Abigail Brewster, Abby for short, was a rather naïve 18-year-old, having led a sheltered, albeit pampered life on the plantation of her parents, Jackson and Rebecca Brewster.

Her naiveté stemmed from the fierce protectionism her father displayed anytime the girl was exposed to outsiders. Sure Abby had been present during the frequent parties her parents threw, or attended, as a part of the southern society of the privileged class around central Georgia. Her debutante cotillion, though late in occurring due to Jackson’s protectionism, was approaching.

Yet, in all of these parties, her father had hovered around her like a vulture waiting to swoop in on a dead carcass. Anytime a young man had gotten too friendly with Abby, he would move in and usher her away to another group that consisted primarily of other young women and girls.

His protectionism stemmed from his experiences with Abby’s mother, Rebecca, when they were courting. Rebecca, though from outward appearances a proper lady, was a seething slut underneath. It was one of the things that had attracted Jackson to her.

Rebecca defiantly pushed the status quo of ‘second class citizenship’ the women were compelled to live under in these earlier less enlightened times of the early 19th century south. She had had no qualms with giving herself over sexually to Jackson while they were courting, when discretion would allow them the opportunity. She justified it as part of her defiance, though truth be told, it was because Rebecca loved sex and had from the very first time she had blindly stumbled into it shortly after the onset of puberty.

“If a man can cavort around shamelessly, why can’t a woman?” Rebecca had said in justification to her love of sex with Jackson. Their frequent trysts fortunately didn’t result in pregnancy, and Rebecca was always aware of the need for discretion. She had learned that she could enjoy whatever liberties she desired, just as a man could, if she only maintained discretion.

Rather than following the norm and making use of her charms then abandoning her perhaps with a label of shame on his tongue, Jackson had married the woman, because his romantic heart had fallen in love during the frequent tête-à-têtes where he and Rebecca would discuss her feelings regarding her pursuit of her lusty desires just as a man would, justifying it as a pursuit of equality for the sexes.

Susan B. Anthony whose times were decades in the future had nothing on Rebecca Brewster. Ms. Anthony, the most noted of the future suffragettes, was still a toddler when Rebecca had started her quiet campaign on behalf of women as justification of her slutty pursuits.

Abby had the same headstrong nature as her mother. Jackson had seen this at an early age and didn’t want his only daughter to perhaps fall victim to the fate Rebecca had avoided. Being shamed by an unfortunate pregnancy or shunned and labeled a tramp by those she let sample her charms.

Jackson doted on the girl as compensation, for holding her a virtual prisoner. So though protected to this point and a virgin, she was extremely spoiled and could be rather precocious. All these things worried Jackson and so this guided his behavior in regard to his only daughter. He spoiled her to compensate for what he realized was over-protectionism.

Abby loved her father, but often resented his protectionism. She would have dearly loved to have the opportunity to spend time alone with the young sons of other plantation owners that often accompanied their fathers for business at Jackson Brewster’s “Shaded Oaks” plantation. She had started getting funny feelings in her private parts, as she called them, at puberty when boys were around. She had even touched herself ‘down there’ on occasion and had found the activity pleasing. She was her mother’s daughter in most ways.

In spite of her resentment of her father’s behavior when young men were around, it wasn’t unusual for her to be ‘in his hip pocket’ most of the day. Today was no exception.

The year was 1858. The season late spring. Jackson sat at a table on the large front verandah of the plantation house taking his morning coffee and reading the paper as he usually did during the more temperate months, Abigail sipping tea and chattering incessantly as was her nature when the two were together. Abby wore the flowing dress of her position in society. Actually it wasn’t a dress, but layer upon layer of petticoats, covered with a lightweight lace coverlet that could be called a dress. Jackson, always the Southern gentleman, wore a three-piece suit in keeping with current style.

At first glance one would think the two were off to some formal get-together.

“Father, what does that headline in the paper mean?”

Jackson closed the paper from the business pages where the current cotton futures were quoted and looked again at the headline and story he had read earlier. In big bold letters the paper declared “Slave Uprising Quelled at Peach Orchard Farms.” The other bold headline questioned, “Is Secession and War Inevitable?”

“Which one honey?”

“The one on War, Daddy.”

“It simply states that if the Federal government continues to trample on State’s rights the Southern states will have no choice other than to secede and create a country of their own. To do so will likely result in civil war between the southern and northern states. The article says it appears to be the only possible conclusion to this whole slavery abolition issue. The Federal government is stacking the deck against the slave states by only allowing new states that ban slavery to join the Union. Once Congress is stocked with legislators that oppose slavery a vote to ban it will take place. This over sight by the Federal government violates the constitutional provisions of strong state governments that rule themselves.”

Abby thought her father the smartest man alive and his explanation seemed to indicate this fact, once again. Her concerns were entirely self-centered though.

“But daddy war will mess up my cotillion, won’t it?”

“No baby if war does come it is still years away and the Southern delegation in the Federal Congress is doing what it can to prevent secession and the inevitable war that would follow. It is only if the Federal government continues to try to run roughshod over the states in violation of the constitution that secession and civil war would result.”

