Date: Thu, 12 Jan 2012 20:43:25 +0000
From: lokiaga@austin.rr.com
Subject: Rue Dauphine 11

Rue Dauphine 11
Lance Kyle

At first glance it might look like a cozy family setting: an eighteen year
old sat at a desk with a thirteen year old boy on his lap, while at their
side stood a fourteen year old girl leaning in toward them.  On the desk
was some paper filled with writing of the "Run, Spot, Run," variety.  You
might think it was an older brother teaching a younger brother and sister
to read.

But then immediately you would perceive that the eighteen year old was
white and the thirteen year old boy and fourteen year old girl were black;
they were in fact his slaves.  And if you got closer you would see that the
pants and underwear of the eighteen year old were bunched around his ankles
while the pants and underwear of the thirteen year old boy were on the
floor entirely.  You would see that the eighteen year old had his erect
cock entirely up the bottom of the thirteen year old, the latter rising and
falling in a slow rhythm as he sat on his white master's thighs, facing the
desk.  You would see if you looked closer that the white man had his fist
around the erect plum black penis of the boy, outsized in comparison to his
skinny dark brown body, and that the white man was pumping the penis.  Both
penis and hand glistened with the clear liquid that oozed from the tip of
the black boy's penis.  And then you might see that the white man had his
arm around and under the dress of the fourteen year old black girl, pulling
him toward him while his fingers gently rubbed her clitoris, all to the
same rhythm that he fucked the black boy and pumped his cock.  The black
girl leaned against her white master, her arm around his shoulder.

With the difficulty that comes from labored breathing, the white man traced
out a sentence on the paper and the black boy and girl repeated after him,
looking at the writing as carefully as their aroused states would permit.
The white man was in fact teaching them to read, despite the murky legality
of that act.  The three had managed to couple education with sex naturally,
one thing leading to another as they stood or sat there at the desk.

The girl came first in the middle of a recital: "See Spot Run.  See
Spot...aaaaahhh!  Oh, Masta!  Aaaaayyyyyeeeeee!" Her slim body shuddered
and knees nearly buckled, but Scott Barnes kept up his gentle massaging of
Niobe's clitoris, slowing down now to milk her orgasm.  Her body bucked a
couple of times and then she became still, shivering a little, inclining
her head on her master's shoulder.  Scott removed his wet fingers and,
turning toward her kissed her gently, she returning the kiss in the same
way.  And then it was the black boy, James's turn.  He cried out, his body
tensed.  "Masta, it comin'!"  he cried.  Niobe quickly lowered her head and
placed her full lips in a seal around the knob of the boy's purple black
dick.  When he squirted out his small shot of thirteen year old semen, she
received it in her mouth and swallowed it.  In a moment Scott himself came,
erupting upward into his black slave boy, pulling the boy toward him with
one arm, burying his face in the boy's crisp, crinkly black hair while he
filled the slave's anus with his seed.  And then it was over as Scott sat
there shivering, all three recovering breath.  There was very little to
clean up, as the ejaculations had largely gone into mouth or anus, but the
three, grasping their clothing, shuffled across the hall to the shower bath
room and cleaned each other off companionably.

Teaching and learning, although not always accompanied by sex, had
increased in Scott Barnes's house in the couple of weeks since Mr. LeRoc
was vanquished and sealed inside his house.  Scott had a suspicion that
teaching slaves to read and write, to do sums, might have been illegal.  It
was certainly nothing that anyone in his native Mississippi had done.  But
he really didn't want to know if it were illegal.  He saw advantages to his
slaves being literate, and so he embarked on a program to teach them.
King, the slave in his forties, had a little learning from Scott's deceased
uncle, but the older black man was eager to learn more.

As enjoyable as it might be to teach his slaves on his lap, Scott realized
he needed better facilities.  That's when he hit on a plan to install a
school room in the clean, empty attic of the right wing of the house.  He
could also move furniture there to create a space for study and relaxation
for anyone who wanted to escape from the rest of the house.  So Scott had
discreetly sent an order for desks, blackboards, and other school equipment
to a company up the Mississippi River, beyond the slave holding states.  In
a few weeks, word came from the docks along the Mississippi that a shipment
was ready for delivery.  Scott and King set out one morning, driving a
wagon rented from the nearby stable, to pick up the carefully packaged
items from the shipping office.  They wanted to do this themselves so that
nobody could discover the means for what might have been an illegal
purpose.

