oath. "Possibly not," he said with a twist of his mouth. "Daddy, that's not fair," she gasped, tossing her napkin on the table. "Do not address me as daddy like a common street tramp. I am a captain, address me as such." "This isn't your ship, daddy," she said defiantly. After getting over her initial nervousness, defiance was easy. She had been defying Earnest Idlerod for years. "Really?" he said in a deceptively mild voice. "She..." "Shut up, Mamet," he said, cutting her off as she automatically came to Myrtle's rescue. "I will not be treated like one of your negroes," Myrtle said triumphantly. "No, you won't," he said. "Mamet, get me three large men from the slave's quarters," he said, standing and advancing toward Myrtle. Mamet turned and rushed out. Myrtle was disdainful of her quick obedience. In a moment Archie, and two other hands known as Jonah and Willie stood near the mantle. They looked fearful. Captain Roget looked them over for a moment and nodded. "Gentlemen, my daughter has ruined beautiful new dress. Rip all clothing from her body and toss it into the fireplace. Everything!" he commanded over her objections.
Myrtle's mouth dropped open in disbelief. The three men hesitated for only a moment. Mamet moaned in fear.
Myrtle tried to turn and run, but they caught her before she took more than three steps. Myrtle shrieked and struggled. Archie held her in his strong arms while Jonah and Willie tore the clothing from her body. Her breasts were bared first. Everyone paused for a moment as the mammoth globes of white flesh were laid bare. They bounced gently in the subtle lamplight. "Continue," Captain Roget called. The three men continued with no further prompting. "Mamet, get me my riding crop," he ordered. "But suh, do you really wanna do this?" she asked in a pleading voice. "Yes. Don't make me tell you twice." "Yes suh." She returned with the 20 year old crop held in her hands. She reluctantly surrendered it beneath his stern gaze.
Myrtle now stood in all her glorious naked beauty. The contrast between her ivory white complexion, and the sun darkened men standing around her, was startling. Captain Roget grabbed Myrtle by the hair and dragged her over to the door. He pushed her hair into the crack of the door, near the upper hinge, and pulled the door closed. She stood caught in the door, naked, horrified and afraid.
"You will address me as CAPTAIN!" he yelled, bringing the crop down on her perfectly shaped ass. She screamed, an unearthly heart-rending scream of one who has never been mistreated before. It was a vocal scream, as well as an eruption of the soul. She struggled to pull her hair from the door, but it was impossible.
"You will speak to me with RESPECT!" he screamed, bringing the riding crop down again. She screamed again, then hung helplessly sobbing.
"And you will give me immediate obediance!" he said in a calmer voice, slashing the piece of leather across her shapely ass one last time. She simply hung sobbing now. He dragged the end of the crop through the delicate valley between her legs. She shuddered. He ran it over and around each breast. She opened her eyes, a look of pleading in them. He noticed the smoothness and gentle sweep of her neck up to her firm, proud chin. He saw how her breasts were large, but firm. The cleavage started well up on her chest, just below her neck. Her waist was slender, her stomach firm, and her light brown bush was shapely, almost manicured. Her pussy was small and delicate. He looked her over as he would one of the prize race horses on the plantation. He took in all her best features, and all her flaws. [-split-] He dropped the riding crop and sat in a wicker chair. He looked his daughter over again from a distance. She mirrored his lost Cynthia in so many ways. This angered him even more. How dare she take on the features of the lovely woman she had murdered.
"Which of you three are best hung?" he asked the three slaves, who had been looking on in awe. They murmured and looked back and forth for a moment. Jonah finally stepped forward. "Take her, and spare no gentleness in the doing," he said, pointing at Myrtle. Mamet cried out and rushed forward. Captain Roget's stern gaze stopped her. Mamet wrung her hands helplessly, returning to her place by the fireplace.
Breeding slaves was as much a science as breeding horses. Males were known as bucks. They were commonly selected for their best features and bred to outstanding negro females. There was no false humility, no hesitation as Jonah stepped up to the young woman, dropping his shirt as he approached. He touched her ivory white skin. She shivered and tried to jerk away. He grabbed her by the chin and turned her to face him. His large calloused hands mashed her breasts until she screamed in pain. He reached down and placed his fingers in her pussy. He rubbed it gently, then placed the ends of his fingers in his mouth. He smiled down at her as he tasted her pussy. He was not surprised to find her pussy moist. Pain could do that to some people. He was not surprised to find her lily white ass responding to the whip.
He started around her. He stepped on the whip and looked down in surprise. He looked up at the Captain with a question in his eyes. Lightning struck nearby. Thunder deafened them for a moment, then rolled away into obscurity.
"Go ahead," the Captain nodded. Jonah reached down and grabbed the whip. Myrtle began struggling. She screamed as a sharp jerk pulled several strands of hair from her head. Crying again, she leaned as far from Jonah as she could. He gleefully brought the whip down across her sweet ass. She screamed, glaring hatred at the large slave. She pulled again, with her hands wrapped around her hair. Everyone noticed that she finally pulled her hair partway out of the door. She pulled again three more times and was suddenly free.