A buggy turns the corner off the little dirt road into the entrance of Shaded Oaks Plantation. The wooden sign built into the stone revetment that adorned either side of the entrance road, simply stated “Shaded Oaks, Cotton and Premium Stallion Service, Proprietor Jackson Brewster” The huge tree, cotton boll and stallion burnt into the plank of wood, along with a huge O with a curly-que top.

The occupants of the wagon were Thomas Kincaid and his 18-year-old daughter Cynthia. No strangers to Shaded Oaks, they were always in attendance when the Brewster’s threw one of their gala parties. Thomas Kincaid and Jackson Brewster had attended school together and Cynthia and Abby were friends, since childhood.

Abby loved when the Kincaid’s visited, because Cynthia, or Cyn for short, would tell her stories of ‘sparking’ with boys when she could steel away from her parents watchful eyes. Abby had no experience, with her father’s over-protectiveness, in this regard and the stories thrilled her and titillated her senses. Cyn told good stories.

Stories of clandestine trysts, stories of stealing away with one handsome boy or another and allowing them access to her charms and the young woman’s body that hid under layer upon unending layer of petticoats, bloomers and corset-like bodices. Cyn was still a virgin like Abby, but to hear her tell it you would think she was the biggest whore in all of Baldwin County, Georgia.

Her stories of allowing the boys to slip their hands under her petticoats and into her bloomers, only to stop them if they tried to take things further, thrilled Abby.

Abby would have let them go further. At least in her mind anyway. Many were the nights she had lain in bed, the oppressive heat and humidity preventing sleep from easily steeling up and overtaking the senses. On these nights Abby’s hand would slip under her gown and into her bloomers and touch her self ‘down there’.

Her mind would be on the one story that she was the most fond of in Cyn’s repertoire of decadent tales.

Cyn had told her of witnessing two slaves actually having sex in the barn one day. The details of how his male part had disappeared into her female part were so exacting, Abby was able to paint a fairly accurate picture in her mind of an event, she had yet to witness, let alone experience, on her own.

Cyn had told Abby how she had used her finger that night to reenact the event in the privacy of her room, her finger serving as the thrusting male part. Cyn had confided how it had hurt when she had gotten a bit exuberant as her excitation grew, thrusting her probing digit deeper into her love canal, and had experienced pain and found blood in her bloomers the next day.

So though Abby routinely rimmed the entrance of her pleasure palace, she wouldn’t allow her finger to slip inside. Besides the stiff little nub above the tiny hole was so much more sensitive and pleasure producing if she showed it attention. Her interest in sex was growing by the day, so Abby looked forward to these visits.

The Kincaid’s buggy comes to a stop under one of the stately Oaks the plantation is named for and Thomas exits the buggy and secures the horse that pulls it to the hitching rack then goes to the opposite side of the buggy to help his daughter exit. The two start up the stone walkway to the front of the palatial mansion and Jackson Brewster hails his longtime friend.

“Thomas, welcome. What brings you by this morning?” Jackson lays the paper he was reading on the table as he stands to greet his company.

Abby’s greeting to her friend isn’t quite as subdued.

“Cyn! I was so bored. It is such a welcome sight to see you here.”

The two girls draw a few feet away from their parents and begin to chatter, while the two men discuss their business.

“Today is the day you are breeding Firestorm to Coquette. I thought to come by and witness how my investment is being utilized. Your stud fees for Firestorm are outrageous.”

“I guarantee a live birth Thomas you needn’t worry about your investment. What you think I am a shyster or something?” Jackson has a broad smile as he finishes his comment, so it is obviously a rhetorical question. Thomas responds anyway.

“No Jackson, nothing like that. Call it due-diligence.”

Jackson pulls a pocket watch from his vest pocket, the fob attached to the button on the vest and glances at its face.

“The boys should be taking Coquette to Firestorm at any moment now, would you like to watch the breeding?”

“Yes, let’s do.”

The two start off the verandah and Abby and Cyn fall in step behind them. They walk across the open area at the side of the main house and coming around the corner, a huge barn comes into view, a smaller one a few feet further to the rear of its larger counterpart. The same large O symbol with the curly-que top that dominated the sign at the gate is painted on both.

The smaller barn is used for feed storage now, the bigger barn becoming necessary when Jackson had decided to breed horses commercially. The four enter the larger barn.

The interior of the barn is a bustle of activity. Slaves, clad only in pants, most secured with a belt made from hemp rope, move about the barn in the performance of their chores. The early season heat and humidity has their muscular bodies coated in sweat and glistening as their muscles ripple under their bronze to black skins.

They call out instructions and comments to one another, their English barely intelligible as it is heavily laced with colloquialisms and accent. They move with practiced efficiency as the head stableman, Abraham directs their activity.

The four approach the breeding stall as Coquette is being led inside. The beautiful Bay mare a fine specimen of care and breeding, has her tail bound in cotton cloth, as she was made ready for breeding earlier. Jackson explains the requirement to Thomas.

“The mare’s tail is wrapped so if she should flash her tail after Firestorm mounts her it won’t wrap around his breeding tool and possibly cause a cut that could lead to infection.”

“Wise precaution Jackson.”

