...of all Possible Worlds - Chapter Twenty
I couldn't say for sure what it was that finally broke me. Maybe it was the tension I felt between my Master's wishes and his obligation, his unhappiness at promising me something when he wasn't of a mind to make the best choice possible. Or it could be the way Tom Henry sat so still behind me, stoic and peaceful, knowing he was going to take a real whipping shortly, for no good reason except I wanted him to. Maybe too it was just the quiet in the car, the sun still up but falling fast and red, and the world looking like there ought to be nothing wrong at all anywhere.
"Master?" I said hesitantly, and when his chin moved slightly I spoke up. "I…I changed my mind, if you'll excuse me."
"Changed your mind about what, Danielle?" Mr. Reiser asked steadily. He wasn't giving me any looks, no help with his eyes or his voice.
"About whipping Tom Henry, sir." I licked my lips. "He doesn't deserve that and…and I'm sorry I asked you to do it."
"Is that a fact," he said, and it didn't sound like a question at all, but I answered anyway.
"Yes sir." I nodded. "He angered me some, but I was wrong for thinking he ought to be whipped for it." I swallowed hard. "I'm just a house negra and I don't have any call for treating him like I've been."
"I see..." Mr. Reiser cleared his throat. "So you think I can just change my mind too then."
"Can't you?" I asked, even gasped a little maybe, because it sounded an awful lot like he wasn't going to.
"A man says he's going to do something, generally he's got to do it," my Master said, and then he did look at me. "Don't you think?"
"Yes sir," I said softly. "Unless he knows it's wrong."
"Hmph." Mr. Reiser smiled at that, staring at the road ahead. I couldn't do anything else but wait and see what he decided.
We rode the rest of the way in silence.
"Good evening, Miss Danielle." An old black man named Samuel was the doorman most nights and he'd see me often enough by now to greet me by name, which was nice.
"Hi Samuel, thank you." I returned his smile as he held the door and walked into the mansion followed closely by Tom Henry and our Master.
"We'll eat first," Mr. Reiser decided, gesturing towards the dining room. We found it mostly empty due to the relatively early hour.
Tom Henry didn't seem to have much of an appetite, naturally, and neither did I, but Mr. Reiser insisted we fill our plates from the buffet, mostly salad for me of course. He told us it would be a long night and it sure felt like it just then. So far as we knew, Tom Henry was still bound for the whipping post and he'd need his strength for that, or so our Master appeared to suggest in a roundabout way.
"Cockfights tonight," Mr. Reiser said for no real reason that I could tell. He looked at the waiter pouring champagne into a glass for me. "Are they having cockfights tonight?"
"Yes sir," the waiter replied. "Every Sunday night. Out back in the garner."
"Huh." My Master nodded and looked at Tom Henry, who was seated between us on my left at the square table. "Do you know about cockfighting?"
"Yes sir," Tom Henry answered. "I've heard of it before."
"That's like chickens, right?" I sipped some champagne and smiled at the bubbles. "Roosters or something?"
"Or something." Mr. Reiser smiled at me. "Have you ever seen it, Tom? Ever been in one?"
"No sir." Tom Henry licked his lips and he had some champagne too, but he wasn't drinking any. "I reckon I'm a tad smallish for that."
"What?" I giggle, looking at Tom Henry and wondering what they were talking about.
I squirmed as that butt plug was really jammed into me by then, but the strange thing was that I was getting used to it, a little bit. The real discomfort had gone, but the pleasure remained and I actually found myself looking for ways to move that fat bit of rubber around so I could feel it fresh. It proved a mighty distraction and every now and then my Master would catch me, smiling like he knew exactly what I was up to, and that would make me burn with some small bit of humiliation.
"You have some muscles," Mr. Reiser judged, speaking to Tom Henry. "Some wits about you, too. The biggest cock doesn't always fuck the girl."
"Oh!" I gasped and grinned at my Master, and the mood was finally changing.
"Heh." Tom Henry smiled at that and nodded. "Yes sir, I suppose that's true."
"You know what happens to the loser, Tom Henry?" our Master asked, and the boy nodded his head. "I thought you probably did."
"What happens?" I asked, looking back and forth between them. "What loser?"
"Now, I brought you all the way out here for a whipping." Mr. Reiser shrugged. "One Danielle doesn't think you deserve, but you're here anyway so I'll give you a choice between the post or the ring."
