It's Just a Matter of Breeding

We sank onto the bed and Phillip eased me onto my back. With his big hands resting on either side of my taut belly, he slid between my legs. Lowering his mouth, he drank the nectar of his cum and my juices from my pink, pulsing chalice until I came again in an intense orgasm, writhing and twisting under him like a two dollar whore in New Orleans' French Quarter.

I lay in bed, feeling ashamed at having been with the much detested Phillip, but exhilarated by the afterglow of having been well fucked and satisfied. As the hour grew late, Phillip rose and made his way to his room barely missing Masta Brennan as he dismounted his horse and came through the front door.

Soon enough, I gave birth to an adorable long-limbed, healthy baby boy. Typical of other Brennan offspring, he had a headful of thick curly, dark blonde colored hair and lashes, full lips, bright blue eyes and white complexion. There was no doubt, who the baby's father or mother was. Masta was taken with the boy from the moment of his birth and soon after had a small but comfortable cabin built not far from the Main House where the baby and I lived. Turning a deaf ear to gossip and prying eyes, he continued to visit with blatant abandon. Within a year, despite the incestuous nature of our coming together, I was pregnant with Masta's second baby.

Sadly, not long after the birth of our second child, Masta Brennan died in a riding accident. When Jeremiah Brennan passed away, all land, monies, and property (real and slave) were left to his younger brother Phillip Brennan.

I don't think I ever liked Phillip; unlike his brother Jeremiah, Phillip could be an abusive, unfeeling Masta to say nothing of how he treated his quiet, browbeaten wife, Jolene.

*****

Phillip and I had not been together since that night when Masta Brennan had been away. With his brother now deceased, Masta Phillip no longer had to suppress his desire for sexual intercourse with me. No longer kept in check by his brother, within a month of Masta Brennan's death Phillip had begun seeking the womanly comfort between my legs that his brother had known and selfishly guarded.

For his convenience and wanting no interruptions during his visits, Masta Phillip moved my two little ones to Sophie's cabin.

In the beginning, Phillip would use his mouth on me. Eating black pussy was obviously something he enjoyed and he expected me to lay there while he feasted. He would eventually pull himself up to my full, warm breasts and take a hard, aroused nipple into his mouth. As he sucked, he would rub and grind himself against my stomach and mound, the friction of his movements stimulating my swelling clit. When my whimpers became moans, he would release my tit and quickly move back to my engorged nub where he would nip it gently (sometimes roughly) with his teeth making me cum for him.

Barely giving my passion time to ebb, he would rise, take a handful of my hair and pull my head to the edge of the bed. With glassy, lust filled eyes, he'd watch the expression on my face as he parted my lips with his cockhead and slid his long, thick cock into my waiting mouth. Slowly stroking at first, his excitement would build and finally with an animal grunt he'd cum, groaning as his hot load filled my mouth and flowed like thick honey down my throat.

Being the selfish, insensitive brute that he was, when we did become intimate, he made no secret of it. To his wife's and my mortification, Phillip made clear to his wife in a multitude of ways his preference and the hurt that I sometimes saw in her eyes was heartbreaking.

He seldom missed an opportunity to humiliate her or me. One of my responsibilities was to help during dinner. At the end of the meal service, rather than return to the kitchen, Masta Phillip would order me to stand behind or beside his chair. He thought nothing of blatantly caressing my breast in front of Miss Jolene or casually slipping his hand under my dress from the rear and inserting his finger inside me as I stood stoically and submitted to his molestation. Masta would do this for several minutes particularly if he were angry with her and wanted to taunt her. Most distressing would be those occasions when my body would weaken and betray me. Standing there next to him he would fondle me and eventually my hips would begin to sway imperceptibly, my breathing become swallow and my eyes flutter close when I came helplessly into his hand.

Just as I had with his brother, even though he made me feel uneasy, I came to enjoy how Masta Phillip made me feel and liked some of the things he did to me. Because of who and what I was, I knew I could not resist or refuse him when he came to my cabin in the middle of the night or during the day when he would pull me into an empty room to fuck, all I could do was to spread my legs and silently comply.

