The Plantation Changes Hands

(This story is dedicated to a beautiful woman I know, who I have yet to see. She has been my inspiration and, provided me with this story idea, and insights into Jasmine's feelings and thoughts. I would love to have your comments and have you email me and tell me what you think of the story, or even chat with me about ideas for other stories or anything else.)

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I come from an old North Carolina family. I've been working for the Department of Agriculture for a number of years. My father and grandfather and a lot of my relatives have been associated with farming for generations, all the way back to early Colonial times.

I have been fairly close to my uncle Jim for years. I had just talked with him last week and he was in good spirits so it was quite a shock to hear that he had died from a tractor rollover. He was a tough old bird and he was still running the plantation at age 70. I always admired his down-to-earth work ethic. I was pretty devastated at the news. My uncle's 1,500 acre plantation was only 100 miles from where I lived so it was less than 2 hour drive to attend the funeral.

At the dinner afterward, I was talking with the relatives about my uncle and found out he considered me his favorite. When the reading of the will took place, it came as no surprise that my uncle had left the entire plantation to me. Of all the relatives, Jim considered me the best candidate to run the plantation the way he would have wanted it to continue.

I knew that a plantation of this size was not a part-time kind of situation. I would have to devote my energies full time to running it. It was no problem to quite my job with the Department of Agriculture, they were cutting back in my department already and I just took an early severance option. Also, being in my early 50s, I was still young enough and fit enough to run the plantation full time.

Even though I had been close to Jim, I had never really kept up with where Jim was at with the plantation's day-to-day operation. I did not have a real good idea on how much equipment he had or if he had anyone working for him.

The visit to the lawyer's office did not take very long, and by early afternoon I had the keys to the plantation in my hands.

It was only another 20 minutes before I was standing on the doorstep to the plantation manor. The House was one of those classic pillared front porch glistening white two story mansions. As I strolled through the house I began to mentally survey the layout. There was the expected large open area just inside the door, with a large staircase that lead to the 2nd floor. To the sides of the main entrance were a den, dining room, kitchen, and a study. Upstairs there were 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and a study room. Such was the style of the house that I could almost picture myself as a pre-civil war plantation owner.

My uncle was also an excellent judge of art. He collection included very few landscapes. Instead, his tastes tended more toward beautiful women and copies of 15th century masters. The artwork in the master bedroom included a number of paintings and statues of nude or semi-nude nicely proportioned female forms. I could tell that my uncle would have gone to sleep with a smile on his face each night.

In the upstairs study, I found some ledgers that contained a record of the financial transactions for the plantation. There was also a log of the people that worked on the plantation for Jim. A third log, noted all the equipment and farm implements. All this would take some time to evaluate.

Of immediate concern was the logbook of the workers. I was sure that they would have concerns as to what would happen to them, now that the plantation had a new owner. I would have to meet with them as a group to tell them of my plans and see how many wanted to stay on.

Going back down to the first floor, I was barely at the bottom before I was greeted by a middle-aged man named Simon. Apparently he had spotted my car and went to check to see who was at the house. At first he was a little skeptical of my appearance (early 50's, average build, 5'5", and sandy hair). But once I explained to him who I was and my intentions, he started to warm up to me.

After talking with Simon, he told me that he was somewhat the head of all the help on the plantation. He had worked there for more than 20 years and was well accustomed to everything on the plantation. His stocky build 5'10" frame and chiseled face told me that he was a 'down to earth' type of man even before he ever spoke a word. He told me that the plantation employed about 20 workers, some seasonal, some who lived in town, and some who lived in the small servant's quarters, small houses of no more than 500 sq ft, a little ways away from the main house. I could tell right off that this man would be invaluable to me in bringing me up to speed and helping to maintain day-to-day operations.