Thomas is out of his element here, as he has no experience breeding horses. He merely agrees with Jackson to be a part of the conversation.

Another slave leads Firestorm into the stall. The proud Sorrel stallion a superb specimen of horseflesh prances as he catches the scent of Coquette’s heat. His deep almost burnished red coat the source of his name.

His penis begins to grow and extend from the protective sheath that hangs from his belly. His huge balls swinging in their sack as he came into the stall begin to draw up with his growing lust.

Coquette has been secured to a huge post in the ground on one side of the stall, the lead rope of her halter tied through a hole drilled in the top of the post. The slave who had lead her in stands at the side of her head, safe from any harm that might ensue as the potentially violent breeding occurs. The slave leading Firestorm lets the lead play out as the stallion moves toward the mare, also remaining a safe distance away.

Firestorm walks up behind the mare and starts to nuzzle her exposed vagina. Coquette squeals as mares typically do prior to breeding. Jackson goes on with more explanation.

“A mare spends several days coming into heat and several days going out of heat. During this time she smells of her heat. There are only one or two days in the middle of this time frame when she is actually fertile and will accept the attentions of a stallion. If she is coming in or past her fertile days she will kick and fight the stallion when he tries to mount her. The slaves will pull Firestorm away from Coquette should she start to fight his advances and we will try again tomorrow, and everyday until she accepts his advances, or it becomes clear we have missed her heat peak. Abraham is well experienced in breeding horses, so that probably won’t be the outcome.”

Firestorm continues to nuzzle the mare’s vagina and to raise his head skyward and curl his upper lip as stallions do in their mating ritual. Coquette continues to squeal but makes no attempts to kick. In fact she moves one of her hind legs sideways as if to prepare to steady her self for when the stallion mounts her. Firestorm finally mounts the mare.

Coquette gives no resistance as the stallion comes down on her back and starts thrusting for a target. The slave that had stood by after tying the mare quickly moves in and grasps the cock of the stallion and guides the appendage into the mare. Coquette lowers her head to the ground and submissively submits to the stallion’s attentions.

Thomas and Jackson watch the breeding as it occurs, Abby and Cyn standing a few feet further behind also watching the activity. The two girls mesmerized by the animal sex they are witnessing.

Abby watches the slave guide the stallion’s huge cock into the mare, and as the mare becomes submissive and accepting of the stallions breeding. She feels her own sex become wet and start to bloat with the blood of her lust as she witnesses the sight. She isn’t lusting for the stallion’s cock or anything as lewd as that. It is the mere act of the copulation that excites the girl.

She has seen other animals breed on the plantation, but not since Cyn had explained the details of her finding and observing the two slaves having sex. Now the detail of the two coupling is made real as she watches the stallion and mare repeat the act in animalistic terms that corresponds with the act in human existence.

Five maybe six thrusts later the stallion unloads his potent sperm into the mare and quickly dismounts. During the copulation, the stallion bites the back of the mares neck and his violent thrusts are almost brutal, yet the mare stands submissively and quietly accepting his rampaging attention without moving a muscle.

After he his pulled himself from her back, his cock drips the remnants of his lusty load as it starts to draw back into the sheath on his belly that protects it. The slave that had led Firestorm to the mare moves in quickly and carries a bucket of clear water and washes the stallion’s penis before it draws back into the protective sheath. The stallion stands docile, his spirit quieted in the aftermath of the breeding.

The other slave moves forward and starts to attend the bite mark in the mare’s neck in an attempt to preclude infection. The mares tail stays up away from her sex and the outer lips of her vagina ‘wink’ and small amounts of the stallion’s semen are expelled from her in small rivulets. After a few moments her tail clamps to her external labia, as if to hold in the remaining seed.

Abby is on fire. Her virgin pussy fully bloated with the blood lust provides. Her clit or ‘little nubby’ as she calls it, stands erect like a small penis between her legs. She has never felt it grow so stiff and hard. She feels the moisture of her sex leak out of her and as it begins to soak the crotch of her bloomers. Again her lust isn’t fueled by desire for the stallion, it is the act of the breeding that has consumed her thoughts. In her minds eye she isn’t seeing a stallion breeding a mare, but a man and a woman in the throes of sexual involvement.

The strange thing is the man’s cock, something she has never seen, looks like a horses appendage in this expose in her mind. But the raw action of the two is even more brutal than the stallion’s advances on the mare. The woman in her minds eye accepts the advances of the man and submissively allows him to use her body.

Her father, his guest and her friend turn to leave the breeding area and Abby stands transfixed not cognizant of anything, but the lurid scene playing out in her mind.

Her father reaches the entrance of the barn and turns and calls to his daughter.

“Come now Abby.”

Abby is shaken from her reverie and blushes profusely as if caught in the very act her mind was playing out as she replies.

“Coming father.”

They return to the verandah and the coolness of its shaded offerings. Cyn and Abby draw away and allow their parents to discuss the business that needs concluding, then the Kincaid’s return to the buggy still tied at the fence and depart.

All day Abby replays the morning’s events in her mind, alternately with her own vivid scene of human sex. Mid afternoon she returns to the barn in hopes of witnessing another breeding. She doesn’t know all breeding is done in the relative cool of the morning hours.

