tagInterracial LoveA Plantation's Secrets Ch. 03

A Plantation's Secrets Ch. 03


She was mad — no, "mad" was the wrong word. Humiliated. That, she thought, was more like it. And someone would have to pay.

Heeding Abraham's instruction, she'd risen in the dead of night and climbed out of bed, only her nightgown keeping her from the chill of the cold. She'd crept downstairs, and the pained creaking of the wood panels could have been born from her own body, her muscles still sore from her time with Abraham the day before, a moment she knew had changed her life forever.

What little worry she had, perhaps, was more for Mae than for Mr. Banks. It almost humored her to recall him during the war's final days, bands of horses left roaming free in search of their dead owners, stomping and neighing, and men crying out on from the corners of the battlefield only miles away, and never could the old man be risen from his sleep. Yet Mae — Mae might hear her. It was a risk she was willing to take. . .

Outside the moon was a crescent of piercing brightness, and as she approached the barn where she'd so often watched Abraham bathe, so often — if only in the back of her mind — wished to be with him, it seemed as if the moon's illumination was centered upon it, as if nature had emphasized the desire which took root in her mind.

The horses were either asleep or nibbling hesitantly on hay, and no other person was in sight. A sack left by the new man, Jebediah, lay beside the wall of a stable, near Abraham's own. A wind picked up her gown and she held it down with her hands, shivering like a child, and she realized how idiotic she looked here, alone, amongst the horses; she'd been a made a fool of. In a moment she turned to go home, and she did not look back, for the moment for her had been lost; the embarrassment was simply too great.

She would be fast asleep when the two men reappeared later that night after a long walk in the fields. Even when the night patrol had been active rounding up fugitive slaves, they never ventured into the fields (for why would a slave on the run take himself to that place which he sought to escape?), and certainly now that those days were over, the fields themselves were excellent as a place to get away, if only for a private conversation.

"A few weeks," Jebediah was saying as they reentered the barn. "And then it's on to the next one. That stands for both of us."

Abraham was tired; he'd heard his brother speaking all night on the matter, that he was somehow caught up with Caroline, taken by her — that if he'd already planted his seed in her womb, there was no more need for their being on the plantation. He had other thoughts.

"We can't be certain I got the job done, Jeb. "Besides — she doesn't realize she's owned yet. Doesn't realize she's mine. That's half the job, you taught me that yourself."

Jebediah, with an odd show of grace and strength, grabbed the rear of a horse in a stable, pulled it backward and planted himself in the stack of hay it had been chewing from. "This horse here," he said, pointing to the displaced animal. "It feeds, and feeds, and feeds. It don't realize when it's had enough. Too greedy for its own good. But it don't take nothin' but a nigger like me to show it right."

"You've always been full of lessons, haven't you?" Abraham said. Jebediah had grown up in the fields, whereas Abraham had been taken in early, taught letters — yet the older brother still often thought himself to hold wisdom over his younger sibling.

"And for a smart nigger you always been full of stupid. I won't be here in three months when she's got a black baby in her belly and you bein' hanged in the town square. Best you wise up, boy, or you might just end up like your daddy."

Abraham laid down on his pallet. His mind was clouded, his eyes still level with Caroline's, as if he was still in that carriage, her body on his, her heat overloading his senses, sending him over the edge. He was not caught up, he told himself. He could leave whenever he wanted. He just needed her again. He needed to make her his once and forever.

It was only then he realized he'd requested her presence hours earlier. So caught up was he with the arrival of his brother, with the news he'd brought from farther south, that he'd forgotten the meeting entirely. Weeks of trust might have been gone in one instant. He slept peacefully, still. He knew he would get her back. She'd had a taste of him — no matter how hard she fought against her urges, she'd come back for another.

A tapping took to the side of the barn, so insistent and dully annoying that Abraham felt it pierce his sleep like a fly buzzing at his ears. It was Mr. Banks — up earlier than usual, finding Abraham in a state of vulnerability. He rose at once, Jebediah at his side, equally confused; both knowing what had transpired the day before, they each endured the moment breathless and with great worry.

But any concern was quickly shown to be unfounded.

"Morning, boys!" Mr. Banks said.

"Sir," they both said, hearing the friendliness of his tone and settling back into calm.

