MACKENZIE'S JOURNAL IV

In Residence at Whitlands 

The next morning Father entered my room well before dawn to find us asleep and uncovered with Ebony's hot body pressed against me.

He shook me and said, "Get dressed and meet me in the dining room, Robert."

Ebony lazily rolled onto her back, letting him gaze on the richness of her naked body. Father's eyes traveled down her, stopping at the soft pink of her sex peaking from below the black thatch of hair. "You, too, Ebony. Get up and get to work," he said.

"Yes, sir, Master Bruce," she replied sleepily, but with a small and knowing smile acknowledging the effect her body had on him, or on any man.   

I stumbled to the outer-house and returned to the bedroom to find her face down and apparently slumbering again. I slapped her plush bottom with the flat of my hand, receiving a squeal in return, and ordered her to arise. When I went into the guest house's center room, Fancy was dressed and waiting, her face adorned by the same neutral and effacing expression she usually wore. 

"Good morning, Master Robert. What should Ebony and I do today?" she asked politely. 

"Both of you report to Jane Marie," I said. 

At that moment, Father reentered the guest house. "Everyone in this damn place is asleep. There is no one in the kitchen, not a light on in the house, and no sign of life from the slave quarters. How in Hell does any work get done?"

"We'll awaken them," I said. 

"Of course we will." He turned to Fancy, who was cowering against the wall. "Fancy, first get Jonah, Samuel, and David. I want them to come to the big house. Then awaken Melissa. Tell her I want breakfast and I want it now. Then wake Witherspoon and have him report to me immediately."    

"Yes, sir," she replied, but she didn't budge from that spot. 

"Quickly, girl. Go," Father snapped. Fancy shot out the door and ran toward Jonah's tent. 

"Ebony!" Father yelled.  

Already dressed, she quickly threw open the door and stepped lively to stand trembling before him as he glared at her. 

"You belong to Master Robert," Father said coldly. 

"Yes, Master Bruce," she whispered.

"If you were my slave-girl and you wantonly showed your charms to another man as you did to me this morning, I might sell you that day, or, if you were a slave-girl whose sex pleased me, I might just give you a long, hard switching as a warning." 

"Please, Master...." Ebony began. 

"Be quiet," he said. "I said you weren't my girl."

She spun to face me, but remained silent upon seeing my expression, with tears running down her cheeks. Whether her legs gave way or she knelt intentionally, I don't know, but she fell to her knees in front of me with her upturned face silently imploring for mercy. 

"Have a long and flexible switch laying on my bed when I return tonight, Ebony. I will deal with you then. Now go light the lamps in The Manor," I said coldly. 

"Yes, Master Robert," she sobbed, before jumping up and running out the door. 

"She is a good looking and wanton wench. No doubt she will be the pain of Hell for some poor man," Father said with a chuckle. "Come. To work."

The first light at The Manor flickered and glowed as we walked toward it. We heard people scurrying about in the slave quarters and saw a light in Jonah's tent. Jonah, Samuel, and David were waiting on The Manor's stoop for they, like Father and I, were accustomed to beginning their day early. 

We bade one another good morning and began to discuss the farm when we heard Fancy crying, "Master Robert, Master Robert," as she ran toward us.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Mister and Missus Witherspoon are gone and so are the other white men and their families. They're all gone."

We all looked at Father, but he said, "What now, Robert?"

Once again, Father was thrusting responsibility on me and trusting me to handle it properly. He tried to maintain a solemn expression, but there was a twinkle in his eye. Jonah, too, was enjoying the moment of his new boss' first action. Samuel and David, however, faced me with the looks of men anticipating a command and trusting the man who would give it.      

"Fancy, send Ebony out to me. Then awaken Mrs. Whitfield and Jane Marie, tell them what happened, and have them dress as quickly as possible. Jonah, what do you have for weapons?"

"Hand axes, Robert," he said. Don't think Jonah was being arrogant or disobedient in not referring to me as master. That title was not mandatory at Ironwood.