*****

Despite the estrangement in their marriage, Masta Phillip and his wife Jolene apparently did have occasional relations and to Masta's surprise, one Sunday after church, his wife Jolene told him she was pregnant. In a way I was relieved, thinking that now he would be with his wife and not sniffing after me. I was wrong.

One night I was awakened by loud shouts and banging on the cabin door.

"Dilcy! Dilcy! Why is this door bolted? Open this damn door you little black bitch, open it now!" he bellowed.

I hurried to open the door and as I threw the bolt on the door, Masta Phillip pushed his way in, the smell of bourbon obvious.

"Masta Phillip, please," I said timidly.

"Damn it, girl, stop whining," he sneered as he unbuttoned his pants, stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

Taking me by the arm, he pulled me toward the bed.

"Suck my dick, he said drunkenly. Suck it until I tell you to stop."

Phillip sat on the side of the bed and kneeling between his legs, I pressed my face to his crotch. With his hands entangled in my hair, he held my head between his legs as I slowly licked his inner thighs, his balls, and the shaft of his cock. He groaned with drunken pleasure when I teased the thick pulsing vein on the underside of his cock as I worked my way to his leaking bulbous cockhead and sucked it into my mouth.

The cabin had fallen quiet and dark when Masta Phillip began to moan and hump his cock in and out of my mouth before stopping suddenly.

"Ride it," he said breathlessly, his impressive cock jerking and twitching impatiently in the dim light cast by the rays of moonlight filtering through the tattered curtains at the windows.

I stood before him, sensing the growing wetness between my legs. Phillip reached up and untied the thin ribbon at the neck of my nightgown, allowing it to fall in a heap about my ankles. Masta Phillip lifted my small body up so that I straddled his lap and then lowered me down, the tip of his swollen, burgundy cockhead pressed for entry against my opening. I slowly slid down his cockshaft until my pussy had fully enveloped his cock. Pushing up and forward, burying his full-length balls deep inside me, Phillip began to stroke in and out. Involuntarily, my pussy contracted around his cock, squeezing and holding him inside me. I slipped my arms around his neck and pressed my cheek to his as I rode him to orgasm, my body uncontrollably shaking when I came hard and wet on his cock.

Holding me tightly to him, Masta Phillip rose and put me on my back. Adjusting himself inside me, he began groaning as he thrust in and out and then giving a final deep thrust, his large muscular body stiffened seconds before he deposited his large, warm load of semen inside me.

Slumping on top of me, he placed his mouth next to my ear and said, "I'm going to fuck you hard Dilcy, again and again until I breed you with a near white pickaninny or two like my brother did."

His sickening laughter filled the room.

"Wouldn't that be something if I had both you and my wife knocked up and breeding at the same time?" he said, not expecting an answer.

"Wouldn't that give folks something to talk about?"

I lay there, unsettled by the thought of what having a child bred by him could mean; never knowing when in a fit of anger, displeasure or vindictiveness he might sell it away or otherwise take the child from me. As my thoughts drifted, I lay submissively under him barely aware of him rubbing and grinding against me. With long, hard strokes, he assaulted my pussy, making me cum twice more before he again unloaded himself deep inside me flooding my pussy with the potent essence of his manhood.

After Masta Phillip dressed and left, I pulled a large shawl over my naked body and wandered out onto the cabin 's porch. I sank down into the old rocking chair near the door and felt the warm, humid caress of the late night air against my skin. My thoughts were racing, but there was one thing that I was sure of, I did not want to be impregnated by Masta Phillip and if it were to happen, there would be nothing I could do to prevent it. Of course, my first thought had been to turn to Sophie and her herbs, but I was too afraid. My fear of discovery and the resulting punishment Masta Phillip would inflict filled me with apprehension.

I made it a point of staying close to the Main House and around other people during the day when the Masta was around. The nights were more difficult. Once the hustle and bustle of activity quieted each night in the quarters, he would come.

"Masta Phillip wants you bad. It's like he can't help himself, just like his brother. It's a sorry shame, Sophie grumbled more to herself than to me. While his wife is tucked away in the Main House growing big with his child, he heads to your cabin at night, gets on top of you and fills you with his seed. He's gonna have you with a big belly too like his wife in a little while. You gots to stay clear of him chile."