"What ring?" I pouted with frustration. "Master!"
"Not much of a choice, I know," he continued. "But I think a boy like you wouldn't say no anyway. Would you, Tom Henry?"
"Well, sir…" the boy shifted slightly. "I wouldn't say no to anything you want me to do, no sir."
"I'm not going to tell you that have to fight," Mr. Reiser said, seriously.
"A fight?" I blinked at my Master, giving my butt a little wriggle around that plug. "Tom Henry's gonna fight somebody?"
"I'll do it, sir," Tom Henry said, and even smiled. "I've been in a tussle or two."
"Good." Mr. Reiser smiled as well. "Good for you, Tom. You'd better eat some then, you'll be needing it later."
Tom Henry nodded at that and I could feel him relax. He started eating as he quickly regained his appetite and I found myself feeling much better inside.
"Can you tell me what's going on now?" I wondered unhappily.
"Cockfighting is nigger wrestling. Two black men in the ring," Mr. Reiser said. "Tom Henry's going to be fighting later tonight."
"Wrestling?" I narrowed my eyes. "Does that hurt?"
"Heh!" He laughed and grinned at Tom Henry, who was smiling at me. "It can be painful, I suppose. Not much blood though. It's agility and brains, more than just strength and brute violence."
"Okay." I nodded at that. "Not like those old Roman gladiator guys, right? Thumbs up and down and all that?"
"What?" Mr. Reiser shook his head. "No, not like that. Nobody dies and there's no swords or lions."
"Good," I decided, rocking my hips a bit to feel that plug in my butt fill me a little more, if that were even possible.
"It's more like the ancient Greeks. A friendly contest," he said, sipping his wine and giving me a look as I squirmed. "More or less."
"Okay." I felt myself warm all over and turned away from the man to look at Tom Henry. "And you wrestled before, huh?"
"Ah, I wouldn't call it wrestling, ma'am," Tom Henry said, and I got the sense he wanted us to start all over again as his brown eyes looked into mine. I know I did.
"What would you call it then?" I smiled just for him, letting him know we were gonna be okay now.
"I don't rightly think there's a word for it, ma'am, but it sure do hurt some." He laughed and I giggled at him.
Our Master smiled too and I got the sense he was finally happy. His intention all along with Tom Henry was to have another slave around the house, someone close to my own age, and Tom was just twenty. Someone to keep me company when I grew bored. Maybe a boy like Tom Henry wasn't exactly the best choice for that, but then again, I hadn't given him much of a chance either. It was about time to fix that and Mr. Reiser enjoyed seeing us together, just talking over dinner, because sometimes a little friendly conversation at the table is all a man wants.--------------------------------------------------------
The arrangements were made and with me being just a bedroom negra on my Master's arm, I had very little to do with such things. Behind the plantation manor there were other buildings, serving other purposes. I couldn't say what each was for, but the garner was a large and round barn-like structure that had been used to store grain at one time, feed corn for animals and such. Made of quarried limestone from the foundation to about a dozen feet or so, it had wood planking above that, with open air windows and a great round shingled roof. Inside there were wooden benches, like bleachers, I suppose, set in a ring around a large dirt area in the center. Above were great rafters and shadows as the roof vaulted away. The garner was a large structure, as I said, easily big enough for a hundred spectators or more.
Tom Henry had been given over to some men, white men with their black assistants, who would prepare him for his wrestling match. It was all organized and I learned this was a usual occurrence for a Sunday night during the spring and summer. In the meantime, my Master and I were free to mingle and the atmosphere in the cockfight arena, as it was called, was rather relaxed and somewhat boisterous in the way men are before a contest. Some of the owners there had stables of wrestlers, slaves whose only purpose were cockfights. Others were less dedicated in their enthusiasm and had only a few slaves who would regularly fight. Most of the men were like Mr. Reiser, putting a slave forward for no other reason than it was something different and interesting to do on occasion.
I spent much of the time staying close to my Master, sipping champagne and smiling, playing the demure slut as the outfit I wore left little doubt that I was a genuine fuck toy. Of course, my skin alone was enough to prove that and I enjoyed the attention I received from other men, other white owners who had their own negras close by. Those girls and I would share a look every now and again. Usually a sympathetic smile to express our boredom, or perhaps some amusement with the goings on around us, and very occasionally a somewhat less than friendly stare. Some of those girls could be catty and jealous, especially a brand new bedroom negra who expected her owner to fawn over her like an old nigger boyfriend. They were always a little unsure of themselves, as I'd been at first, but they'd learn and the rest of us ignored them.