As he began to go into details about the plantation, I invited him into the study for a drink. His preference for scotch and water further reinforced a sense of no non-sense about him. For the next 6 hours we talked, although most of the talking was done by Simon. He gave me a detailed account of how things had been the last few years, much more in-depth and personal than the ledger books upstairs could ever be. He told me stories of the very early years of the plantation's existence, beginning from the early 1700's. These were things that even my uncle did not divulge to me.

Apparently, the origins of the plantation began with tobacco. At the time, it was a crop that would grow well in the existing climate and brought in good money. Up until the civil war, the plantation labor force was mostly Negro slaves. Slavery was a common practice at that time but common sense now prevails, and slavery of any kind is unconscionable. My uncle never believed in the practice and neither do I. Plantation workers now are all hired hands and treated with more respect.

During the summer, the workforce is at full strength to tend the crops but in the winter there is only a minimal amount of people that are employed to look after the machinery and the mansion itself. There were 3 people that took care of the mansion, one a maintenance man and two other women who cleaned and prepared the meals. None of the three lived in the mansion. The all lived in the small servants quarters close to the mansion. It was more convenient for them then living in two 20 miles away and my uncle had provided their living quarters for nothing in partial trade for their services.

Apparently Simon had hired all three and I trusted Simon's judgment by keeping them on. Greg was the maintenance man. Simon said he was pretty good at being Mr. Odd-job. Apparently he could fix just about anything. He was in his mid-30's, average build, with a square jaw and a good sense of humor. At least that's what Simon said. He wasn't the most handsome man on the planet but that's not what he was hired for.

One of the housekeepers was Julie, she had dishwater blonde hair, about 5'7", average face, and not too bad of a body. As Simon described her, I could tell he had a liking for her. He said he preferred blondes with big boobs, and from Simon's description Julie had a nice set of 36DD's. I told Simon that as long it didn't interfere with work duties, I didn't care if the two of them hooked up.

The third mansion staff member was an Asian-white gal named Jasmine, who had been working on the plantation since she turned 18, and that was 5 years ago. She was about 5ft tall, slender body, small boobs (too small for Simon's tastes apparently), dark hair and dark eyes. Simon said that she was kind of shy. Simon figured that since she started right she was 18 and had worked at the plantation since then, he figured her shyness probably worked out to very few romantic encounters with men. That not withstanding, he was pretty sure she was still a virgin. I made note of that in passing but did not let on to Simon. This was not really too much concern to me since I didn't think it had any affect on her duties in the mansion

Apparently Julie was a pretty good cook so Simon assigned her to duties on keeping the first floor clean and cooking the meals. Jasmine occasionally filled in as extra help in the kitchen when needed but her primary duties were keeping the upstairs clean and doing most of the laundry. According to Simon, both gals did there jobs well and that was good enough recommendation for me.

Chapter 02 -- getting to know the staff better

With all the things I had to learn about running the plantation, I didn't have much time to spend relaxing in the mansion. That left me little time to get to know Gregg, Julie, or Jasmine for the first month.

I did take note that Julie served up some good home cooking and Jasmine always had a relaxing bath waiting for me at the end of the day. I was much appreciative for both of them wanting to please me.

After a couple of months, I became more familiar with the operation of the plantation itself and felt more comfortable with turning over some responsibility of running the place to Simon.

Although most of the land was farmable, my uncle was smart enough to know that planting the same crop over and over again each year only depleted the soil. He had devised an excellent crop rotation plan that help keep the land fertile and seem to bring in a higher yield than his neighbors. Uncle Jim was also smart enough to know that some of the land needed to be set aside as woods and pasture.

I had ridden horses before and I found myself fortunate that my uncle had a small stable of four horses. All four were well trained and very gentle. One morning, I decided to get more familiar with the layout of the plantation. I could have taken the pickup truck but this morning I felt like taking things in with a leisurely ride.

Going out to the stables, I was deciding which of the horses to choose from when a beautiful bay mare came up and nuzzled my face. I figured that if this beautiful looking piece of horse flesh had taking a liking to me, then I should take her up on it. Grabbing a saddle and blanket, I saddled her up and climbed on. At first she seemed not too sure of her rider but she calmed down quickly and I knew that we would be in for a pleasant ride.