"And just how am I supposed to do that," I said, looking up at Sophie, my eyes brimming with tears. I knew she was saying the truth.

"Stop crying, I don't mean to be rough with you girl, but that Masta Phillip can be a mean one. He wants you because you was his brotha's and he wants to breed you cause his brother did. He's your Masta now. Hell, there ain't noth'n you can do to change that. You won't take my help, so all you can do is try to stay clear of him as much as you can."

*****

I think I know the moment he impregnated me. Masta Phillip had been away on business for the last three days and was not expected back for at least another day. It was late afternoon and I was in the rear yard with the chickens pecking about my feet. It had been a warm day and I stood in the yard, a kerchief covering my hair, stray locks escaping from the sides and curling about my damp face. The damp and clingy bodice of the old house dress that I wore barely covered the top of my breast leaving them exposed as I leaned forward spreading chicken feed.

I heard the dogs growling and yelping and looked up to see Masta Phillip coming down the pathway toward me. I impulsively tossed the remaining feed out onto the ground and hurried into the house ignoring Masta's calling my name.

"Dilcy! Dilcy!" he called, but I continued into the house as if I hadn't heard him. I hurried up the stairs to the Missus' room and busied myself there hoping he would not accost or confront me there in her rooms.

The hour was late when we finished working and I made my way to my cabin. As I opened the creaky cabin door and stepped into the darkened room, I was grabbed from behind and held tightly to a hard, broad chest.

"I know you heard me calling your name this afternoon Dilcy, but you ignored me. I could have you whipped; you know that, don't you? I could have you whipped and that beautiful body, that pretty face scarred," Masta Phillip said in a barely controlled voice.

"I didn't hear you calling me Masta, I'm sorry. I had a lot of work to do in the house, I didn't hear you."

"Don't lie to me Dilcy," he said with a sharp back-handed slap across my face. It felt as if my face was on fire and I couldn't stop the sudden onslaught of tears that coursed down my cheeks. Without a word, Masta Phillip forced me to my knees in front of him, and painfully holding a handful of my hair in one hand jerked my head up as he freed his cock and said, "get me hard, you little bitch."

Despite the tears, I could feel myself becoming aroused as I kissed and licked up one side of his shaft and down the other side, finally placing a wet kiss on his swollen mushroom shaped crown. I sucked him into my mouth, working my tongue over his cock until I could feel him stiffening and hear his moaning and masculine whimpering increase. When I thought he was about to explode, he pushed me off his dick and told me to take my clothes off and get on the bed.

He removed his clothes and stood in the middle of the small room as I cowered on the far side of the bed. He was an attractive man, tall, tanned, hard featured with sandy blonde hair just beginning to gray, and the Brennan piercing, icy blue eyes. I watched him come toward the bed his cock now semi-hard but long and thick, swaying threateningly between his legs as he walked. He grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me toward him. Bending over me, he admired my full soft breasts before sucking a hard erect nipple into his mouth. I shivered at the sensation of his hot mouth and wet insistent tongue teasing, tormenting.

He lifted my legs and pressed my knees back against my chest exposing my pussy for his penetration. As he guided his throbbing cock toward me, the cockhead entered with a soft "popping" sound when he buried his full length inside me. "Damn, you feel fuck'n good. Like a soft, velvet glove," he groaned. I said nothing but closed my eyes shamelessly enjoying the feel of him inside me. When he released his hold on my legs, I lowered them and instinctively spread them wider and wrapped them around his waist. He continued stroking with long, slow motions, and each time he pushed forward, I held my breath, overcome by the sensation of him stretching me as his cock went deeper, encouraging my pussy to grip and hold his erection.

Masta began to pump faster and soon was spewing his seed in a strong unbroken stream. He held me down as his cock spurted hot white cum deep inside me. Masta Phillip came for what seemed like a long time, filling me, covering the walls of my pussy with his semen. Lying there pinned under him I could feel my hips sway subtly and on some animal level, my pussy began to milk his cock wanting to squeeze the last of his seed from him.

We had sex again that night before he pulled out of my pussy, dressed and headed back to the Main House. When I awoke later that morning, I knew. My hands lightly traced the outline of my still flat belly, and I somehow knew that he had been successful in planting his seed.

