Mammy's Black Coochiebycantbuymy©
Keep this in mind; there is some very serious shit in this one.
This is fiction, not reality. Like reading HG Wells, or Dickens, or even Homer and no I don’t mean Simpson, I mean Homer as in the Iliad, so suspend credulity, because if this was a library you would be in the FICTION section.
Just in case you missed it, this deals with interracial relationships in the antebellum south so you are going to see the word nigger quite a lot; if that disturbs you, too fucking bad. This is a love story about a white man and a black woman, so get over it.
If any of this offends your sensibilities then why the hell are you on a sex site?
There is sex but I could just have easily written it without it, but it is an erotic site so I put it in.
Keep this in mind; there is some very serious shit in this one.
Mammy’s Black Coochie
The love of a southern white boy
Now most, make that none, of you don’t realize what is was like in the antebellum south. It was luxury in a way not many other than royalty in Europe imagined. It was beauty and grace and terror. Now if you were not a slave but a slave owner it was beauty and grace and if you were a slave, well you were sort of in deep shit.
Lots of slave owners were just cruel pieces of shit but the worst were the ones who were nice. You see they made slavery seem nice. It made the slaves feel like they were being taken care of and not slaves; they lied to them with a smile but if you did not smile back they showed you the power they had over you.
Now back then the institution – even that word makes it sound acceptable – the institution of slavery had its own rules and language. You were a slave owner but your slaves were niggers. Even the niggers called each other nigger. They found some records going back to Jamestown and it showed a shipment of “niggers” in the 1690’s. Somehow the word was a bastardization of the Spanish for black, so as a class they became niggers and it even morphed into a proper name, as in “nigger get your black ass over here.” It was not right, “it is just the way it was.” “Just the way it was” is a way to pass something off that was wrong, by blaming someone else long gone, for the wrong you do today. And the word “Slave” came from what the Vikings called the Slavs that they took and sold to support the Viking way of life. Funny that a word that now is associated with blacks in fact had its origin in what white Vikings called other white people from central Europe; and the penalty for disobedience used on black slaves was originally used on white slaves. Shit, we fuck everything up with that “Just the way it was” bullshit.
Since this is a story of my life, I am going to tell you that this is just the way it was, but that did not make it right and even I knew that. Later I would go to a place on the “grand tour” that you folks today already know about. They would have a similar saying, but it would be in German. It was in an old but no so important city in Bavaria called Nuremberg. The German equivalent became “we were just following orders.” It did not make what they did right then and it did not make what we did right as I tell you about my life, but it “was just the way it was,” at least for some people.
To be a young white boy you were called Master, and I was Master Lawrence. Not Massa, like the Master of the house was called, but Master, and that still applies today in the south. If I was there and alive now I would be called Master Lawrence, even though there was no Massa, and my family did not own slaves. My mail would be properly addressed to Master Lawrence and I would still get it. That is just the way it was and it is. When I was a young boy I played with the nigger children and ran around and jumped into the river naked and fished and laid on the bank of the river and talked about the clouds and well, I did everything that every country boy got to do. Try reading Huckleberry Finn to find out what it was like to have fun in the summer. But when the day was over I became Master Lawrence again and I dressed in fine clothes and lived in the big house and they, the nigger children that I played with every day, put on rags and lived in the slave quarters; their time for entertaining the young white Master was at an end when I said it was. This was a strange relationship because the minute Master Lawrence became Massa those childhood relationships ended and those who were my friends became my property and there was no longer any friendship. If necessary a Massa would use the whip on a man that played with him as a friend when he was just a boy. Some shit isn’t it?
There were even black slave owners but once Virginia passed it’s laws equating race with permanent slavery, and preventing teaching niggers to read and write, and making it against the law to free a slave unless they immediately left the state, all those black slave owners just went away. I don’t know what happened to them, but they were from my childhood. After I became an adult I never again heard about black slave owners.
I am telling you about this so that the rest of my life makes some since to you. But I digress, so let me continue with my younger years.
So in a way I kept them from work but only for a while. Niggers were not cheap and had to be worked constantly to justify the investment. Food, clothing, shelter; even their health was taken care of, even if they were not well taken care of. But back then none of it was taken care of, and medical care was primitive even if you were rich. Then you had to work them harder to justify the expense. Then you needed overseers, an entire industry was built around slaves and it was damn expensive, especially when you think of the luxury they had to support and the style that the slave owning class was living. There were the punishers and chasers. We worked them harder and harder and to justify the expense but they wore out and worked less and less; so they were punished more and more and they became injured and disheartened and worked less and less. Then new niggers were needed and they were even more expensive that they last bunch, especially since the United States banned their importation almost as soon as it became a country but it was not effective until 1807. There was this fiction that was used to get around that but slaves now cost more and they had to be taken care of and they had to work more and more to justify what was being spent to buy and feed them and they worked less and less because they were beaten more and more. Hell even I could see this was not working very well; but I kept my mouth shut. That is why I decided never to own slaves and would instead become a capitalist, but they did not call it that back then; yea right.