They found the shipping agent and with the help of its workers loaded the
crates on their wagon.  They were slowly making their way back toward the
house on Rue Dauphine when their route took them past the slave merchant
quarter, past a warehouse where slaves loaded off boats from up the river,
or brought into town by land, were sorted, traded, and transferred to one
merchant or another.  It was not a happy place under the best of
circumstances, but as Scott and King slowly drove by this time, their
attention was arrested by the piercing cries of a woman.  Stopping and
looking closer, they saw a heartbreaking sight: A woman was being separated
from her children, evidently to be sold off in different venues, to be
parted forever.  The woman was wailing and reaching toward her two
children.  She appeared to be in her thirties, of a medium brown
complexion, her head wrapped in a kerchief.  The children were of an
interesting appearance.  Clearly brother and sister, they nevertheless
appeared to be the same age, about twelve.  And both appeared to be
mulatto, their complexion balanced between coffee and cream, their hair a
carnation explosion of hair between curls and kinks about two inches long
all around, their facial features a delicate balance of white and black,
although disfigured now by their tears and wails.

Scott and King looked sideways at each other, but clearly it was a moment
of embarrassment and concern.  Embarrassment because this heartbreaking
scene was one repeated again and again in the context of slavery; and King
sat as a slave beside his white master.  Both knew it.  Scott was aware of
it, and although he owned slaves—and was increasingly coming to love,
not merely desire them—he had managed to push from his mind the fact
that the destruction of families was unavoidably linked to the institution.
King knew it, and although he was grateful to Scott for buying him back
from the odious LeRoc, he was nevertheless owned and could be disposed of
just as this poor family was.  And of course both were concerned for the
tragedy they saw unfolding.  Scott thought and made a quick decision.

"King, I am going to see what I can do about this.  Take the wagon and
drive back home.  Perhaps among you, James, and Niobe you can unload it.  I
will come as soon as I can."  King nodded, feeling both relief that his
master might help in the situation, and curiosity as to what he would do.
He took the reins of the horses and the wagon pulled slowly off.

Scott thought carefully as to how to approach the matter, since he thought
that sympathy for slaves might arouse suspicion, and would surely raise the
price.  He identified someone who looked as if they were in charge and
sauntered up to him.

"My good sir, good morning.  I see you have some new stock in, may I ask if
you are the proprietor here?"  The man said he was not but pointed to
another fellow nearby.  Scott walked over and introduced himself.  The
wails of mother and children continued in the background as they were moved
farther apart.

"I was driving by and I saw these two servants," Scott said, gesturing
toward the boy and girl.  "They are...they are just exactly what I have
been looking for lately.  As suitable adornments for my establishment."
And here he managed a quick wink at the slaver, who smirked back.  White
men buying young slaves for their own enjoyment, male and female, was
nothing new in New Orleans.

"Yes sir, we have quite a nice variety of stock here, may I show you some?"
the slaver asked.

"No, no these two...brother and sister I think?  Perhaps even TWINS?"  The
slaver leered and nodded in the affirmative to each question.  "These are
just exactly what I require," said Scott.  The slaver instantly directed a
worker to pull out the two fourteen year old mulattoes, still sobbing and
straining to see their mother.

"And as long as I am here, I am also looking for a woman to keep house,
perhaps cook, someone of a little experience," said Scott.  The slaver
nodded, thought for a moment, and then the idea hit him.

"I have the mother of these two, also just in from a plantation just up the
river," said the slaver.  "They seem right cut up by it, maybe you would
get better work from them if they went together."

"Excellent!" cried Scott, "bring her here."  The slaver sent another worker
to fetch the woman, who burst into tears again upon seeing her children.

"Shut up, bitch!" cried the slaver, smacking the woman with a short
whip—but not hard enough to disfigure the skin.  "This master don't care
about you, he just wants a wench to do house for him."

The woman instantly grasped the situation.  With a tremendous effort of
will she collected herself and, head lowered, blinking away the tears, she
said, "I can do housework of all sorts, Master.  I am experienced at being
a lady's maid.  I can cook."  She hesitated, seeming to weigh whether a
more passionate appeal would work, and then decided it would not.

"Let us take them inside, all three," said Scott.  The look of relief on
the three was palpable, the children now were taking their cue from their
mother, choking back sobs and not wanting to upset whatever delicate
balance was in the works.  The slaver led the way into a dimly lit room of
a building nearby.

