****** High-Yeller in 1862 by Jim Trent ******
===============================================================================

High-Yeller in 1862



All the usual disclaimers

From the wartime journal of 2nd Lt. Nathan Longacre, 5th Michigan
Volunteers.

It was the fall of 1862 and we were chasing that traitor and scoundrel,
Robert E. Lee, back south where he belonged. We had about 45 uninjured men
left in the company after the battle of Antietam and were in a foul mood.
We had been held in reserve near several battles and had fought in a few
others, but that one was the worst. We were still skirmishing with the
rebel stragglers and occasionally exchanged fire with them as we chased them
south.

There was a clearing in the wilderness ahead and we came upon a small hill
farm. There was a shack and a broken down barn with a few fruit trees that
still had some fruit on them. This area was filled with rebels and southern
sympathizers so I had the men spread out and advance cautiously.

The place appeared to be abandoned. I ordered the men to search the area,
find if any stragglers were hiding, and see if they had left any food or
drink behind. We had outrun the supply wagons and had lived for two days on
hardtack, a little bacon, and water.

I took some men and went toward the shack. A Sargent took a group and went
into the barn. They started running their bayonets thru the loose hay piled
against the back wall. Soon there was a high pitched scream. The men
immediately brought their worthless Austrian muskets up and cocked the
hammers. Whoever the agent was who bought them for us must have been
bribed. I wish we had Springfields like everybody else. Anyway, the
Sargent yelled in his best command voice "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP --
NOWWW."

The hay slowly started to move. An arm showed. Brown. A negro slave.
Then more showed. It was a girl. One of the socket bayonets had scratched
her outer thigh, but had not done any serious damage. She was probably no
more than 15 or 16, light brown skin, medium height, solidly built with what
appeared to be big tits, big hips and curves inbetween. The rags she wore
almost covered her, but not very well. It was a one-piece bag dress she had
outgrown at least 2 or 3 years ago. The bottom of the hem only went a
little way below her private parts and she had not been able to close the
front for a long time. It was open to the waist and showed most of her
ample bosoms and a little of each of her dark brown areolas. She wore
nothing underneath. And, she was scared.

The Sargent yelled (that was the only way he knew how to talk), "IS THERE
ANYBODY ELSE HERE?" She shook her head no. He said "WHERE DID THEY GO AND
WHY DIDN'T THEY TAKE YOU." By that time, I walked in. Her head was down
and she was unsuccessfully trying not to cry. She sure had a lot of valley
showing between the two mounds of flesh on her chest. I told the Sargent to
keep looking for others. After he left, she told me that the owner of the
farm and his son had run off when the last group of rebs came thru and told
them that the Federals were right behind.

The Sargent quickly came back and said that the place was secure. There was
nobody else here. The Rebs had fouled the well, but there was fresh water
in a creek nearby. There were a couple of 20 gallon crocks with what tasted
like green corn whiskey, a few chickens in the nearby woods, some flour, and
the rest of the fruit on the trees. Everything that could be carried away
was. It didn't look like the owners intended to come back.

Then he asked me if I was laying claim to the slave. "Of course not." I
said, "That is why we were fighting this war." He said that he would check
her for weapons and make sure the men shared equally. Both remarks gave me
pause, but I was called away just then to check the perimeter before we
could relax for the night.

As soon as I left, the Sargent went over to the shivering negro, pinched the
dress on each shoulder, pulled it further apart, and slid it down over her
shoulders. Her proud tits were displayed for everyone to see. Below her
hips, he dropped the dress. She stood there completely naked as the men
crowded around to look. She had large, well rounded breasts that stuck out
more than down, with large dark brown aureoles, shallow nipples that blended
in, wide hips, solid but shapely legs, a firm well rounded ass, and a thick
bush of kinky black hair hiding her cunt. Her skin was surprisingly light
and smooth. Her face was plain, but not unpleasing, without the wide nose
and full lips of purebred negros. The Sargent said, "Boys, this here is a
high-yeller. A half-breed. She is what you get when a white man diddles
around with a negro slave. They are kept around to service the menfolk, AND
WE ARE MEN, AREN'T WE." They all shouted "YES SIR. Then he said, "Well,
lets get serviced."

