Diary Of A Plantation Slave Ch 05

All characters are over the age of 18. Character names and events are purely fictional and in no way endorse racism, bigotry, rape or the dehumanization of another human. Heavy use of racial language and slurs. Please look at the tags, there is mention of scat and nonconsensual toilet play. If any of these themes offend or disgust you in any way, feel free to skip reading. Everyone else, enjoy!

Saturday, September 28th, 1811

Dear Lord,

It's been 2 months and a couple weeks shy since I've been here on the Cryer plantation. Two and a half months since I caught up with you, Lord. Well, now I guess you and I have a lot of catchin' up to do. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm finally makin' my bearings. I know what my purpose got to be in this place. I got a real chance to be free and happy --- with a man I'm close to. Lips like an angel and eyes like the sun. He's one of Yours. And we got a real chance at makin' it.

I need this to happen. I need this victor. I need somethin' in my life to go right so I know this all ain't in vain. Please Lord Heavenly Father, if you are out there and can hear me when I tell my story, please give me a sign that this is what I was destined for. Don't give up on me yet.

All the Best,

Mayella

~

I stop writin', dry the quill out and fold the piece of paper into small squares, puttin' it away under my cot. I've been doin' that more often since the revolt talk, writin' to the Lord, writin' to myself. It feels like I've been callin' His name all this time but we need Him to be listenin' now more than ever.

It all feels so surreal. I'm really goin' through with this. We really gon' make a way outta here. I'm really gon' find some solace away from this treacherous land away from these white slavers and possibly someplace where slavery don't exist for nobody. Just like Momma and Daddy would've wanted. I really got a chance at findin' my light at the end of the tunnel, with the man I love.

Love? That word still makes me giddy. I'm still stuck on Albee's hands intertwined in mine and that kiss. That kiss. I felt like I was on cloud nine kissin' Albee. If this is the way Broderick feels for Khadijah, what Momma felt with Daddy, then I definitely feel that for Albee. If I were to do anything for anybody it would be for him.

The plan was simple. Tonight, we serve supper to Master and Mistress as always, except Khadijah and Darla will throw in her extra special delight that'll make her food irresistible. They'll be knocked out so good they won't see it comin'. While they's in a coma, Broderick and Madden will haul 'em up and tie the bodies to their rooms, so in they final hours they can't call out to no overseer or nobody for help as the poison takes over.

Their reign of terror will end once and for all.

Only thing is, ever since the last time we all came together Khadijah's been paranoid 'bout the Masters findin' out. So we agreed to let some weeks pass to develop the plan and gather the tools. Best we wait it out and do it right, then take the plunge and fall on our asses. Everybody's been actin' normal and that means doin' our house and field work as usual, sayin' our "Yessuhs" and "Nossuhs".

Unfortunately as painin' as it is for me, it also means puttin' up with Master Cryer and Mistress Cryer's antics.

"That's a good girl, Mayella." Master Cryer groans out. Master squattin' on the toilet while I hold my breath in and take his third leg into my mouth. I'm 'bout gettin' sick of him and his nasty ass. Literally. But with the plan on my mind, I keep focused. We on the heels of freedom now and can't nothin' slip, so I tell myself I can't let 'em see me act different. Tonight of all nights, I gots to stay focused.

I got to.

He's sweaty all over, tryin' to pump into me as he tickles the last turd out of his winking asshole. Meanwhile I'm flickin' my tongue in all directions, swirlin' the sweaty salty brine of his come from his shaft to the back of my throat in so I can't taste it. Take a deep breath in, dive into the forest of his hairy belly pricklin' my nose, then breathe out. As I do, it hits me that I'm suckin' him of my own free will. Funny how my first time bein' forced into this, I feared for my life. Now I'm sittin' here tryin' to put on the best cock suckin' performance of the hour in the name of freedom.

He grabs my head then and lets out the animalistic grunt of a man reachin' his peak. I sense the flavor of cum burst in my mouth at the same time he squeezes the turd out of his ass with a satisfyin' 'Plop!' into the toilet bowl.

"Aaaah." He sighs to his feet and without a word turns around so his hairy turd-streaked asshole facin' me. I don't say a thing. I pry his ass cheeks apart and press my tongue against his tremblin' hole and get to lickin'. The sour dung taste in his crack don't fail to sting my nostrils but I continue on and lick fast and sloppy like Master likes it till he's satisfied. Then he turns back to me and I wordlessly tuck his dick back into his pants and button 'em back up.

