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A Plantation's Secrets

By: takecare1212



He'd walked three days on, and chose to stop at this plantation not for its occupants — he didn't know them anyway — but because it'd been left intact. The pillars that pretended to hold it up were white as ivory, the garden out front well-tended and colorful. A man could get work at a place this manicured. He only had a sack of clothes, and he had to put it down to knock on the front door. 

It seemed to be a maid that answered. She opened the front door, but almost immediately closed it at the sight of Abraham, the shadow of his massive figure spilling into the house, her first impulse one of fright. It wasn't the first time this had happened to him, and he couldn't blame her.

"I don't mean any harm, ma'am," Abraham said.

"What you want?" The maid ask.

"Looking for work, that's all." His voice. His voice was what calmed her. It was particularly booming, low-pitched and forceful, yet pitiful too, like a spiritual sung in the fields as the day wore on, and there was a spark of trust there, enough to open the door at once and take in the man before her. His shirt was white and threadbare, open at the chest, small tight coils of curls, like a babies, spilling out. His hat hid his eyes, yet she felt them to be sad. These weren't times of happiness for a man like this one. 

"Why you figure there's work here?" she asked. 

"The only thing I figured was that it couldn't hurt to ask, ma'am" Abraham said. 

"I ain't no 'ma'am', I'll tell you that much."

"Well then, you have a name?" Abraham asked.

"Mae, but I don't see why it matters one way or the other."

"Well, Mae, If you wouldn't mind, I'd be much obliged if I could speak with the head of the house."

"Master Banks is out," Mae said. 

"Surely there's someone—"

There were footsteps then, quick from one to the next, and a voice came from the hallway. 

"Mae, we're expecting the Taylor's in only an hour — Oh, is that them? Well don't keep them out there in the heat, have some manners." When she appeared — when she saw Abraham — the woman had the same reaction as Mae, yet she recovered quickly, enough so to impress Abraham himself. A white woman with some courage.

Abraham knew a slave master's wife when he saw one. Young, lily white, her blonde hair was snug in a bun, her breasts modest but taut in their outline, her feet bare like a child coming in from playing in the backyard. But she was no child. But he knew even then, married and what not, she was no lady, either.

"Oh, I see," she said. "Do you know this man?" she asked Mae. 

"No. Says he needs work."

A moment of silence followed, and Abraham quickly spoke up to fill it. "I can work land better than any hand you might have on right now. There's no tool foreign to me. I know proper etiquette as well, and my presence in the house will be both beneficial but invisible. You'll not notice me unless I'm wanted."

"You're not exactly the sort of man that blends in," the white woman said, looking him up and down. His clothes were too tight, she thought. Far too tight. A woman might see too much . . . .

"I do try to, ma'am. Might I say, your rose garden is quite a sight. I ain't seen one like it in some time."

This took her off guard, for it was her prized hobby, those roses. It was as if he somehow knew as much. "I . . . thank you."

"No need for thanks. Only thanks that should pass between us today is if you offer me a place here. And in that case I'd be thanking you."

She was only a housewife, and because of it Mrs. Banks was afraid to make any decision forthwith, but she also knew they needed the help. The war had killed some slaves and freed the rest, and most of those that chose to stay were too old to put in an honest day's work or too lazy to take the whiskey bottle out of their hands. Otherwise there was only Mae, who only stayed out of friendship, the two having grown up side by side. Someone in the field, someone who could manage the stable and bring deliveries into town, would be a Godsend.

"We got a stable out back," Mrs. Banks said. I can't have you in the house once my husband comes back, and we're having guests for dinner, but if I find you there afterwards and you're still up for staying around, I imagine Charles will have a place for you."

"Then it's there you'll find me," Abraham said.

He tipped his hat, and when it raised Mrs. Banks could see his eyes, two pools of darkness but with the oddest hint of warmth, of something more, like a bastion of light at the end of an ominous country road.

"I'll have Mae show you the way," Mrs. Banks said, her suddenly unsure of itself. "The horses could use feeding, if you want to get a start on things."

"Follow me," Mae said.

The stable was larger than he had expected, with enough space for fifteen horses, and looked to Abraham to be a relic of the past, a sign of good fortunes lost. But the horses there, six in all, were well kept, groomed no less than he would have liked to see, and he made a point to distribute the stockpile of hay kept in the back judiciously, and none went without a once over. Healthy, all of them.

There was some time where Abraham was idle. Then an older negro drove in at the head of a coach and assisted in getting the horses into their stalls. The man informed Abraham of the gathering taking place in the big house, a another couple having come in from nearby Bent Creek. And before long, yet long after the coachmen had disappeared, he found himself watching the big house's activities. A light poured out from the parlor, and he could make out Mr. Banks, rotund at the waist, a cane in one hand, a gentleman far older than his wife. He entertained his guests while Mrs. Banks watched on, eyes wandering, disinterested in the proceedings.

She would be the youngest he had, Abraham thought. But she would be had nonetheless. As with so many, she was uncomfortable with her purity, with the rules of customs forced upon her. Pregnancy would come soon from the old man if he wasn't able to interrupt the proceedings, and the mere thought pained him. It was only eased by seeing himself in his place, envisioning her swollen belly, her already blossoming breasts engorged past the point of gentility, her true nature bared for all to see when the baby arrived.

He rubbed his cleanly shaved head, returned to his blanket which he had laid out on a bedding of hay. Through the cracks of the stable's chipped ceiling, he could see the stars up ahead, constellations his father had pointed out to him many years before, all forgotten, and right as he was falling into a dream, Mr. Banks appeared before at the stable's entrance. 

"I hear you're looking for work," Mr. Banks said.

Abraham sat up on his elbows before climbing to stand. "You heard correctly, sir. My name is Abraham."

"You trouble, Abraham?"

"No, sir. And I'm not looking to find it, either." 

They studied one another, as men are prone to do. Mr. Banks was clearly of another time, the grey already showing at his ears, his cane holding him upright. He was dressed as a gentleman, trousers and overcoat both a clean-pressed, with no signs of wear — no, the only wear was in his countenance, and there it was in the corners of his eyes, the falling skin at his cheeks, the elongated earlobes. 

"Where you from, boy?" Mr. Banks asked. 

"Radford, originally." 

"You don't sound like it," Mr. Banks said, suspiciously. "You sound like a Northerner. You learned?"

"My father was a preacher and a teacher. I didn't go a day without a sermon and a lesson, sir. He wanted me to speak like God — figured God spoke like a white man."

Mr. Banks smiled at this. "Smart man." And then, just as quickly washed it from his face. "But I ain't interested in any smart niggers working my land, you understand me?" 

Abraham felt himself grow rigid, upright, if only involuntarily. From a room away he was still cut such a figure at full height that Mr. Banks was nearly left agape.

"Of course, sir," Abraham said, kindly. 

"Good, good," Mr. Banks said. "Don't know how much I'll pay you, but you'll make a living. I don't let a slave — I mean, a worker — go hungry."

"Only fair."

Mr. Banks tapped his cane into the ground, as if to replace a handshake between the two. "You'll start tomorrow then. I'll have Mae bring you by some dinner. Not much, but it will do." 

Abraham thanked him, and watched him out. He couldn't help but see, up above the man's frail shoulder, a silhouette in a bedroom window; a woman's shoulder sleeve becoming unfastened, the material straying from the body, lowering to the ground.

"And boy," Mr. Banks said, turning for a moment. 

"Sir?"

"I don't want to see you and Mae getting friendly, you understand. You could be the finest prize from here to New York — you won't be touching what isn't yours."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." 

If only he knew where Abraham eyes had been drawn, where he'd set his sights; Mae would be the least of his worries.

***

Caroline Banks awoke to the sunlight, and found herself alone. For some time now she slept away from Charles, first in separate beds, than in separate rooms, and although she made it off to be a product of her chasteness, in reality she resented the man's presence entirely.

Yet she was a woman, and to deny her want of a man would be to deny her very essence, it seemed. At dinner she exchanged glances from the handsome Travis Taylor, and when he winked once, quite mischievously, the act was so much that of a child's that she had to resist rolling her eyes. This was not a man that could take her; for that matter, she'd never known a man that could take her (choosing money in marriage was better than nothing, she supposed). It was only this reason that, looking down from her bedroom window, and having her breath taken from her at the sight of the enormous field hand who had just arrived on her doorstep, was such an unsuspected incident. Not that it had happened, but that it had happened twice, no less, counting when she'd first laid on eyes on him.

The man's shirt had barely contained the hillocks of muscles on his chest, and his trousers seemed so tight as to be uncomfortable, the lining of... well, she knew what, reaching almost, it seemed to her, to the pant-leg. She'd noticed his smile, and it almost made her angry then — that he knew what she'd seen — and vowed, in the moment, not to let it happen again. Just then Mae arrived at the door, and without knocking entered. 

"M'am, they's a problem." 

"What is it?"

"It's that Abraham. He in your rose garden fussin' around."

"My rose garden?" Caroline asked, confused.

"Yes m'am. We ain't know what he's doing but you best come take a look."'

Caroline asked for a moment and put a dress over her undergarments. They'd been fitting tighter recently; for so long the war had cut rations, had left everyone, even herself, starving for a real meal. When it all ended, when the shreds of former prosperity returned, she feasted just like the rest. Her face was more filled now, her bosom slightly greater, and her thighs what one drunk Union soldier in passing on his way out of town had called, "Perfect for baby-making." Another savage debased by the war, she'd thought.

When she was proper she descended the stairs and found the whole house — Mae, their butler, Joseph, and the cook Bella — all looking out the window in silence. Their eyes were on the large black man, in the garden, on his knees, doing God knows what.

