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Subject: {ASSM} {EZ}{NEW}MacKenzie's Journal IV (See Below)
Date: Thu,  3 Jul 2003 20:10:05 -0400
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This is the fourth part of a six-part historical novella first published at
Ruthie's Club in November, 2002, where it appeared beautifully illustrated
by Lloyd W. Meek.

The story codes would be MF+, Romance, D/s, BDSM, Slavery. The last of these
is literally slavery for the story is set in South Carolina during in 1839.

My thanks as always to my excellent and delightful editors - Gail Zane and
Ruthie.

The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in
locations where it is legal.  If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT
read.  This is a copyrighted work.  Reposting or any other use strictly
prohibited without the express, written permission of the copyright holder,
except may be posted as part of a  review or posted to free-access,
noncommercial archive sites.

Copyright 2002, 2003 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

The works of E. Z. Riter are archived at www.asstr-mirror.org and
www.storiesonline.net

The works of E. Z. Riter writing as Ezra Zane as archived at
www.ruthiesclub.com, the web's premiere illustrated erotic pay site.

Please!        Give me your comments!


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 drag
ging 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

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