One of the men unrolled a service blanket and laid it down on a fairly clean
pile of hay. The Sargent led her to it. She started smiling. This was
something she understood. She knew what men wanted, even if they were
Yankees. She lay back on the blanket and spread her legs and lifted her
knees slightly. The Sargent unbuttoned his pants, pulled out his cock, and
plunged in without any preliminaries. After a few minutes of pumping, he
came. As soon as he pulled out, another soldier took his place. Then
another. Word spread quickly and in 90 minutes about half the men had
sampled her charms. The others had their own individual reasons for not
participating. We could respect that. She handled all of us with a smile.
This is what she was bred for and she was used to that.

The Sargent brought the festivities to an end when one of the soldiers came
back for seconds. He cleaned her up by splashing her with cold water,
soaping her down (particularly her private parts), and then splashing her
with water again. Then he led the still naked female to me. She was young,
but was a fully grown woman physically. It had been a long time since I had
been intimate with a woman so I led her into the bedroom of the shack to
screw her.

She smiled at me. I felt her breasts. Just as firm as I had thought. She
lay back on the bed and spread her legs. Her cunt was covered by the
thickest bush I had ever seen. I was hard long before this. I entered her
easily. Her private parts were as big and loose as a Washington whore (or
so I have been told), but I wasn't complaining. It did not take long for me
to come. The feel of a soft, warm cunt after all this time was heaven.
After I shot my load, she asked if I wanted her to lick it clean. Since I
had never had a woman do that, I said yes. Her lips closed around my
rapidly sinking erection and it quickly reversed direction. In a few
minutes, her tongue and lips teased my cock into shooting again. She
swallowed my cum without losing any. She obviously had a lot of experience
in servicing men.

She got up, laid back on the bed, and started rubbing her private parts with
her hand. With her other hand, she reached over and took my hand. She
brought it back and let me feel what she was rubbing. There was a little
button of flesh high-up between her cuntlips. After she rubbed that with my
fingers a while, she brought my fingers lower and lower until there were
actually inside her cuntlips. There was a fleshy pad that she wanted
rubbed, just inside the top of her cuntal passage. Then she rocked my hand
back and forth, stroking the fleshy pad and pressing on the outer button.
She started breathing heavier and then shivered before exhaling. She had an
orgasm! I did not know that women could do that. I wonder if my wife has a
fleshy pad or a button? I let Fern sleep at the foot of the bed. I slept
the best sleep I had in weeks. I drifted off thinking that my wife never
put her lips around my cock like this slave did. And that tongue! It felt
fantastic. I will have to do something about that when I get home. If I
get home.

Early the next morning I awoke with a raging hard-on. The kind of hard-on
that you only have first thing in the morning. She was already awake and
looking at my manhood with a smile on her face. I motioned for her and she
straddled my waist with both feet on the bed. She crouched with her cunt
over my cock, her left hand on the headboard steadying her, and the other
hand guiding my cock into her cunt. Once it was in place, she placed the
other hand on the headboard and started rocking up and down. Nothing of her
body touched mine except for her cunt. I had never felt anything like it.
It was like being jerked off by a cunt. All the while, I watched her
breasts swing and sway right above my face to the same rhythm that was
stroking my cock. Quite an experience. Being that it was a morning hard-on
and being I had come twice a few hours before, it took longer this time
before I came in her. I did not mind. She did not seem to mind, either.
She did not even look tired when I was done.

Afterwards and we gave her a little food, then I asked her how she came to
be there. She said that the owner of the farm, Joshua Brock (whom everybody
called MR. Brock), had three sons. After the third one was born, his wife
never completely recovered and spent the rest of he life in bed. Keeping up
the farm, the house, and three screaming brats was too much for him.