We girls got along fine for the most part, as we understood that none of us had any real choice in how we dressed or even acted. I knew what my Master expected of me, what he liked, and so I behaved a certain way for him. I was quiet and polite, holding his arm and giving myself over to the appreciative gaze of his friends and peers. If a man happened to speak to me, I most often replied with playful innuendo and I gave my Master no reason to disapprove. I looked beautiful and sexy and best of all, I was a secret for only my Master and a few of the owners from the Marigold Room to enjoy. The majority of men at the club had no idea I was a boy beneath the skin tight Lycra I wore. I had great fun playing my erection against my Master's thigh as I hid the bulge in my skirt from curious and lust-filled eyes.
"Mr. Reiser, I presume."
I blinked at a woman's voice and then at the woman herself, and my Master appeared only slightly surprised before he regained his composure. The woman appeared several years older than me, in her late twenties or early thirties possibly, although it was difficult to tell. She cut an attractive swath through the crowd, there was little doubt about that, with rich auburn hair and a striking face. A strong nose and chin, thin sensual lips and dark green eyes beneath her hair, which was long, but pinned up neatly.
"Hello." He smiled at her and I held his arm tightly, as I always did when I felt confused.
She wore men's clothing tailored to her lithe body, or perhaps they were women's clothes, but intended to emulate male fashion, I wasn't sure. The outfit was nice though, a two piece suit in teal of all colors that went well with her eyes. A white button down shirt beneath the coat and a red necktie hanging loose between her somewhat undersized breasts. It matched her lips and fingernails and on the whole it was very effective and strangely erotic, seeing a woman dressed that way, and I knew my Master would find it to his taste. Her body as well, being thin with narrow hips pushed forward and those small breasts with her shoulders back. She had a male posture it seemed to me, or perhaps it was just the strength of her personality, which quickly became apparent.
"I'm Cory Ingersoll," she said, holding out her hand as a man would. "I believe your nigger is pitted against mine this evening."
"Oh. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ingersoll." My Master shook her hand, forcing me to reluctantly release him. "I wasn't aware we had female guests present tonight."
"Maybe I'm not really a female." She tilted her head and her smile wasn't large, only playing at the corners of her lips, but it was seductive.
"Excuse me?" Mr. Reiser held her hand a fraction longer than I liked and I insinuated myself partially between them once more.
"Ah, Mr. Reiser. May I present my, uh, niece…" Mr. Connelly said, holding one of his beautiful boys close. "Miss Corinne Ingersoll."
"You're too late, Albert. We've already introduced ourselves," the woman informed him, but in a friendly way.
"She's visiting from Mississippi," the man explained, pausing a waiter long enough to retrieve two glasses of champagne, and handing one to Miss Ingersoll.
"Thank you," she said, accepting her glass and holding it up. "To the good hospitality of Memphis."
"Are you staying long, Miss Ingersoll?" my Master wondered.
"Call me Cory, please," she said, smiling. "Until my uncle grows tired of me. I'm a bit of an eccentric, I'm afraid."
"Aren't we all?" Mr. Connelly grinned, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll place a wager or two."
"Oh, a wager!" Cory nodded, looking at my Master. "Perhaps you'd like to make a wager of your own? A friendly bet on our two beautiful cocks?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"Hmmm…How about your negra?" Cory looked at me for the first time that I'd noticed and I lowered my eyes quickly. "I'm dying to know what she's hiding beneath that lovely dress."
"Oh?" Mr. Reiser sipped his champagne and I felt my body tense around the plug stuffed in my rectum.
"Albert loves to tease me," she said lightly. "He's such a scurrilous character, don't you think? A terrible gossip!"
"I see. I fear Mr. Connelly has been in politics too long," my Master replied, although I didn't understand the woman at all. "And what are you putting up against my girl?"
"Well..." Cory sighed dramatically. "Having no girl of my own, I suppose it will have to be...Me!"
I blinked at her.
"You?" My Master chuckled at that. "Against my bedroom negra?"
"I've been in a bedroom or two myself, sir." She smiled and then mocked a pout. "Oh! That must seem terribly risqué. I do forget cosmopolitan custom."