"Now sir, I reckon you will want to inspect them?" said the slaver.  Scott
had not thought about that step in the process, but he realized he should
go through with it for the sake of appearances.  He had bought his first
two slaves, James, and Niobe, with definite sexual plans in mind.  Not so
for these three, until now.  Now he surveyed the three quickly.  And all of
a sudden, his interest was piqued.

"Yes, yes I will," he said.  "Let me examine the females first."  The
slaver agreed and motioned the boy to stand against a nearby wall.  Scott
could see the lad hesitate, but then give up any resistance as futile.  The
boy knew what was about to happen.  He went to stand by the wall but
averted his eyes from his mother and sister.  The slaver stood nearby with
an air of professional detachment but an undercover leer.

Scott walked up to the woman.  "Remove this," he said, tugging on her
simple one piece dress.  The woman unbuttoned it in the front and it slid
to the floor.  And then Scott noticed that, although she kept her head down
and eyes averted, she seemed to stand taller, more proudly.  Perhaps the
whisper of a smile danced across her lips.  "What is your name?" Scott
asked, "and your children?"

"I am Cleopatra," she said, her body held erect, even proudly, seemingly
unconscious of the ironic difference between the queenly name and her
condition as a slave.  "My son is Sampson, we call him Sam, and my daughter
is Delilah."  Scott nodded.  "How old are you and they?" he asked.

"I am 30, Master," she said, "my children are twins, twelve years each."

Scott nodded, it was as he suspected for the children.  He saw before him a
firm woman's body, not yet sagging, evidently used to a life in the
master's plantation house and not in the fields.  Her skin was on the dark
side of milk chocolate, a few shades lighter than Scott's other slaves.  He
pointed to the kerchief around her head.  "Remove that," he commanded.  She
did, and a crown of braids tumbled out.  She had evidently taken care of
her hair and appearance.  Her breasts were the full breasts of a woman,
pear shaped, with large nipples, but they had not begun the process of
sagging that affects so many women in later life.  Her belly was rounded,
ending in a thick patch of dense black kinky pubic hair.  Scott cupped her
breasts, as much to see her reaction as to assess them.  She did not
flinch, but instead closed her eyes and gave the faintest of sighs, almost
as if she were remembering something.  He passed his hand over her belly
down into her pubic hair.  Then he walked around her to see a strong back
well formed, and full rounded hips.  "Bend forward" he commanded, and when
she did he checked her for piles—there were none—and saw the gleaming
pink of her vagina as he did so.  He could feel his penis begin to grow
inside his trousers.  Coming back around to her front he noted her full
lips and round face; no doubt about it, she was attractive.  Scott
commanded her to put her dress back on and then turned to her daughter,
Delilah, who had been standing nearby, eyes averted from her mother's
nakedness.

Scott noticed that Cleopatra's eyes now followed him with some concern, but
of course she was helpless to prevent the examination of her child.  Was
the twelve year old girl a virgin?  Very likely, Scott thought.  If their
mother had worked in the plantation house then so had the children, and
perhaps the girl was being saved for her white master.  Scott stood in
front of Delilah and held her face in his hands.  She was beautiful, a nose
that had African broadness but ended in a cute button.  Her lips were full
but not overly so.  Gently Scott pushed his fingers into her mouth and
examined her teeth, which were pearly white.  The girl's hair stood out
evenly about a couple inches long, a beautiful puff of medium brown tight
curls rather than kinks.  Scott tugged on her dress and said, "Remove
this."

The girl hesitated, glanced once at her mother, who gave no response, and
then with a look of embarrassment on her face she unbuttoned the garment
and let it fall.  She blushed beneath her mocha skin.  She had a boy's body
with small pears for breasts, shaped like her mother but pert and taut.
Her boy's belly ended in a wispy little puff of brown pubic hair.  Her skin
was flawless and a beautiful balance of coffee and cream.  Scott gently
cupped her little pear shaped breasts and she gasped, blushing dark beneath
her mocha skin; perhaps it was the first time a man had done that.  Scott
slid his hand down her belly and let it linger in her small wispy patch of
pubic hair, then he went around to her back.  She looked even more like a
boy from that angle, her hips only just beginning to widen into a woman's
ample bottom.  "Bend over," he commanded, and she did so, but with a
whimper of embarrassment.  Scott spread her rounded boy's buttocks, noting
an absence of piles, plainly seeing her pink vagina.  He could not resist
giving her bottom a little slap as he commanded her to put her dress back
on.  As she did he asked, "Have you begun your monthly periods?" pointing
to her vagina.  She blushed again and whispered "Yes, Master," nodding.

