A sequel to denise's fine story "What Goes Up...." ...MUST COME DOWN by Joe Doe IT WAS DISCOVERED THAT WEALTHY PLANTATION OWNER SUSANA DUPREE IS AN OCTROON, AND SHE WAS SOLD AT AUCTION TO THE CRUEL TOM BERNARD. IN THIS EPISODE, SUSANA IS VISITED BY AN OLD CHILDHOOD FRIEND. Susana Dupree's muscles strained as she hauled two more buckets of scalding bath water up the narrow stairs, taking care not spill a drop. It would have been easier to haul the heavy buckets up the main stairs, of course, but that was strictly forbidden. Nigras weren't allowed on the main stairs. It had been nearly six months, but the sentence of the judge still burned in her ears. "I find you, Susana Depree, guilty of being a nigra." A nigra! A common slave! An animal! The gavel echoed as it slammed down.... The sentence had stripped Susana of her land, her liberty, even the clothes on her back. It had transformed her into livestock, chattel, no more human than a mare or a sow. Of course, she still "thought" white. After all, for most of her 28 years she had been a well-respected member of the planter class. She had been a delicate and refined lady, treated with dignity and respect. Susana emptied her buckets into the large tub. As the door opened, she instinctively jumped back, almost spilling the water, and diverted her eyes to the ground. "It's okay, Juicy, it's only me," a gentle female voice said. Susana stared at her bare feet. It was Julia, her old childhood friend. Julia's voice was gentle. "I know Mr. Bernard wants me to use your new slave name. But I don't want to call you 'Juicy.' When we're alone, I'm just going to call you 'Susana,' if that's all right." Susana nodded as she looked up at her friend. Julia's beautiful green gown stood in stark contrast to the dirty, smelly rag that she herself wore. Susana knew that her friend wanted to help her. But still, she couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy. Julia's beautiful red hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, as Susana's once had. Now Susana's beautiful black mane had been shorn off, and her stubby hair was hidden under an oily, checkerboard bandanna. Susana and Julia had been the two most beautiful women on the island, and their friendly competition for attention, men, and excitement had continued right up until the day that Julia had left for America. Julia was Susana's best friend. Now she was her only friend. When Susana saw the riding crop in her friend's hands, she fell to her knees. "Please don't whup me, Mistress!" she cried out. "I didn't mean to spill no water!" "Don't be silly, Susana," Julia said. "I'm not going to whip you. Get up on your feet." Susana tentatively looked up. "But...the crop...." "It's your master's idea of a joke," Julia chuckled. "When I told him you were drawing my bath, he gave me the crop and said I should whip you if you got uppity. He's quite a card." Susana dared not reply. Tom Bernard had been gentle and even obsequious when he had talked to Julia. But, as a slave, Susana knew what the randy Tom Bernard was really like. Still, he was her master, and, no matter how cruel he was, Susana knew that she must love him like a dog loves its owner. "I'm sorry about all of this, truly I am," Julia explained. "I sailed from Boston as soon as I heard what had happened. I agreed to stay here tonight because I wanted to talk to you." Susana stared at her dirty feet. Slaves didn't speak until spoken to. Julia sat on the bed. "How are things?" Susana looked at her, speechless. How are things? She was a slave! She had been paraded naked on the auction block in front of the whole town. Her new master spanked her, humiliated her, and forced her to serve him in unnatural ways. Massa Tom delighted in abusing her in front of her friends, and in "lending" her to men who had once been her adoring, love-struck suitors. There was no longer the need to waste time with candy or flowers or love poems. Men who had once vied to kiss her dainty hand now took Juicy to the barn and used her as they wished. And Julia asks, "How are things?" Indeed! There was an awkward silence before Julia discerned the meaning of Susana's expression. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be...insensitive. I know it must have been dreadful for you. Here, why don't you come help me get undressed so I can take my bath?" Susana was startled. Her female house slaves had helped her bathe, of course. But did her friend really want her to attend her in the tub as if she were a female slave? Susana caught herself. She WAS a female slave. But Julia was her friend. And Julia no longer believed in slavery. When she had married the American and moved to Boston, Julia had become a staunch Abolitionist. Julia smiled sweetly. "It seems our friend, Mr. Bernard, didn't like the way I treated you at dinner. Said I needed to treat you more nigra, so you don't 'forget your place.' I imagine we had better play along, or he might ask me to leave." Julia gave her friend a wink and a smile, and Susana allowed herself to smile back. Susana slowly undid the laces on Julia's lovely dress. Julia had positioned herself in front of a full-length mirror, so she could watch Susana's face as she busied herself about the work of undressing her. "I tried to buy you from him," Julia