"Wheeew-eee! it's been quite a while since I had you good to myself now, ain't it, niglet? Though I can't complain. Doris taught you well."

He gives one of those deep cackles and the last few months of humiliation play in my mind. These nasty perverts done put me through the wringer but of course he and his wife share their perverted escapades together.

This time though my face don't react. I'm a blank canvas. What woulda made me slump over and cry, feeds the fire lit in my spirit.

"Yessuh." I say in my monotone voice.

"You gon' be spent by the time she get through with you today..."

He struts out the bathroom and crosses over to his bedpost, cacklin' as he goes on. That schemin' evil laughter as he goes on 'bout what he and Mistress got planned for me after supper.

In the corner of my eye I glance at Master from across the room to see if he notices me. He don't. He's talkin' his head off 'bout somethin' Mistress said and slabs more shave cream over his face. I scan the room and make a mental note to myself of where the jewelry, gold, and cash is on the dresser.

"...Tell Darla and Khadijah them pork chops better be hot tonight, not like last time. We'll need a few to get through tonight."

With that Master Cryer leaves the room. He don't even care that I'm still there, like he knows I ain't significant 'nough to do any real damage. But in my head I'm still stewin'.

If all goes well tonight, what Darla and Khadijah are brewin' will be the last thing on their minds.

*************************

After scrubbin' the last trace of Master Cryer off my tongue and body, the fresh air that rushes into me gives me whiplash. A reminder of how long I've been up Master's ass. I notice a rustin' door down the hall creaked open that looks like Old Man Reesus's room. But I can't pay it no mind. I head down to the kitchen and join Khadijah, Johanna, Darla, Albee and Broderick who are all sittin' idle 'round the kitchen island.

"We still on for tonight?" Broderick says, his leg drummin' against his chair, his clammy hands soothin' his sides. Khadijah sighs and all but throws her hands up.

"Yes, Brod, it's still on for tonight. Can y'all be any less discrete? I swear ya'll act like lil kids scared they gon' be caught stealin' candy from the store!" She huffs and we laugh.

"Sorry hon, we's just nervous." Broderick breathes, a huge grin on his face.

"And terrified." Albee exhales.

"And excited." Darla finishes. She wipes the back of her hand on a rag. "But we already look suspicious hunkerin' around the kitchen like this. Let's just recap the plan for tonight and split."

Khadijah shakes her head. "No no no. We not hunkerin' or repeatin' nothin' here. These walls ain't quiet. Somebody could be listenin' in any moment." She glares at me and her eyes soften. "You really think this gon' work, Mayella?"

"I got to," I shrug. "But anybody that knows you and your cookin' knows this 'bout the best chance we got. We all in this together." I put a hand in the middle of the circle. Khadijah joins Johanna next, then the rest until Albee's hand is on top.

"Together!" We throw our hands up in unison.

That seems to relieve Broderick some, who kisses Khadijah on the cheek headin' back for the stables. Albee right on his tail but before he goes, he takes my hand and pulls me towards the door out of sight and earshot. He looks at me with those soft, willowy eyes.

"I couldn't sleep all night, worryin' 'bout all this," He admits bitin' his lip and shufflin' his feet on the floor. His hands intertwine in mine rubbin' my knuckles instinctively. "I never got to properly say it at the stables but I'm so sorry Mayella for what happened to you."

It stings. This is the first time it's been said to me directly, what everybody's known for months now. I shake away the tears that threaten to fall. "Don't be silly, Albee. You ain't gotta apologize for nothin'. We all gettin' screwed over in the end." I say in reference to one of Broderick's many speeches 'bout the inhumanity of slavery.

He shakes his head firmly, "Yes, but this here's different. They...they shouldn't be able to get away with all that they get away with. You've been so quiet and to yourself lately, I should've known, I...I..."

He bites his lip like tears threatenin' to come through. I act fast and wipe his tears quick with the back of my hands, steppin' on my tippy toes, plantin' him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"What's that for?" He says lookin' at me with pleasant shock.

"For carin'," I say, glidin' my fingers over his. He smiles. "And 'cause I like you, Albee. You, your spirit, and your kindness durin' my time here has kept me goin'. I'm grateful to have someone like you."

I blush hard at this. I know I am. But to my surprise, Albee takes my chin in his hand and kisses me. I close my eyes and surrender to him, wrappin' my arms 'round his neck. His kisses feel like a calm wave to my hurricane, our tongues a torrential rain dancin' with the raw need we have for each other. My second kiss with my first love in my arms under this peachy Georgia sun.