"Is my husband here?" she asked them.

Joseph turned, then. "He had me drop him off in town. Just us here. You want me to say somethin' to 'em?"

"It won't be necessary," she said, and with that she made her way briskly to the rose garden. It was already hot enough to break a sweat, and the heat her just as she opened the gate to the garden.

She expected Abraham to rise up in a fluster, a fit of apology, yet he barely moved. A pair of cutters were in his hands, and his eyes never left the roses before him. 

"Who, exactly, do you think you are?" she said, her voice rising. 

Abraham looked up, as if noticing her for the first time. The first of a sweat was already beaded on her forehead, and her arms, too bare for the occasion, shone red. He finally rose then, patted his pant-legs, and looked down upon her. 

"Just helping tidy them up, m'am. They're beautiful, aren't they?" 

"And who gave you the right?! You should be in the fields right now with the rest of my husband's hands, working! This is not a place for the likes of you. Not in here. Not with my roses." 

Her words seemed to have little effect. He smiled, as he'd done when she first laid eyes upon him. She realized then how vulnerable she felt. Her dress felt constricting, as if it was choking her, and she felt as if he had brought this about somehow, his very eyes forcing her to mind the contours of her body, the heat there, the beginning of the sweat's dampness that now blanketed across the nape of her neck.

"I was up before the sun-rose. I was told I had fifteen furrows to work. I hoed and planted seed as I was told. With so much free time I thought I'd help you out is all. Look for yourself." 

He nodded and, against her better judgment, she followed his eyes. He explained then, with some enthusiasm, the art of pruning, that her numerous snips were causing more branches to sprout, creating far too many buds, and less of the flowering close to the body of the plant that she wanted. "My mother was in charge of our master's garden. She taught me all I know," he said. "I just thought I'd pass it on, is all. No harm meant." 

Caroline did not know what to say. He had stopped speaking and his eyes were still on the plants, almost lustfully, obsessively, and, she did not know how to capture his attention. She thought that her voice would go unheard, that a man like this was unique, indeed a rarity to her: someone who did not consider her voice the most important one at any given point in time, that might not even consider it worthy of attention in the presence of something greater.

"No matter," she said, trying to speak up with confidence, as she had before. "I'd like you to quit now. I'll keep your words in mind though." 

He looked down at her and tipped his hat, and she saw his enormous knuckles, grey-black and scarred over, and she wondered who this man truly was, where he came from, and when he got the nerve to act as he did around the likes of her. 

"You'll find me in the stables if you need me," he said. 

"I won't be," she said.

He shrugged, and sighed a bit, and looked her over dismissively. "Whatever you wish, m'am." 

He was off then, and in his absence, it seemed the heat of the sun had dissipated, as if his presence was the steady force that had brought it forth in the first place. Afraid perhaps, of a breeze or a shiver, for the slightest moment in time, she wished for his return.

***

Abraham waited patiently. In the day he worked, sometimes more than his share, and he stayed quiet. He almost never saw Mr. Banks, and the closest he was to the man was when Joseph the butler retrieved the carriage come morning and brought it to the front of the house. He'd hear Mr. Banks greet Joseph and, with groans of exertion, load himself into the carriage. Like that he was off until late at night. Although he never saw Caroline Banks, he sometimes felt her eyes on him when he rested at night, when the candle flickered from her room up above and shadows kicked up her figure for him to glance.

Mae would bring him food twice a day — morning and night — and he'd accept it with a smile and thank her, the words unchanging no matter the day: "Much appreciated." Her eyes would be low and she never said a word in response, as if in fear.

He bathed twice a week with a pail usually used to hold the horses hay. It was the only secret he held that he did not arrive to the plantation with; late at night he would go to the water pump, fill the pale, return to the stable, and apply to the water a bar of soap he'd picked up in his travels in an unnamed town he'd long left behind. 

On a particular night he underwent this ritual when Mae appeared before him, a plate of food in her hand. "Oh—" she stammered, looking away as she so often did, stepping backwards. 

Abraham had not bathed earlier than usual — it was Mae that was late. He found it to be no coincidence, and he went about covering himself in the sudsy mixture as if she wasn't there in the first place. 

"I won't tell no one," she said in a whisper. 

"Didn't think you would," he said.

When he said no more she turned — yet he spoke to her back, and she froze in her steps.

"Come here, then," he said. 

She turned once again and slowly stepped forward. He did the same. 

"What you want?" she asked. 

"It's not what I want," Abraham began, "It's what you want, but you need to quit the games. There isn't a man suitable for you from here to Stillwater. A house girl like yourself isn't getting near those old slave-hands I work beside. And I've seen you looking, Mae." 

This, in fact, was a lie. She'd scarcely looked upon him from the day he arrived, yet he could feel her wanting, and when her eyes finally did meet his, in that moment — traveling first from his bottom half to chest and the up further — he knew that the desires he spoke of were true. 

Her eyes were the color of chestnut, her lips full and dark, and although he could not detect her shape beneath her dress, he thought it to be so youthful, as full and juicy as a ripe plum, although he had no urge to find out.

In this moment, she was expecting him to meet her lips; he would do no such thing. 

"There are limits to what we may do, Mae. For now." The limits would remain, for she was not what he sought, but there was no reason to tell her this. Not now. "You may undress. You may finish bathing me. You may touch me as you please. But no more."

"I'd. . . I'd like a man." She said it as if she wanted a new dress, perhaps. "I'm about that age." 

"Do as I say, Mae." 

She was silent for a moment, and she looked around the stable, and although he knew she feared being found out — for although it was late, nothing stopped a soul from walking by — her desire was far too much to overcome. 

Her hand touched his chest just as his eyes slowly gazed up; from the corner of his eye, he could see the flicker of a candle.

***

Caroline had said goodnight to her husband hours ago. She resented him for the kiss he made her endure every night — the smell of bourbon on his breath, the gristle of his beard against her chin — and when it was over she hurried to her room. It was not a conscious choice, it seemed, her slowly moving towards the window. It started off with merely a peek one night, but she'd built up a tolerance, felt a rush of excitement pulse through her as she lingered there time after time, as if waiting to be found out. 

Tonight was no different. Abraham's bathing, his nakedness, had taken her by surprise the first time she'd witnessed it. The same rush of heat she'd felt that day in the rose garden had now overtaken her once again. She watched his massive hands almost carelessly rub against his chest, his carved thighs, beneath his low-hanging member that knocked against his calf as he cleaned it. The sack beneath it, too, hung with a breathtaking gravity, and when he turned his behind was tight as granite.

Mae's arrival, at first, left her experiencing an unforeseen shock of anger. This was no doubt her property, and for Mae to trespass . . . yet when she rubbed his chest with such uncontrollable reverence she had difficulty feeling anything but pity for her. Her wants were no different from any other woman's, and she new them too well. Perhaps better than Caroline. . . 

Mae lathered the soap onto Abraham with great care, the cleaning of a shrine, and no place went untouched. Her dress was wet now, and at once she grabbed Abraham's hand, attempted to guide it to her own wetness, yet he refused, saying nothing, merely pulling his hand away. Caroline felt her hand reach beneath her own nightgown. Her legs peeled apart just as Mae leaned down onto her knees and began, with both hands, kneading the head of Abraham's cock.


A Plantation's Secrets Ch. 02



He was unavoidable. In the week since she'd seen Mae out in the barn with Abraham, Caroline had attempted to keep him from her sights at all costs, but her goal proved impossible. Mr. Banks had grown fond of the massive man, "his perfect specimen," he called him, and had slowly but surely made him a part of every aspect of the household. Abraham brought firewood in from the cold, delivered news when old Joseph felt his bones too weary for the trip into town, even continued to tend to the rose garden at her dismay. 

"He's got a green thumb, Caroline," Mr. Banks said, sipping tea beside his wife on the porch as she looked off with pouty eyes, her garden before them. "More than I can say for you." Mr. Banks laughed, an old, hoarse chuckle that grated her somewhere deep, bruised her ego not because of the fact he was right — she was an awful gardener, and merely took it up as a hobby for lack of a better one — but because it was Abraham who had taken her place. That night he had seen her watching him had rarely left her mind, and to see him in her garden, in her house, made her want to walk straight up to him and slap him across the face. Who did he think he was, so smug in his public display with Mae? For him to think it was acceptable. For her to have liked it. . . 

"I'd like him gone," Caroline said, looking at her husband with cold blue eyes. 

"Oh you stop," the old man said, still recovering from his laugh. "Abraham is a blessing. If I could have ten of him we'd be better off because of it. You just learn to work that garden alongside him. Play nice, Caroline." 

The day was beautiful with numerous shades of blue in the sky that gave way to a sun just dampened enough by a shallow wind to dissuade a blistering heat. Mr. Banks rose with the help of his cane and stretched his legs, yawning deeply. "I wonder how Joseph is feeling today," he said. "The man's just about seen his last day, I tell you. He should be pulling up any minute now." They both had business in town that day, as Mr. Banks had to wire a message, and Caroline had a new dress she'd ordered stitched at the local seamstress's. 

When it was clear no carriage would be rounding the corner, Mr. Banks yelled loudly at Mae, who appeared forthwith. 

"Yes, sir?" 

"Where in the world is Joseph?" 

"Believe he's sick, sir." 

"Still?" 

"Yes, sir." 

Caroline eyed Mae with such ferocity that Mae nearly looked over with a look pleading for her to say what, exactly, she had done wrong. For some days now her mistress had been curt with her, if not downright hostile, and with every command and insult she had grown concerned that she might in fact be let go for reasons only left up to her imagination. 