Like all rich white boys I had a Mammy. I loved my Mammy and she was like my black mother. She was the source of life for me. I sucked her big ole black tits for milk when I was a baby, because my white mother would not dare to be seen with a child on her tit. Funny that a drop of black blood in your body made you a nigger, but you could feast for years on the fluid of Mammy’s tits and you were still white. And when I was bad Mammy would spank me but not hard. If I needed a really hard spanking she would beat the shit out of one of the nigger kids I played with because I was not to be beaten. I grew up calling her Mammy and called my mother “Mother” and I never got them confused.
Now the first pussy a good southern man see’s is probably black and it probably belongs to his Mammy. He sucked her tits for milk and when he was an adult he expected to have some good black coochie to play with but not his Mammy’s, she is special. She is almost white as far as he is concerned. When he became Massa he would beat the shit out of the niggers who disobeyed him but would cry in shame if his Mammy showed even the slightest disappointment in him.
Now I did see her coochie by accident the first time and I would look at it when I could catch her. When she went to the river and washed, I would sneak down and look. I liked that shiny black slit and that curly hair, it was a wonder to me, but she was my Mammy and there was just something that put me off on doing her; but I never quit thinking about nigger coochie. And I saw the young woman’s coochie too, all smooth and black, when we went swimming at the river, because we all swam naked, and I know I could have had as much as I wanted but I wanted to go away and learn how first. I mean I wanted my Mammy to be proud of me; even if she was the only nigger I wanted to be proud of me. If I got some black coochie I wanted my Mammy to think I did it right.
[Mammy: “He was ok as far as a white boy is ok. He could have been worse and here I was feeding him from my body. I guess I loved him and he loved me, but there was a line, he was white and I was a slave. But the nasty little bastard kept following me around and looking at my coochie, even when I washed at the river. If I could I would have smack the shit out of his little white ass, but then I would get the cat and would half bleed to death, if not actually die. Damn I hate being a slave. I have been bred like an animal so that I would produce milk to feed some white stranger’s child. I don’t even have a choice about who I have sex with, and if they are white, I have to open my legs and pretend I love it. Damn I hate being a slave.”]
Part of my training to become Massa included me having a nigger of my own to lord it over. So for my fourteenth birthday my father, the real Master of the house told me to pick one out. The word went out that Master Lawrence would pick a nigger for himself. It was not expected to be a good day for that nigger. First slaves did not do all that well. They were usually harshly treated because the young Master did not know what he was doing. I took a female slave, Eugenia was her name. She was Mammy’s daughter and Mammy was not happy about it; but I had known Eugenia all our lives and I had a method to my madness. Well so much for never being a slave owner.
[Mammy: “At first I was upset that Master Lawrence took my daughter, Eugenia, for his first slave. This is the same little shit that would watch me as I washed my coochie in the river. This was not a good thing for anyone. But I could tell he was not going to hurt her. They had fed on the same tit, and he was a little angry when I had her and that she was using ‘his’ Mammy’s tit for milk. At first I thought he might try to hurt her, he was that angry but after a while he seemed to just be curious. It was not hard to remember that he was only three and he had never seen a baby before and not a black baby anyway. He would just squat down and look at her and sometimes would gently touch her with his finger. After a while she would just smile when she heard his voice or was able to see him enough to identify him. Soon he was being protective of her so maybe it was a good thing he took her. At least I don’t think he would ‘share’ her with his friends and brothers. Eventually my baby would come to learn she was his property, like she just learned today, and as property he could do with her what he wished. It will be a hard lesson; there is a great difference between a childhood friend who is white and that same friend owning you.”]
On the day of presentation I was given her hand and told that I now owned her, she was mine. I was also given a paper and it was registered at the county hall of records that she was now mine and she was my responsibility. She was made to recite that she was my nigger now and that she would be mine until I released her. She was only eleven and I did not want her branded yet, so I chained her with my mark. She wore a slave chain around her neck with my mark on it so everyone would know she was mine. But she was mine so I also had to take care of her. I had to work her so she was productive and make sure she was cared for and healthy too. My father made me pay, out of my allowance, for her food and clothing and shelter. I earned my money by working the plantation; ok it was not slave work, but I had to learn how it was run. But I got to charge the plantation for the work she did for it.
[Eugenia: “I was now officially his. I don’t really know what is going to happen but I have heard some very bad stories about first slaves and especially girl slaves. I know he has known to all my life but that can change in an instant. I can be beaten or even killed for anything I do wrong. But still, would Master Lawrence do anything like that to me? You can’t be sure with white people. I am still owned, and that much is the same. Mammy is not happy with this but she can do nothing about it. I am afraid but I don’t know what I am afraid about; just afraid.]
A sick nigger was not a working nigger so like mother had to do when there was sickness in the slave quarters, I had to go down if Eugenia was sick. I had to make sure she had enough food to eat, and enough clothes to wear to be healthy. I quickly learned that she cost more than she made for me. Being a slave owner sucked but not as bad as being a slave.