She finds the big barn deserted and starts to search for Abraham and the other slaves that are usually present. Her search takes her to the smaller barn, now used to store the bales of hay and grains, grown and purchased to feed the plantations animals. Several of the stalls have also been converted to slave quarters for the men that tend the animals in the barn.

All the slaves are quartered in workgroups. The house slaves in quarters on the backside of the huge plantation house, the field slaves in small communities near the fields, and the barn and animal tender slaves in rooms in the small barn. Abraham, as the overseer, and the only married barn slave, has a small house behind the barns where he and his family are quartered. His wife Lucinda and his daughter Jasmine, work as cook’s in the plantation house kitchen.

Abby enters the small barn and stops just inside the door to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside from the bright sunlight of the barnyard. As she stands she hears an unusual noise. It appears to be coming from the stall immediately to her front and right.
Her eyes aren’t fully adjusted, but she starts to move blindly forward, the nature of the noise compelling her to advance. Her lack of complete night vision is fortunate for she turns into the stall next to the one where the activity, producing the noises, is actually taking place.

Entering the stall she moves to the slatted wall that separate this stall from its neighbor.

Peering through the crack between the slats she tries to see the source of the noise she heard when she first entered the smaller barn. Her eyes are still not quit adjusted to the darkness in the barn, and at first she can only see the stacks of hay bales stored in the stalls enclosed space. Then another noise draws her attention to a certain area of the stall.

There, Abraham and Lucinda’s daughter, Jasmine, Abby’s playmate when she was younger is on her knees. Jasmine and Abby are the same age, 18, and in fact share the same birth date. The main difference between the two is at 14 Jasmine went to work as a slave of the plantation, while Abby continued to live her pampered life.

Jasmine’s tiny hand clutches the huge cock of one of the stable slaves. Her head bobs up and down as she takes his lusty tool into her eagerly working mouth. She slurps and moans as her own lust drives her to do this job perfectly.

The top of her dress is down around her waist, her large black breasts completely exposed. Another stable slave stands behind her, his hands trying in vain to cover each breast as he mauls the female flesh with his huge calloused hands.

Though Jasmine and Abby are the same age, chronologically, there development was different. When they started to develop at a younger age, Abby was envious when her playmates breast developed to what in modern times would be classed D-cups while Abby’s breasts remained a modest B. This of course was characteristic of their races more than anything else.

Abby and Jasmine haven’t played together for years, Jasmine pressed into service at puberty, helping her mother with cooking and cleaning chores in the kitchen, as the status of her position required.

This time of day all the house slaves and stable slaves are on a midday respite, the field slaves the only ones still hard at their labors. This mid-afternoon respite at ‘Shaded Oaks’ unique in the treatment of slaves, usually worked to the edge of death at this time in the antibellum South.

Jackson felt that since the field slaves were limited by daylight they should work throughout the daylight hours, while the close in slaves who worked in the stable and especially those who worked in the house, might be and usually were called on to work into the night time hours. So he allowed a ‘siesta-like’ period for the first few hours of the afternoon, before the close in slaves resumed their duties throughout the evening hours.

The house slaves had to prepare and cleanup after the evening meal and be available to serve late night libations and to turn down the beds, etc late into the evening and night, and the stable slaves might be required to stay up all night to assist a mare with the birthing of her foal. So he gave these slaves this mid day respite.

Abby watches the salacious sight in the stall next to the one she occupied, her view becoming clearer as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She noted all the stable slaves were present except Jasmine’s father, Abraham. He no doubt was napping in the small house he, Lucinda and Jasmine shared a few feet behind the barn.

Jasmine was sucking one. Another stood behind her mauling her breasts, while two others stood by, their hands idly stroking their distended cocks, in anticipation of their access to the willing girl. After a few minutes, the slave mauling Jasmine’s breasts stops the activity and leads Jasmine to a hay bale.

Positioning the young female slave on the bale on hands and knees, the slave who she had been sucking returns to her eager, willing mouth and Jasmine resumes her oral ministrations of his distended cock. The slave that had mauled her tits and then positioned her on the bale takes up position between her fanned out feet. He lifts her skirt and slips her bloomers to her knees.

As her female parts are exposed, Abby sees the thick patch of steel wool appearing pubic hair between the black girls legs and thinks of the few thin corn silk colored tendrils that grow sparsely on her own belly. She is again envious of her former playmate’s sexual development, not realizing the size of her breasts and the consistency, abundance and coarseness of her pubic hairs are characteristic of her race and not a slight on nature’s part to the fairer Caucasian Abby.

The slave standing behind Jasmine took a hold of his cock and started to guide it into the willing girl’s cunt.

This was the same slave that had taken a hold of Firestorm’s cock and guided it into Coquette earlier that morning. The act was similar, especially with Jasmine on all fours on the hay bale, but he was guiding his human cock into a human female.

Abby was mesmerized as she watched the large male member disappear into the waif of a girl that Jasmine was.

Jasmine reacted immediately and began to push back in counter-thrust to the thrusting of the slave fucking her, never losing contact with the cock she was sucking. She was obviously a willing participant in this tawdry experience. After a few moments, she grasped the cock she was sucking and momentarily removed it from her mouth. Turning to the slave fucking her she encouraged him.