continued. "But he wouldn't hear of it. He said he had to keep you down and teach you your place. Several of my friends in the Abolition Society have bought former female slaves, and they take them out on fund raising tours, where they tell the most indecent tales of their captivity. Of course, if I could buy you, I'd trump them all. A white lady -- or mostly white, anyway -- treated like a common nigra!" Susana clenched her teeth as she loosened Julia's corsets. She knew that Julia loved to be the center of attention, but was she really that cruel? Would she really tour Susana like a circus beast and force her to recount the lascivious details of her captivity? "I'd be famous!" Julia gushed. "I'd raise more money than Sally and Martha and Jane and the whole society put together. I'd bet they'd elect me President of the Ladies Section." Susana carefully laid Julia's clothes on the bed. It had been six months since she had touched garments so beautiful, and she savored the sensation of the fine cloth rubbing against her skin. She returned to Julia's side. She had stripped her friend to her vest and drawers. Susana stood to one side as Julia admired her figure in the mirror. "Do you think you're prettier than me?" Julia asked. "Of course not, Mistress," Susana said meekly. "I'm a nigra." "You don't have to call me, 'Mistress,' cousin," Julia laughed. "You are my oldest and dearest friend. We've known each other long enough to be honest. Do you think you're prettier?" "No, Mistress," Susana said, still not daring to lift her eyes. "Well, it's a close call," Julia said. "I know that some men preferred you to me, and vice versa. Do you think I'd fetch more than £1200?" Susana tensed as she heard her friend so casually mention her sales price. The auction had been the most humiliating moment of her life, and yet her friend spoke of it like she was haggling for oranges at the market. "Actually, I'm a little jealous," Julia joked. "We had competed for years to see which one of us was more beautiful. But you have an actual market price -- £1200! You could stock a whole plantation for that sort of money." Susana stared at her dirty bare feet. It had not occurred to her to be proud of her price. Pride was a luxury unknown to slave girls. "Do you think I'd bring that much?" Julia asked. "I don't understand, Mistress," Susana said, confused. Julia turned around slowly, admiring her figure from different angles. "You know.... How much would I bring? On the block?" "I can't say, Mistress." "Don't play stupid," Julia said, peevishly. "You know what you look like, don't you? And since I'm standing here in my underwear, you have a damn good idea of what I'd look like on the block!" "Slave girls don't wear underwear on the block, Mistress," Susana replied, her voice barely a whisper. Julia hesitated. The game had been fun, to a point. But did she really want to cross this line? The indescribable tingle between her legs answered the question for her. She slowly undid the buttons on her vest. Susana helped her remove the vest and gently cast it aside. Julia's arms immediately flew up to cover her breasts. "A negress can't cover herself on the block," Susana chided. "Your auctioneer won't allow it." Julia slowly lowered her arms. Julia's breasts were small, but they were well-shaped, and the perky pink nipples were fully erect. Susana smiled. Yes, no doubt about it. Julia would command an excellent price. Julia squirmed under her friend's appraising gaze. Susana was the slave, but at least she was fully dressed. The glint in Susana's eye made it clear that the balance of power between the two had unquestionably shifted.... "Well, what do you think?" Julia asked, nervously. "I know I'm-I'm pretty...but would someone really pay £1200?" Susana leaned forward and whispered softly into Julia's ear. "Not so fast, fancy girl," she drawled. "Nigra girls don't wear drawers on the block, neither." Julia blushed as she looked at her grinning friend's reflection. Julia squirmed. She bit her lip. But at last she nodded. Susana playfully whistled a work song as she slowly, teasingly undid the bow that held up Julia's frilly pantaloon drawers, punctuating the final note with a definitive tug that caused the knot to come undone. She switched to a slow 'wolf-whistle' as her friend's drawers gently slid down her legs to the ground. Julia's hand's flew to shield her fleecy crotch. Susana knelt and skinned the pantaloons all the way down to Julia's ankles, lifting one foot and then the other. Julia shuddered as she watched her final garment fly through the air and land in the corner. She covered herself as she withered under the eyes of her amused friend. "Now, Julia, I can't very well set a price if you keep your most salable features covered," Susana drawled. "You wouldn't buy a piglet in a sack, would you?" Julia blanched at the animal reference, but she knew that Susana was right. Female slaves were livestock, and livestock needed to be examined from tip to toe. "Why don't you...put me through...slave paces?" Julia said, hesitantly, scarcely believing her own voice. "Isn't that what they did to you? If I want to tell my friends in the Abolition Society about what you went through, I have to know what it's like. Put me through my paces, like I was a nigra