I wrote this story by request on a subject I am not really interested about, just to see if I could do...
Raging Bull
by Valeska
The night didn’t bring much cooling after
another hot and humid summer day. Born and raised in the south, Carrie still
didn’t seem to accustom to the climate. A shimmer of sweat was glistening on
the porcelain skin of her face, and the corset underneath her elaborate dress
didn’t make breathing more comfortable for her either. She received many
compliments for her red dress from her guests that just had left, how it
matched the red of her lips, and well contrasted the blond of her long hair and
the hazel of her eyes.
Many suitors came to visit since her father had
passed away from the fever a month before, to express their condolences at her
father’s death, and to advertise themselves as the new lord of the estate, if
only Carrie would select them as her husband. Knowing that good business
depended on good relations, she charmed every one of them, despite being
disgusted at their hypocrisy and the trivial nature of their chatter.
What Carrie really concerned where the growing
tensions with north. She feared it might escalate into a conflict that would
threaten everything, their way of life, everything her father and his
forefathers had built here and was now left in Carrie’s hands to be protected.
Carrie stepped out to the balcony and looked over the plantation. The light of
a full moon enabled her to see almost all of the lands she now ruled.
Paula stepped out on the balcony too, offering
Carrie her cup. Tea with a shot of rum it usually was, but knowing Carrie had
an exhausting day Paula had changed it in favor of rum with a shot of tea.
Carrie smiled when she sipped of the cup.
They knew each other so well. Both women were
of the same age, 24 years by now, and had known each other almost their whole
lives. Paula had been a gift to Carrie by her father for her eighth birthday.
He believed it was time for her to learn responsibility, and owning a personal
slave would prepare her better for her future life than owning a dog ever
could.
Paula wore a plain white maiden’s dress which
contrasted her skin. She was not as dark as most of the other slaves, possibly
that was why a different fate was chosen for her. Carrie noticed that there was
no sign of sweat on her, her heritage must have prepared her much better for
this climate. For the blink of an eye Carrie envied Paula.
“Should I prepare your bedroom now, my lady?”
In the 16 years of being her slave, Paula only
called Carrie once by her name, on that day of her eighth birthday. And on the
same day both experienced the whip for the first time, with Paula suffering and
Carrie watching.
Carrie looked down on her estate once
more.
“No, I want to have a look at the stables.
Inform the overseer and prepare me some clothes.”
She wanted to reassure herself everything was
still in its place. If you want to defend what is yours, it always needs to be
in the best condition possible, there is no excuse for anything less.
Paula nodded und hushed away. After Carrie had
finished her cup of tea she went to her dressing room, where she found Paula
waiting with more casual clothing already prepared. Paula began to untie the
laces on the back of carries dress, and after the dress feel to the ground
repeated the action with the laces of the corset. Carrie felt liberated at
every bit of the corset being untied, allowing her to breath freely. When the
corset fell it left Carrie in white stockings and underwear. She felt no
shyness in front of Paula, why should she have? Paula helped her into her
dresses every morning, did her hair and aided her bath, she knew every inch of
Carrie’s body.
Now it would be trousers, blouse, jacket and
riding boots for Carrie, all in earthy colors and all not suitable for a lady, but
more practical for a plantation owner than a bell shaped dress. She put on most
of it herself, only the riding boots needed a helping hand by Paula. As her
last accessory she chose a riding crop, matching to her boots.
As they walked downstairs they were met by the overseer,
a tall Irish man with a dark hair and a beard slowly turning grey.
“Is there anything wrong, my lady?”
“I hope not. I just want to do a quick
inspection.”
The quarter master often was quite frustrated
by the erratic nature of his new employer. He was one of the few who didn’t
need to fear that crop she was holding in her hand, but he wouldn’t like to be
fired because she were unsatisfied with the way he run things on the
plantation.
The three of them marched through the cotton
fields outside the mansion. Paula hated that she had to join them. She hated
being in the stables, because it reminded her of where she came from. She knew
she wasn’t better as any of the slaves in there, but she knew her life was
better, and she was ashamed to look into the eyes of the other slaves.
They arrived at the stable for female slaves
first. Male and female slaves were kept separate to avoid uncontrolled mating.
It was key to the success of a plantation that the slaves would only produce
the best offspring, as it would increase the value of the slaves and reduce the
need to buy new slaves from the market.
The quartermaster announced the presence of the
owner and light all the lamps in the stable. The stable was made of only one
long hall with small compartments patted with hay at each side. It was
inhabited with about 50 women of all ages, and a few boys that were still too
young to be separated from their mothers. All got up hastily in front of the
mistress, none of them wanted to draw any special attention to themselves. They
were clothed in the plainest of dresses, only to cover what would draw the male
slaves’ attention from their work. Carrie walked through the lines, carefully
inspecting every one of them, making them move by a motion of her crop. All of
them looked healthy and athletic. She didn’t look at them as humans, to her
they were animals like her horses, or like the cattle on the ranch of her uncle
in the west. She nodded in satisfaction at the overseer.
“Good. Let’s move on.”
The stable for the male slaves was of identical
design, but of about double size. Again Carrie made every slave stand up in
front of her, bow, bend and turn at a wink of her crop. Only their reaction
seemed a little different to her this time. It was like it took them more
effort to obey her commands. Maybe they felt the last bit of pride stinging in
the back of their heads, or maybe it was the sight of Carrie parading through a
hall of male black slaves that never in their lives had been allowed to touch a
white woman. Carrie enjoyed the feeling of power. All slaves were dressed only
in plain trousers, and a few times she motioned for a slave to drop them to
conduct a more thorough with her crop.