"Do get the old man," Caroline said. "Immediately." 

"No, no," Mr. Banks said. "Let Joseph rest up. He's clearly in no position to do his job as of now. Tell Abraham to pull the coach up for us, Mae." 

"I will not ride with him!" Caroline collected herself, but it was too late, and Mr. Banks looked at her as if she'd lost her mind in one moment. 

"You will neither yell at me in such a manner nor speak on Abraham in such a manner," Mr. Banks said. "Now I don't know what's gotten into you in regards to that man, but you'll quit this instance, you understand? He's a hard worker and without Joseph we really have no other option." He shook his head, nodding for Mae to leave and fetch Abraham. "Honestly Caroline, sometimes you can just be too much." 

It was almost like magic, the negro's efficiency. As if he had prepared for the sudden occasion, the carriage was in front of the house in a matter of minutes, the horses clopping ahead, Abraham sitting above them, a bright, white smile on his face as he approached. He did not have on Joseph's usual uniform, as it certainly would not have fit him — rather he had on a tight undershirt, one that showcased the defined stretch of muscles cascading down his torso, as well as his usual white pants. Working the fields seemed to have made him even bigger than when he arrived, and those pants looked just about ready to burst under the strain of his enormous thighs , enormous calves, enormous everything. . . 

"Mr. and Mrs. Banks," Abraham said, nodding. "Please to be of service." 

He gave Caroline a wink and she pretended to ignore it. As Abraham hopped off the carriage she found herself pulling her hair back and straightening out her blouse, as if there was need to make herself appear appropriate — as if this were someone to impress. Yet it happened against her will, and by the time she was done Abraham was already extending a hand to help her into the carriage's cabin. 

Mr. Banks was quite fond of his stage coach, as he had its parts specially delivered from England, and prepared to his specifications. It's large indoor cabin was closed with enough seating for four, and gold lined the entirety of the outfit. The coachbox for the driver was an extended seat in front of the cabin, and he was known in town not just for the opulence of this great mode of transportation, but for Joseph's sudden appearance, high in the air, as they neared the main thoroughfare, giving way to the majesty of the outfit as a whole as they grew closer. Although most people in town were used to the stagecoach by now, there were always a few who stopped and stared as Mr. Banks walked out the cabin, and the attention was more powerful than any intoxicant, as far he could figure. 

As with most tasks, Abraham needed no instruction in how to tend to Mr. and Mrs. Banks as a driver. He delicately held Mrs. Banks hand and helped her to her seat, even though she tried to fend off his attempts at first, and he then clutched Mr. Banks forearm and did the same. 

"To town, then? Abraham asked. 

"Yes, the quicker the better," Mr. Banks said. "Caroline is in something of a mood." 

"On the quick," Abraham said, giving Caroline a smile as he shut the door. She looked well today, her cheeks a damp red from powder, long eyelashes giving way to her bright, childish eyes that seemed to display an equally childish anger, the sort easily cast away with a bit of reward, a bit of excitement. Abraham knew women, and his effect on women, and he knew that already she was beginning to feel his hold creep over her. Her anger seemed born of nothing to the old man but Abraham knew better — her stare from her bedroom that one fateful night was more than shock, it was lust, a woman wanting. It was what he'd expected, that moment — waited for no less. What he did not expect was how the incident would take a hold on him. Seeing her cover herself with her dress now, her slight frame and rude prudishness in public, coupled with her icy resolve in interacting with him, had the natural outcome of making him more interested than ever before. 

The road into town was about a half hours drive, and although Abraham had seen Joseph ride off many mornings before at a pace fit for leisure, he had no such ideas. Mr. Banks had asked for promptness, and it was promptness he would get. Caroline gasped as the horses took off, and Mr. Banks grabbed for his hat, as if some invisible wind brought on by their speed might creep into the cabin and take it off. 

"The boy's going to kill us!" he said, although the rush brought a smile on his face. He opened the curtains for a moment to look out at the passing fields of tobacco, long rows of greenery appearing and disappearing, yet only giving way to more of the same. 

"Tell him to slow down," Caroline said. 

"He's only giving what I asked for," Mr. Banks said. "Can't blame the boy for that." 

Before long the town appeared before them, wooden outfits for the most part, with one or two brick buildings jettisoned between them, put there by men with money or men who wished to appear as if they did. A few children rushed alongside the coachbox, and its speed was so great that all those going about their business stopped for a moment, man or woman, to watch it slow and come to a stop right in front of a Western Union depot. 

Abraham jumped off and allowed Mr. and Mrs. Banks out of the carriage, and the old man seemed aglow from the ride. 

"Well you woke me up to say the least!" Mr. Banks said. "Good heavens. I thought I might faint. And I'm surprised my wife didn't." 

"It was a bit of a circus act, if you ask me," Caroline said, revealing a fan from her purse and using it even without any need to. 

"Only trying to heed your wishes, sir," Abraham said. 

"That you, Francis?" a voice barked, interrupting Mr. Banks' response. 

Abraham saw another older gentleman approach, a rotund individual with large sideburns creeping down his face. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming into town?" 

"I only decided this morning, you old cad!" Mr. Banks said, shaking the man's hand. 

"Victor, a pleasure," Caroline said, although her voice was drab enough to contradict her words. 

"And Caroline, hello." 

They explained their business to the man, and before long Mr. Banks had been drawn into the man's plans to share drinks in his office, which was at the height of one of the brick buildings that stood out in town. 

"That sounds quite nice," Mr. Banks said. "Say, Abraham." He snapped his fingers, and Abraham came to his side, smiling like he meant it. 

"Sir?" 

"Please accommodate Mrs. Banks to the seamstress as I join Victor for a drink. I'll meet you two at the carriage when I've wired my telegrams." 

Abraham nodded and watched the man off, and only then did he turn to Caroline, his eyes nestled upon hers, a smile creeping across his face. 

"Don't you look dare look at me like that," she said. 

"I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Banks," he said. 

She looked around and saw that they had blended in, that they were simply a mistress and her slave about town, and under the noise of the traffic she felt comfortable speaking, an anger boiling up from within her that she had hid up to this moment finally spewing forth. 

"We'll clear this matter up this instance," she seethed. "I saw what you did with Mae, and I know you saw me as well. The scene was upsetting, and if I ever see you cavorting with my help again I will have you dealt with immediately." 

"Dealt with, Ms. Banks?" 

"Yes," she said, looking him up and down, as if his words had been a threat. "And you'll be gone just as quick as you came. Now you'll stay by the carriage for the duration of our trip here. The last thing I need is a miscreant like you accompanying me off somewhere." 

For a moment he nodded, silently, and she seemed taken aback by his willingness to heed directions. "Good," she said. 

Yet when she began walking she heard his voice, a loud, deep bellow from behind her: "Afraid of what might happen?" 

And when she turned to face the question he was towering before her, inches away, her face nearly hitting up against his chest. "You don't need to fear anything, Ms. Banks. Your husband wants me here to protect you, give you comfort. That's my job, m'am. Make things easy for you." 

A part of her truly felt like a child, so small was she beneath his enormous frame, and a terribly grotesque thought crossed her mind, wholly against her will, one which she struggled to put somewhere deep where she'd never find it again: it was an image of Abraham, fully erect as he'd been with Mae, yet he was now Caroline's, and she was holding his erection, leading him by it, her tiny hands groping the shaft as if it was the tool that guided his every move. He was hers, then, her protector, provider, for no man would think to even gaze her way with such a giant at her side. It was a disgusting thought, of course, and she quickly disregarded the thought and collected herself. 

"You'll stay behind me," she said, turning again to walk away. "Ten paces at the very least." 

"Whatever you say, m'am." 

He did as he was told, could not help but stare at her long, flowing dress as it carried from side to side with each step, imagining the long legs beneath them, leading to her pert behind. It was only the sounds of the seamstress's shop that pulled him from this thoughts — the sound of a sewing machine boomed along the walls and squawking women hurried this way and that, some heading towards other sewing stations, others carrying dresses to be worked upon. 

He perched himself near the door where they expected him to stay, and Caroline entered into a conversation with the owner, an old hunched over woman who had drawn in her eyebrows. 

"We have it right here for you," the woman said, bringing out a long green dress, bedazzled with glossy etchings along its sides. "Do try it on, all the girls have been marveling at it." 

"I really should get going," Caroline said, and Abraham thought he noticed her face redden, just a tad. 

"Oh, please, we all want to see." The other women were nodding in enthusiasm at the woman's words, and Caroline knew how rude it would be to deny their wishes. 

"If you all insist," she said sheepishly. 

She disappeared behind a curtain with the older woman, and a silence overtook the room until she returned, at which point the other women offered gasps of approval. "Marvelous." "Pure elegance, Mrs. Banks." "Stunning!" 

The dress accentuated Caroline's best features, it's cut making her seem somehow taller, sleeker, and it's angled straps at the shoulders jettisoned down farther than what seem appropriate, her bosom raised and plump. 

"It's just what I wanted," Caroline said to the older woman. "It's perfect." 

When Abraham left the store with her, dress in hand, she was aglow, although she tried to hide it behind her usual veneer of coldness. 

"You looked beautiful, m'am." 

"Those harridans were pretending. Deep down they were thinking about how much they loathe me, not about how I looked." 

"Don't know why you say that. Like I said, you looked beautiful." 

They were walking beside one another, at quite the clip, and Caroline seemed to be too caught up in conversation to realize how close Abraham was to her, how swiftly he'd disregarded her want of him to be ten paces behind at all times. The way he saw it, he was only doing what she truly desired, in her heart of hearts. 