"I really like you too, " He breaks off the kiss with a shuddered breath, and I smile. His eyes been closed too. We both relax in each other's arms.

"I hope this plan of mine works, Albee." I whisper, forehead pressed to his.

He pecks my nose, "Me too. That way we can really be free. And my feelings still stand, no matter what." There's a ruckus outside and the worry on his face tells me time is tickin' for both of us.

"Go," I say, untanglin' myself from him. I smile happy tears. "Go on. I'll be here no matter what."

He nods and gives me one last kiss before he goes to join the stable boys.

*************************

When I return to the kitchen, the girls resume their domestic duties like they ain't just huddle close by to listen in on me and Albee. I roll my eyes. My job again is to prep the silverware for supper. To our relief even though it's the first week of Fall it's just gon' be quiet as normal with no additional mouths to feed. The perfect storm for the chaos ahead. I remember the dresser in Master Cryer's room that contains silverware and trod up the stairs where I run right into the scraggly, wrinkle-faced man in charge.

Old Man Reesus. His beady shifty eyes lock on mine like he 'bout near catch me in the middle of doin' somethin' bad but can't place what.

"What you's all doin' out there for?" Old Man Reesus hisses at me. His eyes hone in closely on mine.

I draw in a breath, rememberin' what Khadijah said. "Nothin', we was just workin' on supper." But inside I think, 'Ain't no way this old man gon' hold me back now, not when we so close.'

"Supper not till 6." He says, his tongue hangin' open as he tries to piece everythin' in his head. "Got a whole host of chores that s'posed to be done before then."

"I'll be on my way then." I nod, makin' my way past him. He pauses for a moment like he's reflectin' on somethin'. Almost like a sad memory flash over him as he sees me tread towards Master Cryer's bedroom 'cause when his eyes reach mine again they sullen and droopy.

But whatever's on his mind he don't say aloud.

"Very well then." He says, and lets me walk past him.

I turn the knob to the room when I hear. "Hope you took my advice from before."

"Huh?" I whip my head around.

"'Bout doin' chores." He hesitates. "Keepin' to yourself. That's the only way, Mayella." I almost roll my eyes 'cause I just listened to his lecture a moment ago, but then I stop.

He ain't talkin' 'bout now, he talkin' 'bout the night I got raped by Master - one months and twenty days ago to be exact. Old Man Reesus's last words to me was to figure out how to do chores around here before I got 'got'. I go pale at the realization. It's the first time he's acknowledged that night and he remembers it all too well. And for some reason he seems to be talkin' in code 'bout it. I don't know what to make of it, especially since Khadijah done warned me 'bout Old Man Reesus's traitorous ways.

I don't have an answer for him that ain't a lie or somethin' I'm proud to say. So I just close the door to Master's room behind me.

*************************

Dusk settles and in the dining room, Mistress and Master are makin' a racket, food and wine in their mouths as they chatter on 'bout boring Southern politics. They seem too drunk out of they own minds to notice anything out the ordinary but we's watching. It's just a matter of time before the opportunity strikes. Any minute now I know Broderick and Albee gon' give me their cue.

Supper's here but hardly any one of us is hungry. I thought I'd be relieved that this nightmare's finally gon' come to an end, but instead I feel like there's knots twistin' in my stomach, warnin' me for somethin'.

"Bon appetit." Khadijah says from behind me, squeezing her apron tighter to her form. In the kitchen, she's eyein' Master and Mistress near-gobbling their food down ahead of us. "They sure enjoyin' that meal."

"It's takin' too long!" Darla whines in a hushed but frantic voice. "Khadijah, you sure what you put in there is real poison?"

"Now what else would it be, child, fake poison? Yes, I'm sure of it," Khadijah snaps, clickin' her tongue. She's just as nervous 'bout this whole ordeal as the rest of us and pulls me aside.

"Give 'em this next bowl here," Khadijah says, passing me the dish in her hand. "I've been servin' up their riddance in batches 'cause the poison'll kick in too soon if it's all in one bowl. Can't suspect a thing if they can barely taste it."

The dish in question is a pot of pork chop stew with curled chitlins that Mistress Cryer is particularly fond of. My mind flashes back to memories of cleanin' her tush with my tongue when she'd help herself to stew and potatoes at two in the mornin'. I shake my head vigorously.

"That can't possibly be 'nough then." I say, earning a wicked snort from Johanna. Khadijah shakes her head with an inside smile and adds a few more drops of the skull-labeled poison into the bowl.