And then to the boy, who had stood facing the wall all this time.  He
looked like his sister, but with a boy's structure to his face.  Scott
caressed the boy slave's head in his hands, his fingers enjoying the tight
curls of his hair.  The boy's eyes stayed averted as Scott's gaze took in
his beauty.  As with his sister, Scott inserted his fingers in the boy's
mouth, checking the teeth, thinking about how soon he might probe Sam's
full lips with his own.  Scott commanded the boy to remove his shirt and
then his trousers.  The slave boy cast a worried glance at his mother and
sister, but they were carefully looking elsewhere.  He also blushed a deep
red beneath his mocha skin, and disrobed.  His skin was smooth and
flawless, his chest nearly flat, the first hint of abdominal muscles
forming.  For a boy who had obviously worked in the plantation house, he
was not fat, and seemed to have gotten enough exercise to promote the
promise of muscles developing along the slim tube of his body. Scott ran
his hands over the boy's chest and then down his belly, and then into the
patch of wispy pubic hair, a little smaller than his sister's.  Beneath
hung a respectably sized penis for someone his age, with a tight ballsack
beneath.  Scott remarked at the much darker color of the boy's genitals,
they were a dark milk chocolate, much the color of his mother's skin; the
white man remarked that no matter how much white mixture, any amount of
African dark was likely to come out in the genitals.  Scott cupped the
boy's penis and testicles together. The penis gave a little spurt of
growth, the tip just peeking out from the foreskin.  Scott dropped the
testicles and seized the penis itself gently, giving it a couple of pumps.
The organ responded immediately, and Sam gasped, breathing just a little
harder.  It appeared as if he did not mind this attention, and may even
have liked it.  Scott asked him, still cradling the slowly swelling organ,
"Have you made seed with this yet?"  The boy desperately glanced at his
mother and sister and then nodded once, whispering "Yes, Master, just a
little."

Scott went around to the boy's backside, which looked much like his
sister's, except his buttocks were flat sided even as they rolled out round
and high behind.  Scott commanded him to bend over: no piles.  But under
the pretense of examination, Scott circled the dark red and brown anus with
his thumb, almost but not quite pushing in, and the boy gasped in response.
Scott slapped the slave boy's bottom and commanded him to dress again,
noting that the boy's penis had grown almost erect during his examination.

Scott stepped aside with the slaver and began a negotiation over price
while the mother and her children huddled together.  The slaver wanted
about the going rate for Cleopatra, but Sampson and Delilah were, as Scott
had feared, going to fetch a premium price.  Their beauty and the admixture
of white in them made them prized as house—or bed—slaves.  But Scott
was determined to close the deal, and so terms were reached eventually.
The two white men adjourned to an office where paperwork could be done, the
slaves following at a distance, looks of apprehension mingling with joy
that they were evidently to be sold together and not apart.

Once into the street, Scott surveyed his new purchases, well aware that he
had just doubled the number of slaves he owned.  "My name is Scott Barnes,"
he said, and repeated the name for them as they committed it to memory.  He
thought for a moment and realized that the routine he had followed in
bringing James and Niobe home would need to be followed here.  First, he
found a street vendor selling food, and the three ate what he bought for
them ravenously.  They sat on a curb in a nearby park while he stood
nearby.  As the slaves finished Scott had a sudden thought.

"Cleopatra, what of your husband...your man?....the children's father?"
Now she actually looked at him directly, appraising him for a moment.  "He
is dead," she answered simply.  Then it hit him like a thunderclap.  Of
COURSE the children's father would have been their master.  He didn't quite
like to leave it there, though; if Cleopatra had been separated from a
black man, another slave she loved, he wanted to find out and see if the
man could be bought as well.  He thought for a moment how to say this.

"But...another servant perhaps, a man you may have been with...were you
separated from such a one?  Who might be there in the market?" he asked
waving back toward where they had been.