Slaves were not allowed firearms and South Carolina law prohibited arming a Negro or training them in their use. Father and I, like most white men in this backwater area, did not go out of the house without a pistol or two and a knife in our belts.   

"David," I said turning to face him. "Get axes for the three of you. Tell Sarah to join us and send Constance Anne to the house for her safety."

We heard heated voices and Fancy screaming Ebony's name as we turned to walk toward the slave quarters. The Manor door slammed and I heard running. Momentarily, Ebony, breathing hard, was standing by me. 

"Who is in charge of the horses and stables?" I asked her. 

"Silas, Master Robert," she replied. 

"Samuel, go with Ebony and roust Silas. Determine if any horses or equipment are missing and report back to me. Wait. There's David. Take your ax." 

The slave quarters were always adjunct to the barn and stable area for the safety of slaves and animals alike since the Carolina woods were home to predatory wolves and cats. As for the rest, each plantation was laid out to suit the purposes of its owner and fit the terrain on which it sat. Whitlands' three overseer houses, which were much nicer than the shacks housing the slaves, sat between the slave quarters and The Manor. The slave quarters and the out-buildings sat on a small plain next to a creek, with the quarters upriver to the buildings for sanitary reasons, and the shops nearby for easy access, with a wooden rail fence surrounding it all.     
 
Sarah joined us as we searched the overseers' houses, and they had indeed been abandoned. I told Jonah to select the house he wanted and move into it when the plantation situation was under control. We exited toward the slave quarters and met Samuel and Ebony who reported wagons, horses, and implements had been stolen. 

Near the slave quarters was an assembly stand, a raised platform from which the overseer gave instructions to the group as a whole, with a bell nearby for calling the assembly. Another common apparatus in the area was the slave's tree. Originally an actual tree, but now more often a wood frame either in the shape of the letter "X" or built like the frame around a door, the slave's tree was where the slaves were whipped, suspended from the tree by ropes and chains. Ironwood had no slave's tree. 

News of the white overseers' unseemly departure had spread like wildfire, and the slaves were milling around when we entered their area. Seeing white faces increased the buzz, but when I mounted the assembly stand, they gathered round and quieted down. To assure our message reached all their ears, David heartily rang the assembly bell.
 
I waited until I believed all were present before beginning. I identified myself both as Jane Marie's intended and as the new boss at Whitlands. I introduced Jonah as the new overseer and Sarah, Samuel, and David as his assistants, which brought a stir since they had never seen, and probably could not imagine, a black man as the overseer. I further instructed them to obey Jonah and his assistants as they would me.

I informed the slaves that we used the whip only in rare instances, but I made it clear we sold slaves who malingered or disobeyed and we expected hard work from them. In their presence, I told Jonah to ascertain if everyone had enough to eat, if any houses needed repairing, and if any illnesses needed doctoring, thereby committing to them our resolve to provide for them. I called the gang chiefs forward before stepping down from the stand.

Gang chiefs are picked to lead other slaves in a particular endeavor, such as Silas, who was gang chief of the stables. Once on the ground, I stepped forward, introducing myself to each of them in turn and extending my hand to shake theirs. This, too, caused a buzz in the crowd for white and black men did not shake hands. However, Father believed, and I agreed, looking a man in the eye and shaking his hand takes his measure and is the beginning of a stronger and more productive relationship. 

I turned the meeting over to Jonah, who immediately told the crowd to disassemble and begin the day's chores. I walked toward the entrance gate where Father, with three pistols in his belt and a smile on his face, was standing with Jane Marie.  

He shook my hand and said, "Well done."

I appreciated the accolade but Jane Marie's approving expression and her visible pride in me were a greater reward. She put her arm through mine as we walked back to The Manor. There we talked of Whitlands' business, with nary a word about personal matters, until breakfast was served. Mrs. Whitfield did not grace us with her presence.  