"They all think I married for money, as if they wouldn't do such a thing if they shared my upbringing. And although I appreciate the sentiment when it comes to my dress, I'm not sure the men around these parts would be fond of hearing such things from the likes of you." 

"Not the dress, m'am, you. You looked beautiful." Caroline at this point refused to acknowledge him, yet his disregard for custom, his immense, and unending show of attraction towards her, had an air of knightly romanticism she had only read about in books. But how to reconcile such thoughts with the man who had been out in the barn with Mae? It was impossible. He was a louse! 

They reached the carriage, but Mr. Banks was nowhere to be seen. 

"Where is my husband?" 

Abraham shrugged. 

"Do fetch him for me," Caroline said. "He's probably with that larded cow Victor getting drunk. That's the last thing I need. I suppose I'll wait in the carriage." 

Abraham nodded, as if to agree with her wants, and opened the cabin door for Caroline. She climbed in, yet the door did not close until Abraham had entered alongside her. He sat opposite of her, so enormous was he that he need to crane his head to the side just to fit. 

"Are you insane?!" Caroline gasped. "How dare you enter this carriage with me?! The people outside — my husband - you've lost your—" 

Abraham reached forward and took Caroline's hand. 

He simply held it. Caroline said nothing - it was so large that it engulfed her own, and it disappeared beneath the calloused, tar-colored paw in a single instance, enveloped in the warmth there. 

"Abraham," she began, but said nothing else. 

The curtains to the carriage were closed, and Abraham knew he only had a moment, and that he would use it to the best of his abilities. "You were looking that night because you liked what you saw," he said. "I know what you want. I can give it to you, Caroline." 

He brought her hand to his chest, and she felt the protruding slab of muscle at his breast, at his midsection, at his stomach. . . 

"It's — Mrs. Banks," she said, shallowly, as her hand had slid down to the top of his trousers. She looked down to find the outline of his penis almost sinking beneath the point of his knee like an immense snake, and the image almost brought tears to her eyes, the enormity, the existence of such an item only inches before her. 

Abraham leaned forward then and placed his hand at the crook of her neck, his lips sensuously meeting a point inches beneath her ear as she moaned. Her hand, if only looking to steady herself as her senses took over, reached forward and grabbed what was nearest to her, and it was Abraham, and what she thought was the girth of his massive leg was actually his member, and she could feel it pulse through the soft fabric that Abraham wore. 

Abraham's lips reached her ear, kissed the lobe, before whispering to her. "Is it true?" 

"What?" she said, mad that he'd interrupted this moment, this awful business that she could not get enough of. 

"What the women say. Did you marry him for the money? Is there nothing more?" 

"If you mean is there anything more than talk, and parties, and all that comes with marriage except that very thing which fortifies it..." she softly, almost politely, squeezed his bulge, running her hand down the concealed pole she wished so eagerly to release. "Then yes." 

"YOU CANNOT!" A voice bellowed down the street, and Caroline nearly shrieked. 

Abraham was quick to act. "The dress," he said," and he took her dress from the seat beside her, covered his massive bulge with it, and quickly, in one movement, exited the cabin. 

There was no one in the immediate vicinity — people were walking as if he was not even there, had never been near the carriage, yet down the street, approaching, came Mr. Banks and Victor, his associate, both yelling, in good humor, at one another. 

"I say I can and I will!" Mr. Banks said. His stumbling made it very clear what state he was in, and Abraham relaxed, held Caroline's dress against his pants, concealing what needed to be hidden as Mr. Banks finally made his way to the cabin. 

"Abraham what a fine sight!" Mr. Banks said, stumbling and slurring, his face red with the effects of drink. "Look at my specimen, Victor," Mr. Banks said, holding Abraham's arm like a toddler might. "How lucky am I to have, in my beautiful possession, a beast such as this?" 

"He's quite fine," Victor said, quite drunk himself. "But he will not be helping you to win this bet." 

At that moment the curtain to the cabin opened, and Caroline looked out for a moment before helping herself out and walking over to Mr. Banks. "What is this all about?" she asked, although her voice was uneven, still flustered from what had passed moments before. 

"Oh, Caroline!" Mr. Banks said. "You'll be right to know that Victor and I have made a little bet of sorts." 

"And what would that be?" 

"Well everyone from the saloon to Victor's offices saw Abraham here ride this carriage into town like a gladiator riding some sort of chariot, and Victor here seems to think that the impression he left is that he's some sort of showman, that he's better than myself at riding my OWN carriage. Which is not the case — no one rides like me, as you know, dear." 

"You're practically falling over, honey," Caroline said. "Please, just get in the coach so we can return home." 

"No!" he said, slurring. "I will drive and I will show all of the SCOUNDRELS in town just what I'm capable of." 

"He's put fifty dollars on making it home and sending word back that he's done so before the hour," Victor said. 




A Plantation's Secrets Ch. 02



"And I will," Mr. Banks said. "You'll see. You'll ALL see." No one else was watching, nor seemed to care what was taking place, but Mr. Banks, at least to Abraham, seemed insistent on making a fool of himself. 

"I'm happy to drive, sir," Abraham said. 

"No. Do as I order. I'll drive." 

Abraham shrugged and retrieved the coach-whip, handing it over to Mr. Banks before entering the coach-box and preparing to pull Mr. Banks to sit beside him. 

"Get down from there," Mr. Banks barked. "I won't let you steal my moment, Abraham. They'll think you're doing the driving. Get in the cabin." 

Abraham looked at Caroline, who looked away, down the street, as if ignoring what her husband was saying. Even Victor stepped forward for a moment, a mild soberness entering his countenance, before realizing he was out of line to interject between a white man and his hired hand. 

"Whatever you say, sir," Abraham said, jumping off the coach box and letting Mr. Banks take his place. He seemed awkward up there, and out of place, but ready to do as he wished and drive them off. 

"For the love of God, don't you kill us up there," Caroline said as Abraham helped her into the cabin and followed her inside. 

"I am the safest, most experienced driver in this whole damed county," Mr. Banks slurred, to no one in particular. "Everyone will know it soon enough!" 

A moment passed, inside the cabin, when no words were spoken. Caroline sat on her side, Abraham on the other, with no movement between them. 

When the whip was heard and the horses proceed forward, the speed was of such that Caroline whelped, holding her hand over her mouth. They passed the first turn in the road, and the country was all that laid before them. Just then they took to a second bend, and Caroline found herself sliding across the leather seat, hitting into the side of the cabin. 

"Watch out now," Abraham said, jumping up and sliding to her side, bringing her into his arms, his chest. She was practically seated on his lap, now. 

"I'm fine," she said. "It's just all a bit much . . ." The warmth of his immensity consumed her, and she felt at home in his arms, exactly where she wished to be. 

He let her say no more. He leaned over and she turned to meet his lips and she could not resist the urge to put her hands against his large, chiseled cheeks, to run her hand through his hair, and even as the carriage sped down the road, with Mr. Banks right above them, neither could resist their lust. 

"Take me here," she said. 

"But Mr. Banks—" 

"I don't care," she said. "Do what I never allowed him to." 

To her side she could feel the rise in his pants, and Abraham picked her up in one motion and placed her on his lap, straddling him, face to face, and they picked up where they left off, their lips meeting, their tongues now melding together as one. 

She reached down and rubbed the snaking member in his pants, and he eagerly reached beneath her dress, felt her bloomers there, and immediately removed them, the loose panties collectingat her ankles. 

"Not everything at once," she whispered, "I couldn't manage." 

She stepped back from Abraham, and he grabbed her hands to keep her balance as she kneeled down and began removing his pants. She watched as the long, dark member slowly revealed itself beside his thigh, amazed by its size, and when she finally reached its end the whole matter bobbed upwards as if desperate to be let out, and she took it heartily between her hands. Finally, she thought, for all was right it seemed, no matter the cost that might be paid to have it. 

At first she did not know what to do with it, but he took her long, blonde hair and delicately placed it behind her ears, and she smiled at his grace, his kind nature, which she knew concealed something far more base, and carnal. 

"Go ahead," he said, and she knew what was asked of her, for it was also what she wanted. She took it in her mouth, just the head at first, but then more, and it tasted as she imagined, the recreation of his strong musk when he brought wood for the fire into the house after a long day's work, sweat intermingled with something natural, something sexual at its very core that she could not resist. It came over her like a wave, and she pounced on his penis, her tiny mouth widening as she forced herself to take more of him. 

"That's right," he said. He put his a single hand on her head and palmed it, guiding her up and down, giving her time, yet controlling her, using her head as he so pleased. 

She could not help but touch herself. She had rarely done so, had heard very little of the act, but her she was merely listening to her body, and it called for her to reach down and feel her pussy, gently run her hand upon it. When she moaned — when Abraham peered over and saw what she was doing, he pulled her off his cock, her head riding upwards and leaving behind long strands of wet, bubble-strewn spit that left it glistening. 

"What is it?" she said, yet he said nothing — he rather acted. 

He picked her up by the elbows and once again brought her onto his lap, his penis now erect beneath her weight, prodding into his chest. 

"Oh!" she said, gasping in pleasure as she began involuntarily pushing herself against the meat, up and down, up and down, feeling it rub against her clit, against the lips of her entrance. "Yes, yes." 

For a moment they could hear Mr. Banks howling drunkenly, screaming about his riding skills, but just as quickly he was silent, and for all it mattered the two were in their own impenetrable world, available only to one another, and only their own sounds seemed audible there. 

