Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 



   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 overseer: "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."




   :: end ::