Brock went into town to buy a slave. It was nearly 20 miles away, much of
it without roads, and it took a full day to get there with a farm wagon and
two horses. There was a traveling slave trader in town and he had about a
dozen slaves with him; four women and the rest were men and boys. All were
stripped naked so that the buyers could see that there were no hidden
diseases or injuries. The potential buyers poked and prodded every part of
the slaves. Some were serious buyers, but others were probably getting some
kind of gratification that they could not get at home.

By the time the dealer got to this little town, his stock had been pretty
well picked over. Two of the female slaves were old, one was middle aged
and fat, and one was a child of about 12 or 13. The middle aged one was an
experienced house slave. The child was skinny with almost no hips, ribs
that showed and small tits just starting to form. She had no experience in
cooking, cleaning, or housework. Brock bid on the fat house slave, but she
went for too much money. Then he bought the child. She would just have to
learn. The dealer told him her name was Claire and Brock decided to let her
keep the name. He let Claire put on her ragged dress and tied her to the
bed of the wagon so she could not run off.

A few hours after leaving town, they came to a brook with some trees. It
was time to eat, drink some of the water, and rest. Brock looked at Claire.
He untied her and had her take her dress off again. He checked her over
more carefully. She was not much to look at, but she was all he could
afford. She would have to do. He led her over to a soft bed of ferns in
the shade of the trees and raped her. He placed the uncircumcised head of
his penis in the folds of her cunt and shoved. She was not a virgin. The
boys and young men back at the plantation where she had been born had used
her body for years. Even the white overseer had tried her, but he preferred
older and more developed slaves. However, this time it was different.
Claire had just recently had her first period. She was ripe and ready to
breed. He raped her once again on the way home and used her for sex
regularly afterward. Nine months later Claire gave birth to a baby girl.
Brock called the halfbreed baby "Fern" because that's what Claire was laying
on the first time he raped her. The delivery was difficult since there was
neither a doctor nor a midwife. Claire never had another baby.

Claire and Fern were given a rough little room in the corner of the barn.
Claire was only allowed to wear a thin, loose dress from then on. That
allowed Brock to have sex with her whenever he felt the carnal urge strike.
He would often come up behind her, bend her forward, regardless of what she
was working on, lift the dress up on her back and enter her from behind.
Sometimes he would push his cock into her still tight ass, but usually he
would slip it in her cunt. Afterward, he would have her clean his manhood
with her mouth. As the boys grew older, they watched what he was doing, but
Claire kept them away from her and her daughter.

Brock's wife finally died three years ago when Fern was 12. Just a few days
after he buried his wife, Brock went to the barn and told Claire to bring
Fern to the bedroom. Claire knew what was going to happen and had been
afraid of that for a long time. "She is your daughter. You cannot do this.
It is wrong."

Brock immediately lost his temper. He grabbed his strop, stripped off her
dress, hung her by her wrists from the rafters of the barn, and started
beating her. The boys watched thru the cracks in the boards while he worked
up a sweat. Every time he struck her, she screamed and jerked, with her
heavy breasts bobbing and swaying and her legs clawing for ground that was
not there. The boys got excited watching him slap her back, ass, and legs
with the strop and listening to her scream. Sometimes he would leave her
hanging overnight and the boys could feel her up as she hung there
semiconscious. From this, they were very familiar with the feel, smell and
warmth of her cuntlips. Today, Brock was putting everything he had in each
swing. He was especially angry. Fern hid in the corner of their room, just
a few feet from where her mother hung and heard every scream.

This time, however, Brock cut her down right after the beating. He said,
"You were not a virgin when I bought you. She is not my daughter. She is
just another slave. Remember that." Claire knew he was wrong, but when
she could move, she meekly brought the 12 year old girl into the house.
They went to the curtained off corner of the big single room that was
considered the "masters bedroom." He told Claire to strip off her clothes.
The dress quickly dropped around her feet. As the master directed, she
never wore anything underneath. The marks from the strop, both old and new,
showed against her dark skin. Some were scars. Then he told Fern to do the
same. She did so without delay.