Myrtle turned and sprinted for the far door, the one leading outside. Archie sprinted forward to intercept her.
"Leave her," Mamet screamed. Archie slid to a halt. "Stop her," Captain Roget ammended in a quiet voice. Archie's huge hand clamped onto Myrtle's slender white arm. She fell to the floor, struggling to break his grip.
"Since you are so determined to come to her aid, it is only fair that she repay your loyalty," Captain Roget said to Mamet. "Sit in that chair," he pointed to Myrtle's chair at the end of the table. "Face it in this direction," he ordered as she started to sit, facing the table. "But suh," she said, shaking her hair.
"Don't argue with me, Mamet. You have been with my family your entire life. Don't give me reason now to alter that arrangement. You have your own family to think about, do you not?" "I do," Mamet said, taking a seat in the chair.
"Take off your undergarments," Captain Roget said. Mamet hesitated for a moment, then ruffled cloth until her linen pantaloons lay at her feet.
"Excellent," Captain Roget said in satisfaction. Jonah, take the young miss over to Mamet. Now place her between the woman's legs," he said, his face growing animated for the first time. "Lift your skirts," Captain Roget ordered. Mamet shuffled the cloth of her skirts until she could lift them up to her waist. Myrtle sat on hands and knees, sobbing. Jonah stood behind her with her twisted hair in his hand. Mamet looked at Archie uncomfortably. Archie turned away.
"You may leave, Archie," Captain Roget said quietly. Archie ran out of the room. The door boomed behind him. Lightning struck. Thunder crashed from one side of the valley to the other. Down at the landing rain and hail began pelting the rough surface of the water. An alligator slid beneath the surface, hiding from the punishing marbles of ice. "Lick her," Captain Roget screamed. Jonah pushed Myrtle forward and held her face in position. Myrtle pinched her lips closed, her face twisted in defiance.
"DO IT!!! Captain Roget screamed. Myrtle's mouth flew open and was instantly filled with the pink pussy flesh of the old woman. "Now fuck her Jonah," Captain Roget ordered. He licked his lips. His eyes sparkled with an evil fire. Mamet looked down at the white girl between her beefy legs and closed her eyes in horror. Nothing good can come of this, she thought.
Myrtle was holding her mouth still. Her open mouth was filled with the moist sex of the old woman, but she refused to go any farther. She would not lick or suck the woman like a common whore.
Jonah untied his pants and let them drop around his ankles. Everyone gasped. A foot of dark brown meat hung between his legs. It was all of 3 inches thick, but as long as a bull. "My word," Captain Roget said, feeling inadequate. He had not made love to a woman in 18 years. He had a hearty hate for all woman. With each passing year his penis grew smaller. But even at his prime he could not come close to matching Jonah's great size. He licked his lips in anticipation. His eyes were glued to his daughter's naked ass. It was so white, so perfect, just like her mother's.
"Fuck her," Captain Roget whispered angrily. Jonah held the tip of his cock in his hand and slid it against Myrtle's sweet virginal pussy. He pushed relentlessly. Myrtle squealed. Her hands went to Mamet's fat legs. She tried to raise up, but Jonah held her down with a hand on her hair. She struggled, then screamed as the head of Jonah's cock leaped into her pussy. Her maidenhead tore, fire shot through her crotch and she was suddenly full of meat. She gasped at the horrible pain, and the unfamiliar fullness and tingling pleasure. Jonah began his slow slide in and out of the deflowered virgin. His cock seemed endless. It took several seconds to slide it's full length into her pussy, then begin the long journey back out again.
Myrtle was grunting like an animal. She still had her hands on Mamet's fat legs, but now she was licking and sucking furiously. Despite the circumstances, the agile tongue and hot mouth had Mamet moaning in pleasure. She had never felt cunninglus before, she did not approve of it. As far as she knew it was a French perversion practiced only in France itself, and perhaps inside the confines of New Orleans.
But at that moment she would have done anything to prolong the pleasure filling her crotch. Her loins boiled and burned. Her ass felt unnaturally warm. Her asshole itched, wishing for a strong cock to fill it. Mason, her husband, loved to fill her ass with hot meat. Now she craved that meat more than ever.
Mamet's fat, dimpled, jiggling legs closed in on each side of Myrtle's face, trapping her in place. Mamet's eyes were on Jonah's long, glistening brown cock, which looked so wonderful filling Myrtle's sweet pussy. The color of his cock hid the blood which flowed from her deflowered womanhood. The tiny lips of her pussy were stretched out of shape around his huge piece of meat. It looked wonderful, Mamet thought. She might call on the services of Jonah herself later. Myrtle began mouthing Mamet's sex with particular vehemence. Mamet cried out. Her hands went to Myrtle's head and pulled it forward, wedging it tightly between her mammoth legs. Myrtle was doing a very good job of eating her pussy, for an unwilling participant. Mamet suddenly wondered just how much Myrtle really objected to eating the pussy of her black mentor. Not at all, if her current actions were germane.