"This here's for all of us." She says. "I know you'll do right, but act natural."

"Peachy," I reply, keeping a straight face as I walk into the dining room. The Master and MIstress of Evil look up from gossipin' with smirks on their faces.

"Seconds, already? Ya'll doin' your darned best to earn your rest day today, huh nigra." Mistress Cryer boasts with a pork leg in her mouth. She nudges Master for the stewpot. "Pass me that will you, Cain? No parties today to host, thank goodness. Nigra, go on' and excuse yourselves till we ready for ya'." She shooes me away with her polished fat fingernails.

I don't miss a beat as I head toward the kitchen. But Master stops me.

"C'mon Doris, that ain't no way to talk to the nigra that's been lickin' your backdoor these past few months. What's the rush? Mayella, tell the rest of 'em to sit here and eat with us, in case we need extra mouths to dump in."

"That's all right, Master. Mistress." I say real polite. "We don't wanna disturb ya'll eatin'---"

"Nonsense. Ya'll just eat from the same pot anyway." Mistress sighs. "Go 'head and call Khadijah and 'em up."

No, this wasn't part of the plan. My body is still facin' the Cryers, but my face is wide-eyed at the kitchen, where Darla, Johanna, and Khadijah look back at me with confused expressions. They ain't heard what the Cryers said from all the way over there, but the panic on my face is palpable.

I make a motion with my hands for Khadijah and 'em to come forward with their dishes. They scrunch their brows at me, confused.

"You stuck still again, girl? What's the matter with you?" Master Cryer says, more out of curiosity than anger. The panic releases me for a moment to respond with "Yessuh" before I stutter into the kitchen and shut the dividing door.

"What they say," Johanna asks in a hushed voice. "They ain't ask 'bout the food, did they?"

"No, they askin' us to sit with 'em and eat," I say all cautious. Though we whisperin', I keep my face straight so as not to look suspicious. Darla and Khadijah do their best to keep the same composure.

"They want us...eatin' this food with 'em?" Khadijah asks. I nod.

"They'll have to...use the bathroom eventually...and they need a few more people for it." I explain. It takes a few moments for it to register, and when it does, Johanna twists her face in disgust.

"Eeewww--!"

"Sshhh!" Darla shushes her. She turns to me. "Can't you say we'll come to 'em when they done?"

"Tried that." I say. Khadijah lets out a sigh.

"They gon' get weary if they see us huddled here too long. Let's get these plates on and just do it." She says in decision mode. "There's not a lot in each pot so if we slow enough...it won't hit us as much. We can use some of 'em bush flowers to reverse it."

That seems like a good plan. The four of us nod and file out of the kitchen into the dining room with the remaining food. Four pots of pork chop stew, with slow cooked beef, cobbed corn, curled chitlins, and boiled potatoes sit at our hips.

We each take two ladles of stew, passin' the pots idle 'round the table like some dysfunctional family. Mistress and Master ignore us and continue their conversation.

"I got a post from Nora Kettleton today," Mistress Cryer beams, "The demonstration we had last month rubbed off on her so much, she wants to bring her ol' nigra slave here to be trained as well."

Master snorts. "Ha, that Nora. Always knew she was a bit of a freak." Mistress rolls her eyes while she goes on 'bout my performance with the Chatham County Society women. Whole time I tune out their voices. I realize I'm shakin'. The stew is bubblin' in my pate. I ain't take one bite. S'like everythin' that done happened to me rushing through my head with every laugh and cackle 'cross the table 'bout my humiliating torture. Like the stew, I'm at my boiling point. And I don't know how much more of this I can take.

Just then, Old Man Reesus bends 'round the corner with a tray of waters, "Master, Mistress, it's ten till six and your plates are near empty. Care for some waters?"

Mistress Cryer's stomach gurgles loud as day. "Nothin' from me Reesus, I'm not in the mood for lukewarm waters. Besides my stomach's already fixin' to whip up somethin' for the nigras here. Nigra, hurry up with your food now."

They all lookin' at me now. Everybody. Mistress is hurryin' me up 'cause someone's got to lick her dumper good. But all I can do is stare at my plate. It's a full bowl. I bite my lip as I realize that if I swallow it all down now in one gulp, it's gon' hit way worse like Khadijah said than if I'd just taken tiny gulps durin' they long conversation.

Shoot.

I lift the bowl of stew to my mouth and press it to my lips when it comes. "Mayella?"