He looked at the two women, one 12 and one nearly 25 years old. Fern was
still young, but her body was starting to grow in all the right places. She
had tits, smaller than her mother's, but they were more than just bumps.
She only had a little bit of wispy fine black hair on her cunt. Her hips
were starting to spread, her waist was still narrow, and her stomach was
still flat. She looked better than her mother did when he bought her. Then
he looked at Claire. Her body was starting to sag and thicken. Her tits
were a lot larger and so were her hips. However, her waist was no longer
narrow and her stomach was no longer flat. Also, there were ugly marks all
over her back. Her frontside was relatively unmarked. Still, 25 was old
for a slave. Brock looked at both of them for a few minutes and then
motioned for Fern to get into bed. It was time to start anew. As Brock
removed his clothes, Claire reached for her dress and turned to leave.
Brock yelled, "Stop! I have not dismissed you. You will stand right there
and look at me until I tell you to go."

Claire dropped her dress and turned around to face him. She stood there and
watched the old man feel her daughter's body. He seemed to fascinated by
her tight, unused body. He had been planning to do this for some time, but
could not bring himself to do it until after his wife died. He felt her
small tits, belly, and cunt. Her skin was light, firm, and unmarked. Up
and down, in and around. No part was left untouched by his probing hands.
Claire saw the power her virgin daughter had to stiffen even an old man's
cock. Fern was still pure due to the watchful eye and diligent work of her
mother. It had not been easy to keep the masters sons away from Fern. But
she was not a virgin for much longer. As soon as he was fully hard, Brock
pulled back the foreskin and placed his cock between the lips of her cunt.
He was momentarily surprised. She was wet. He thrust through her
maidenhead without any gentleness. Fern squeaked and he continued to pump
for a long time afterward. Eventually, he came.

When he was thru, he turned over and told Claire come over to lick the cum
and blood off his manhood. He told her to teach Fern how he liked his sex.
Both donned their thin dresses and left the bedroom. For the next few
evenings, Claire demonstrated different positions on the master while Fern
watched. Then Fern tried them out on him. It did not take her long learn.
Brock was not adventurous when it came to sex and she was a quick learner.
After that, he fucked Fern regularly. In fact, he fucked her much more
often than he had been fucking Claire in recent years.

The sons were upset. The oldest finally said to his father, "You have two
women and we have none. That's not fair." Brock told them, "You all can
have Claire. I am done with her." They immediately ran out to the barn and
surrounded her. Claire could see in their eyes what they wanted. She
yelled, "Don't any of you touch me our I will tell the master." The oldest
laughed, "He already knows. He gave you to us. Get your clothes off. I
want what my father has been getting from you." She hesitated. He grabbed
for her dress, but she turned away and he missed. The other boys moved
toward her. She said, "Stop. You can have what you want. Just don't rip
it."

Claire found some reasonably clean hay, laid back on it, pulled her dress up
above her waist, and spread her legs. The oldest pulled the suspenders off
his shoulders and dropped his pants. He dropped to his knees between her
legs and rammed his already hard cock into her dry cunt. He came quickly
and pulled out, still hard. He was immediately replaced by his younger
brother. Then the youngest brother did the same. By then, the oldest was
ready to go again. He turned Claire over and spread her ass cheeks. Her
ass was firm and round. It had gotten bigger with time, but it was still
smooth (except for an occasional scar) and she was tighter there. He
stroked her ass for a short while then placed his cock against the brown
button hiding between her ass cheeks. He pushed in without too much effort.
While he was stroking, he reached around her and started pinching her
nipples. Each time he did it she jumped a bit, which just added to his
excitement. It did not take much longer for him to come the second time.
Then he had her take off her dress. He felt her large tits and the other
curves of her body. Then he had her get down on her knees and clean off his
manhood like he had seen her do for his father. The boys took turns fucking
her all night. By morning, they had each tried all three holes and tried
some of them more than once. They liked them all. Claire didn't get much
work done for the next week with them fucking her almost continuously.