"And how's that, Cory?" Mr. Reiser asked.
"Why, playing the bedroom negra, sir. It's rather popular for a white woman where I'm from," she confessed in a stage whisper. "It's the awful climate, I believe, which makes us intemperate in our provincial appetites."
"Well, I hope you'll find the climate here more to your liking then," Mr. Reiser said, chuckling at her theatrics.
"Oh, I didn't say I didn't like it!" Cory laughed. "I've never had a use for temperance, really. So...Will you accept my offer, Mr. Reiser?"
She posed for him, clearly offering herself, and I'd never seen a person like this Corinne Ingersoll before in my life, my Master neither, I believe. She was bold and beautiful, and flirting in a manner I'd never imagined possible for a white woman, especially one of some social standing, as this woman clearly was. I didn't dislike her, but she did make me nervous just because I didn't understand her at all.
"For the evening then?" Mr. Reiser suggested.
"Until sunrise, let's say," Cory agreed. "That's my usual bedtime."
"As a gentleman, I find your offer difficult to refuse, Miss Ingersoll." He offered his hand and the woman took it with a smile.
"Most men do, Mr. Reiser," she replied. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll freshen up a bit before the cocks begin to crow."
"Of course." My Master gave her a small bow and I smiled up at him with some amusement, but tempered with the knowledge that I'd been wagered on Tom Henry's wrestling skills.
We watched her walk away and Cory drew a lot of attention, smiling and exchanging brief words with several men as she left the garner. It wasn't unheard of to see a white woman at the Owner's Club, but it was a rare enough event. They were invariably guests and invited for a specific reason, such as an auction or the cockfights, apparently. For the most part, the mistresses had their own club, a Sable Society as it was called, and what went on at the Society I could only imagine, but doubtless it was similar to the Owner's Club. I wondered why Cory hadn't gone there, but then, seeing her so plainly comfortable and enjoying herself in the company of men, it should have been obvious.
"That was different." My Master smiled at me and his hand slipped behind my back, brushing my bare skin and drifting lower to press through my skirt and find the base of my butt plug.
"Yes sir...Oh!" I went up on my tip-toes for just a moment, with a tiny gasp as he pressed the toy a fraction deeper in my ass.
"I see you've met Connelly's niece," a man said. Mr. Forsythe was a business associate of my Master's, rather than a friend, from what I understood.
"Yes, she's quite…disarming," Mr. Reiser decided, moving his hand back up and encircling my waist with his arm.
"That's one word for it." Mr. Forsythe grinned. He was older, like my Master, and handsome with his own negra, a delicate young woman with dark, fashion model looks. She appeared patiently bored and rolled her dark eyes at me with a smile that I returned.
"Rather odd, Connelly bringing her around here," another man, one I didn't know, said.
"I heard a rumor they're trying to marry the woman off," Mr. Forsythe said. "The woman's family is sending her around the country on a little hunting expedition."
"Heh!" My Master grunted at that. "Big game hunting, no doubt."
"She's an Ingersoll." Mr. Forsythe shrugged. "She won't be marrying a man for his money."
"She won't marry a man without it either," the other man observed. "Her daddy will see to that."
"It begs the question..." Mr. Reiser shrugged. "What does the woman who has everything want in a man?"
"Ask her," Mr. Forsythe suggested with a grin. "From what I've heard, she won't be afraid to answer."
The men laughed and nodded at that.
A short time later a white man was asking people to clear the floor, to find their seats on the wooden benches, as the cockfights were about to begin. We found ourselves sitting close to Mr. Connelly, near the top of the bleachers looking down over three tiers of heads and shoulders to the center of the garner. Mr. Reiser sat beside me on the left, Mr. Connelly's boy, a fourteen year old faggot named Page to my right, and Mr. Connelly on the other side of him.
"Excuse me…Pardon me, Gentlemen…" Cory said, stepping up the wooden stairs and smiling at us. "Would you mind, Mr. Reiser? Is that seat taken?"
"Of course, Miss Ingersoll. Be my guest." Mr. Reiser rose and we sat back for the woman as she slipped past our knees and into the empty place on the other side of my Master, putting him between myself and Cory.
"Thank you, sir. Oh my! This is exciting." She laughed happily and it was a warm sound, light and airy and drawing smiles as men turned to look at her, but Cory seemed oblivious to it.