So there were a few times when there was fever going around and Mammy would come and tell me and I would go down and look after Eugenia. I had to use cool compresses on her forehead and spoon feed her broth just like mother did when the fevers broke out. I always thought it was strange that mammy did not look after her own daughter but since she was my nigger I had to do it. Mammy said I had to learn to do it. This slave ownership thing was not working out financially. I could do better if I worked Eugenia harder but we get back to that thing I originally said, she would become too tired, would get sick, not work, then I could beat her and she would work less. If anything this reinforced my belief that an idiot thought this system up. Then I realized that this was going on for thousands of years and no one really thought it up, they just did it. And then we get back to “it is just the way it was.”
Then there were the two times my nigger almost died. Now you have to understand my mind set. I grew up with her, played with her as a child and when I took her for my slave it was because I was older but I also had a child’s understanding of relationships. I wanted to be a good Massa and that means being a good Master first. Twice she had the fever real bad. The first time it got bad I took her in my arms and carried her almost a mile to the river and then I got her naked and me too and I carried her into the cold running water. I remember I was crying because I thought I was going to lose her. I was freezing but if I let her go then she might float out into the main part of the river and drown so I had to hold her until her fever went down. It was hours. My Mammy sat on the bank and just shook her head but she did not seem angry. Her temperature went down and I saved her life and almost got sick myself. But when she finally cooled down and I looked into her eyes I knew that she understood that I was the one who saved her. I told Mammy to go to the big house and get me some blankets and she did and I carried my nigger home, her home in the slave quarters, with a blanket around us. She was my nigger and I needed her to get and stay warm. My father charged me for the blanket. If it had been for me he would not have cared but it was my nigger who got it so there was a charge.
[Eugenia: “I can’t remember how it started. It just seems that Master Lawrence was being very good to me. I was his practice nigger, but he was very good, but he had always been very good to me. I do remember the fever, the first time it was really bad. He tried to get me to drink but I kept throwing up. I felt bad that the food was wasted, there was so little of it. Then he put cool water on me but I was burning with fever. Mammy had gotten him but she had others to work on and I was his nigger. When the fever got too high he actually picked me up and walked almost a mile to the river carrying me in his arms. He was always strong. He was talking to me but I could not understand what he was saying, just that his voice was soft and kind. My entire body hurt but I tried not to complain. When we got to the river he stripped down and did the same to me, just like we did when we were little kids. He carried me into the river. I remember that he was crying but I don’t know why. He had to hold me there in the shallows so I would not be swept away. The cool water made me feel better. I was just so hot and I could see him shivering as he held me close. He even poured cold water on my face and hair. He would talk to me so soft and low, right into my ear. Finally I relaxed and fell asleep. The next thing I remember was being in bed and my clothes were on a nail but I had a new blanket over me. I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me. He was worried but his face was so kind. I knew then that he had saved my life and I would have died without him.”]
But this was not the last time I had to save her. It happened again when we both got sick and despite my illness I carried her back to the river this time to save us both. This being a slave owner was a lot harder than I thought it would be and expensive too.
There are two kinds of slave masters and I was the worst sort because I was kind. I made slavery seem palatable. I did not beat her and/or rape her, I was kind to her, I protected her, I gave her false hope that life would be good for her when she only had misery to look forward to. She worked with Mammy because I wanted her too. My father thought it was a good use of my nigger because she would not be wasted in the fields too early, that would come later, and house niggers were good to have too. I was not sure what to do with my nigger so I let Mammy train her. Her life was mine to do with as I saw fit and I told her to do what Mammy told her to do and to learn about raising babies and taking care of them, one day I would come back and get married and she would care for my children.
I went on to school in Atlanta and then New Orleans for a little French culture and lastly I went to Europe for refinement. Back then, before all that unpleasantness, we did that tour of Europe to round us out and to whore around where respectable southern women would not see us doing it and be offended and then they could feel ok about marrying us in the south. After all, a good southern man did not want some Yankee Bitch with no breeding, what he wanted was a good southern woman, a gentlewoman.
When it was time to leave to further my education I went to Atlanta first and saw the whores but they bothered me. I did keep coming back to the plantation to check on my nigger and Mammy said she was doing fine and learning all about birthing babies. I would talk to her and maybe bring her a dress or something. Nothing fine, she was a nigger, but that way I did not get charged by father for his giving her clothes.
[Eugenia: “Master Lawrence would leave to go to the big city and learn to become a man. I cried when he left, I really missed him. Mammy told me to not get my hopes up about anything, and she could see what I was going through. Mammy told me that at most Master Lawrence would use me like other white men used niggers, and that was all I could expect with my life. She told me to quit being foolish and quit thinking like a fool. I was his property and I would never be anything else. I did not care what I was to him as long as I could be near him. He must think of me better than that, he keeps coming home to check on me and brings me things that the other slaves don’t have. Mammy says he is getting ready to use me, but I don’t care.”]