I chose myself to make the hard three hour ride to the county seat to report the theft of Whitlands' property. I carried two braces of pistols and a letter of authority to represent the plantation. When I arrived, I found the sheriff and related my story. He informed me that Witherspoon and his cohorts were in the town's public house. There he and his deputies promptly arrested the culprits and incarcerated them in the town's stockade to await their fate. I assembled Whitlands' purloined property, delivered it to the local stables for safekeeping, and informed both the sheriff and the stable-owner that two young black men named Samuel and David would call to collect our possessions. In less than an hour, I was on my way back to Whitlands. 

Upon my return, I gave Palmetto to Silas and instructed him to saddle me a new horse. I rode the property, making mental notes as to necessary changes. I found Father, stripped to the waist and with sweat gleaming on his body, talking to a group of slaves in the field. I suspect he was instructing them in the proper way to plant corn. I noted the garden area, much smaller than the one at Ironwood, needed expanding to provide enough vegetables to feed us all and that Whitlands suffered a shortage of poultry and cattle as well. 

By evening, we all were tired but exhilarated. I sponged off the road dust and joined Father and Jane Marie in the dining room of The Manor where they were talking before dinner. 

"Where is your mother?" Father asked.

"She's taking her meals in her room," Jane Marie replied. 

Father's jaw set and twitched. "You are mistress of The Manor," he said to her. "I do not wish to appear to be rude, but I would like the authority to deal with this troublesome matter."

"Meaning my mother?" Jane Marie asked.

"Yes," Father said. It wasn't often a burr lodged under his saddle but Mrs. Whitfield clearly vexed him.

"Why?"

Jane Marie's question, equivocal and open-ended, raised all the issues between our respective parents. Father did not respond. Rather then hesitating for effect as he was wont to do, he was searching for the words. 

Jane Marie cut him short by saying, "She suffered mightily by my father's hand, didn't she?" Father nodded. "You love her, don't you?" she asked. 

"Yes, I do," he replied. 

"Full authority will shortly be yours, so take it now and do what you wish," she said.

"Thank you, Jane Marie," Father answered sincerely. He turned to face the kitchen and bellowed, "Melissa." Quickly Melissa appeared. "Tell Mrs. Whitfield no more meals will be served to her room and tell her to come to the dining room for dinner at once," Father instructed. 

Melissa's eyes opened widely and she looked at Jane Marie, who said, "The two Mr. MacKenzies are in charge now, Melissa. Do as he says."  

"Yes, ma'am," Melissa said and hurried down the hall. We heard her relaying the message through the door. In a few moments, Melissa returned and said, "Missus Whitfield says she's not coming to dinner."

"Go back and tell her if she doesn't appear by the second course, I will kick down her door and drag her out by her hair," Father said. 

"Oh, Mr. MacKenzie, I can't tell Missus Whitfield that," Melissa pleaded. 

"Go tell her," Father said emphatically. 

Melissa talked to herself as she again went to Mrs. Whitfield's bedroom. When she returned, she said, "Now Mr. MacKenzie, please don't get mad at me, but this is what she said to say to you. She said, 'Tell the brute I will be there shortly.'"

"Thank you, Melissa," Father said. The poor woman ran from the room. Father was grinning and we grinned in response. "I think I'll have a drink," he said. He called for Ebony and gave her instructions. Shortly, she returned with three whiskies. 

"To Mary Elizabeth," Father said holding up his glass in the time honored signal for a toast.

"To Mary Elizabeth," we chorused, touching our glasses to his. 

After the salad, we began the second course, which was pot roast with potatoes and vegetables, and the inevitable biscuits with butter and jam and strong tea. Mrs. Whitfield, who appeared as the plates were laid on the table, was properly dressed in a frock similar to Jane Marie's. Her eyes were swollen from crying and she looked emotionally drained. Father stood when he saw her, complimented her on her appearance, and held her chair for her.  

The dinner conversation did not flow smoothly. Mrs. Whitfield wished to be silent and Father insisted she participate. His desire for her and her resistance were bittersweet, for I truly believed they were good for each other. 

