tagNonConsent/ReluctanceRed Beans & Rice

Red Beans & Rice


It was a sultry August Monday morning and Jean-Claude should have been out by the shores of Lake Ponchartrain reveling with the rest of his family and friends as they escaped the fetidness of New Orleans in the summer dog days. However, M'sieu Cancienne had to attend to business. He was expecting a shipment of furniture for the remodeled dining room of his Royal Street Townhouse and so chose to personally supervise its arrival and transshipment to the house.

This brief change in his domestic arrangements also allowed him to leave his family Saturday afternoon and subsequently indulge in some of his more secrets passions. For all his wealth and position, Jean-Claude enjoyed the Crescent City's seamier side whenever he could and with most of his social set out at the lake, he felt free to indulge in that aspect of his personality with little fear of staining his reputation.

On Saturday evening he roamed the dockside areas adjacent to the Decatur and Tchopatoulus Streets, dressed in work clothes. He gambled a little, drank much and flirted with the denizens in the Saloons and the cribs along the street all to his great amusement. Not so foolish as to bring any of these women home or even hint to them that he was anything more than another transient from upriver, he considered scratching his carnal itch in one of his favorite Girod Street establishments but that would have meant going home, changing and going out again. The fact that most of his favorite girls would also be out at the lake shore tending to some of his planter comrades also helped him to decide to retire a bit frustrated that evening and again on Sunday. Jean-Claude Cancienne was in great need of satisfying his lust on Monday morning.

As is the habit of many of the men of his class, Jean-Claude left the business of the household to his wife and so with the exception of Charles, his chief house servant, he was not aware of who in the staff was home and who was out at the lake. This morning Jean-Claude had allowed Charles to be hired out to a local merchant who was entertaining some very unseasonable foreign visitors and thought himself to be alone.

Unbeknownst to him, his wife had left Olympe and Fleur to oversee the removal from the attic and freshening of her autumn clothes in anticipation of the coming season.

The two women were also unaware of the Master's presence and so felt free to move about their chores with a bit more freedom and playfulness. This morning Fleur began preparations for the traditional Monday red beans and rice lunch that they would enjoy while the laundry hung to dry. Olympe meanwhile prepared the fire under the tub and kettle for the laundry, the same fire that would cook their meal for the day.

Once the food was in the pot and simmering and the laundry water was hot enough, they began to select the items that would need their attention.

The two giggled and smirked at Madam Cancienne's silken drawers and varicolored silk stockings.

"Do these beautiful things really come from Paris," Fleur inquired?

"Most do." Olympe replied. "Some come from New York and one or two are made right herein New Orleans, but the real fancy stuff is all French, right of the boat."

"Look at this here doodad," the younger girl giggled. She held up a corset of red silk bordered in black lace. The laces were black leather. Fleur held it up to her and both women laughed.

"That's one of Madame's favorites. Or maybe I should say Michie Jean-Claude's." Olympe dropped her voice to a whisper. "Whenever I set that one out, Madam always insists that he be the one to lace her up. I stood outside the door last time he did and the sounds I heard would have made Madame Marie Leveau blush crimson."

Fleur was startled by the mention of the famous Voudouienne's name but her eyes were wide with curiosity.

"What kind of sounds?" she asked.

"Chile, don't go telling me you don't know what men and women do in private."

"I overheard some of the kitchen girls say things about the men they see on Sunday down at Congo Square but they always hush up when they find I'm listening too close."

Olympe smiled. "Well judging from the way you be filling out that shift, you will find out first hand soon enough. When the time comes you will know what to do and I think you will enjoy the ride mighty fine, especially if it is Michie himself doing the riding.

"Michie?" Fleur gasped.

"Why not? He own your ass girl. He can do with it what he wants. For that matter, Madame has her own ways of using her girls. You'll find out soon enough."

Tears began to streak down Fleur's face.

"Oh stop that now. It ain't happened yet and trust me, if you find out what it's all about from Madame and M'sieu, you'll be better off than if you get dragged to some crib over on Perdido Street." She took the corset from the young girl and began handing her bits from the laundry basket.

"Now get to scrubbing or we will both end up as field hands upriver.

Fleur began to run the less delicate items over the rough washboard, Olympe rummaged through the finery to search for what needed mending or replacement. As she rustled through the petticoats and corsets and drawers, she marveled at the texture and quality and imagined herself dressed in such finery. From the women she met at Congo Square on Sunday's she knew that some of her mistresses clothing rivaled the best of those Girod Street whorehouses. Mrs. Cancienne had a slutty side to her nature and it seemed to match the appetites of her husband very well. As she fingered the silk and satin, her imagination began to run

"Why not," she thought?

"I'll be back chere", she said to Fleur. "I have to check on something in Madame's room." And she went up the stairs and into Lucille Cancienne's boudoir.

Once inside she opened the armoire and selected some choice items. Quickly, she divested herself of her own shift and calico skirt and with care and wonder slid herself first into the black silk drawers. She fastened the drawstring and looked in the chifferobe mirror to see how it looked. Her wooly mound was visible in the slit and the legs were gathered at the knees by red ribbons. Her mistress was about the same size though Olympe was a bit fuller in the rear and the satin stretched delectably over her brown rump.

Next she rolled the silk red stocking over her calves and tucked them into the knees area of the drawers. She now stood naked to the waist and admired her chocolate brown body in the mirror. Her nipples were large, with aureoles that were almost like saucers and nearly black. There was more Creole than African blood in Olympe but those nipples and her wooly cunt mound spoke purely of the slave ships that populated Haiti and New Orleans with Blacks and the delights that more than one master was tempted to sample.