“Fuck me.”

“Fuck this whore. Oh yeah!”

Then she resumed sucking the cock while continuing to be used from behind by the other slave.

After a time the slave fucking her withdrew and blew his load onto her ass, the white semen starkly contrasted on her black ass cheeks. One of the others quickly took his place and started fucking the girl.

Abby watched for over an hour as time and again the slaves assembled around Jasmine made use of her mouth and pussy. Each used her several times. Fucking her then having her suck them, restoring life to their withering cocks and fucking her again.

As the activities began to subside, Abby crept stealthily out of the barn in the same manner she had entered.

That night as she lay in her bed, sleep refusing to come from the oppressive heat and humidity, her hand slipped under her gown and into her bloomers. Her fingers slipped through the lips of her pussy bloating to fullness from the blood of the lust her mind’s eye created from the scene she had witnessed earlier that day, and her hand fanned to fever pitch. Soon her lips were fully flushed and hypersensitive. Her clit grew stiff and erect and her girl juices soon made a swamp of her fevered crotch.

She played with her pussy for quite awhile knowing the feeling she was feeling had to have a favorable finish. It seemed only to grow in intensity for the longest time, though, and she needed to find the release it appeared to promise.

Growing bold as her frustration grew she started to play with the entrance of her virgin pussy. Emboldened further by the growth of intensity these new activities created, she started to slip her finger further and further inside her never before violated cunt.

As the sex scene she had witnessed in the barn that day played out in her minds eye it was the slaves cock entering her body and not Jasmine’s or merely her finger.

Emboldened still further as her lust began to take control of her mind and body, she began to penetrate her vaginal orifice with her finger a little further with each thrust.

She felt her maidenhead disintegrate when her thrusts got even bolder and that momentary shot of blinding pain ripped through her belly. She yelped as the pain ripped through her like a knife stabbing her belly and froze in place, her finger still buried deep in her now deflowered cunt.

After just a moment the pain left and the lust again took sway on her senses. She felt the walls of her cunt begin to nibble and suckle her invading digit. Tenderly at first, then with growing intensity as her lust and passion reached their previous heights, she began to thrust her finger in and out of her fevered cunt. In her minds eye, she was again transported to the girl on the hay bale with huge black cocks coming from all directions. They no longer looked like horse cocks, except perhaps in size.

Now that she had seen an actual human cock her lurid visions were factually accurate right down to every anatomical detail. She could almost taste the cock she sucked in her masturbatory fantasy. She fingered her pussy with abandon and moaned lustily when the orgasm she knew had to be there finally arrived.

Afterwards she lay quiet for several moments not knowing if her moan had been loud enough her parents in their room down the hall might have heard and would surely come to investigate. When she heard nothing from the hall outside her door, her hand slipped back into her bloomers and she fingered her pussy to another lusty release.

In all that night she fingered herself to a half dozen orgasms, before exhausted sleep took away her lusty joy. The next morning, just as Cyn had experienced and related to her, she found blood on her hand and in her bloomers from her self-deflowering the night before. At first she was worried this would result in her masturbation being discovered. She formulated a response to any query that might be forthcoming should the laundry slave report the discovery to her parents, her worries obviously a product of misplaced guilt. Her answer would simply be her monthly curse had snuck up and come upon her in the night, is all.

Abby returned each day to the barn to watch the salacious activities repeated there daily, except for one day when a grain harvest saw the barn bustling with activities of a more normal variety.

Then about a week later fate intervened.

Usually Abby could sit and observe the activities in the next stall undetected. The lusty participation of those involved in the next stall all but precluded detection of her voyeuristic presence. Even when Abby had started to masturbate while watching, her hands pulling her skirt and petticoats into her lap and her fingers dancing between her legs, an occasional moan from the girl went undetected.

Her preoccupation with her sexual fantasies was almost constant now, so Abby had stopped wearing bloomers. This allowed her to let her hand steal to her sex without hindrance from restraining undergarments. No one ever would know, besides, she was careful to soil a pair of bloomers often enough to preclude suspicion when her bloomers didn’t appear in the clothes to be washed.

She sat squatted her legs splayed wide, one hand holding onto the slat of the stall wall, while the other fingered her cunt feverishly. This fateful day, though, a field hand came wandering through the small barn, in search of the activities he had learned went on here.

Rodney a new slave, purchased recently at a bargain price by Jackson, as he was one of the slaves who had participated in the uprising at Peach Orchard farms.

The ring-leaders had all been hung, but those who had merely participated were sold to the four winds in a belief that they could be put back in their place if they were separated. Rodney had escaped the hangman’s noose, for though he was the voice that had fomented the uprising, when it actually occurred he had stood by and merely encouraged those who took part. No one outside the close-knit slave community knew that he had been the one who had harangued the lesser intelligent slaves about the possibility of ending their slavery if they would only rise up against their oppressive Masters. Those who did know wouldn’t violate this sacred secret to the white masters and overseers placed over them.