When dinner was complete, Father said, "Mary Elizabeth, let's sit on the front porch and talk for awhile."

"No, thank you, Bruce," she replied. "I'm going to my room."    

It galled him, but he replied, "Certainly. Have a pleasant evening," as he held her chair and watched her walk away. He excused himself and departed by the front door.

"I didn't mean to be abrupt with you last night," Jane Marie said. 

"I didn't take offense, but thank you for the apology."

"I had a long talk with Mother today. She told me she never committed adultery. She also told me about your father proposing to her and about his offer to buy her freedom from my father. Did you know about that?"

"Yes, I did," I replied. 

"She wanted to accept, but didn't because it wasn't morally correct. That says something positive and good about her, doesn't it?" I nodded. "She told me other things, too. I realize my father subtly poisoned my mind against her yet she never spoke out against him. That's one reason I believe her."

"I hope you harbor no animosity toward her. She will always be your mother and in our lives."

"As both mother and mother-in-law it appears," Jane Marie said with a wry smile. "I'm going to be with her now." She stood and I stood with her. She came against me and wrapped her arms around my waist. 

"I'm eagerly looking forward to our wedding night, my love," she whispered. She kissed me before walking toward the hall, where she stopped and turned back to me. 

"May Fancy spend the night with me? I miss her," she said.

"Certainly. I'll send her in," I said. We bade each other sweet dreams. 

Ebony and Fancy were in front of the fire when I entered the guest house, with Fancy on her knees rubbing Ebony's back.

"Where's Father?" I asked.

"In his room, Master Robert," Fancy replied. Ebony rolled over to look up at me, which pulled her dress tight over her breasts. Knowing I was watching, she spread her legs, pulling the lower dress tight around them.  

"Jane Marie wants you to spend the night with her, Fancy. Go to her room."

For only an instant, she smiled and looked happy and then her passive mask returned. "Yes, Master," she replied. She gathered a few items and hurried out the door. 

Ebony sat up and stared at me with hot eyes. 

"Ready for your switching?" I asked.

"Please don't punish me, Master," she whispered in a sexy and yielding tone. 

Like a cat, she sprang up and wrapped her arms around my waist with her breasts hot on my chest. One hand slid down to stroke my manhood. 

"Let me please you, Master. I'll be so good to you, your head will rumble with dreams of me."

The door to Father's bedroom opened and he stuck his head out. Ebony, looking very guilty, stepped back from me. "Oh, good. You're here." He was grinning as he walked into the center room wearing only his trousers. "Is Ebony trying to seduce you out of her punishment?"  

"Yes, sir, but it won't work."

"You shouldn't have told her. I'll bet you she'd be quite rewarding as she played her tricks to win you over."

"She's quite rewarding anyway," I replied. 

"I know she is if she is anything like her mother," Father said. His eyes were on her and his voice neutral when he said, "But, unlike her mother, Ebony has not learned the virtue of fidelity to the man who is her lover or that her loyalty should be doubled if her lover is also her owner."

Ebony was still as a mouse, her only movement being her eyes as they flicked between Father and me.

Father's face and tone softened as he said, "Or perhaps she has learned wantonness is more pleasing to some masters than loyalty, particularly if her master enjoyed watching her copulate with his friends as Edward did."

Father faced me, with his profile to her, and her frightened eyes fell on me. "I told you Ebony had Edward and two slave-men as lovers before you, but Patience informed me that was incorrect. It seems Edward gave Ebony to all of his friends except me for their temporary use and enjoyment, and she did not go to the two bucks voluntarily but as a reward given to them by Edward."

He turned to face her. "Is that information correct?" he asked.

"Yes, Master Bruce," she whispered. 