wench, buck naked on the block." Julia's pulse quickened as Susana picked up the riding crop and tapped it against her palm. "Are you sure? I don't mind telling you, it's mighty humilatin'." Julia's fear was tempered by the delicious buzz between her legs. Tom Bernard had told her that Susana's demeaning slave name, "Juicy," had originated when he and the rest of the spectators watched her "juice herself" on the block. And now Julia was having precisely the same experience. She nodded. Susana smiled and put down the crop. As Julia watched, Susana went through her packing trunk and extracted suitable underwear. Susana disappeared behind the dressing curtain. Julia stood in the middle of the room, naked and humiliated, and waited as Susana donned Julia's beautiful green gown. Julia gasped when her friend emerged from behind the screen. Susana, who a few minutes before had been a mere slave, was now the picture of refined elegance. Julia's heart sank. Susana WAS the more beautiful, And she also found the situation was making her more self-conscious than ever about her nakedness. Her heart raced as Susanna picked up the riding crop and tapped it against her palm. "Hands on your head, wench!" Susana barked. Julia obeyed. She blushed as Susana, crop in hand, slowly circled her naked form. "Very nice. Thin, but not too thin. We'll put a little muscle on you when we shackle you in the fields." Susana playfully flicked Julia's erect nipples with the tip of her crop. "Perky little buds...bidders'll like these. Pointy, too. Are you a frisky wench?" Julia said nothing, but swallowed. Susana's tone was playful, but her gaze was relentless. "Are you? Are you a hot, frisky wench?" Susana teasingly slid her crop down between Julia's breasts and down, down, down past her navel. She teased Julia's coppery fleece and chuckled. "My, what a beautiful color," she gushed. "Your hair is as red as your face. They shaved me before they put me on the block. But I wouldn't be surprised if they let you wave your pretty flag for all the men to see." Julia felt Susana tap the insides of her thighs with the crop. "Spread your legs!" Julia obeyed. Susana tapped harder, and Julia spread wider. Susana ran the tip of the crop over Julia's sex and held it up for inspection. "You ARE a frisky wench!" she chortled. "Running around naked with your juices dribbling down your thighs." Susana used the tip of the crop to playfully bobble one of Julia's exposed fanny cheeks. "Nice and tight. That cute little fanny of yours will dance prettily under the crop." Julia's bottom cheeks clenched in panic as Susana teasingly SWISHED the crop through the air. Susana smiled as she traced a tiny, irregularly shaped blue triangle on Julia's right buttock. Julia had earned it years before, when they were girls, and they had slid down Oak Hill and over "Crocodile Rock." Susana had been right behind her friend -- and had earned a precisely identical scar for her loyalty. But now was not the time for childhood memories. "Squat!" she barked. "Spread your knees. No, wider! Wider! The buyers need to see that silky red purse of yours." Susana sat on the bed, relishing the awkwardness of her friend's pose. The reflection of Julia's exposed pussy glistened in the mirror. "You'll need to hold that pose during the bidding," she said. "With the barn windows opened behind you, the breeze will carry the stink from between your legs right through to the back row. Of course, with what you're going to be used for, that will only raise your price." Susana rose and stood next to her squatting, humiliated friend. "Stand. Jump up and down." Julia obeyed, but Susana was not satisfied. Julia gasped as Susana WHIPPED! her rump with the cruel crop. The pain was excruciating, like a hot poker had been laid across her bottom. But Julia didn't have long to reflect on it. "Jump higher!" Susana commanded. "Make your dairies jiggle." Julia fought off the pain as she hopped from foot to foot, Suzanna's laughter burning her ears. "Turn around. Show them that sassy backside." "Now bend over and touch the floor. No, not like that. Keep your fanny high, and your legs spread." "Now get on your knees, and kiss the whip." Julia obeyed. As her lips gently kissed the whip, she looked up at Susana pleadingly. "Sold," Susana said. Julia ran to a packing trunk, and covered herself with a dressing gown. "Do you think...the buyers would like me?" she asked. "How much would I fetch?" Susana smiled at her thoughtfully. "Do you really want to know?" Julia nodded. "Did you see the look on Tom Bernard's face when you referred to me as 'cousin'?" Julia had noticed it indeed. His beady eyes had narrowed, and his head had tilted to the side, like a dog trying to pick up a sound imperceptible to humans. Julia knew that he had consented to her visit because he wanted her. A skilled flirt, Julia knew how to play the coquette, and how to lead a man on just enough to get what she wanted. Tom Bernard was definitely interested. When Julia called Susana ‘cousin,' he looked Julia up and down in a way that was most unappetizing. "You called me 'cousin,'" Susana repeated. "You're cousin to a nigra." "That's a term of affection," Julia countered. "You know we're not related." "Your parents are dead," Susana said. "The town's records were