It happened organically. She slid down on Abraham, and when she did so the head of his member poked against her slit, finding its way inside. She moaned and stopped, and he reached around and helped guide it farther along. Already he could feel the moisture at her hole, for she was nearly sopping wet at this point, her thighs wet with her own juices. He could feel the head of his penis releasing a dollops of pre-cum, and it only worked to add more lubrication to her own. 

"I'm ready," she said. 

"Slow," he said. "Like I said before, Mrs. Banks — I'm not here to do anything but give you comfort. Wouldn't want to cause any pain." 

Their lips met as she let her weight fall against his cock, and slowly, the massive thing broke its way into her, took up space where before there was none, explored so deep within her the pleasure, combined with the traces of pain, was nearly too much to bear. 

"It's perfect," she said. 

They must have hit a small hole, for the carriage leaned to one side, and it caused Caroline to let her body fall in one moment; taking Abraham's cock to the hilt, she let out a scream of shock that filled the cabin. 

"Quiet, now" Abraham said. 

She took a moment, looked down at the absence of Abraham's cock, realized it was deep within her and was overtaken by the act, by the feat of having taken her lover as she wished to, fully and entirely. "I don't care if he hears," Caroline said. "Let him see us. Let him watch for all I care." The feeling of Abraham filling her seemed enough by itself, yet when he began pulling down, then up again, it was almost too much to withhold the moans, the feelings that racked through her body. Each time he exited her she eagerly awaited his return, his enormous organ taking its rightful place within her, and she only wished the moment could last forever. 

Soon she had hit a stride, her back arched, eyes closed, and Abraham took the moment to lean forward and kiss her neck, nibbling at points, and she considered stopping him. "If you leave a mark—" 

"You're mine now," Abraham said. "I'll make that clear however I please." As if in anger at her words, Abraham began thrusting up himself, and Caroline was left motionless as he pumped upwards, stuffing into her relentlessly, her pussy noisy with the slopping sounds of their shared sex. 

"Yes!" she screamed, yet Abraham grabbed her by the air, silencing her immediately. 

"What'd I say about being quiet?" 

"I'm sorry-" 

"You're sorry, master," Abraham corrected. 

"I'm sorry master," she said, whimpering as she felt her body clench up, her thighs shaking as a powerful orgasm ripped through her, a bliss the likes of which she'd never known. 

"Please, more, please," she pleaded and Abraham sped up, his cock relentlessly taking her hole. 

When Abraham began to moan, she could feel him pulsing within her, the heat announcing his intentions, and she leaned over and put her mouth to her ear. 

"Cum in me as you wish," she said. "Make me your property. Make me yours." 

Abraham buried himself to the hilt, grunting, his body arrested in spasms as his penis gushed sperm into her accepting pussy like a steady stream. Caroline felt it like a warmth she'd been waiting her life to accept, something inevitable. She sat on his dick as it slowly deflated, his deposit secured deep inside of her womb, and took his mouth to her own one final time as the carriage began to slow, as the big house appeared off in the distance. 

They sat in silence for a moment, catching their breaths, eyes locked on one another with such an intensity that their foreheads grew close, to the point that they touched and beads of sweat from their brows were passed between them. 

Until Abraham broke the spell. 

"It'd be best you get yourself proper, Mrs. Banks." 

His words unlocked her old self, and Caroline came to. 

"Of — Of course!" she said, sitting up and climbing to the other side of the cabin. She pulled her panties up, which she knew would quickly be covered in his semen as it came out of her — the thought was an exciting one, though she kept it to herself. At least for now. 

The carriage came to a halt just as she'd gotten herself decent. 

"Tomorrow night you'll come to me," Abraham said, pulling up his own pants. "Wait until he's asleep, until the whole house is asleep.." 

"I'll see what I can do." 

"There will be no seeing. You'll do as you're told." 

She did not flinch, did not pause, before answering. "Yes, master." 

The moment was interrupted when the door to the carriage opened, and Mr. Banks, his face crinkly and chapped from the wind, faced them, slapping his hat against his knee. "Thirty minutes, I said I'd do it. Didn't I?!" 

"You did," Caroline said beneath her breath. 

"That's how I heard it, sir," Abraham said. "Faster than I rode into town, that's for sure." 

"For damn sure!" Mr. Banks said. 

Abraham helped Mrs. Banks out of the cabin, and as they all walked forth Mr. Banks began giving him instructions, that he would turn back immediately for town and notify the fat man, Victor, of his speedy time; yet in the middle of his ramblings, he suddenly grew silent. 

"Sir?" Abraham asked, confused. 

"My word," Caroline said. 

Suddenly it was Abraham, too, who was silent. 

Standing before them was a man as tall, if not taller, than Abraham himself. His shadow itself was colossal, and seemed to span the entirety of the front porch. He had a sack of clothes to his side, and when Abraham approached him, his brawn was clearly matched by the new, hulking man. 

"Hope I'm not intruding on something," the man said, his voice low enough to cause the earth to tremble. 

It seemed, in one moment, that Mr. Banks had sobered up. "Thank my lucky stars — tell me you're looking for work." 

The man looked at Mr. Banks squarely, before his gaze passed between Caroline and Abraham. " 'spose I am." 

He was rough around the edges, more-so than Abraham, but Mr. Banks considered the idea of having such an ox working his property and saw only dollar signs in his sight. Before the moment was gone, the man was signed up and offered a place in the barn, beside Abraham himself. How lucky, he thought, for two man of such caliber to fall into his lap such a short amount of time. Someone was truly looking out for him. 

"Now, Abraham, get back to town quickly, before Victor thinks I took longer than I did to get here," Mr. Banks said. "And when you get back show . . ." The name was not coming to him. 

"Jebediah," the ox of a man said. 

"Right, show Jebediah, around the property, will you?" 

"Will do, sir." 

"Come along, Caroline," Mr. Banks said, taking his wife by the arm and leading her inside. She looked back at Abraham, and he noted the small trail of moisture leaking down her leg, the evidence of his seeding, his stake on her. 

For a moment the two men stood by one another, the wind brushing up against them, shirts flapping in the air, only silence separating them. 

"Looks like you've got a good start to the proceedings, ha?" Jebediah said. 

"Ain't expecting you to make it so soon," Abraham said. "I'm still breaking her in. She isn't ready for what's to come." 

"Little brother, tell me this: is they ever truly ready?" 

Abraham sighed, looked at Jebediah. "Not for what we have in store." 

"Ain't that the truth." 

Abraham turned to his brother. "I'll be back soon," he said. "Make yourself at home in the barn, right around the corner, right hand side of the house." 

"Already feels like home," Jebediah said. "And Abraham?" 

"Yes?" 

"She worth our time?" 

Abraham smiled, nodded. "She might just be the best yet." 

***** 

If there's interest, I'll add on to the story. Let me know, readers. Take care~



A Plantation's Secrets Ch. 03



She was mad — no, "mad" was the wrong word. Humiliated. That, she thought, was more like it. And someone would have to pay. 

Heeding Abraham's instruction, she'd risen in the dead of night and climbed out of bed, only her nightgown keeping her from the chill of the cold. She'd crept downstairs, and the pained creaking of the wood panels could have been born from her own body, her muscles still sore from her time with Abraham the day before, a moment she knew had changed her life forever. 

What little worry she had, perhaps, was more for Mae than for Mr. Banks. It almost humored her to recall him during the war's final days, bands of horses left roaming free in search of their dead owners, stomping and neighing, and men crying out on from the corners of the battlefield only miles away, and never could the old man be risen from his sleep. Yet Mae — Mae might hear her. It was a risk she was willing to take. . . 

Outside the moon was a crescent of piercing brightness, and as she approached the barn where she'd so often watched Abraham bathe, so often — if only in the back of her mind — wished to be with him, it seemed as if the moon's illumination was centered upon it, as if nature had emphasized the desire which took root in her mind. 

The horses were either asleep or nibbling hesitantly on hay, and no other person was in sight. A sack left by the new man, Jebediah, lay beside the wall of a stable, near Abraham's own. A wind picked up her gown and she held it down with her hands, shivering like a child, and she realized how idiotic she looked here, alone, amongst the horses; she'd been a made a fool of. In a moment she turned to go home, and she did not look back, for the moment for her had been lost; the embarrassment was simply too great. 

She would be fast asleep when the two men reappeared later that night after a long walk in the fields. Even when the night patrol had been active rounding up fugitive slaves, they never ventured into the fields (for why would a slave on the run take himself to that place which he sought to escape?), and certainly now that those days were over, the fields themselves were excellent as a place to get away, if only for a private conversation. 

"A few weeks," Jebediah was saying as they reentered the barn. "And then it's on to the next one. That stands for both of us." 

Abraham was tired; he'd heard his brother speaking all night on the matter, that he was somehow caught up with Caroline, taken by her — that if he'd already planted his seed in her womb, there was no more need for their being on the plantation. He had other thoughts. 

"We can't be certain I got the job done, Jeb. "Besides — she doesn't realize she's owned yet. Doesn't realize she's mine. That's half the job, you taught me that yourself." 

Jebediah, with an odd show of grace and strength, grabbed the rear of a horse in a stable, pulled it backward and planted himself in the stack of hay it had been chewing from. "This horse here," he said, pointing to the displaced animal. "It feeds, and feeds, and feeds. It don't realize when it's had enough. Too greedy for its own good. But it don't take nothin' but a nigger like me to show it right." 

"You've always been full of lessons, haven't you?" Abraham said. Jebediah had grown up in the fields, whereas Abraham had been taken in early, taught letters — yet the older brother still often thought himself to hold wisdom over his younger sibling. 

