New Orleans 1812
Chapter One
Jacques Du Bourg awoke from his restless sleep and shifted uncomfortably in the large four-post bed. Immediately, his thoughts drifted to his beloved Celeste. He never slept soundly when she was not by his side. He was hopelessly in love with the beautiful slave woman who captured his heart.
Unfortunately, their love was forbidden. Claude, Jacques' father forbade the relationship to continue, although in vain. His father demanded that Jacques follow in his footsteps, go off to war, taking over his sugar plantation, and eventually marrying, to a Caucasian woman, nonetheless.
With a lazy groan, he rose and sat on the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the cool, wooden floor. He imagined life without Celeste as he starred into the abyss of the pitch black room. His life would be just that. Pitch black, nothing else would matter. He shuddered at the thought. Closing his eyes, he briefly recalled the heated conversation between he and his father.
* * * *
"It is not permissible Jacques. I forbid you to carry on with Celeste as you do. What will others think? I suggest you end it, now!"
"Father, I mean you no disrespect. I will not end my relationship with Celeste. I love her."
"You know not what you say son." Claude placed a hand on his son's shoulder, sympathizing with he lad. Jacques was stubborn, a trait inherited from his mother, Alexandrine who passed a year ago.
"Simply use her Jacques to ease your sexual desires until you find a woman you are meant to be with. Even then, you can still continue to sate your lust with Celeste." Claude's words were cold and harsh.
"No father. Celeste means much more than a simple night's passion."
"That is my worry boy. Most masters visit their slave women in the night, in slave's quarters. But you—You must go to the extreme, bringing her into your bed, and our home! Surely the other slaves speak of your trysts with her. Not to mention the fact, she is five years your senior. Not a good mix, I assure you. This will end in nothing but tragedy!"
"Father, twenty-seven is not beyond my reach. She is a beautiful woman. Why do you not give her a chance? Why can you not see, I love her?"
Jacques saw the tortured, concerned look within his father's eyes. "My, son. Such a young, foolish boy you are. Claude cupped his son's face between his large hands. Look around you. This is America. Would you proudly parade around with her attached to your arm in the streets of New Orleans?" Jacques hung his head, knowing he and Celeste would never be accepted, not in this land. In France, they'd have a chance, most likely there would be very few couples like them. Looks would follow them everywhere, but marriage would be legal.
"If you care for her as you claim to, you will not carry this any further. There are some who would not hesitate to kill her on sight if you flaunted your feelings for her in the public eye."
"Then, I shall return to our homeland with her. America is cruel compared to our beloved France. You know that father." Claude stroked his gray beard, admiring his son's persistence.
"I fear for you. I truly do. Many do not tolerate the mixing of the races. I, myself would never go as far as the other slave-owners. I treat my slave well. I don't believe in the brutality many owners subject their slaves to. I can assure you, harm may come to you both Jacques."
"Such stupidity. Why is it perfectly well for a married man to bed a slave woman? Why sneak off into the night, to slave quarters to satisfy lustful yearnings? I find it cowardly! Why should a man, such as myself hide his feelings towards the woman he loves?"
"How dare you talk to me in such a manner? Are you insinuating that I'm a coward? I was once in such a predicament as yourself, a year after your mother and I settled this land!"
"I know father, mother often told me how it pained her, knowing you ventured off to the slave quarters in the night. How can that be right?"
"I was young then, my son. I loved your mother, but could not resist the temptation of beautiful dark skin. What was I to do, dismiss Alexandrine? She was my wife."
"Did you love the slave girl you were with?" Jacques peered deep into his father's eyes, forcing Claude to shift his weight on his other foot. Eventually, the man turned, slowly walking towards the window.
"I loved Adelaide," Claude hung his head in shame. I could not help myself, I loved both women. Adelaide often accompanied me to the market, keeping her distance behind me. Pretty soon, our relationship was discovered. Somehow, she was lynched."
"Why have you waited until now to share this with me?" Couldn't you have protected Adelaide?"
"Someone, perhaps another slave murdered her in the night. Do you wish the same fate to befall you and Celeste?"
"You mean to tell me, you never knew who murdered her?"
"Alas my son, no. I was devastated. Since then, never have I fallen into the arms of another slave woman. It is forbidden and unnecessary. The heartache it brought about could have been avoided."
"Things will be different for Celeste and I."
"I see there is no use in speaking of this matter further. You have been warned Jacques. I leave it up to you." Claude turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving Jacques to his thoughts.
* * * *
Jacques slowly rose to his feet, stretching taut muscles. It was well past the time for him to meet Celeste at the slave quarters. He would then accompany his lady to his house, and eventually, his bed. His cock stiffened as he imagined taking his time and unwrapping her like a long awaited present. The need to feel his skin against hers was overwhelming. .
Wasting no time, Jacques strolled out his room and down the small corridor and out the back door of the house. The blasted floor boards creaked with his weight, making him cringe. God knows, he didn't need to hear father's arguments tonight, however, he didn't want an ear pressed against his door, either. Once outside, warm summer air greeted him and his heart raced in anticipation of seeing Celeste again.
Ahead in the distance, she stood. A smile slowly crossed her face and her eyes lit up. Jacques heart thudded wildly against his chest as he came closer to his beloved.
"Jacques!" Celeste flung herself against his hardened chest. He towered over the petite slave girl by inches. Her head rested comfortably against the center of his chest. Her small arms entwined around his waist, sending electrifying currents throughout his body. He could never love another, he thought.
Slowly, he bent down, tasting her full lips. A moan escaped his lips as he inhaled her natural body scent. Their tongues dueled in a sacred dance, fueling the fire for what was to come.
He picked her up in his arms, and headed towards the manor until Celeste protested.
"Take me in the field." Celeste enjoyed making love outdoors. They had on many occasion made love next to the river, or in the woods, hidden from the view of others.
"No." Jacques voice was firm, and husky. "I wish to have you in my bed tonight my love." He grew impatient with each exciting moment. The warmth of his bed called to him. Celeste pouted, in hopes to change the man's mind, but he stood firm.
"What makes you think you can coerce me into giving in to you?" Jacques planted a kiss on the luscious lips that would soon offer him pleasure in the most erotic of ways. She melted him on the inside, using her power of persuasion, but his will was strong, he refused to allow her to sway him. Of course, she was just toying with him. If she really was hell bent on bending his will, she would, he was certain.
"Oh Jacques." She nuzzled her head against his chest, and his pulse soared at the crackling energies their bodies summoned when locked in a tight embrace.
"My sweetest Celeste, I wish to awaken in a warm bed to you in la petit matin, The early morning." Jacques quickened his pace as his engorged cock sought freedom from his trousers. Freedom, planted firmly within Celeste's core.
Arriving to his room, and once inside, Jacques gently sat Celeste on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees, he slowly hoisted her skirts up, reveling in the smoothness of her skin. Her legs were strong and well defined, from all the years of working in her former masters' fields. She became a house servant once Claude purchased her from another slave trader.
Slowly, Jacques ran his hands lovingly up Celeste's thighs, eliciting soft moans from her lips. He loved it when she repeatedly called his name as her arousal heightened. Her musky feminine scent accosted his nostrils and he groaned. Further, his hands journeyed to the spot he so craved of his beloved.