Rodney worked the fields, but had encountered the afternoon activities in the barn when he had been sent by the field slave overseer to alert Abraham a load of grain was on the way from the fields. He had sampled Jasmine’s charms briefly that day, and now looked for any reason to come to the grain barn in the afternoons. He hadn’t been successful until now.

As he walked through the barn toward the stall where the stable slaves were lustily using Jasmine’s young body, he passed by the adjacent stall just as Abby moaned from her most recent masturbatory orgasm. He walked into the stall undetected by Abby and stood watching her play with her pussy while observing the goings on in the next stall for several minutes. His black cock grew to its full potential inside his pants as he thought through sticking it into the Master’s daughter.

Rodney had not yet grown to respect Jackson, or to depart from his militant stance, as the other well-treated slaves at Shaded Oaks Plantation did. He thought using the Master’s daughter sexually was just desserts for his treatment as a slave, anything to balance the scales in his militant mind.

He reached down and grasped Abby’s arm, the girl unawares of his presence until that moment. He jerked her small frame up from her squat position his hulking frame easily bringing her tiny body up to face him. He held her, her feet off the ground up to his face and spoke to her.

“So Massuh’s daughter wants to get fucked, we will have to do something about that.”

He leered at her as she formed a response. She thought to fight him, but quickly abandoned that idea as she realized there was no way she could over power the muscular black man. And just perhaps the submissiveness of the mare the prior week and of Jasmine in the next stall registered in Abby’s mind and took over her actions, for her words weren’t a protest, just a demure request for mercy.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

“If’n I hurt you missy it will be in a good way.” Rodney said as he dropped her in a heap at his feet. His hands quickly went to the rope belt that held his pants up and he loosened it allowing the pants to drop to his ankles. His semi-erect cock sprang free and began to grow and started to rise as the blood coursed into its tremendous length.

Abby looked up after regaining herself from being dropped to see Rodney’s stiffening cock only inches from her face. Characteristic of the race it was large, and Rodney was large even by those standards. Being this close to her face it looked to her to be the size of Firestorm’s cock, though that would be a bit of an exaggeration.

She saw him reach down and stroke the last little bit of life into the appendage and then reach behind her head, grasping a hand full of her blonde tresses and began to guide her head toward his erection.

Abby knew what he wanted and her mouth began to water and she felt a fresh infusion of juices seep from her overheated cunt. She submissively opened her mouth and took the bulbous black head of the cock into her mouth.

She bobbed her head up and down on the first few inches of the shaft as she had seen Jasmine do many times now, and had done herself in her mind’s eye.

The slight salt, sweat, and urine taste of his cock was heady and intoxicating as she tasted and cleaned the large black organ with her tiny white mouth. She didn’t even try to classify the tastes in her mind. Merely catalogued them for future reference in her fantasy world and for comparison purposes when these events occurred again.

She was actually doing a rather good job for her first ever blowjob. The natural talent of the slut that lay wakening inside her coupled with her observations of the last several days of Jasmine’s talents in this regard served her in good stead.

Had she refused or merely done a poor job, Rodney might have grown abusive with his militant mindset, but instead, he dropped his hands to his side and let her do all the work, at first only an occasional moan escaping his lips to reward her for her diligence.

Abby’s natural slutiness and her submissive nature emerging saw her redouble her efforts when he moaned. She thoroughly enjoyed what she was being required to do.

First the lustiness of it, her first sexual encounter with something other than her own hand, and with the satisfaction her submissiveness produced since she was giving pleasure to this huge black man that was dominating her at the moment.

If nothing further were to occur this was heaven enough for her first experience.

The heart of a submissive finds solace and peace in the service they provide, the use they are put to, and in this service they find their reward. If no sexual release were obtained by the submissive, the fact they pleasured someone else would be the reward and the release they needed. Abby was a true submissive and that was being revealed, now.

She was finding the pleasure of service as her eager willing young mouth worked the large black cock Rodney had presented for her to service. Each moan by the hulking black slave saw Abby’s emerging talents as a cocksucking sex slave improve as she sought even more to increase the pleasure of this man dominating her completely.

Rodney reached down the back of the dress Abby wore and deftly unbuttoned the back revealing the corset-like bodice the girl wore underneath. His fingers flew down those buttons, as well. In a matter of moments the garments on Abby’s upper body were slipping away from her torso and down her arms as the almost frenetic cock sucking aided in their removal. This had a restraining effect on the girl, so she slipped her arms out of the garments and they fell to her waist, where they clung to the tiny waist of her now topless form.

Abby’s smallish breasts had the perkiness of youth, and the turgid nipples, fully erect from the sexual stimulation, pointed toward the roof at a 45-degree angle. She stopped momentarily to look down at her naked body, and blushing profusely resumed the oral ministrations of the big black cock.

Rodney’s long arm’s had no trouble reaching out and grasping the breasts on the cocksucking Abby’s chest. His huge hands easily covered the B-cup tits as effectively as the bodice that had just been removed from her upper torso. When the gripping pressure on her tender young breasts caused Abby to moan, Rodney began to abuse the girl verbally.

“You nasty little slut. You slutty little white girls are all alike.”