I felt slightly disappointed by the woman's presence, but not overly so, and only because she would distract my Master's attentions from me. If she'd been black I should have been much more unhappy, but as a white woman, Corinne posed no threat to my position as Mr. Reiser's bedroom negra. I'd remain his mistress whatever his relationship with Miss Ingersoll. That and the fact that I knew my Master had no interest in real women was something of a comfort, but if Cory was interested in Mr. Reiser, she'd done well dressing in her mannish clothes. I wondered if she hadn't had some small advice in the matter from her uncle.
Of course, if that talk of marriage and Cory looking for a husband had been true…I squirmed slightly as the wooden bench we sat on had never been intended for comfort, but only practicality. It pressed hard upon the butt plug lodged deep inside me.
"You seem a bit flustered yourself." Miss Ingersoll leaned across Mr. Reiser slightly, smiling at me. "There is something about a good cockfight, isn't there?"
"Yes ma'am," I agreed politely. "This is my first."
"Is it? I do declare, your Master has been badly remiss in your upbringing," she chided Mr. Reiser playfully. "A growing girl needs culture, sir."
"Danielle has struggled under my tutelage, I must confess," he replied with a smile.
I giggled at that and very much enjoyed the way they were speaking, which seemed amused and formal all at once. I wondered if white men and women always talked in such a fashion, because I'd never heard it before, or if it was just a creation of Corinne's and my Master was playing along with her. It made me slightly jealous as I realized our own conversations seemed much more mundane by comparison. I wished I possessed something of Miss Ingersoll's natural charm and quick wit. My Master appeared to enjoy it.
"So it is with all young girls and bachelor men, I believe," Cory said. "A most unnatural state, if you'll forgive me for saying so."
"Unnatural?" Mr. Reiser looked at her.
"Bachelorhood." Corinne nodded sincerely and then her attention shifted. "Oh! Here they come. Isn't this going to be fine!"
Two black men were being led into the garner by young girls, pretty negras wearing little more than panties. They were inviting, I suppose, but it was the men who naturally caught my attention. They weren't overly large, but fit and strong, and very nearly completely naked with their ebony bodies oiled so that they gleamed beneath the dozens of bare light bulbs hanging from the rafters. Their muscles were evident and swollen, and it seemed likely they'd been working out just immediately before entering the ring, pumping blood into their hard flesh. I found myself immediately aroused by the sight. Their naked cocks were semi-erect as well, with leather harnesses fitted around their balls for support apparently, and attached to silver rings at the base of each penis. Two thin strips of leather rode from their balls around their ass cheeks and connected at the hips to another piece of slightly wider leather encircling their waists.
They were beautiful, I thought, and amazingly sexy, although neither of the men's faces would be considered handsome under any circumstance. Their bodies were intoxicating however, and I felt my heart gathering speed as I reached instinctively to press my left hand against Mr. Reiser's trousers. His cock was hard already, like mine, and he leaned forward, plainly enjoying the vision parading before us.
"These are just the amateurs," Cory said, noting my hand with a small smile. "They save the professionals for later."
"They're wonderful," I gushed. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Wait until they wrestle!" The woman's eyes were twinkling. "And the winner, well…" she glanced at Mr. Reiser. "Perhaps your Master would like to explain the rules."
"Hmmm..." He took a deep breath. He seemed as impressed with those two slaves as me, although I think he tried not to show it in front of Miss Ingersoll.
"What are the rules, Master?" I asked, stroking his penis through his trousers.
I knew that Cory was already well aware of Mr. Reiser's interest and undoubtedly Mr. Connelly had informed the woman that my Master was gay. It made me wonder all the more why she would give so much attention to my Master. I thought that perhaps she found it entertaining, or something of a challenge maybe.
"They'll wrestle until one of them is pinned to the ground, or submits," Mr. Reiser told me. "And at the end, the winner will take the loser in some way."
"Take him?" I asked. "Take him where?"
"Not where, but how!" Miss Ingersoll said. "The winner usually takes the loser like a girl, to humiliate the boy."
"Like a girl? You mean in the…ass?" I blinked as she grinned, and then we both giggled. "Oh!"
"A demonstration of dominance and submission." Mr. Reiser licked his lips. "Or, sometimes he'll take the loser in the mouth; it all depends on how…excited the winner is."