"And for a smart nigger you always been full of stupid. I won't be here in three months when she's got a black baby in her belly and you bein' hanged in the town square. Best you wise up, boy, or you might just end up like your daddy." 

Abraham laid down on his pallet. His mind was clouded, his eyes still level with Caroline's, as if he was still in that carriage, her body on his, her heat overloading his senses, sending him over the edge. He was not caught up, he told himself. He could leave whenever he wanted. He just needed her again. He needed to make her his once and forever. 

It was only then he realized he'd requested her presence hours earlier. So caught up was he with the arrival of his brother, with the news he'd brought from farther south, that he'd forgotten the meeting entirely. Weeks of trust might have been gone in one instant. He slept peacefully, still. He knew he would get her back. She'd had a taste of him — no matter how hard she fought against her urges, she'd come back for another. 

A tapping took to the side of the barn, so insistent and dully annoying that Abraham felt it pierce his sleep like a fly buzzing at his ears. It was Mr. Banks — up earlier than usual, finding Abraham in a state of vulnerability. He rose at once, Jebediah at his side, equally confused; both knowing what had transpired the day before, they each endured the moment breathless and with great worry. 

But any concern was quickly shown to be unfounded. 

"Morning, boys!" Mr. Banks said. 

"Sir," they both said, hearing the friendliness of his tone and settling back into calm. 

"We've got Oliver Cambridge coming in tonight. I doubt either of you have heard of him, which is nonessential to the matter as it stands." 

Mr. Banks took Abraham for stupid. Of course Abraham had heard of the man — he owned enough cotton and tobacco in the South to fund the Confederates for another go around in the war. 

"He's expressed interest in buying my land," Mr. Banks went on. "He'll be coming in for dinner tonight. If I'm going to receive the offer I wish to have, it's of great importance he not get the smell of . . . desperation." He looked off now, as if lost in reverie. "I once had a swarm of butlers, but those days are gone. You two will have to assist Mae. Abraham, I trust you, of course —" he looked at Jebediah with uncertainty — "The brutish one is clearly not one for the dining room, exactly." 

"Might be, but I'm up for the job, sir," Jebediah said. "You can trust me." 

Mr. Banks sighed. "I do hope as much. I have hired out those loud-mouthed seamstresses in town my wife is always visiting and they swear up and down they can have garments made up by the end of the day. I do pray that is the case. Told them, everything must be large — quite large. Without measurements it'll have to do." 

"Just the two of you dining, then?" Abraham asked. "Important to know how many we'll be serving." 

"And my wife, of course," Mr. Banks said. 

"Good, sir," Abraham responded. "We will be ready." 

Mr. Banks nodded his head, looked over the barn with great uncertainty. "See to it, boys." At that he was gone. 

*** 

The dress Caroline had picked up at the seamstresses seemed to casual for dinner, so she opted for an orange assemblage that's low dip at the neck was concealed by the circling, bright rows of jewelry which she wore there — as Mae put each piece on she felt as if her neck might begin to crane from the weight. 

"Sure is pretty," Mae said. "Sure it's worth the trouble?" 

"No beauty was gained without pain, Mae," Caroline said. 

"Yes, m'am, suppose that's the truth." 

It was nearing supper time and Caroline was prepared, excited even, by the opportunity to have Abraham serving her alongside that other behemoth. He thought he could get away with what he'd done — she'd show him. By the end of the night, he'd be on his knees, begging for her to quit being on him. She grinned at the thought. 

"In a good mood then, m'am?" Mae asked, catching her mistresses smile in the mirror. 

"Oh, it should just be a splendid night is all," she replied. "I'm simply looking forward to it." 

Mr. Banks knocked and Mae opened the door, already in his frock coat, the white shirt underneath frilled, the image, to Caroline, reminding her of the times she'd seen the white bushels of hair on his chest, enough of a thought to make her recoil. 

"All ready, then?" Mr. Banks said. 

"As ready as one can be on short notice." 

His time piece was in his hand, and in the few moments he'd been in the doorway he'd already checked it numerous times. Never had she seen him nervous, but here he was, his foot tapping, his eyes scanning out the window for anyone approaching. 

"It will go well, darling," Caroline said, a rare (if false) show of affection to ease his worry. 

"It's the difference of our livelihood," he said. "I do hope you're right." 

A light hovered in the distance, and before long, squinting out, Mr. Banks could see the rider leading the carriage down the road. 

"Quick, then!" he said, nearly falling over himself to grab Caroline and bring her to the stairs. "We'll greet him at the door." 

*** 

With late notice Abraham was told he would be retrieving him and his brother's outfits himself in town, and by the time he returned to the plantation Mr. Cambridge's arrival was imminent. The outfits fit — only barely — and him and Jebediah were only getting instructions from Mae as to their specific jobs when the guest in question finally made his appearance. 

Mr. Banks opened the door himself and they stayed in the shadows, or as in the shadows as such large men could get. Abraham eyed Caroline from there— her orange dress was mesmerizing, her blonde hair flowed down in a lush of curls that framed her smile, so white, so inviting, that one would never guess the carnal side that lay hidden somewhere deep within her. For one moment before the door opened she turned and her eyes met Abraham's, and in that second a scowl crossed her face, just as the door opened and she resumed her act of gentility. 

"Mr. Cambridge!" Mr. Banks shook the man's hand as he walked inside. He was tall and of of pale complexion, his face so lined with wrinkles it seemed as if he hadn't smiled in years. He took the place in with one sweeping look, took his hat off, and extended the arm that held it. 

It was a moment before anyone moved, or knew what he was requesting. 

"Abraham," Mr. Banks said. "Take Mr. Cambridge's hat, please." 

Abraham rushed forward, grabbing the hat in one motion. 

"That's a good little helper, Abraham," Caroline said. "Why don't you bring that to the closet, ha? On the quick, now." 

"Of course, m'am." He nodded to Mr. Banks. "Sir." 

The dinner itself was quiet, often so much that you could hear the silverware. As Mr. Banks made attempt after attempt to engage Mr. Cambridge, Caroline kept Abraham and Jebediah busy. 

"Some water, Abraham," she'd say in a syrupy tone, her glass in hand, waiting. 

"Oh, well! I've dropped my napkin it seems." Her eyes were that of purity and innocence and she looked at the two butlers with great sorrow: "If you two could help me retrieve I'd be ever so grateful." And at this both Abraham and Jebediah were made to get on all fours, searching for the napkin which Abraham had clearly seen her thrust purposefully under the table. 

So it went on: she needed her vegetables sliced, additional lamps retrieved from upstairs to brighten up the room, a fanning to cool her down from a nonexistent heat. 

Mr. Cambridge meanwhile seemed exclusively focused on his food and the occasional question about the land, while Mr. Banks was busy sweating on in anxiousness. 

Abraham exchanged looks at first with his brother, who was certainly beginning to loathe the woman that was supposedly under Abraham's thumb, but was now acting as if he was merely her whipping boy; yet whenever given the chance his eyes turned to her, and she looked at him with such innocence — her big blue eyes like those of a baby's —but with so much venom laying in wait, he wished to bend her over right then and there to prove who was really in charge. 

"Control yourself." It was Jebediah, leaning over to whisper to his brother. "You gonna let her get the best of you if you keep it up. Don't you get upset — last thing we need." 

"If you don't mind, I need to use the ladies room to freshen up," Caroline said, standing as the men nodded their approval. "It should only be a moment." Her napkin dropped on the table as she walked off and her last words were to Abraham: "See to it that napkin is refolded." 

Abraham begrudgingly did as he was told, yet it had been more than ten minutes and still she had not reappeared. 

"Well," Mr. Cambridge said, standing. "Why don't we retire to the parlor and talk business." 

"Of course!" Mr. Banks said. "Mae, let the boys cleanup and please see to it that Caroline is okay — I'm afraid her absence might speak to some illness or the like." 

"Course, sir," she said. 

Talk of cigars and whiskey trailed the men and soon they were gone. Mae started for the stairs but Jebediah grabbed her, his thick fingers like sausages, almost lapping her wrist multiple times. "Let him," he said, nodding to Abraham. She eyed the enormous man as if she'd yet to truly take in his stature. Holding her back like a man might hold an animal about run into the street, or a wandering child, gave her an odd sense of comfort; his command was final and she felt obliged to heed it. 

Abraham was already up the stairs and opening the door to Caroline's room. She sat at the mirror, taking out her own earrings. She did not turn to see who approached, and he walked at such an angle that even the mirror did not catch his reflection. 

"Mae, I simply could not stand the presence of those men any longer. That Mr. Cambridge was just such a crotchety old fellow it was difficult to even eat in his presence—" 

A hand found her shoulder and she turned with a squeal, yet Abraham covered her mouth with his other hand. Her eyes were wide with fear, yet at the sight of him they narrowed in anger. She pulled down his hand and whispered harshly. "How dare you leave me out in that God awful barn alone! Who do you think you are?!" 

Abraham said nothing. He lowered himself until her eyes were level with his own; his hand first found her lip - she pushed it away. "Do not ignore me, Abraham." 

Still, he was silent. His hand found her chin like he wished to raise it up, and with measured composure he did just that, as if to prepare her for a kiss. The moment seemed to overtake Caroline, for she merely swallowed, watched on, perhaps fear, perhaps in the intrigue that comes with a man willing to do anything, willing to take her at will, touching her without her permission and at his own risk . . . 