"Easy, child," Mamet whispered. Myrtle's eyes flew open. She looked around herself in surprise, but she continued mouthing the wet pussy before her. She jerked when the long cock was push all the way in, coming up against a hard spot inside her pussy. The additional contact thrilled her to her very soul. Her eyes clouded over. Only the animal-like cock filling her pussy was real to her now, nothing else. It was a rough way to be introduced to the wonderful world of sex, but at least she had the best cock possible filling her tortured pussy at the moment. "Oh lord," Mamet groaned. Myrtle looked up at Mamet's twisted face. Mamet was sweating. Her eyes were looking up at the ceiling. Her hands held Myrtle's sweet innocent face trapped between her legs.
"Ugh," Jonah said suddenly. He increased his momentum. The slap of his hips against the rubbery cheeks of Myrtle's ass was loud in the room. Captain Roget slid forward on the edge of his seat, sensing that the show was almost over. All three of them were getting close to an orgasm.
Jonah huffed with each stroke. His coal black face glistened with sweat. Lightning flashed, now far away. Thunder rumbled eventually, creating a quiet, apologetic sound in the distance. "Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh," Mamet chanted. She ran her hands through Myrtle's hair. She rocked forward and back, mashing her wet sex against the girl's mouth.
Jonah was pelting her ass now, forcing his cock inside even more than he had before. Myrtle was torn between the pain of his had cock coming up against the object in her pussy, or the fire it created as it churned her excited flesh. Jonah was speaking in tongues, mumbling words that did not exist. His eyes were closed, his right hand was on his hip, and drops of sweat littered Myrtle's small, shapely back. He still retained his grip on her hair, but it was a lose grip.
"Oh yes," Mamet screamed. She leaned back and shuddered, throwing her huge fat legs wide to allow Myrtle full contact. She hunched her pussy forward, smashing it into the willing girl's sweet face.
Being assaulted from behind, she was being pushed into Mamet with terrible force. But her thoughts were centered inward. She concentrated on the great fire in her pussy. Even her swinging breasts were on fire. She wished to have them held, sucked, even mashed. She put one of her own hands on her right breast and kneaded it gently. That slight stimulation was all it took to send her crashing into a horrendous orgasm. She stiffened, a look of horror on her face, Mamet's pussy still held in her mouth, and jerked violently on Jonah's long cock. She felt impaled, like a butterfly on a pin. She flapped and jerked helplessly, on the long, impaling member. She had an additional treat when Jonah's cock began spurting white hot cum into her loins.
She shivered with delicate ecstasy. He gently churned her pussy flesh with his long rod. The throbbing piece of meat felt even larger inside her now. The dull ache of her innermost womanhood seemed to add to the thrill of her first fuck. She didn't know that the dull ache was a battered cervix, which would give her horrible pain over the next few days. She would be bedridden. But the wild memories of that night would sustain her. Her father, in his evil and crude way, had opened a whole new way of life for her. It was not the pleasant and innocent way she had grown up with, it was the harsh reality of a world where she had to be crude, where she had to be master.
"Now give her the keys," Captain Roget said, standing and grabbing a chicken leg from the tray on the table. Myrtle lay gasping between Mamet's huge fat legs. She stood slowly and looked at each slave, then her father's retreating back. She wished that she could throw a knife. She would impale him before he slunk out of sight. She looked at Mamet, knowing that the full story would pass through the slave quarters in a matter of hours. How could she face all those faces, with them knowing what she had done. Even now Jonah was grinning sheepishly at the distraught girl. With a shuddering sob, Myrtle ran up to her room.
"No you won't!" Myrtle screamed at Mason. The pleasant, sunlit day was a treat after the storm of the night before. But there was a different storm lashing out at them all, and Mason was feeling the brunt of it. "Ma'am?" "You will not repair the roof on the barn, you will finish plowing the 160 like I told you. Do you hear me Mason?" she threatened. "Obey me or I will have you whipped like one of the common field hands." "Yesum," he said, shuffling from one foot to the other. Melanie, what are you doing here?" Myrtle asked suddenly. "Aren't you supposed to be picking seeds in the cotton shed? You should be dying cotton tomorrow."
"Yesum," the young, coal black girl said, giving a quick curtsy. "But my mama is sick. I would like to go to Norlens to see her. I'm afeard she may die." "Get your lazy behind back on the job I put you too, girl. If you ever want to see your mother again, don't let me catch you slacking off. Do you hear me!" Myrtle screamed. "Yesum," the girl said, running out.
Captain Roget had been sanding by, just a few feet away, hidden in the shadows. The trace of a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. He put on his triangular hat and ran his hand down the crease. "You are the master," he mumbled, turning away. He wandered down the long driveway to the landing, unnoticed.