All characters are at least 18 years old. This is a story about the old South, before the Civil War. It is a departure from most of my stories. It involves both incest and interracial sex. Some of the dialogue may offend some of you, but you need to get over it. People talk how they talk(ed). The Plantation, Part 1
The Plantation, Part 1
1854
Twelve year old Rachel Claiborne had sneaked out of the big house and run toward the slave cabins. She was careful not to let anyone see her because she wasn't allowed to get out of the yard and she certainly wasn't allowed to go near the slave cabins. Occasionally, especially when she was younger, she and the slave children were permitted to play together in the yard or on one of the big porches. As the black children got older, however, they were expected to work all day, either in the fields or with various chores in the big house.
Rachel was hoping to find her favorite playmate, Charles, a slave boy only a few months older than her. He usually worked around the house, but lately had been required to accompany the other slaves to the huge cotton fields. When he had worked at the big house, they often found time to be alone if Rachel's father, Thomas Claiborne, was away from the plantation on business. Her mother, Verina, was a beautiful, but sickly, woman who spent several hours a day in bed. This gave Rachel and Charles time to play together if they were careful to stay out of sight of the other house slaves, particularly the cook, Jemima.
Rachel's 15 year old brother, Robert, was ambivalent. He had observed how the slaves were treated and wondered about the institution of slavery. He often heard his father discussing the issue with other plantation owners who sometimes came to call. He was aware that there was political unrest throughout the nation and that there was even talk of the southern states forming their own nation. He had asked his tutor, Mr. Granderson, what he thought about the issue. Mr. Granderson told him that issues larger than slavery were the issue, that the Constitution of the United States guaranteed the individual states the right to govern themselves and to make their own decisions about most issues, including slavery. No state or group of states had the right make laws for other states. He opined that slavery would eventually die out. Only a small percentage of southerners even owned slaves. But, said Mr. Granderson, allowing abolishment of slavery would open the floodgate for the federal government to take away more states' rights by passing legislation that might benefit some states and hurt others.
When Rachel had showed Charles a book that her father had given her for Christmas a few years previously, she had been distraught that Charles could not read. Not a word. He was embarrassed, but told her that none of the slaves could read. Furthermore, it was prohibited for them to learn. Rachel started teaching Charles the alphabet - he called them his "letters" - intending to then try to teach him to read. Even though she never breathed a word of this to anyone, Jemima had caught young Charles reciting his letters and had reported it to Verina. Verina had severely warned Rachel that she was putting the boy in severe danger of a whipping by her father. Rachel had seen the results of a slave whipping. They carried the scars for the rest of their lives. She couldn't imagine a grown man, probably the overseer, whipping her young friend. When she and Charles had privacy, she warned him that it had to be their secret and that nobody else could know.
Charles was eager, however, to learn to read. Rachel was just as eager to teach him. Even though she had always lived on the plantation and had always been waited on hand and foot by black slaves, she didn't think it was right. How could a human own another human? She tried talking to her father about it. He laughed at her and told her that she had no idea how the world worked and that white folks were naturally superior, in intellect, to blacks. Blacks, however, were created to be able to work in the hot sun. They didn't have enough sense to be able to take care of themselves. They were, more or less, animals. Rachel became more determined than ever to teach Charles everything she knew about reading and also about arithmetic. She found that Charles learned quickly and soon could read almost as well as she could. He could do ciphers in his head better than she could. It was such a shame that he had to keep it a secret.
On this cool, fall day, Rachel crept through the trees near the slave cabins. Suddenly she saw her friend motioning for her to go deeper into the woods, down toward the river. She did so and soon he joined her.
"What you doin' down heah?" he gasped. "You gon get us bof in trouble. You get me a beatin'."
She giggled, shaking her blonde tresses. Her blue eyes glittered. Charles thought she must be the prettiest girl on earth. "I don't have any friends, Charles. Except you. I just love talking to you. Did you finish that book I gave you?"
"Miss Rachel, you can't be sayin stuff like that. We can't be friends. You own me. Or you will, one day. That's jus the way things be. You have to stop sneakin down round dese cabins. Stay up where you spose be."
"I'm not 'Miss Rachel' to you, Charles. Just Rachel. And we are friends. And if I ever really own you, I'm setting you free, along with all the other slaves. I don't care if I have a thing left!" she said, tears coming into her eyes. "It's not right, Charles. I sit in that big house doing nothing and you're working all day in the hot sun. And then you have to live in a run-down shack. I hate it!"
"Miss Rachel, you mighty good to me. You a good person. Ain't many white folk like you, but I hear tell that up No'th, they be a lot of white people what want to free de slaves. Make us all free. They may even be a war."
"Abolitionists. That means they want to abolish slavery. Get rid of it. They're all over. There's even some down here. When I get grown I'm gonna be one, too!"
She reached and took Charles' hand and held it in her dainty little white hand. "One of these days, Charles, it's not gonna be like this."
Charles' heart raced. When he thought about how pretty Rachel was, he had feelings that were unfamiliar and which he could not have explained. Now she was holding his hand and he felt an overwhelming urge to pull her to him, to put his arms around her and hold her close to him. He even wondered what it might be like to kiss this young, pretty white girl. He could not allow himself to have these feelings; he knew that. He gently released her hand and got up.