"And they get very excited, believe me!" Cory nodded happily. "Even the straightest man can't help getting hard during a good match. It's the adrenaline or something, the joy of intimate struggle."
The wrestling match began finally after some five minutes while the two slaves posed for the crowd. There was a lot of betting, a lot of talking and shouting, with the men becoming very animated as they anticipated the battle to come. I myself just wanted to see those two men pressed against each other, grappling as they sought to subdue each other and ultimately take the other man's dignity for their prize. It seemed very good incentive, considering none of those slaves were probably queer, and as with most of Southern society, I imagined there existed a strong undercurrent of homophobic fear in them.
It made me curious as to the excitement of all those men, the white owners present and representing much of the city's real wealth, at seeing two naked slaves wrestle each other. But Mr. Reiser informed me that it was something of a tradition, and not a Southern one, but a tradition of western culture dating back to the Greeks, who performed all such contests naked. How true any of that might be, I had no idea, but if it was good enough for all those white owners, it was good enough for me anyway. I wasn't going to argue, not while I watched those two men wrestle and I thought it the most exciting thing I'd ever seen in my life.
I was told that a match would go for ten minutes, if there wasn't a clear winner before then, and be declared a draw. Miss Ingersoll assured me that they rarely went that long and the first match of the evening was no exception, with one man pinning the other to the dirt after just three or four minutes.
"Oh…Master…" I breathed as the victor, who had pinned the other man on his stomach, didn't release his opponent.
The winner quickly straddled the other man's thighs and his cock was very hard by then, glistening with oil and perhaps more as it slid back and forth along the dark crevasse between the loser's ass cheeks. The crowd was very loud too, as those who'd won their bets called eagerly for the final act in that erotic drama. The losers moaned and booed, and we all watched as the triumphant slave asserted his dominance completely, stabbing his turgid prick deep into his defeated opponent's asshole without mercy. The slave on his belly lifted his head, groaning loudly as his rectum was stretched to accommodate that large black cock and he was fucked for several minutes without more than token and futile resistance.
I thought I might cum myself when the victor arched his back and announced his orgasm, marking the loser with his male sperm. Doubtless the beaten slave's ego felt the stain of that defeat every bit as much as his submissive body. The slave on top pulled his cock free, still dripping his eager spend as he stood up, breathing hard and smiling, standing over his opponent triumphant and basking in the approval of those white owners surrounding him. He would feel as a king, I imagined, like a Roman gladiator, and I felt an immediate and almost desperate attraction for the man that had nothing to do with who he was, but only what he represented.
"Incredible, isn't it?" Miss Ingersoll whispered across Mr. Reiser, "You feel it, don't you, girl?"
"Yes…Ma'am…" I breathed slowly.
"Are you alright?" Mr. Reiser looked at me. He appeared flushed himself, feeling something as well, but different than what I did. He was a Master and so he imagined himself taking the slave as the victor. Being a slave, all of my empathy was with the nigger defeated and prone on his belly in the dirt.
"I want to suck you," I told him softly.
"Hmmm…" He smiled and leaned into me, kissing my lips softly and whispering. "Soon…Wait a little bit."
"Yes sir." I swallowed hard and what I really wanted was to be fucked. That plug in my ass was maddening for me now, just sitting there as it did, and I needed more. My girl cock was on fire, tenting my skirt obscenely. I kept my small purse in my lap to hide it while I fondled Mr. Reiser through his trousers.
Whatever Miss Ingersoll thought of us, she didn't offer her opinion. I understood her to be the source of my Master's reluctance to let me service him right then and there. Beside me, the boy, Page, was already mouthing Mr. Connelly. The black teen nursing eagerly on the old man's hard white cock and nobody paid them any mind. Many of the negras present were comforting their owners in similar fashion, and themselves also, as I wasn't alone in my pleasure at seeing my first cockfight.
There was a certain madness to the whole thing, a dreamlike quality, and I felt drunk with it. The place was hot and smoky and smelling of men and sweat and even the women, the negras and their juicy cunts blooming between their legs. I was very glad just then that I'd found my wits and swallowed my pride, asking my Master not to whip Tom Henry. The thought of missing this experience seemed almost unbearable and I wished my Master had brought me previously. I began to wonder if I couldn't convince Mr. Reiser to begin a stable of his own. The idea of having a number of slaves at our house dedicated to cockfighting…It was silly perhaps, and I was just an overexcited bedroom negra, but what a thought!