It was mid-Spring and some of the grasses and early flowers were starting to bloom. There was a good fresh sent in the air. There had been a thunderstorm the night before and all the lightning that had accompanied it charged the air with a clean feeling. As I rode through the soon to be planted fields, I envisioned row after row of strong, healthy plants. The Farmer's Almanac had predicted a good year for planting and I was already starting to figure my yields, even before having planted one seed.

At the edge of one large field, there was an equally large plot of pasture. My uncle had set this aside mostly for the horses but it was also good insurance toward having some extra land available for crops, should it be necessary. On the other side of the pasture was a wooded area with a small stream running through it. My uncle had planned well when he set aside this land. There was enough timber to supply firewood to heat the mansion all winter. The amount he cut was always less than what he could replant for a never ending supply of wood. Yes, my uncle had planned well. It was a shame he had not lived longer to enjoy it.

I was just making my way back across the stream when the mare became fidgety. I couldn't figure out why she was acting this way until I heard the unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake. I didn't have much time to react before the horse threw me. I landed pretty hard on a fallen log and rolled down the ravine, accumulating numerous scrapes and bruises. I guess the mare got in a lucky shot and trampled the snake to death before bolting back to the barn.

I was left in a daze. I hurt all over, in places I never thought I could hurt but especially my arm. I tried to get up but I soon crumpled to the ground from the badly sprained ankle. Although there were no other broken bones of sprains in the other leg, it felt like the mare had trampled me as well. Getting back on my feet right away did not seem like an option. Also, I could tell from the pain that my right arm was broken in at least one place. Thankfully it was a simple fracture.

I did the best I could to drag myself over to a stump where I could be in a sitting position to assess my circumstances. I must not have been as strong as I thought I was at handling pain and I soon passed out.

I awoke to someone calling my name. "Alan, Alan, where are you?" My mind was still in a fog but still clear enough to weakly call out for help. I heard the sound of multiple rushing feet coming toward me and I passed out again.

I woke up in my bed back at the mansion. Apparently Simon had gotten concerned when the mare returned without me and went looking for me. It took 5 hours before they found me and hauled me back in the pickup truck. A doctor was dispatched, a splint put on my arm, and my scrapes cleaned and bandaged.

The first face I recognized was Jasmine. Apparently she had been the one to make sure I was comfortable in my bed. Although I was pretty banged up, I regained my senses pretty quickly. From how I felt and the splint on my arm, I knew I would be spending the next week or so close to the mansion.

For the first few days, I knew I would need help with getting in and out of bed and with bathing. The bathing part would be the most difficult because I was right handed and it was my right arm that was broken.

It was a bit awkward to ask but Jasmine seemed to be the only logical choice. She was the most familiar with the upstairs, and my needs. Being shy, she agreed reluctantly. Since there might be times when I would need help in the middle of the night, I asked Jasmine if she would move into the bedroom next to mine so that she would be available if needed. Within an hour, she moved her things from her servant's quarters to the bedroom next door. This was a big relief to me. It had been a long day and sleep was all I wanted at the moment.

I awoke the next morning to Jasmine humming a cheerful tune while she filled the bath tub. Even though she was shy, she was determined that her employer was going to get back on his feet as soon as possible. Shutting off the faucets, she came and helped me out of bead and into the bathroom. The first order of business was to pee and I knew it would be awkward for me to manage that. Looking at her, she soon realized my dilemma. Half closing her eyes, she helped pull down my drawers and ease me onto the toilet. Trying to preserve my modesty, she went back into the bedroom to straighten up things in there while I finished.

Coming back into the bathroom, she was still blushing from when she helped pull down my drawers. It was now time to get into the bath and for that, everything had to come off. I noticed she blushed an even deeper shade of red as she helped remove the last of my clothes and eased me into the tub. Even though she was trying not to look, it was impossible not to notice my large, limp cock hanging down. She blushed an even deeper shade of red.