"Did you enjoy the others?" he asked. When Ebony did not answer, Father continued, saying, "Clearly she is deciding which answer she thinks will most please us rather than tell us the truth. Whether slave or free, all woman face that dilemma, but the burden of the slave woman might be greater, for she faces the pain of whipping or sale if she displeases her man. So she must decide - does she share with her lover the secrets of her heart and risk his displeasure, or hide them, telling him only what she thinks he wishes to hear?"

He turned, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "We start early again in the morning. We have a lot to do and I leave for Ironwood at mid-day. Good night, Robert."

"Good night, Father," I said. 

He walked to his bedroom door, quickly turned, and smiled at Ebony. Shyly, she smiled in return. "Good night, Ebony," he said.

"Good night, Master Bruce," she answered softly and half-curtsied to him.

Ebony and I faced each other, neither speaking but communicating non-verbally. I took her hand and led her into my bedroom to find a fire laid, the bed turned back, and a sturdy branch about four feet long and with its bark stripped lying across the bed.

In the room's deep silence, broken only by the fire's crackling, she began unbuttoning my tunic. Except for her hands undressing me, we neither touched nor spoke. When I was bare, I visited the outer-house and returned to find her as I left her. She slowly raised her dress over her head to reveal her splendor. Her face during this time wore questions interspersed with introspection, changing landscapes of the terrain of her mind. 

"Do you deserve a switching, Ebony?" I asked.

"I don't know, Master."

"Why?"

"I don't know what pleases you or what displeases you, Master."

"You'll learn," I said. 

I picked up the switch and she stood still as a statue, with goose bumps prickling her breasts and arms. I lay the switch's shaft on her calf. She gasped and raised her arms over her head to fold them as she clasped elbows with hands, exposing her body to my weapon. 

I was acutely aware that her eager yielding fueled my lust. Her willingness and readiness to accept my domination, as her body and face alike confirmed, made my spear throb like a boil. As I slowly slid the switch up the outer curves of her shapely leg and over the rise of her hip, I contemplated both her reaction and mine, for her desire to be roughly conquered was obvious and the power of my own need to subdue her made my hand shake.

I slowly trailed the switch up her side and she squirmed in a powerful combination of pleasure and terror that reflected in her face and the rigidity of her nipples. I cupped her sex. Her mouth opened and her legs parted, offering me access to either if I chose. Her sex was moist, telling of her desire for my manhood to enter her there. I leaned against her and her eyes stared hopefully into mine.

"Do you want to be switched?" I asked.

"No, Master, but I have angered you and I expect to be switched," she said.

"That was two times a lie. Lie one is that you do want it. You see, slave-girl, I am learning to read your signs. And lie two is that you said you would tell me how to please you sexually, but you didn't."

Tears formed in her eyes and her lower lip quivered. I stepped back and laid the staff on her nipple. Her eyes fluttered closed and she bowed her back to caress the thin branch with her breast. 

I was contemplating this strange mystery of a woman seeking her pleasure from her pain, and a slave-girl reveling in her slavery, when her eyes opened and she stared at me with a deep hunger.

"Does the idea of being switched make you eager for sex?" I said quietly. 

"Sometimes, Master Robert," she murmured huskily.

I wished to elevate her pleasure, and mine, to the greatest heights, yet I had no desire to bring her needless pain for, unlike Father, I felt Ebony would be loyal to a master who treated her well.

"Then sometime I will switch you for both our pleasures," I said as I dropped the switch. "But not now."  

She leapt against me with her hands around my neck, her mouth pressed against mine, and her body grinding into me. As quickly, she dropped to the floor on hands and knees, with her buttocks toward me and her knees widely spread. 

"Hurry, Master. Take me this way, like a dog humping a bitch, drive your cock into your slave-bitch and fuck her hard."

Her bud was fully open, covered in its own dew secreted to such an extent drops fell to the floor below her, when I grabbed the bones of her hips and drove into her with all my force. 

Immediately, her trembling signaled her climax as she screamed, "Master." Her reward was stronger than I had experienced, lasting longer and with more force, with gasping and moaning and pressure around my shaft like a clasping hand until her head flopped to the floor with a thud. Still I was in her, rutting hard in her slickness. 