Suddenly his other hand was at her hair. His pull was not hard, yet it was firm, a grasp that sent shockwaves through her, climbing down her spine, under her dress, to a dark place within her that was suddenly awash in the flame of heat she could not explain. "Abraham . . ." His hold did not just hold her captive but her very being. 

"Tonight, when you judge it to be the darkest hour, you will not just appear at the barn by yourself but with Mae, too." 

Her eyes were once again big, this time in protest. "I cannot drag Mae into this!" 

His hand was rooted in her hair and he gave it the slightest tug, so that when she followed the pull her ear found his mouth, his moist, large lips, meeting it with the sensual force that was as familiar to her as his scent — the very thing she longed for. 

"There will be no questioning me," he said. "Mae does as you ask. I will expect both of you. Or neither of you. Your choice." 

He let go of her hair and stood once again smiling. 

"Allow me to ask if you're feeling well. Mr. Banks was concerned." 

She straightened out her dress, although it did not need to be done. "Please, tell him I'm fine. Just . . . Turning in early." 

"Will do, Ms. Banks." 

She waited until he left to put her hand under her dress, at the crest of where her bloomers met her opening — she felt the moistness there, fought an urge to follow it to its source, to where Abraham had filled her the day before, and made her feel whole. The hollowness was unmanageable. But she felt in her heart that it was only a few hours until her needs would be filled. If Mae must be there for that to happen, so be it — she was willing to take that risk. Anything to receive that which she desired most, that very man who had just left her room. Not that she would admit as much. No — she saw her affect on Abraham at dinner. She would ride that wave of contempt, of power, as long as it could last her. But she knew it was not long. Not long at all... 

*** 

It had been a few hours since Caroline had heard the carriage ride away into the darkness and then Mr. Banks' footsteps as he climbed the stairs. His voice echoed. "I think it was a grand effort on our end! Just grand!" Yet his words slurred and she knew then he had consumed too much alcohol as usual. 

"Thas just great, Sir," Mae was saying. "We all happy for you." 

"Where is my wife?" 

"Asleep, sir." 

"Shall I wake her? Perhaps I should wake her." 

The shadows played under the doorframe and Caroline prayed the old man did not enter. 

"If you askin' my opinion, it ain't nothin' that can't wait 'till morning." 

"No, no, I'll wake her." 

The footsteps were urgent but then there was a thud and a howl. 

"Mr. Banks!" 

"I'm fine, just fine." Apparently there had been a fall, one of the sobering variety. "Perhaps it's best I retire, then." 

"That's for the best, sir." 

Even more time passed, and Caroline could not sleep a wink. Mr. Banks snores' pinged down the hallway and each one was like the ticking of a grandfather clock, each more difficult to bear as the last. And then she could not take it anymore, knowing what awaited her. She rose as she had the night before and found her way downstairs. Never, she realized, had she been down the help's corridor this late, and it had been sometime since she'd even seen into Mae's quarters. The room was almost unattached from the house entirely, and it was colder here, less protected from the elements only a door away, which led outside. 

She opened the door just a crack, and the sounds came first —thwapping like a belt on flesh. On impulse she closed the door again, yet the sound kept repeating, so much like flesh being taken to that she could feel the pain herself without experiencing it. It was not long before curiosity got the best of her . . . 

What she saw nearly made her call out in surprise — Mae, with her knickers gathered in clumps at her thighs being held against her oak dresser, the enormous man — Jebediah — thrashing into her from behind. With each thrust her ass shook violently, quaking and quivering, waves of red irritation traveling up through the small of her back. The pleasure she was receiving was apparent, as her eyes were in the back of her head as if possessed, her toes curled up at the joint, her fingers nearly scraping wood off the dresser. 

The man's penis was so massive Caroline nearly fainted. It was practically a weapon! As thick and round as her fist, long enough, it seemed, to break a woman in two. In fact Caroline wondered how Mae even received it- then she noticed the sopping mess of lubricant that were Mae's own juices, streaks of it trailing out of her cunt and down her legs to the floor; it was almost as if black women were made to carry penises of such size, Caroline thought. 

"You'sa a dirty girl, ha?" Jebediah said. 

"I am what you wish me to be," Mae whispered, trying to contain herself. 

"Who trained you to be so dirty?" 

"You did." 

"I did who?" 

"You did, master." 

"I ain't know blacks could own they own slaves. That right — am I your owner, girl?" 

"You sure is, master!" she bellowed. 

Jebediah picked up speed, grabbing Mae's arms and bringing them back, his dick sawing into her with a popping noise as her juices guided his every entrance, her wild, kinky hair thrashing about, whipping back and forth. 

"You gonna cum for me, master?" Mae whimpered. "Please. Please do it. Give me that seed, master." 

He let out a little laugh, low and menacing. "You'll have to work for it. I think you got some competition." 




A Plantation's Secrets Ch. 03



With that, Jebediah pulled out of her in one long motion, his dick wobbling up and down, glistening with Mae's cum. He turned and faced Caroline, and frozen in shock, she merely looked on in surprise, his menacing, massive cock staring straight at her like a broadsword. 

"I think your little mistress wants some of this cum, too. Ain't that right?" 

Mae turned in a bout of confusion and yelped in shock. "Miss Caroline!" She lunged for the bed, pulling up the blanket to cover herself. "Please forgive me. I — something came over me is all!" 

"Quiet," Jebediah said turning to Mae. "And I ain't say to crawl up into that bed, girl." 

"She may sit where she wishes!" Caroline said. No matter how large this man was, how authoritative, she knew Mae would never betray her. She was obedient to Caroline even before Mr. Banks, and she thought it wise to protect her from this man. 

"I said stand," Jebediah said. He was still staring at Caroline, yet he put his hand out, as if expecting it to be filled. The bed creaked and Mae was soon standing, her hand in Jebediah's. Her large bosom, full yet taut with youth, was a surprise to Mae, and her curves were even more visible from the front, so top heavy but leading towards her strong, thick thighs and legs. She eyed Jebediah with lust and Caroline could not believe the girl had betrayed her commands after everything she'd done for her. She was clearly under the spell of this heathen . . . and the monstrous piece of meat attached to him. 

"Now why don't both of you follow me." 

He began moving towards the door, and Caroline began to protest, yet he had already shoved past her, opening the door outside and bringing Mae along with him. The air outside seized her for a moment before the door shut, leaving her alone in the house. 

She knew she could not return to her bed like this, not with the rush of what she'd just experienced, and what might come later on. Yet the man's show of control, his possession of Mae, seemed outright wrong. To give in to him by heeding his instructions went against everything she believed in. Yet the allure of that man; better yet, of Abraham . . . 

Caroline opened the door and found herself in darkness, feeling her way towards the barn. A small flicker of light cast shadows at her feet, and she followed as it outlined the barn itself, the horses inside, and finally Mae, Jebediah, and Abraham. 

"You think you can keep me waiting, Ms. Caroline?" 

The voice alone coupled with the cold nearly brought her teeth to a chatter, such a rush of feeling it brought within her. Abraham was smiling as mischievously as Jebediah; he stood in profile beside a lantern swinging from a rope tied off at the top of the barn; he wore only his pants, and she could already see his enormous member, brutishly long, packed against his leg, aching to be let free. 

Jebediah, still naked, had a hand on Mae's rear, gripping it like a plaything, still staring at Caroline. 

"See you saw my brother at work, then?" Abraham said. 

"Brother?" Caroline said, flummoxed. Only now she saw it, the same smile, the same sculpted faces; the big, pouty lips. And of course what lay in their pants... "Why I should have guessed." 

"Ms. Caroline thinks my property is hers. Ain't that right?" Jebediah said, ignoring her. 

"Speak up, Ms. Caroline," Abraham said. "That so? You keeping from my brother what claimed as his?" 

Mae was merely smiling, staring off as if in a drunken haze, letting herself be handled by Jebediah, happy to do so. Yet Caroline knew exactly how she felt. She wanted the same; to be taken, used by a man who deserved her, a real man. 

"Maybe we need to show you just why she isn't yours anymore," Abraham said. 

"First off," Jebediah said. "You ain't got one of these." He gripped his hulking penis and, cupping one portion as the rest hung loose in the front of his hand and passed it to Mae, who held it herself with two hands, as if she'd been given a prize. 

"This is what you claim a woman with," Jebediah said. 

Without instruction, as if it was a natural instinct, the instruction of her sex, Mae began stroking the massive beast, bringing it to life. "Get on down now," Jebediah said. 

She quickly dropped to her knees, sucking on the head, slowly working a larger portion into her mouth, desperately taking as much of it as she could. 

"My word," Caroline said under her breath. 

Abraham watched on, and in moments his cock began to balloon, and so great was its pull that his pant legs began to rise at the pressure, and in one motion he pulled them down entirely. 

It was merely something primal that made Caroline begin to step forward, but Abraham put up a hand, telling her to stop. 

"What do you think you're doing, Ms. Caroline? You think you deserve to touch this — to even come near me — after how you acted earlier this evening?" 

Caroline stuttered. The front of her gown was damp at the groin and she longed to feel Abraham, laid out on the hay under the warmth of the lantern and his body. 

"I meant nothing by it," she said, shaking her head. "Please." 

"You'll take your punishment," Abraham said. "You'll watch and nothing more." 

He turned to the side and his cock nearly slapped Mae in the back of the skull, yet she caught it with what looked like skill, and it made Caroline wonder if this was the first time they'd shared her, and a jealousy rose up within her, that her help had been receiving the pleasure that was hers, that even right now she was secondary to the same girl who had been combing her hair, serving her food, since they were both children. 