“You parade around like the high and mighty Massuh’s daughter, but you can’t wait to get your hands on the big black cocks in the pants of your daddy’s slaves. The puny white cocks of the white boys that come around aren’t enough for sluts like you. You gots to have big black meat to fuck and suck. You little whore.”

Of course Rodney had no way of knowing this was Abby’s first sexual experience of any kind, other than masturbation, and her natural abilities at sucking his cock would have led one to believe otherwise.

Abby had no desire to refute what he was saying. The fact he had called her a slut and a whore thrilled her. It went hand in glove with the emerging submissiveness that was awakening within the girl. The joy of pleasing this dominating black man easily prevented her removing his cock from her mouth to refute his words. In fact she wished he would say more humiliating things about her and to her.

His hands mauling her tiny breasts were causing sensations she had never felt before either. The intense pain when he had first grabbed them was becoming pleasurable. She hoped he would hurt them some more.

With a mouth full of black cock she could only moan and mumble her assent to what he had said.

Rodney clutched handfuls of her blonde tresses and began to violently fuck her face, no longer the passive recipient of a pleasurable blowjob. Each thrust he sent a little more of his huge black fuck stick into the tiny white face of the girl.

Soon she felt his cock enter her throat and started to resist as her gag reflex activated. Her hands went to the fronts of his muscular thighs, but actually produced little resistance. Time and again the huge black rod impaled her mouth and throat. It would have done no good for the petite girl to have tried to stop him. Rodney, fueled by his lust, was almost like a man possessed now.
Unable to breath with the cock blocking her airway, Abby thought she was going to pass out, and started to lose her composure. Then a calm seemed to descend on the girl as ripples of pleasure began to course through her crotch. Not an orgasm, but pleasurable sensations none-the-less. Abby began to time her breathing to the thrusts of the cock that was blocking her airway. This calm and the concentration of the timing of her breathing was enough to stop her gag reflex from activating too.

Rodney’s cock now entered her throat as easily as it would have a cunt. Abby’s hands moved around the thrusting black man and grasped tiny handfuls of his muscular ass cheeks and appeared to be assisting in his impalement of her face and throat. The huge cock completely disappeared in face now.

Abby was realizing the potential of an accomplished cocksucker and also that this was pleasurable for her because it was certainly giving her tormentor pleasure. Rodney was grunting and moaning with each thrust now.

Her lips stretched tight around the huge black fuck stick, Abby looked up at Rodney towering above her.

His eyes were closed. His mouth hung open as he sucked in huge gulps of air as a sprinter might at the conclusion of a race. A glistening layer of sweat covered his body from the spring warmth and humidity in the stillness of the barn, and the effort he was exerting, in his use of the plantation owners young virgin daughter. Rodney felt his balls draw up in their sack and knew he was about to blow his lusty spew into the little white girl’s mouth. He didn’t want that.

In his militancy, though he knew he would be beaten or worse when it was revealed he was the father, he could only think of the humiliation the white plantation owners would experience when their poly-pure appearing little daughter delivered a half-black baby. He wanted his virile black seed to erupt in her cunt and make the journey to her egg awaiting fertilization deep in her womb. He had slowed in his face fucking efforts, but Abby had just taken up the slack to compensate.

He now reached under her armpits and picked the girl up, easily lifting her high above and in front of him. The clothing bunched around her waist quickly fell in a heap on the floor of the barn.

Abby blushed as her nakedness was revealed completely to the hulking black man. Though the barn was semi-dark, if she could see him without difficulty surely he could see her. No adult male had ever seen her naked since her father had bathed her as a young child. Her cheeks flamed red, briefly. The embarrassment of being held naked, except for stockings and boots, in the air by this huge black man was brief and ended quickly as he started to lower her back down. She watched as he flexed his steel-toned ass and his cock raging with lust lifted from perpendicular to 45-degrees, and he started to lower her onto it.

Abby felt the electricity of the contact as the warm, wet bulbous head slipped through he swampy labia and made contact with the entrance of her virgin cunt. Though no hymen would obstruct the insertion, due to her masturbatory exuberance, this was to be the loss of her virginity.

She felt the head begin to inextricably enter her never before probed inner depths, going places even her tiny fingers had never gained. Inch by excruciating inch the cock impaled her tight virgin orifice. Abby hissed as she sucked air through her tightly clenched teeth as the stretch of Rodney’s huge black cock tested the limits of human ability. After only the tip and an inch or so was inside the tiny girl, he started to lift her again.

Abby’s cunt sucked at the intruder and her inner lips were drawn outward as he lifted her off his impaling member. Reversing direction again, he slipped her back down his hard hot shaft and another inch disappeared inside the girl. The pleasure of fucking was just starting to assail the girl’s fevered crotch and her cunt was beginning to accommodate the large black member impaling her tiny body.

Her legs came up around his waist in a vise-like grip. Her hands went first to his upper arms then to his shoulders. When Rodney started to raise her again, she bounced on him. She had to have all of this ripping cock inside her. She had to feel the stretch and the pain that accompanied it and to give pleasure to her tormentor. She rode up and down on the he black rod, the stretch excruciating, but less and less as she accommodated more and more of the huge rod. After several bounces she felt the tickly sensation of his pubic hair in her outer lips, signaling she had taken all of him. It was truly a case of ten pounds in a five-pound bag, but Abby had to get fucked, not just impaled. Her submissiveness required she be used thoroughly now. She had a cock in her now un-virgin cunt and she had to feel the sensations of being fucked.