I reassured her that it was ok, that we would both get through this as best we could, and that it was only a temporary thing until I could better take care of myself. A weak smile appeared on Jasmine's face and she thanked me for being so kind. With that I stepped into the tub and sank down into the warm, soothing water.

As I tied to reach for the soap and scrub sponge with my left hand, Jasmine admonished me. "Let me do that for you." Realizing how much trouble it would be to manipulate the bar of soap and sponge at the same time, I relented and let her take on the task of washing my body.

She first started with my left arm. Instead of feeling like she was scrubbing me, I felt more like she was caressing my body with the sponge. Raising my firs my left leg, then my right leg, Jasmine washed them with the same gentleness. She next moved on to my back, her gentle touch continued. All the while, my eyes never left her face. There was something about her that I couldn't put my finger on that fascinated me. Reaching for the bar of soap, she lathered up the sponge to wash my chest. Her washing seemed to be a labor of love, as the sponge crossed my chest and moved down to my stomach.

It was at this time that I realized that my eyes were not on her face anymore but had wandered to her breasts. Jasmine had worn a thin cotton blouse this morning and the buttons were undone all the way down to her cleavage. Her front-hook bra had come undone and I could see her dark areoles and a hint of her nipples. Some of the water had splashed up on her blouse around her nipples and it had turned the material almost transparent. I was not sure if this was an accident or on purpose but I was enjoying the view.

To avoid suspicion at having seen her firm breasts and nipples, I laid my head back on the edge of the tub and closed my eyes.

My attention was suddenly diverted. I felt the sponge brush across my semi-hard cock down to my balls. Barely opening my eyelids, I looked back up at Jasmine's face and she seemed to be lost in thought. The next touch I felt was not the sponge, it was Jasmine's hand. Her gentle fingers were doing the washing now but instead of washing, her fingers were more like exploring my cock than washing it. They gently moved over my balls and glided up the length of my shaft. My cock was quickly becoming rock hard. Near the middle of my cock, her fingers wrapped around it and gave it a squeeze as if to gauge its reaction. Her fingers took a long time feeling my large cock head. She seemed to be mesmerized by the feel of it.

With her being so sexually inexperienced, she must have been wondering how something so hard, could feel so soft. I noticed that her nipples had become stiffer as the minutes passed. Her thin cotton blouse, wet around her nipples from water having splashed up, looked almost transparent. What was she thinking? Was a man's cock something new to her or was it that I was so much bigger than anything she had ever encountered before? I was almost about to ask her but did not want to spoil the moment.

Suddenly coming out of her revere and realizing what she was doing, her eyes locked onto my face to see if I was looking. Her fingers stayed wrapped around my cock. He face became a deep shade of red as she quickly withdrew her hand. She apologized profusely to the point of tears. I reassured her that it was all right, I wasn't upset with her. I tried to reassure her that she was only making sure she had done a good job of washing me. Little did she realize that I let her continue playing with my cock because her fingers felt so good on it. I was actually disappointed that it did not last longer.

She finally helped me out of the tub and dried me off. On the chair was a fresh set of clothes for me to put on. As I began to change, she left to go fix my breakfast. Even as she walked out the door, she was still blushing a deep shade of pink. As she walked out of the bathroom, and until she was out of sight, I admired her cute ass swaying back and forth in her knee length full skirt.

I was determined that I was not going to act like an invalid, laying in bed all day, so I gingerly made my way down to the table, limping some from the sprained ankle. Jasmine had my breakfast and morning paper waiting for me. This normally would have been Julie's job but Jasmine must have worked something out with Julie. As I sat down, I noticed Jasmine's bra was now hooked and her blouse buttoned up. Her blouse was still damp around her nipples but had dried sufficiently that her nipples were not as prominent. She gave me a shy smile and turned away. Her faces was almost back to its normal color, not the shade of red and pink it had been when she was washing me.