Mae put one in her mouth and then transferred to other, stroking that which she could not pleasure orally, long strokes of the hand glided along with the saliva left from her mouth. When it was Abraham's turn he took her head in his hand, forcing her to engulf his cock, inch after inch, Mae making terrible slopping noises that only indicated her pleasure, her need to do as she was told. 

As if by the work of another force entirely, Caroline's hand had slowly found its way under her gown; with a pathetic lack of patience she rubbed her clitoris, swollen with arousal, before plunging a finger, then two, into her waiting cunt. 

"Look at that little white slut," Jebediah said. "Can't even control herself." 

"Get up," Abraham said, and Mae began to rise. He grabbed her shoulder like an instrument to be used and forced her over, her tits swaying freely, her mouth meeting once again with Jebediah's cock, which stood before her. 

"Why you get first dibs?" Jebediah said. 

"You got your fill," Abraham said, smiling. 

Abraham lined his massive member with Mae's hole, staring at Caroline all along, before plunging it within her. The girl cried out in ecstasy, and Caroline knew the feeling: right. Just right. 

"Take it," Abraham said. Each time he banged into her, her tits popped forward into Jebediah's chest, and after a moment the hulking man took them into his hands, kneading them, flicking over her nipples. 

"These things could milk a whole village, ha?" Jebediah said. His ass began to firm into a knot of muscle and took Mae's mouth as if it was a pussy, slamming himself into her, his low-hanging sack clipping into her chin with every motion. 

Caroline put three fingers into herself and only wanted more, and she realized none of them would do, that it was what stood before her — long, thick, and black — that would be the only answer to her needs. She could feel herself gushing juices, and her breathing quickened, matching her desire, her arousal. 

"Here!" Abraham said, staring at Caroline and pointing at a spot beside him. 

At first Caroline did not know if he was speaking to her, giving her the right to even being acknowledged. "Yeah, you. Come now, before I regret asking you in the first place." 

She let her gown fall and walked over, her eyes glazed over in lust and curiosity. Abraham placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her to her knees. 

"Get yourself a good look at what you're missing out on." 

"Abraham, please—" 

"You forget? That's master to you." 

"Yes," it was a whisper, but then she was overtaken, wanted the world to know. "Yes, master!" 

Beads of sweat collected on his beautiful ebony skin, and she reached forward to touch, yet he slapped her hand away. 

"There's no touching, Caroline. Know your place." 

Jebediah pulled his cock from Mae's mouth in one swift motion, her mouth still gaping, as if stretched and permanently changed by what just escaped it. And almost unison, Abraham pulled out from her pussy with a popping noise, and with her vantage point Caroline could see the hole, enlarged and gaping, shrink in the absence of his cock. 

Abraham slapped Mae's jiggling ass and Jebediah, still standing over the bent over girl, pulled her by the hair, not letting her stand erect, until he was seated on the bundle of hay behind him, his penis so long it nearly stretched to his bulging pectorals. 

"Sit," he said, letting go of the girl's hair. 

Mae wiped the sweat from her brow and sat on the pole, slowly but surely, her cunt engulfing every bit of it until it must have felt to be deep in her stomach. 

Abraham nodded for Caroline to follow him. He pulled up next to Mae, and no words were exchanged when she took his penis into her mouth once again. 

"Make me cum now, Mae. As long as me and my brother are here, your job's to make us cum. Can you do that for me? 

Between mouthful of cock and the spearing penis pummeling her pussy she could barely let out a squeal, yet she clearly nodded yes, a desperate, soul-certain yes, and continued thrusting down on Abraham's meat, letting it poke into her cheek, jab at every surface of her mouth before finding safe passage down her throat. 

Caroline did not need to be told what to do any longer. She was merely a slave, at the whim of her master, who, for now, did not need her, who only wished to punish her for her wrongdoings. She sat beside Abraham, her head near his muscle-carved thigh, watching both cocks saw into their wet, gaping points of entry. Each time Mae thrust down her ass slapped and smacked into Jebediah's legs and her ass reverberated with tremors that seemed to shake the earth. 

"That's a fat pussy if I've ever felt one!" Jebediah said. "God damn, girl." 

For a moment Abraham's dick plopped from her mouth; Jebediah picked her up but not off his dick, and holding her in the air, began hammering upwards, filling her with cock as she lay helpless above him. It seemed to be all she could take. The noises she made were animal, guttural, as if she was undergoing some transformation. 

"I'mma cum," Jebediah said. 

"Yes," Mae said. "Gimme. Gimme all of it." 

She tried to thrust down on his cock but his control of her body was too strong as he continued piercing her pussy, holding her up there like a doll to be used. 

"With every thrust she let out a whelp, and then Jebediah seemed to find a different level of intensity: his eyes grew dark, it seemed, and he took to Mae's pussy with such ferocity, that his dick was either fully in the girl or fully out, long, deep strokes that penetrated her to her very core. 

"I — I can't—" Mae writhed, the recipient of an orgasm so forceful that she merely went limp, and when Jebediah let her go her body simply fell to the hay. 

"Good while she lasted," Jebediah said. 

Now, him and Abraham stood together, their two cocks, both longer than Caroline's arm, hanging before their bodies. 

By now she was fingering herself furiously, her mouth open, hoping, praying, that they might use her — might use any part of her. 

"Changes nothing, Caroline. You don't get to touch us. But if you act like a good girl and let us use you as for cleanup, then that might repay your wrongs from this evening." 

"Yes, master," she said. The words still seemed odd coming from her mouth, so alien, so low for a woman of her stature. Yet here, with these men, it was all she was. A slave. In some deep, sick part of her being, it was all she wanted to be. 

Abraham and Jebediah stepped forward, both of them stroking their cocks with their fists furiously, faster and faster; Caroline tried to reach forward and touch Abraham's hanging sack but he pulled back. 

"Don't you dare, girl," Jebediah said. 

The sight of the cocks before her, practically hanging over her head, was intoxicating. So close to bliss, so close to finding the satisfaction she only now knew she'd been seeking her whole life. Yet that satisfaction would have to wait. 

Jebediah was first. His gripped his shaft and propelled a long, thick stream of cum onto her face, hitting her cheek so hard each seemed like a slap. The second and third ropes criss-crossed squarely upon her face, stinging her eyes, large glops collecting at the corners of her lips. 

He collapsed next to Mae, wiping sweat from his face, taking deep breaths to recover from his exertion; and now it was just Abraham. He took his time, and Caroline was staring up at him, wanting it, wanting him. He was staring back. 

"Have you fully learned your place, Caroline?" 

"Yes, master" she said, his saliva-covered cock dripping juices onto her dress, which only added to her own. 

"And where's that?" 

"Wherever you wish me to be, doing whatever you wish me to do." 

"And by now you better know what I wish for you to do." 

"Let you use me." 

As he had in her bedroom, he delicately placed his hand on her face, as if to impart wisdom onto a child needing instruction. 

"You're for breeding. Breeding black babies." 

Her skin pricked and rose at these words, her nipples showed themselves as if her very instincts had been triggered, brought to life. 

"Yes! It's my only want. To make as many black babies as you desire," she said. 

Her words did it. He began to grunt, his chest in a spasm that seemed to overtake his whole being. 

"Touch it," he said. "Now." 

She reached forward, her soft, lily-white hand extending, and it only took only a grip of the head of his cock — it flicked back, pulsed once, and finally sent torrent after torrent of hot, molten semen shot forth, his member recoiling like a fired cannon, each thick stream of his production masking her face where the last had not. 

He put his hand on her head and she opened her mouth, the last ropes of his seed filling the back of her throat as she took him to the root. He groaned passionately and tried to reach into her further, down her throat, into her stomach, before calming, spent and exhausted. She could feel his cock slowly deflate in her mouth. As he slowly pulled out she sucked and swallowed, cleaning it at every centimeter, making sure her tongue swirled and met the whole surface area, and when it finally plopped free from her mouth, it slapped against his thigh with no blemishes, no spit, no cum, as if he'd just bathed moments before. 

"Good girl," he said. 

He petted her head. The sun was not up but it would be soon, and already the morning birds were beginning to rise, the errant chirp reaching them from the woods nearby. In a few hours from now he would be in the field and Caroline would be back in her bed, as if none of this had happened. Not that she'd forget it had taken place. No, she'd never forget. 

"Now what, master?" 

"Now you go back inside, clean yourself off, and prepare for tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow? What's tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow you'll be bred, Caroline, through and through." 

He pulled her to her feet, keeping hold of her hand in his own. 

"And when it's all said and done," he went on, "Even Mr. Banks will know your true nature."



A Plantation's Secrets



It rose not at once but slowly, taking its time as it fattened into an engorged behemoth, far larger than anything Caroline could even conceive of. Her legs paced apart, Caroline leaned forward and rubbed herself as Mae began to nurse Abraham's cock with her hands. A thought crossed her mind of the negro entering the house now, finding her bent over, and pulling her nightgown over her head and taking her. As this image seared itself into her mind she saw Mae's handling of the penis steadily increase in pace, until both hands were thrusting forth at once with their great vigor.

Caroline watched on as the behemoth of a man — the behemoth of a penis — sent forth a torrent of semen, so much so that she thought she could see the head recoil like a gun, shooting off ropes of white that covered the front of Mae's blouse, another load flying past her and landing on the grass feet away. 

Caroline tried to control her moans as an aching orgasm passed through her, so strong she felt herself buckle, nearly taking to the floor. 

At that moment she thought the feeling so intense she might pass out. Such it was that when she looked up and out the window, down on the barn, it seemed more like a dream when Abraham was clearly staring at her — a wink in his eye, and a smile on his face. 

To be continued.