She had larger breasts than her mistress and so when she tried the blue corset she was unable to contain them in the cups of the garment. Of course she could not lace the garment herself so she reluctantly divested herself of the silk and satin confection and selected a shift of ivory satin and pulled it over her head. She felt like a queen. On top of this she stepped into an elegant black sheath and completed the look. Her body was quivering from the feel of these garments and the forbidden nature of her brazen act.

It was at that moment that she spied the head of M'sieu Cancienne in the mirror. He was standing in the doorway and the expression on his face was one of pure lust. The bulge at his crotch was unmistakable. Olympe gave a meek shout of surprise and froze. After his two nights of celibacy Jean-Claude found the sight of his wife's slave dressed in her mistresses clothes, his wife's clothes, inflamed him more than any time previous to this. He was going to have this brazen slut and he was going to have her in way he has never before indulged.

"How dare you soil your mistresses clothing with your slutty African body!" He growled at her. He began to move toward her slowly and menacingly. "You defile them beyond redemption."

Olympe shivered when Jean-Claude's hand came crashing across her face. Tears welled up despite her attempts to hold them back.

"Now these clothes are as worthless as your black ass," and he grabbed the sheath and yanked as hard as he could, tearing it violently from the top to her waist. Olympe's breasts shook feverishly as she first tried to cover them and then as a rush of wetness flooded her pussy, thought better of it. She stared back defiantly at Jean-Claude but said nothing. This inflamed her master even more and he slapped her again. This time he hit hard enough to lay her out on the nearby chaise. He then grabbed the hem of the sheath and tore as hard as he could and left her in nothing but the drawers and stockings. Olympe looked up at him and the fear left her as her cunt gushed in a wet wave of glory. She saw lust in her master's eyes and the bulge in his pants was beyond her comprehension. She wanted Jean-Claude Cancienne and she knew he wanted her.

"I'm sorry sir", she cried. "I'm so sorry. Please, please don't strike me again."

A quizzical look came over Jean-Claude's face. Then a sadistic smile spread over his face.

"Turn over you bitch", he said. And Olympe slowly turned so that her brown ass was visible to her master through the split in the black drawers. She turned her head back to him just as he let fly with the back of her mistress's hair brush across her ass cheeks.

"OWWWW!" she cried. "OH Merde!" she said through gritted teeth as the second and then third assault tattooed her brown butt.

"Shut up and take your punishment you slut. You are lucky I don't kill you outright or sell you upriver to some tobacco chewing coonass cotton planter."

Again and again Jean-Claude let fly with the hairbrush. With each resounding slap his cock grew harder and more uncomfortable in his trousers. He finally gave in and unbuttoned them and let his long hard member jump free.

When the beating stopped, Olympe timidly turned around and sat up. The wooly hair around her pussy glistened from the juice that stained the sheet. The hard length of Jean-Claude's member was now even with her eyes and she felt another dousing of wet warmth flow between her legs.

"Suck it, Bitch!" said Jean-Claude.

And she did.

Her mouth engulfed Jean-Claude's dick with fervor. It slid easily between her lips and down her throat and she began to move with a primitive instinct unknown to even her. She wanted this white dick. She wanted to please her master like this. She was willing and now she knew she was able.

Jean-Claude grabbed at her nipples and pulled. Pulled hard and twisted violently until he heard her take in a sharp breath. Still her tongue and lips did not lose contact with his cock and soon he was fucking her mouth furiously.

"Yesssssss, that's it you slut. Suck my white dick."

"I am going to spray my white cream all over your brown body. I will defile you just as you defiled Lucille's clothes."

Olympe sucked and licked faster and faster. Jean-Claude now had her nipples in a death grip as he moved his hips to a quicker rhythm. He was fucking this black bitch's mouth like he has never fucked before. Lucille never showed such sensuality and she was very good. The whores on Girod had taught him many a trick but this wench was pulling a lust from him that was unprecedented. I was ecstasy.

He did not want to cum yet so reluctantly, he pulled away from her. When he did her heard her whimper and this inflamed him all the more. Filled with raw lust he pushed her violently onto the bed, grabbed her ankles and yanked her feet apart, spreading her legs before him. First he saw fear in her eyes then he saw lust and with that signal of compliance, he dove between her legs and began to lick her pussy. His tongue lolled and flicked the walls of her cunt and he became drunk with the taste and smell of this slave. Her wetness was a river of pleasure and she began to move as he ministered to her. He could hear her moan and her thighs tightened around his head as the first wave of orgasm began to wrack her body.

"AHHHHHHH!" She squealed as his tongue set off the firecracker that was smoldering in her womb.

"Oh Yes, M'sieu. Oh yes, Oh yes, oh yes, oh yessssssss", she said as she writhed and pushed her cunt harder and harder into his face.

That feel's so good M'sieu. So wonderful. I'm sorry sir. I'm sorry but yes I will take whatever punishment you give me. I've been so bad. I deserve more. Please punish me more." She was breathing fast and hard and quivering at this first orgasm.

"That I will you bitch. Our time together has only begun." A sadistic smile spread over his face.


A whispered sigh echoed from the doorway. There, wide eyed with wonder stood Fleur. How long she had been there neither knew. Olympe smiled at Jean-Claude and then at Fleur who started to retreat in fear.

"It's okay, Chere. Come in. Come in and I will explain," Said Olympe.

Jean-Claude stood up and held out his hand to the younger slave and with fear still in her eyes, she slowly advanced to her master and her friend.

End Part I

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