"We've got Oliver Cambridge coming in tonight. I doubt either of you have heard of him, which is nonessential to the matter as it stands."

Mr. Banks took Abraham for stupid. Of course Abraham had heard of the man — he owned enough cotton and tobacco in the South to fund the Confederates for another go around in the war.

"He's expressed interest in buying my land," Mr. Banks went on. "He'll be coming in for dinner tonight. If I'm going to receive the offer I wish to have, it's of great importance he not get the smell of . . . desperation." He looked off now, as if lost in reverie. "I once had a swarm of butlers, but those days are gone. You two will have to assist Mae. Abraham, I trust you, of course —" he looked at Jebediah with uncertainty — "The brutish one is clearly not one for the dining room, exactly."

"Might be, but I'm up for the job, sir," Jebediah said. "You can trust me."

Mr. Banks sighed. "I do hope as much. I have hired out those loud-mouthed seamstresses in town my wife is always visiting and they swear up and down they can have garments made up by the end of the day. I do pray that is the case. Told them, everything must be large — quite large. Without measurements it'll have to do."

"Just the two of you dining, then?" Abraham asked. "Important to know how many we'll be serving."

"And my wife, of course," Mr. Banks said.

"Good, sir," Abraham responded. "We will be ready."

Mr. Banks nodded his head, looked over the barn with great uncertainty. "See to it, boys." At that he was gone.


The dress Caroline had picked up at the seamstresses seemed to casual for dinner, so she opted for an orange assemblage that's low dip at the neck was concealed by the circling, bright rows of jewelry which she wore there — as Mae put each piece on she felt as if her neck might begin to crane from the weight.

"Sure is pretty," Mae said. "Sure it's worth the trouble?"

"No beauty was gained without pain, Mae," Caroline said.

"Yes, m'am, suppose that's the truth."

It was nearing supper time and Caroline was prepared, excited even, by the opportunity to have Abraham serving her alongside that other behemoth. He thought he could get away with what he'd done — she'd show him. By the end of the night, he'd be on his knees, begging for her to quit being on him. She grinned at the thought.

"In a good mood then, m'am?" Mae asked, catching her mistresses smile in the mirror.

"Oh, it should just be a splendid night is all," she replied. "I'm simply looking forward to it."

Mr. Banks knocked and Mae opened the door, already in his frock coat, the white shirt underneath frilled, the image, to Caroline, reminding her of the times she'd seen the white bushels of hair on his chest, enough of a thought to make her recoil.

"All ready, then?" Mr. Banks said.

"As ready as one can be on short notice."

His time piece was in his hand, and in the few moments he'd been in the doorway he'd already checked it numerous times. Never had she seen him nervous, but here he was, his foot tapping, his eyes scanning out the window for anyone approaching.

"It will go well, darling," Caroline said, a rare (if false) show of affection to ease his worry.

"It's the difference of our livelihood," he said. "I do hope you're right."

A light hovered in the distance, and before long, squinting out, Mr. Banks could see the rider leading the carriage down the road.

"Quick, then!" he said, nearly falling over himself to grab Caroline and bring her to the stairs. "We'll greet him at the door."


With late notice Abraham was told he would be retrieving him and his brother's outfits himself in town, and by the time he returned to the plantation Mr. Cambridge's arrival was imminent. The outfits fit — only barely — and him and Jebediah were only getting instructions from Mae as to their specific jobs when the guest in question finally made his appearance.

Mr. Banks opened the door himself and they stayed in the shadows, or as in the shadows as such large men could get. Abraham eyed Caroline from there— her orange dress was mesmerizing, her blonde hair flowed down in a lush of curls that framed her smile, so white, so inviting, that one would never guess the carnal side that lay hidden somewhere deep within her. For one moment before the door opened she turned and her eyes met Abraham's, and in that second a scowl crossed her face, just as the door opened and she resumed her act of gentility.

"Mr. Cambridge!" Mr. Banks shook the man's hand as he walked inside. He was tall and of of pale complexion, his face so lined with wrinkles it seemed as if he hadn't smiled in years. He took the place in with one sweeping look, took his hat off, and extended the arm that held it.

It was a moment before anyone moved, or knew what he was requesting.

"Abraham," Mr. Banks said. "Take Mr. Cambridge's hat, please."