Cleopatra now looked at him frankly, appraisingly.  She went right to the
point.  "My only man was my master, old Master Owen.  He is the only man I
ever had, except for a couple of times when he asked me to teach young
Master Owen...about life.  He was the children's father.  He died, and we
were sold."  A note of pain crept into her voice, and without her saying it
Scott saw everything clearly now: a jealous mistress, tired of being
reminded of her husband's infidelity, perhaps even his preference for this
black slave woman, had sold these three reminders the moment the slaves
passed into her possession at her husband's death.  He nodded.  Now all
three of his new slaves were regarding him with curiosity, trying to assess
whether he had correctly understood.  And then he thought: her ONLY man?
This woman had only had her white master, and occasionally his young son
for purposes of teaching him about sex?  She had never once had sex with a
black man?  How extraordinary, he thought.  He nodded again.

The three slaves being well fed, he now led them to the livery shop to
order clothing for them, and then to Rue Dauphine.  He entered through the
kitchen back door off the alley and brought them into the courtyard,
calling for King, James, and Niobe as he went.  When they arrived, Scott
explained what had happened and made introductions.  He spared no drama
from his story, and by the end he could tell that his first three slaves
approved of his actions.

"Now, please take Cleopatra, Sam, and Delilah to show them rooms in the
servants quarters," he said, "and then the rest of the house," thinking
suddenly two things: first, all six bedroom there were now assigned, and
second, his first three slaves hardly ever slept there.  They used their
rooms as places to retreat if they wanted privacy, or to nap, or if they
were feeling ill as when Niobe had a period, but otherwise they continued
to sleep together in companionable combinations in the central wing
bedrooms.  Scott wondered how his new slaves would adapt to what he
realized was an unusual arrangement.  Cleopatra might expect to sleep with
him, but how would she and her children react to the pleasurable sexual
entanglements that generally ensued every night in the central wing?

Scott climbed to the second floor of the central wing, where the bedrooms
were, about the time that his slaves came into the wing from the servants'
rooms in the left wing.  James and Niobe in their youthful enthusiasm were
leading the way.  James pushed the door open to Scott's bedroom, where he
was changing his shoes.  "And here is where most of us sleep most of the
time!" chirped the thirteen year old slave boy.  A look of puzzlement came
over Cleopatra's face, as well as those of her children.  Scott kept silent
and merely observed.

"What, you mean Master Scott's guests stay here?  We of course have our own
rooms up in the quarters" said Cleopatra.  By now King had come up behind
the group, standing just behind Cleopatra.

"No," he said, chuckling in his deep voice, "we all sleep here, and
sometimes in the room down the hall.  With each other and with Master
Scott," he said pointedly, in case the new slaves had misunderstood the
situation.  And then he lightly, companionably, but in the circumstances
meaningfully caressed Cleopatra's shoulder.  She froze, cast a disdainful
glance in King's direction, and stepped away.  Everyone noticed the
gesture.  A look of hauteur came over her face, and one of consternation
over the faces of her children, but they did not want to press the issue.

For the rest of the day the group of slaves reorganized themselves,
reallocating household chores.  It was decided that Niobe would remain head
cook but Cleopatra would command the upkeep of the main wings of the house.
Other duties and chores were divided among the males.  They toured the
right wing's new schoolhouse in the attic, and again Cleopatra and the
children showed astonishment, amazed at the thought that they might be
educated here.

At dinner time the three new slaves were astonished anew as their master
joined them at the kitchen table for a simple repast.  The three new slaves
exchanged looks with each other, and occasionally whispered in each others'
ears, but made no remark.  And then it was time for bed.

"Do you wan' sleep with us?" James asked Sam, putting a companionable hand
on his shoulder.  "Yes, you can sleep with me" said Niobe, linking arms
with Delilah.  The two mulatto slaves reacted as had their mother to King
earlier with a stiffening and a step away.  They looked to their mother for
guidance.  She turned to Scott, her eyes downcast.  "What is your pleasure,
Master?" she asked.

Scott thought for a moment.  Two things were becoming clear to him.  First,
these new slaves were not entirely comfortable in the presence of his old
slaves; was it the difference in their shades?  Did the new slaves think
themselves above his darker slaves?  This would have to be sorted out.
Second, his new slaves did not seem quite ready to enter into the
arrangements he enjoyed so much with his other slaves.  Perhaps just for
tonight...

"You are all tired from a very hard day," he said.  "Sleep wherever you
like.  If you are more comfortable in the servants' rooms, sleep there."
The three nodded, and prepared to depart for their rooms.  But as they
went, Cleopatra half turned to Scott and said, her eyes cast down, "Call
for me...call for us, Master, if you need anything."  And then they left
for the top of the left wing.


Comments welcome: lokiaga@austin.rr.com