"I gotta get back to the patch. They be wondering where I be. Be careful, Miss Rachel. You a good person." And with that, he was gone.
*****
June, 1860
Rachel Claiborne had just turned 18 years old. She was widely known as the belle of the county. Tall, slender, graceful, with golden blonde hair and shimmering blue eyes, an impossibly small waist, and a bust that drew the attention of every man, she was, quite simply, a gorgeous woman. She had had many gentleman callers since the age of 15, but she wasn't really interested in any that she had met, so far.
Rachel's main goal in life was a secret to all but a few people with whom she corresponded and her friend, Charles, a slave that she rarely even saw anymore. She read every newspaper that she could get her hands on and was well aware of the political situation in the country. Some states, including her home state of Mississippi, were threatening to secede from the Union. Rachel didn't much care about the Union, one way or the other. She saw the states as independent countries that had banded together for common goals. She realized, too, that most people in the southern states didn't have any slaves and weren't likely to go to war to preserve it. She, like most southerners, saw her state as her country. But even people who didn't own slaves didn't want people up north deciding what their individual states could or could not do. That was something that men would fight about. Rachel was eager for war. Anything that might, in the end, rid the country, or state, of this terrible evil of slavery, was fine with her.
One day, knowing that her father was away on business, and her mother was in bed sick, she decided she would take a walk down by one of the barns. She was always on the lookout for Charles, but she rarely ever saw him anymore. She might catch a glimpse of him from time to time, but they hardly ever got to have even a minute's conversation. Rachel was very sad that she couldn't talk to her childhood friend; that she lived in a society where, even though she was considered Charles' superior, she wasn't allowed to even converse with him or say a kind word to him.
Occasionally she would very carefully make her way down to the cotton field, hoping to watch her old friend from the fence row or tree line, where she would not be detected. Charles was tall and muscular and extremely handsome. Every time Rachel saw him, she felt a deep longing for him that she knew was forbidden. She found herself imagining being with him. Kissing his lips, holding him close, allowing him access to her bountiful breasts. These things she would think about when she was alone in her bed. She didn't know exactly what to call the delightful feeling that she could give herself by pinching her nipples and touching herself between her legs, but she couldn't get enough of it, and she always thought of Charles when she did it. She loved just watching him. He didn't know she was there, of course, but she was admiring his firm muscles and how strong he was and how athletic his movements were. Just watching him made her nipples hard and made her tingle between her legs.
Rachel was almost completely ignorant of a grown man's anatomy. She had watched farm animals breed and was particularly interested in watching horses breed. When the stallion mounted the mare, his long, thick horse cock would emerge. That made Rachel tremble with lust, imagining that Charles must possess an organ of similar shape, but of course of much smaller size. Still, it would do the same thing. Sometimes the stallion would slip out too soon and great gushes of thick, white stuff would spurt out onto the ground. Rachel knew that this was how the stallion impregnated the mare. She wondered what it would be like to have a man (Charles!!) mount her and spurt his thick cream inside her. Or, even better, on her - she didn't want to get pregnant! She thought that she would prefer to have him lay between her legs and kiss her and look in her face instead of mounting her like an animal.
On this day, as Rachel walked beside the barn, she suddenly heard sounds coming from inside. She paused, and lay her head against the side of the barn to hear better. She could hear people talking, very low, but could not make out anything they said.
She crept to the ladder that led into the loft of the barn and very deliberately and quietly made her way upward. When she got into the loft, she could make out voices, though they were still indistinct. Step by silent step she gradually came closer to the source of the voices, which were now directly below her. She quietly lay down on some loose hay, and managed to look below through a crack between boards of the loft flooring.
Charles! Charles and a young black woman named Peg. Peg, so it was rumored, was the daughter of Rachel's own father. She wasn't the only one. There were a number of slaves that Thomas Claiborne had sired, or so the rumor went. Charles and Peg were naked. Rachel could clearly see the young woman's pert breasts and trim figure. Though Rachel experienced overwhelming jealousy, she immediately realized that there was nothing unusual about this. Very few of the slaves ever got married because the slave masters didn't hesitate to break up families when they bought and sold slaves. Rachel could see how very desirable this young woman must be to Charles and she could easily understand the attraction. Charles, she knew, was 19, and she imagined that Peg must be a year or two older. Most slave girls had given birth before this age. Rachel wondered if the slaves had any qualms at all about what age they started having sex. Why would they? They hardly had any pleasure in life. No wonder that they sometimes were having children when they were 13 or 14 years of age.
Charles was kissing Peg's breasts and she was obviously loving it. He was on all fours, over the top of her, alternately kissing her mouth and then delving down to kiss her throat, her upper chest, and her breasts. Rachel knew from the way Peg reacted that this would be incredibly thrilling. She could feel herself beginning to get wet between her legs and determined to watch every moment.
"Charlie, I lub you babee. Oh you makin' me feel so good. Suck my titties, Baby. Oh that so good," Peg moaned.