There was no reason for any of them to be gentle anymore. Their mother was
no longer around to disapprove of rough behavior. Both Claire and Fern took
to wearing little or nothing during the day. Their clothes were ripped off
so often, they didn't stay in one piece very long anyway. At night, they
wore nothing. Claire got so that she could almost sleep through one of the
boys poking her until he came. The boys were more adventurous than their
father. There were also more of them so they could fill two and sometimes
three holes at once. Before long, friends of the brothers started coming
over to try out the boy's new possession for themselves. None of them had a
real live sex slave. Claire serviced a half dozen and sometimes more on
many nights. However, they all had to keep hands off of Fern. Brock had
sole claim to her and all her holes. And he used every one of them. He
felt like a young man again. On the other hand, Claire felt old.

After one sex party in the barn, Claire was dozing face down along with
several tired young men around her. One of them had brought his hunting dog
along. The dog made his way to Claire and started sniffing her ass. Then
he started licking the cum that was dripping out of her cunt. The oldest
boy saw what was going on, woke a couple of his friends and quickly laid out
a plan. The surrounded Claire, swatted her ass to wake her up, raised her
ass, and held her head down on the floor. She thought they were going to
butt-fuck her again. Instead, they guided the dog into her cunt. The dog
was only too happy to continue. It was longer than most of the men, but not
as big around. Before long, the dog came, but she was able to keep the knob
at the base of his cock out of her cunt. When Claire realized what was
happening, she started screaming. The boys quickly plugged her mouth with a
dirty rag. The dog pulled out immediately after it was done and sniffed its
work. The boys standing around thought it was funny. In response to
Claire's screaming, she was strung up and the oldest boy started beating her
with a strop. Since the fun was over, the other boys drifted away.
However, they all brought their dogs the next time they came over to party.
After the boys were done with her, they let each of their dogs use her.

After the beating, Claire was left hanging for most of the day. By the time
he cut her down, she had no feeling other than pain in her body. However,
the oldest son was not happy with hanging her up and using the strop. It
was too crude for his tastes. He went into the woods and cut a number of
wooden switches and rods. Several long flexible switches were cut from the
willow tree, starting from less than the thickness of a small finger to the
size of a thumb. The rods were cut from the branches of an ash tree. They
were shorter and stiffer, ranging from the size of a thumb to about an inch
in diameter.

He seriously practiced with them and quickly got to be very accurate. The
next time he strung Claire up (and gagged her so she would not wake Brock
this time), he took a willow switch and flicked her nipples from several
feet away. He rarely missed. It had the desired effect. Claire jerked and
tried to scream. The reaction from her was amazing, considering how little
force he was applying. Unfortunately, the nipples started to bleed before
he was satisfied. He tried other places on her body. Working outward, the
areolas were also soon shredded. Then he tried her tits. Too easy. It
was much more difficult to flick her clit with a switch, what with it being
partially buried in the folds of her cunt, but, with effort, he did pretty
good. That location took the right combination of pain and skill. He was
pleased with himself. When it started bleeding, he moved around to her ass
and beat it with an ash rod. Not quite as satisfying as the switches, but
it did not make her bleed as easily.

After several beatings, Claire was in the house doing housework when Brock
noticed that she was bleeding on the floor. He stripped off her dress and
saw that there were marks all over her body. In several places, the skin
was shredded and oozing blood. He was furious. He called the boys in and
asked who did that. The oldest boy said, "I did, but she deserved it."
Without any warning, Brock hauled off and slugged the boy on the side of the
chin. The boy went down. He quickly got back up and clenched his fists.
His body rocked back and forth. He wanted to strike back, but his feet
would not move. He thought he could beat the old man, but he hesitated. He
hesitated too long. Brock took the muzzle loading flintlock from the wall,
cocked it, and pointed it at the boy. He said, "Claire will sleep in your
bed until she is healed. Only a fool destroys his own property or lets
others destroy it. I gave Claire to you to use for sex. She is not your
property. She is mine and I will not let you damage her any more. You will
sleep in the barn until I decide otherwise. Now get out of my sight."