“Satisfied, my lady?”
“Not quite, overseer. How successful are we in
the breeding process?”
“Everything is fine there too. We have always
produced fine offspring.”
“If everything is so fine you can surely
demonstrate me?”
“Oh… well I’m sure that’s nothing a lady like
you should bother yourself with.”
Carrie smiled at the quartermaster.
“Thank you for considering my wellbeing, but
I’ll decide with what I will bother myself with or not. Have an insemination
set up in half an hour.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I’d like to see these two bulls.”
She pointed at two young black men standing
next to each other still with their trousers down.
“Of course, my lady. Would you like to go back
to the other stable to select a mare?”
Carrie took a moment to decide.
“Hm… I don’t think that will be necessary. We
can take this one right here.”
A shock run through Paula’s body has she saw
Carrie’s crop pointing at her.
“But… please… Carrie…”
The smile on Carrie’s face immediately
disappeared and her amused voice turned into a vicious hiss. “One more word and
you’ll stay here. Do you understand me?”
“Yes… yes, my lady.” Paula sunk her head,
hardly concealing her tears.
“Good. I’ll be waiting outside.”
Carrie left the stables and waited outside a
cotton field. She pulled a small bottle of rum from her jacket and took a quick
sip. Enjoying the clear summer night she watched as the overseer rushed back
and forth hurdling slaves between the stables and the little hut in between
them where the insemination would take place. When the overseer finished his
set-up, he signaled for his employer to enter the hut.
The hut consisted of only one small room, light
by a single lamp at the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a wooden rack, Paula
was tied over it, facing down, naked , her hands and feet each tied to a leg of
the rack, leaving her helpless and open to all that was to come. A hood was
pulled over her head and her muffled noises suggested she was gagged.
At the side of the room two male slaves sat on
a bench, naked too and with a hood over their head, but only chained at one of
their feet.
Carrie turned to the quartermaster: “Why the hood?”
“It is important they don’t recognize each
other. We don’t want any family attachments in here, that would only make
things more difficult. It’s a safety precaution. We gag them with cotton balls
too so they can’t speak.”
Paula could not speak, but she could hear. She knew
all too well what it meant. She never knew who her father was, and imagined her
mother being tied to the very same rack 25 years ago. She hoped this
humiliation would soon be over, but she knew it was going to be worse before it
became better.
Carrie let her hands glide over Paula’s exposed
body. She closed her eyes and wondered about how peculiar it was that black
skin didn’t feel any different from white skin. She let her hand wonder over
Paula’s slit, feeling her lips and parting them. Despite all the shame and
humiliation in Paula’s mind, her body started to react to the touch of her
mistress. Carrie started to feel the moisture. She slipped a finger inside her
passage and noticed with amusement that her personal slave had saved her
virginity up to this moment. With a sudden thrust Carrie decided to take it
herself before one of the bulls would do. A cry could be heard from Paula,
although nobody could have told if it was a cry of pain or of pleasure.
“I think she is ready now. Bring a bull.”
The overseer led one of the bulls from the
bench to the rack. His chains rattled on the wooden floor.
“Thank you, overseer. I think I can take it
from here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. You can wait outside. I’ll call when I
need you again.”
Reluctantly the quartermaster left. The
nameless bull was now standing right behind the mare, formally known as Paula.
Carrie was fascinated by the size of his cock. She reached out for it and
started to prepare him too, stroking his cock up and down, feeling it grow
larger than she could cover with both of her hands.
When she was satisfied with them both, she
opened Paula’s lips with one of her hands and guided the bull’s cock into her
with the other. Again a cry was heard from Paula, much louder this time as the
enormous cock pushed all the way into her. From there on no guidance was needed,
the bull started to fuck Paula fast and forcefully, with Carrie watching in
amusement but also growing arousal. Every thrust of the bull was accompanied
with a muffled cry by Paula, to Carrie it seemed almost like he was pumping the
air out of her lungs. It was the strangest sight, two naked bodies with hoods
over their head, almost like puppets in motion, and Carrie conducting the play.
It only took the bull minutes to cum, followed
by the loud applause of Carrie.
She led the bull back to his bench. His
exhaustion was visible by the hood over his head moving with his hard
breathing. Carrie let her fingers run again over Paula’s body, this time it was
glistening with sweat, she must not have been used to the climate in this hut. Carrie
slowly started to untie her slave, first her feet and hands, than loosening the
hood and allowing her to spit the cotton from her mouth, but leaving her head
still covered.
Carrie leaned over Paula, holding her down she
whispered:
“Do you hate me now?”
“No, my lady.” It was a bold lie, and Carrie
didn’t bother to believe it.
“You can stand up now, and take the hood off.”
As Paula got up she felt all her bones aching,
and the wooden bar of the rack had left a bruise all along her chest. As she
slowly took of the hood she couldn’t believe her eyes.
Carrie was standing in front of her,
perfectly naked from head to toe. Slowly she leaned over the rack into the same
position that she had just freed her slave of.
Looking at Paula her mouth silently
formed the words:
“Bring me a bull.”
So Paula obeyed, and this time it was hers to
watch in amazement the strange spectacle that was unfolding in front of her.
Her white owner being taken by a black slave. And obviously enjoying every
second of it.
Carrie reached her own climax the moment the
bull came inside of her. She bit into her first to avoid crying out. When she
got up from the rack she could feel his cum dripping from between her legs.
Smiling at Paula she walked up to her and
whispered in her ear:
“Now I know why our father liked to spend so
much time here.”
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