Abraham rushed forward, grabbing the hat in one motion.

"That's a good little helper, Abraham," Caroline said. "Why don't you bring that to the closet, ha? On the quick, now."

"Of course, m'am." He nodded to Mr. Banks. "Sir."

The dinner itself was quiet, often so much that you could hear the silverware. As Mr. Banks made attempt after attempt to engage Mr. Cambridge, Caroline kept Abraham and Jebediah busy.

"Some water, Abraham," she'd say in a syrupy tone, her glass in hand, waiting.

"Oh, well! I've dropped my napkin it seems." Her eyes were that of purity and innocence and she looked at the two butlers with great sorrow: "If you two could help me retrieve I'd be ever so grateful." And at this both Abraham and Jebediah were made to get on all fours, searching for the napkin which Abraham had clearly seen her thrust purposefully under the table.

So it went on: she needed her vegetables sliced, additional lamps retrieved from upstairs to brighten up the room, a fanning to cool her down from a nonexistent heat.

Mr. Cambridge meanwhile seemed exclusively focused on his food and the occasional question about the land, while Mr. Banks was busy sweating on in anxiousness.

Abraham exchanged looks at first with his brother, who was certainly beginning to loathe the woman that was supposedly under Abraham's thumb, but was now acting as if he was merely her whipping boy; yet whenever given the chance his eyes turned to her, and she looked at him with such innocence — her big blue eyes like those of a baby's —but with so much venom laying in wait, he wished to bend her over right then and there to prove who was really in charge.

"Control yourself." It was Jebediah, leaning over to whisper to his brother. "You gonna let her get the best of you if you keep it up. Don't you get upset — last thing we need."

"If you don't mind, I need to use the ladies room to freshen up," Caroline said, standing as the men nodded their approval. "It should only be a moment." Her napkin dropped on the table as she walked off and her last words were to Abraham: "See to it that napkin is refolded."

Abraham begrudgingly did as he was told, yet it had been more than ten minutes and still she had not reappeared.

"Well," Mr. Cambridge said, standing. "Why don't we retire to the parlor and talk business."

"Of course!" Mr. Banks said. "Mae, let the boys cleanup and please see to it that Caroline is okay — I'm afraid her absence might speak to some illness or the like."

"Course, sir," she said.

Talk of cigars and whiskey trailed the men and soon they were gone. Mae started for the stairs but Jebediah grabbed her, his thick fingers like sausages, almost lapping her wrist multiple times. "Let him," he said, nodding to Abraham. She eyed the enormous man as if she'd yet to truly take in his stature. Holding her back like a man might hold an animal about run into the street, or a wandering child, gave her an odd sense of comfort; his command was final and she felt obliged to heed it.

Abraham was already up the stairs and opening the door to Caroline's room. She sat at the mirror, taking out her own earrings. She did not turn to see who approached, and he walked at such an angle that even the mirror did not catch his reflection.

"Mae, I simply could not stand the presence of those men any longer. That Mr. Cambridge was just such a crotchety old fellow it was difficult to even eat in his presence—"

A hand found her shoulder and she turned with a squeal, yet Abraham covered her mouth with his other hand. Her eyes were wide with fear, yet at the sight of him they narrowed in anger. She pulled down his hand and whispered harshly. "How dare you leave me out in that God awful barn alone! Who do you think you are?!"

Abraham said nothing. He lowered himself until her eyes were level with his own; his hand first found her lip - she pushed it away. "Do not ignore me, Abraham."

Still, he was silent. His hand found her chin like he wished to raise it up, and with measured composure he did just that, as if to prepare her for a kiss. The moment seemed to overtake Caroline, for she merely swallowed, watched on, perhaps fear, perhaps in the intrigue that comes with a man willing to do anything, willing to take her at will, touching her without her permission and at his own risk . . .

Suddenly his other hand was at her hair. His pull was not hard, yet it was firm, a grasp that sent shockwaves through her, climbing down her spine, under her dress, to a dark place within her that was suddenly awash in the flame of heat she could not explain. "Abraham . . ." His hold did not just hold her captive but her very being.

"Tonight, when you judge it to be the darkest hour, you will not just appear at the barn by yourself but with Mae, too."

Her eyes were once again big, this time in protest. "I cannot drag Mae into this!"

