CONTENT WARNING: This story contains depictions of American slavery, racism, use of the N word, and situations that could be considered non-consensual/reluctant. If you do not want to read those topics, you have been warned.
This is a piece of historical fiction. Though inspiration was drawn from slave narratives, it does not claim to accurately represent plantation life in the antebellum South.
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Mmmm, here she comes. Some solace on this sunny day. A respite from my backbreaking labor. The sumptuous, delectable, creamy white beauty Massa keeps locked away in the Big House. Delicate, delicious, and most of all unattainable.... Delilah.
"Good Day, Miss Abernathy," I greeted when the pale nymph's carriage drew past.
We slaves had all taken off our hats, as we always did when the Master's family was near. Forgetting these manners around Delilah, his only daughter, was grounds for an immediate lashing and no one dared misstep. We had to treat her like she was the Virgin Mary herself, and virgin she was....
She'd had her menses years ago and was now at the courting age of 18. I'd heard talk of the neighboring plantation owners' sons vying for her hand, but none had yet won her heart. Nor had they her Father's, the keeper of the keys to the candy pink kingdom.
"Hi, Big Pete!" she chirped whilst rolling past.
I puffed out my chest, proud to be the only slave she addressed. And by my nickname no less, which I'll admit was most assuredly appropriate. If one thing's true, it's that I'm a Big Nigga. In fact it's my size that first caught Massa's eye.
"Strong as an ox," he said. "Can do more work than three niggas," he said.
Of course that just meant more toilin' for me. More life suckin', sweat pourin', goddamn miserable labor. I could never meet Massa's count at weigh in, and no matter how hard I worked my back met the whip. He expected me to pick more cotton than humanly possible, but his unjust punishment did far from motivate. And all this hell just for some goddamn cotton. White gold he called it, that bastard plant....
As the young Miss Abernathy continued past, a parasol over her bouncing curls to protect her porcelain skin, I noticed she'd dropped something. It was glittering like a star in the dirt.
"Miss Abernathy, you dropped this!" I called out as I ran to pick it up, but she was already gone.
The lost object was an earring set with a dazzling teardrop ruby, a stone the likes of which I'd never seen. I stared at the oriental gem as it reflected a bloody mirage around me and briefly considered pocketing the prize, for its beauty was otherworldly. But I knew that risk was far too great; theft was a crime worthy of death! I was in a dilemma though, for I also feared telling Massa cuz he'd surely think I stole it! But if I didn't, he'd interrogate us all til we spilled! God damn this demon slavery! Damn it to hell! There is no winning in the South for a nigga like me.
My fate was sealed the day I was born to my slave mother. She was a bright quadroon, the product of a white beast raping her mulatto mother. Fortunately I had less of the devil's blood in me cuz my Papa was Black as night. He was sold off 'fore I was even born, but with me I carry that dark complexion, and of it I am proud.
The real difficulty was going to be finding a moment to speak with Delilah alone. She was always with a caretaker, and if she was caught talking to a slave it'd be mighty scandalous! God must've been looking out for me though, because the next day around noon the perfect opportunity arose.
I was out washing tools in a stream, my raggedy pants and shirt discarded, when the little missus' dainty white ass came traipsin' down the riverbank. I didn't hear her coming and was surprised when I looked up.
"Oh! Miss Abernathy! You startled me!"
I dipped into the river so as not to embarrass the lass with my naked state.
"Hi, Big Pete!" she giggled, staring at me all curious-like.
I wondered how long she'd been standing there watching me, and if she'd seen, well... Big Pete!
"What are you doin' up there, Miss Abernathy?" I asked.
"Hehehe! Oh nothing! Just on an afternoon stroll..."
"All alone?" I followed up, not to frighten her, but rather for my own safety. I wouldn't dare be caught in a situation like this; it'd be the scandal of the century!
"Yes, all alone," she replied, still giggling like a coquette.
Delilah was never by herself, especially not down by the river, so I had to wonder if she had an ulterior motive. I saw the way she was lookin' at me, her expression so intrigued, almost as if she wanted to see more....
I took a huge risk, inferring that the girl had snuck off to catch a glimpse of me bathing. She was at that age now, the age where a girl needs a man, and it seemed my masculine body may have stirred something within her. So I tested my theory and slowly rose out of the water.
First came my cannonball shoulders, corded in thick muscles. They were attached to bulbous biceps and hefty pectorals, all cultivated through years of blood-letting labor, the likes of which her white kinfolk had never endured. She had likely never seen a body so thoroughly worked, so strong and muscled, and it seemed to spark in her a primal lust.
Delilah's blue eyes turned black and her cheeks flushed red as all six of my abdominal muscles came into view, coupled with my cut V lines. Some of the slave girls I messed around with were well acquainted with my body and said those muscles were their favorites. Because, of course, they pointed to...
"OH!"
Delilah's saucer eyes couldn't keep away from my swinging flesh as it lifted out of the stream. Big and Black, I was sure she'd never seen anything like it, if any man's at all! Well lucky for her, her first would be a specimen to admire.
With the life I've had, you don't feel bad boasting about the few blessings you've got. And blessed I am!
My long black serpent is as big as the rest of me, truly capping off my nickname. The massa balked when he first saw it, taken aback by its virility, but the slave trader promised I would sire generations of strong Black niggas. Massa then happily purchased me, a smug grin on his devil face as he considered the wealth he could squeeze from me. But now it was my turn to be smug.
"Is there something you need from me, Miss Abernathy?"
Staring at her well-blossomed bosom and corset-pinched waist drew blood to my nether region. I took a calm breath, focusing my energy into my phallus, making him grow and contort until fully turgid. Now standing proud as a lion, Black as the berries around the us, he pointed directly at the young missus.
"Oh my! Um...." She was biting her lip, squirmin' her sweet thighs back and forth. "P-please, Big Pete, c-call me Delilah."
"You sure, Miss Abernathy? I wouldn't wanna be inappropriate."
I slowly began stroking my shaft, more out of instinct than anything. She couldn't stop staring at it, utterly entranced.
"Y-yes, Pete, it's quite alright. I feel as though it would be less formal."
"Okay, Delilah, if that's what you wish." We stood for another minute, totally silent as she watched me stroke. "And tell me now, Delilah, why is it you wish for us to be on less formal terms?"
"Oh! Ummm...." By the way she was looking at me I knew the answer. "Y-you've just been with us for a long time now and I love you like family!"
"Mmmmm, is that right, girl? You love me?"
We were still standing our ground, about 15 feet apart, and the tension couldn't have been thicker.
"Y-yeah! I do like you Pete!"