Two months after Masta Phillip's wife gave birth to their son, I gave birth to my son, a beautiful, sandy blonde, blue-eyed baby with skin the color of the palest honey. The boys looked so much alike, they could have passed for twins.

Following the birth of the boys, the tension in the Main House between Masta Phillip and Miss Jolene increased and they no longer tried to hide their bickering, arguments, and accusations. After the birth of the children, his perversity and lecherousness seemingly became more than she could bear. To her embarrassment and utter humiliation, she recognized that any one of their relatives or friends who bothered to look could see that Masta Phillip had fathered both children . . . one black, one white . . . one free, one slave.

*****

Like my mother before me, I met a big, black, kind natured man named Ezekiel Garrett that I fell in love with. Zeke was a freeman, well endowed, strong and physically imposing, patient and thoughtful. As much as Phillip and his brother Jeremiah before him had sexually pleased and satisfied me, I was a young innocent, inexperienced girl then. I was now a grown woman of almost twenty-five, and I needed, desired a man who could help me overcome my loneliness and be a father to my children. Big Zeke was there, ready and eager to be with me.

I knew Masta Phillip would be furious if he found out about Zeke and me. Because of my fear of what he would do, despite our having known each other for several months, the physical relationship between Zeke and me hadn't progressed very far. Zeke had never pressured me, but it was obvious that he had grown tired of the current situation and felt it was time we "stopped playing around." I knew I was just a slave, but I had never been with a black man, in fact, the only men I had ever been with were Mastas Jeremiah and Phillip, the white owners of Weeping Willows Plantation.

I remember the first time that Zeke and I were together. It wasn't planned or anything, just the impulsive, instinctive coupling of two love starved people.

It was a Sunday afternoon. The house was quiet; the Missus was away visiting, Masta Phillip off riding one of his new stallions and most of the house slaves except for Sophie and her helper were in their own cabins with their families.

I was on the second floor of the house, at the hall closet putting away freshly laundered linen, when I felt a warm hand slide under my skirt and caress the full, round cheeks of my naked behind.

My first thought was that this was Masta Phillip, but when I heard that deep, husky voice, I realized it was Zeke behind me.

"Zeke, stop, someone might see us," I protested.

"No one is here except for Sophie who's in the kitchen. No one will see or even care."

Trying to push him away, I felt his large hand cup my pussy and squeeze it.

"God damn it, Dilcy . . . I'm a grown man; I need to be with you," he plaintively said while nuzzling against the side of my neck.

Zeke pressed me against the closet door, at the same time pulling the back of my skirt up over my hips. Zeke leaned around me, kissed me on my cheek, and with one hand began rubbing my clit as he spread my legs apart with his knees. After a moment or two, he pushed his hard, hot black cock into me and began pumping in and out of my honey colored pussy.

"Ohhhh," I moaned in initial discomfort when he penetrated me. Zeke slowed and then paused his thrusting, allowing my body to adjust to his length and girth. As he stretched my sheath, his cock went deeper and my pussy gripped his erection not wanting him to pull out. I could feel Zeke's legs when they began to tremble and then the full weight of his body when he ejaculated a thick warm load into me . . . all thoughts of discovery forgotten on both our parts. Zeke continued to grind his swollen cock inside me until he had spent himself before he reluctantly slipped out of me his cum immediately seeping from my pussy and trailing down my inner thighs.

That was the first time.

*****

One Friday, Zeke was due to travel to the Reid Plantation and return the next day with two breeding mares. The sexual tension between us was ever present, resulting in long nights of lovemaking and hot, quick fucks during the day, whenever we could sneak away and not be missed. When he left on his trip, I felt a tightness in my heart that I can't describe.

The night Zeke returned from the Reid Plantation, he entered the cabin through the front door that was seldom if ever locked. I heard movement in the room, and through half opened eyes I could see the dark outline of his body and the thick, rigid erection that stood straight out in front of him. Zeke came toward the bed and throwing back the old quilt that covered me, eased his long, muscular body down onto mine. Zeke parted my pussy lips and slowly guided his engorged, leaking cockhead inside me. I opened my legs for him, welcomed him, welcomed his hot pulsing cock as it coaxed my pussy to open wider and accommodate his swollen black girth.