Eventually, Claire healed, she returned to the barn, and the oldest boy came
back into the house. The sex games returned soon afterward. However, the
oldest boy orchestrated the sex games and took great pride in increasing her
humiliation each time. One night, after everyone had sex with her, he
brought in a sawhorse and tied Claire across it. Her arms were tied to the
sawhorse legs on one side and her legs were tied to the sawhorse legs on the
other side. Claire wondered what he was going to do when he gagged her
again. She thought, probably the dogs again. They did not hurt very much
as long as they did not use their teeth. But it was not to be. The oldest
boy left and returned a few minutes later with the farm mule. Claire tried
to break loose from her bonds and get away, but the other boys moved in to
steady her and hold her down. They maneuvered the mule over her and guided
the animals cock into her cunt. It was longer and thicker than anything
that had ever entered Claire before. The mule did not need much
encouragement to force its cock into the tight, warm hole that the boys
placed in front of it. It forced its cock deeper and deeper into Claire's
cunt with each new stroke until it was bumping up against her pelvis bone.
With each bump, Claire screamed into her gag. When the mule shot his load,
they pulled it out and led it away.

The oldest son left immediately after the sex party to enlist in the Army of
Northern Virginia. He was gone before the sun rose. Brock did not find out
what had happened until after the boy disappeared. The boy died of illness
before seeing combat and the second son left to take his place. Times got
bad around the farm and Claire was sold to a widow woman in town as a
servant. She was happy to go. The boys were entirely too rough. The
incident with the mule still hurt. Then there was only Fern to service
Brock and the remaining son.

The boy originally started screwing her behind the old mans back. Nothing
fancy. When the old man was out in the field, hunting, or visiting a
neighbor, he would grab a quick fuck. But when they were caught with Fern
bent over the kitchen table, her dress above her waist, and the boy pumping
into her ass, Brock decided that it didn't matter anymore. As soon as the
boy shot his load, Brock turned her over and screwed her cunt. Then she
served them dinner, cum running down her legs. Cooking, cleaning, and
fucking. Day in and day out. That was all the Fern did. But they rarely
beat her. She did whatever they wanted, whenever and wherever they wanted
it. Some of the neighborhood friends of the boys started coming around
again. They just made sure they showed up after Brock went to sleep and
were careful not to leave any marks.

When the Confederates came thru, a few of them fucked her out of boredom,
but most of them were too tired or considered dipping their wick in her to
be beneath them. She was able to hide just before they pulled out and there
was not enough time to find her.

By then, it was time for us to leave. We found a dress that must have been
the wife's. It was too small, especially in the chest area, but it was
better than what Fern originally had. Again, it was fairly short and the
"V" in the front opened to the waist, but it was cleaner. We set fire to
the barn and shack and then took Fern with us when we left.

She quickly adapted to our routine. She did the cooking, washing, and
fucking for the entire company. She was the perfect camp follower. Most of
the men would take her into the woods or into a tent to fuck her discretely,
but a few would just bend her over anything that was handy and fuck her from
behind whenever they felt the urge. She was experienced at sex in all her
holes, both hands, and her tits and she seemed to enjoy it.

Lee escaped to the South. We received orders to abandon pursuit, turn east,
and head toward Washington D.C. We wintered south of Washington and found
that there were a lot of other companies with women of their own. Most were
white. Fern made friends with some of them. For a change of pace, we
sometimes exchanged women with other companies, but Fern was the best of the
bunch. Others thought so, too. There were numerous offers to exchange her
for the evening. Some offers were for longer than that.

One day Fern just disappeared. At first we thought one of the other
companies took her, but one of the men had seen an experienced negro whore
talking with her several times in recent days. I wonder where her mother is
right now? Anyway, she must have talked Fern into moving into one of the
many whorehouses in downtown Washington, D.C. Hundreds of them opened
during the war with thousands of whores of all colors.

Oh, well. Easy come, easy go. All the more reason to head south in the
spring. In addition to the female negros, high-yellers, quadroons and other
mixed breeds, we may get to bang a white rebel bitch. All of us. The
entire company. And when we are done, maybe we might let her negro bucks
have her. Yes, that is definitely what we will do.

I can hardly wait.

jim_trent@hotmail.com

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