destroyed during that dreadful pirate raid. Of course the church records did survive.... Didn't you sign my registry, 'cousin'?" "Yes," Julia stammered. "You shouldn't have done that. That's a legal document. A legal document that proves your identity. I'm an octoroon, and you're my cousin. I'll bet that Massa Tom is already thinking about a case." Julia's mind cleared. "When my husband finds out, he'll bring my family's records and prove...." Susana smiled. "How long did it take you to get here, after you heard about me?" Julia stopped dead in her tracks. Months! "But surely the judge...the town," Julia protested. "They wouldn't do that to me." "No one helped me," Susana retorted. "Our so-called 'friends' watched my auction. They smiled and laughed and snickered. And I'm not the wife of a Yankee Abolitionist." Julia's reception upon her return to the island had been decidedly cool. The plantation owners loathed the smug moral superiority of the Abolitionists. Julia knew her former friends considered her a traitor, and despised her for her beliefs. Seeing a meddling little scold like Julia put into slave chains would be sweet revenge. Susana whispered into her friend's ear. "Think about it. If you buy me, I'll get the attention. Wouldn't it be better if YOU were the center of attention?" "I don't understand," Julia said. "Think, Julia. You want to be famous, to take up a cause. That's why you married your husband, isn't it? You'll be a slave for six months, but, after your husband secures your release, you'll be the most famous woman in the world. Oh, the stories you'll tell. You'll write a book. You'll go on tour. A white woman unjustly turned into a fancy girl.... You'll be a symbol, an international sensation. Forget about your friends being jealous. The world will be jealous!" Julia considered the matter. "I'll post a letter to my husband in the morning. When I'm released, I'll demand your release as well. I'm sure they'll give you to me, after I threaten to send them back to England for trial for what they did to me. We'll both be free. But do you think it will work?" "After you post your letter, why don't you share your concerns with Massa Tom?" Susana suggested, coyly. Act confused. Tell him that you've always called me 'cousin,' and you're afraid that people might get the wrong idea. Give him the names of the spiteful biddies and vengeful suitors who might be inclined to bear witness against you. Do you have any of our letters?" "I packed several in my trunk." "Pick out a few where we refer to each other as 'cousin,' and 'dearest sister,'" Susana suggested, slyly. "After all, such a document, in the wrong hands, might be considered tantamount to a written confession." As she spoke, Susana moved behind the curtain and changed back into her slave clothes. "Ask him to talk to his friend the judge, and show him our letters, and warn him about those dreadful church records that prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that we're cousins. After all, written documentation will be the key when the matter is referred to court." "Court?" Julia gasped. "Yes, court," Susana said. "Demand an immediate court hearing, so that your reputation can be cleared. "Above all, don't forget to tell Massa Tom about our birthmarks." "What birthmarks?" Julia said. "The little scars on our bottoms, when we slid over the rock. Everyone in the town saw mine, when I was on the block. Remember how my mother teased us that they looked like port stains and proved we were cousins? I imagine the judge and the prosecutor will conclude the same thing, when they examine us side by side." Julia flushed. "But the only way they'll be able to do that...is if...they...bared my bottom. Would they really...take down my britches? In open court? Surely my lawyer...." "You're innocent!" Susana exclaimed. "You won't need a lawyer." "Of course, I won't," Julia agreed. "A lawyer would only make me look guilty. I will tell Mr. Bernard that I wish no lawyer, as I will speak in my own defense." Susana smiled. As an accused negress, Julia wouldn't be allowed to speak in court. Susana decided not to inform her of that; it would be better to let the judge tell her, after she foolishly refused counsel, so that her shock at her predicament would be genuine. Poor little Julia! Testimony, legal documents, birthmarks, and a signed confession. An open and shut case. And she'd be powerless to refute the charges. The 'birthmark' would mean that Massa Tom would have to take Susana to town to attend the trial. Although she knew it was wicked of her, Susana relished the idea of watching Julia's mounting panic as the evidence piled up against her. "Of course, for this to work, we'll both have to play our parts to perfection," she observed. Stooping, she put her hand in the tepid bath water, and bowed her head submissively. "Your bath is cold, Mistress. Let me freshen it." Julia smiled as her friend slipped into her role. "Of course. Hurry up with it, girl," she replied, tartly. "I can't stand here all night." The tub was full, so Susana took a bucket of water from it over to the bedroom window, tipped it, and watched the water cascade to the ground below. She shrugged. Hauling water up the stairs was hard. But the trip down was always fast and easy. Edited by C. Lakewood