His hand was rooted in her hair and he gave it the slightest tug, so that when she followed the pull her ear found his mouth, his moist, large lips, meeting it with the sensual force that was as familiar to her as his scent — the very thing she longed for.

"There will be no questioning me," he said. "Mae does as you ask. I will expect both of you. Or neither of you. Your choice."

He let go of her hair and stood once again smiling.

"Allow me to ask if you're feeling well. Mr. Banks was concerned."

She straightened out her dress, although it did not need to be done. "Please, tell him I'm fine. Just . . . Turning in early."

"Will do, Ms. Banks."

She waited until he left to put her hand under her dress, at the crest of where her bloomers met her opening — she felt the moistness there, fought an urge to follow it to its source, to where Abraham had filled her the day before, and made her feel whole. The hollowness was unmanageable. But she felt in her heart that it was only a few hours until her needs would be filled. If Mae must be there for that to happen, so be it — she was willing to take that risk. Anything to receive that which she desired most, that very man who had just left her room. Not that she would admit as much. No — she saw her affect on Abraham at dinner. She would ride that wave of contempt, of power, as long as it could last her. But she knew it was not long. Not long at all...


It had been a few hours since Caroline had heard the carriage ride away into the darkness and then Mr. Banks' footsteps as he climbed the stairs. His voice echoed. "I think it was a grand effort on our end! Just grand!" Yet his words slurred and she knew then he had consumed too much alcohol as usual.

"Thas just great, Sir," Mae was saying. "We all happy for you."

"Where is my wife?"

"Asleep, sir."

"Shall I wake her? Perhaps I should wake her."

The shadows played under the doorframe and Caroline prayed the old man did not enter.

"If you askin' my opinion, it ain't nothin' that can't wait 'till morning."

"No, no, I'll wake her."

The footsteps were urgent but then there was a thud and a howl.

"Mr. Banks!"

"I'm fine, just fine." Apparently there had been a fall, one of the sobering variety. "Perhaps it's best I retire, then."

"That's for the best, sir."

Even more time passed, and Caroline could not sleep a wink. Mr. Banks snores' pinged down the hallway and each one was like the ticking of a grandfather clock, each more difficult to bear as the last. And then she could not take it anymore, knowing what awaited her. She rose as she had the night before and found her way downstairs. Never, she realized, had she been down the help's corridor this late, and it had been sometime since she'd even seen into Mae's quarters. The room was almost unattached from the house entirely, and it was colder here, less protected from the elements only a door away, which led outside.

She opened the door just a crack, and the sounds came first —thwapping like a belt on flesh. On impulse she closed the door again, yet the sound kept repeating, so much like flesh being taken to that she could feel the pain herself without experiencing it. It was not long before curiosity got the best of her . . .

What she saw nearly made her call out in surprise — Mae, with her knickers gathered in clumps at her thighs being held against her oak dresser, the enormous man — Jebediah — thrashing into her from behind. With each thrust her ass shook violently, quaking and quivering, waves of red irritation traveling up through the small of her back. The pleasure she was receiving was apparent, as her eyes were in the back of her head as if possessed, her toes curled up at the joint, her fingers nearly scraping wood off the dresser.

The man's penis was so massive Caroline nearly fainted. It was practically a weapon! As thick and round as her fist, long enough, it seemed, to break a woman in two. In fact Caroline wondered how Mae even received it- then she noticed the sopping mess of lubricant that were Mae's own juices, streaks of it trailing out of her cunt and down her legs to the floor; it was almost as if black women were made to carry penises of such size, Caroline thought.

"You'sa a dirty girl, ha?" Jebediah said.

"I am what you wish me to be," Mae whispered, trying to contain herself.

"Who trained you to be so dirty?"

"You did."

"I did who?"

"You did, master."

"I ain't know blacks could own they own slaves. That right — am I your owner, girl?"

"You sure is, master!" she bellowed.

Jebediah picked up speed, grabbing Mae's arms and bringing them back, his dick sawing into her with a popping noise as her juices guided his every entrance, her wild, kinky hair thrashing about, whipping back and forth.

"You gonna cum for me, master?" Mae whimpered. "Please. Please do it. Give me that seed, master."

He let out a little laugh, low and menacing. "You'll have to work for it. I think you got some competition."

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