"Yes, Master. Keep fucking my slave-girl cunt," she moaned softly. 

Her sex slowly tightened around my presence and she drove her hips back hard and stopped. She groaned and went limp, falling to the floor, which pulled my red and wet manhood from her the instant before it exploded. I watched cords of my sperm fly to land on her back and hair before I fell on her, too spent to move. 

In the night, I awakened when the dying embers of the fire were insufficient to heat us adequately. I lifted Ebony, put her in the bed, crawled in beside her, and covered us over. 

In the morning, Ebony awakened me in the most pleasurable way with her full lips around my manhood, before mounting me to move only the muscles of her sex, laying with her breasts pressed into my chest and her head by mine. Resting and waiting in the damp heat and rhythmic stimulation she provided, my manhood became overaroused, compelling me to roll her over and consummate our coupling with force and speed.

Father, Jane Marie, and I were in fine spirits at breakfast, but Mrs. Whitfield's absence galled him although he did not demand her presence as he had at the prior meal. He seemed, for the moment, to accept his fate as a spurned lover. 

After breakfast, I first gave Samuel and David their papers of passage and dispatched them to retrieve our belongings from the stable-master in town. Jonah, Sarah, Father, and I met to discuss Whitland's condition. Jonah advised me that the slaves' food was limited in both amount and diversity and we all agreed expansion of the garden was a high priority. While Sarah was mistress of the Great House at Ironwood, she also was responsible for the garden. In truth, she enjoyed that endeavor more than others, so I charged her with the task. 

I gave Father my opinion that poultry and cattle were in short supply and asked that he sell us our needs from the herds at Ironwood, to which he agreed. I assigned Sarah the extra duty of determining how many hens, roosters, and milk cows Whitlands needed. 

Jonah stated his belief that Whitlands' slaves were a placid and basically lazy lot who cared not how much was produced but only how little they worked. Father's presence in the field, however, had been an example to a few of them, whose effort had increased. We all agreed increased effort was essential if Whitlands was to both maintain crop sales to produce income and remediate substandard conditions of its buildings, including slaves' houses, and equipment. We discussed other issues and laid plans before Father mounted Liberty and returned to Ironwood. 

***** 
 
For a fortnight from that point, I was master of Whitlands, spending my days learning the operations and making decisions that would impact the future of owners and slaves alike. The most sensitive issues dealt with organization and management of the slaves themselves as Jonah and I rewarded or punished them to best serve our needs, although that punishment was only reduction from a position of authority together with a reprimand, and nothing of a corporeal nature. Our decisions quickly bore fruit, as the new gang chiefs proved eager and energetic to assist in building Whitlands' operations.

I addressed the assembled slaves on several occasions. They were well aware they lacked sufficient vegetables, eggs, and grains, but had reasoned incorrectly that these shortages were due to Whitfield consumption or sales to other plantations. I explained that the cause was insufficient production and that while we would provide more space for the garden and chickens and cows, they must provide the effort to tend and collect the foodstuffs.

I dined with Jane Marie twice a day and my feelings for her and desire to wed continued to grow. Mrs. Whitfield asked to receive her meals in her rooms, but Jane Marie and I agreed to deny her that request, so she dined with us. We watched her slowly recoup from the sea changes in her life. Fortunately, the poison that infested her system seemed to have vanished. Fancy was happier now that she was living in the guest room in The Manor located next door to Jane Marie's room.  

Ebony was the one, however, who seemed to change the most. The night following her aborted switching when we two retired to the guest house, she called me Bobby, becoming only the second person in my life, the other being Jane Marie, to use that familiarity. That test of our relationship, confirmed by the burning questions in her demeanor as she spoke, was the first of many small tests she gave me. I took no step to stop her. She always was deferential and correct outside of that house and she did not take advantage of my good nature therein.