Unconscious to her in the thought processes that went through her head now, too was the desire to experience a fuck-induced orgasm. She moaned at the feeling of fullness and sat still for a mere moment as she adjusted to the stretch. Then she spoke the words she had heard Jasmine speak so many times.

“Fuck me.”

”Use your whore.”

Rodney had every intention of doing just that. He realized he couldn’t gain as much pleasure and do as effective a job with her riding his cock in this manner. He moved toward a bale of hay stored in the stall a few feet away and laid the waif of a girl down, never disconnecting his cock from inside her. He came down on top of her and started to thrust into her as his huge hulking black frame completely covered her tiny white body.

Abby’s legs came up in the air on either side of Rodney’s thrusting hips and her hands found their way to his steel banded muscular ass. He rode her hard, his thrusts demanding as he used her newly acquainted body to fucking. Abby wasn’t a passive recipient of his fucking either.

Her hands kneaded his ass and it appeared she was aiding him in his deeply penetrating thrusts. Her hips thrust back in a counter rhythm to his deep impaling. She was getting the shit fucked out of her for the first time and she loved it. As she felt her orgasm rising, she spoke oh her lust.

“Oh fuck me.”

“Fuck your slut.”

“Use me like a whore.”

Then her orgasm tripped and she wasn’t quiet as she screamed her pleasure.

“FUUUUCCCCCKKKKK MEEEEEEEEEEE.”

The occupants on the next stall hadn’t heard the activities of the two before now, their own noise and preoccupation with Jasmine, masking Rodney and Abby’s sex in the neighboring stall.

Abby’s orgasmic proclamations erased this modicum of discretion though and all seven occupants of the adjacent enclosure heard her pleasurable exclamation. Jasmine and the six stable slaves all entered the stall as Rodney unleashed his virile seed in the heretofore-virgin girl’s cunt. The explosion of his lusty spew and its splattering on the walls of her clutching pleasure-hole triggered yet another orgasm and Abby exclaimed again.

“Oh fuck yes.”

“FUUCCKKK MEEEEEE.”

When Rodney disengaged from her a rivulet of his black baby making seed ran from her stretched and well-used cunt. He turned to the others.

“Fuck the little white slut.” He said as he gestured toward Abby.

One of the slaves backed away.

“Nigger is you crazy? Fucking Abraham’s daughter is dangerous, but fucking Massuh’s daughter is suicide.”

“Why should a white slut be treated any differently than a black one?” he reasoned.

The protesting slave wasn’t convinced though. Taking Jasmine by the hand he led her back to the adjacent stall. The others didn’t share his fear though and one quickly took up position on top of the girl, sticking his turgid cock into Abby’s willing body.

They took turns using her willing and accepting body. Abby’s submission was complete and she welcomed the use as slave after slave mounted and fucked her. Her introduction to sex would forever change her life.

After they all had fucked her once in the missionary position, they had her to get on all fours on the hay bale so they could use her two at a time. Now just as she had seen Jasmine used that first day and many days since, one would fuck her mouth and throat as another fucked her like a dog from behind.

Rodney’s time was running out and he needed to return to the fields, but as Abby lovingly sucked his cock again, effectively cleaning cum and cunt juice accumulated on the stiffening black rod, he spoke to her. His words carried an understanding of her hopeless addiction to her submissiveness and to black cock. Rodney was no stranger to dominating young white plantation owner’s daughters. It was part of what fueled his militancy.

“Tomorrow you will return so I may fuck you again.”

Abby looked up at him, the thought to refuse never entering her mind.

“Yes sir.” She spoke, her submissiveness apparent in her show of respect to the slave she should be commanding and not taking commands from.

Rodney returned to the fields, taking the wrath of the overseer for his extended absence in stride.

The five stable slaves that had remained, continued to use Abby until the time of the afternoon rest period drew to a close, each sampling her pussy and mouth multiple times.

Abby quickly dressed and returned to the plantation house, sneaking in the back way to preclude encountering her parents, and before the kitchen slaves returned to their duties after their afternoon rest, so none would see her disheveled appearance.

She did return the next afternoon, and many afternoons after that. Her newfound submissiveness and the emerging slut inside had a voracious appetite for use and abuse.

Abby had been fortunate that first day. For her cycle was such that her egg was past its fertile window and no pregnancy ensued. Rodney’s militancy softened after a time as he saw himself treated kindly as all the other slaves at Shaded Oaks were. He stopped trying to impregnate the girl and had begun to withdraw from her and spray his lusty spew on her face of breasts, which pleased Abby to no end.

The next time Cyn visited it was Abby telling the stories. Cynthia Kincaid found a fascination with the stories Abby told. Soon the two girls were conspiring for a way she might involve herself in the lusty activities that took place in the feed barn most afternoons.

Please vote to provide me with feedback. You may also use the comment board. All is appreciated.