As she slowly found me to be honest and generous with her, her inherent good nature repaid my kindnesses and I reaped my reward, for a joyful and contented Ebony is a reward indeed, a woman whose passion at night multiplied to our mutual enjoyment.

*****

Father returned to Whitlands fourteen days after he departed, arriving hale and hearty to join Jonah and me for the noonday meal, which was only bread and tea as was our practice. He announced he had acquired the poultry, cattle, and swine we needed and his acquisitions were on the road under the care of James, Ironwood's overseer. He brought me up to date on events at Ironwood, most importantly my dear sister, Elizabeth. I, in turn, informed him of the changes at Whitlands, including our progress in the fields, the expansion of the garden, and the attitudes and actions of the slaves. We toured the plantation to examine every aspect of its operations and to introduce him to the new gang chiefs. 

Jane Marie warmly welcomed Father's return. At dinner that night, Mrs. Whitfield joined us to sit at Father's right as Jane Marie sat at mine. The dinner discussion was primarily of our wedding, now less than three weeks away. While Mrs. Whitfield joined us in conversation, she was quiet and passive, deferring to the rest of us in any decision needing to be made. Father did not abruptly command her attention as I expected, but was gentle as a mother to a newborn with her.

When dessert was through, Mrs. Whitfield stood and said, "I'm going to my room now."

"I want to talk with you, Mary Elizabeth," Father said gently.

"We can talk tomorrow, Bruce," she replied with more strength than I saw in her all evening. 

Clearly disappointed, he nonetheless acquiesced and bade her good night. Jane Marie kissed me warmly, excused herself, and went up the stairs to her room. Father and I called for a whiskey, which Ebony served. We talked of the farm and its management as we sipped our drinks. 

When we left for the guest house, Ebony went with us, walking a few feet behind me, and Fancy went to her room upstairs. Upon entering, Father fell back on the chesterfield and I sat beside him. Ebony laid the fire and stoked it to life before kneeling as my feet to remove my boots. 

"I sense a change between you two," Father said.

Ebony raised her head and smiled at me. "Yes," I said. "These two weeks have been good for us."

"Does Ebony understand her wantonness is only a blessing if she lets you control it, Robert?" Father asked. 

"Ask her, Father," I said and he repeated his question to her. 

"May I talk freely, Master Robert?" Ebony asked me.

"Yes, you may," I answered. 

She sat back with her buttocks against her heels and her knees together primly with the skirt of her dress loose around her legs. Her face was intent, her intelligence evident, as she spoke.

"You said once, Master Bruce, that I was thinking about what to say rather than saying what I felt. That was true, but now I will say what is and what was and what I feel. I do so only because I now trust my master." She looked from Father to me and continued. "I obey him and want to please him not out of fear as I did with Master Edward but because I care for him and want him to be pleased with me." 

She took a deep breath, turned toward Father again, and said, "When I had my first time of the month, my mother told me Master Edward would make a woman of me and that I, as his slave and his woman, had only one purpose in life - to please him. She told me of sex and what to expect. I was horrified to be taken by my master and yet thrilled I was to belong to him as my mother did, for I had seen them together many times. 

"He came for me in the middle of the night, yanking me from my bed, and dragging me from my home to tie me to the slave's tree. My mother and my sister held lamps for light as he tore my clothes from me and whipped me with a small whip."

Father and I were both shocked at her revelations concerning Edward Whitfield.

"He whipped all of me, but seemed to take special thrill in punishing my female parts. As he whipped me, he continually told me that I would be wanton and over-willing, always eager to obey his every command, and I would please him and all men he let use me. He said he would kill me slowly if I displeased him. He forced his manhood into me, tearing the seal of my sex. After he took his pleasure, he told Mother to let me hang there until daybreak."

Ebony's eyes were unseeing as she spoke and tears slid down her cheeks to wet her dress where it swelled over her breasts. When she looked at me, I was truly touched by the depth of her feeling. 

"I was allowed to heal before he first called for me. When I went to him, my only thoughts were pleasing him, for I had no desire to die. I pleased Master Edward beyond his expectations, and doing that was very important to my well-being. My surprise was how much I enjoyed sex, whether because of my violent initiation or in spite of it, I didn't know. You asked me if I enjoyed being given to others. Yes, I enjoyed it, and I enjoyed my master watching me as I pleased his friends. Like my mother before me, I am a sensual woman who finds great reward in pleasuring a man."

Her introspection gone and her intensity burning brightly, she held Father's gaze.

"I suspect, Master Bruce, that you believe me incapable of being faithful to one man." He nodded. "You are wrong, sir. I can be faithful and will be faithful to a man I trust and care for and who cares for me."  

She looked at me with the same intensity and raw, honest emotion. "That man is you, Master Robert. If you tell me to touch no man but you, I will happily do it. But if you tell me to pleasure another man because it pleases you, I will obey because it pleases me to please you."

She looked downward and trembled. I lifted her chin to force her eyes to mine. "I believe and appreciate your honest and forthright disclosures," I said. "You have earned no enmity from me for them."

"Nor from me, Ebony," Father said. "I apologize for misjudging you."

"Thank you, Masters," she whispered. 

"I'll leave you two alone," Father said. As he started to rise, Ebony seized his hand and kissed the back of it. 

I guided her into our bedroom where she disrobed me before removing her simple dress and tossing it aside. She lay back on the bed and welcomed me into her. Our couplings were different that night, less heated but deeper in emotion, until she slept in my arms. 

I must admit, to these pages if no one else, as she lay next to me with her breath warm on my throat, that I would consider myself lucky to have in my betrothed the depth of feeling I had from and for Ebony.

I awakened early the next morning to find Ebony awake with her leg over mine, her soft hand resting on my chest as she watched me apprehensively.

"Good morning, Master," she whispered. Her lips brushed my cheek.

"Good morning," I replied as I turned my face to hers and met her lips with mine. 

"Have I displeased you, Master?" she whispered.

"How would you have displeased me?" I asked.

"Most men would punish their slave-girl for admitting she enjoyed being given to others."

"In truth, your open and honest emotions pleased me very much." 

"Thank you." The sound of the letter "B' escaped before she sealed her lips.

"You are welcome to use my Christian name when we are alone, but it is proper to call me Master when others are present."

"I know, Bobby," she whispered. She nestled more firmly against me and I turned toward her, letting my hard shaft rest on her leg.

"Are you going to have me now?" she asked hopefully. 

"Answer this question first. In your openness with me, you failed to address the pain you sought that night when I held the switch against your body." Ebony quivered and her fear of having her feelings exposed shown in her eyes. "I can read your signs now, Ebony. I can tell what you want and when you lie to me."

She nodded and exhaled sharply. "Great pain, like when Master Edward whipped me before he first took me, is only pain and no girl wants that, but...." Her sly and sensual expression transformed her face. "Sometimes a little pain is only a touch more than pleasure and increases the pleasure when they are given one after the other." 

"Like a spanking?"

She squirmed as if feeling my hand on her backside. "Yes, like that."

"Or like a switch if applied with finesse."

"Or like that, too."

I slid my hand down her front to pass through her dark hair and stroke her cunt to find it wet with her juices. 

"Thinking of me or a spanking?" I asked.

"I'm thinking of you spanking me, and then holding me down and fucking me, Bobby. I'll tell you another secret. We like our men to use the words of sex when they're in us, or when they contemplate being there."

"Like now, when I say, 'I'm going to spank your sweet ass and then fuck you hard."

"Yes. Like that," she said as her fingers wrapped around my shaft and she squirmed to get it closer to her sex. 

"Robert, it is time for breakfast," Father said as he rapped on the door. 

"Coming, Father," I replied. "I'll redden your ass and fuck your hot cunt later, my sweet Ebony," I whispered in her ear. 

She was all soft, sexy smiles and hot eyes as we dressed. 

To be continued


