What I am about to write here is part confession and part catharsis. However, it isn't something I feel guilty about because it was forced on me. I would never have chosen to do the things I was made to do on that warm night in May 1865. What I do feel guilty about, what I do need confess is that I can't seem to stop repeatedly committing those acts.
You'll forgive me if I forget the exact date. I'm not sure I ever knew it, but I had been traveling home to Jones County, Mississippi from the battlefields of Virginia for several weeks. In the course of that long journey I lost track of things, although I know it was sometime in the middle of May. I had been the captain of a company of Virginia infantry men fighting for the South, mustering in after finishing my degree at the University of Virginia in the spring of 1861.
In this private writing, I do not need to recount my tales of that horrible conflict. You can find that in my memoir. However, this story concludes and completes those stories.
The penultimate leg of my journey ended 30 miles from home at a railway station. The Yankees had torn up the spur rail line leading to my hometown. I was forced to walk the remainder of the trek.
Sometime in the late afternoon, while walking along the road home, I passed a small squad of Negro soldiers led by a white sergeant. Armed only with a sword and knife, I posed no threat, and they wordlessly passed me by. A few gave me either indifferent or mildly hostile looks while marching past.
As twilight approached, I stopped in a clearing in the woods along the road, a small meadow I knew from childhood. It wasn't home, but it was familiar and provided some small comfort. A spring chill was in the air, so I decided to make a small fire, made a 'bed' for the night as best I could with a blanket and some dried leaves, ate some hard tack and jerky and fell asleep.
If it wasn't for my exhausted state, I might never have nodded off. When I awoke the fire was dead and cold, a oil lantern was shining in my face and I could make out the outline of two soldiers in the glare behind the light.
"See, he's awake now," I heard a Negro voice chuckle.
His companion laughed a cruel laugh, then said, "We'll wake him up good in a minute."
"What the hell do you boys want?" I asked in protest.
The larger one reached down and grabbed me by my shirt collar, tearing it in the process. He pulled me to my feet, and I tried to swing at him. He dodged the blow while grabbing my arm and twisting it behind my back. His friend grabbed it and held and both of them sandwiched me between them. My first assailant was huge, thick and tall. His skin was black as night, I could see that now.
I'm not a tiny man but he made me feel like a rag doll, especially with his friend, only slightly taller than me, pressing me from behind.
In the course of their conversing later, I learned the big, dark Negro was Cassius. The smaller but still formidable companion was Andy, a light-skinned Negro whose features were more European than African.
"What we want is you, BOY!" Cassius said.
Together, the two started stripping me. By the way they treated my garments, I gathered they did not intend to rob me. I struggled and cursed them most violently, but I could not overcome them. From a bag on the ground, Andy drew forth a set of slave shackles with which he managed to confine my arms and legs. My hands were bound in front and the chains on both sets were loose enough to allow me some freedom of movement. I would never be able to run or swing my arms freely though.
When I made an attempt to strangle Andy with the chain between my hand manacles, Cassius hit me hard in the face with his fist. I was staggered by the blow. Although I didn't lose consciousness completely, my legs buckled and Cassius quickly threw me over his shoulder. He carried me while he and Andy walked through the woods along a rough path leading to an abandoned cabin a half mile or less to the west. It was a cabin I didn't remember being there. Nevertheless, they had made it their headquarters and vault for thievery. The place was full of furniture and other booty of war looted from homes and farms in the area.
Cassius threw me down on a thick, expensive, feather bed mattress laying on the floor. Still groggy, I looked up at them both as the disrobed. Andy was slender but fit. His cock was semi-hard with almost no foreskin. It would reach a little over six inches when erect, I later learned. Cassius was even more like a giant when he was naked. His physique was quite muscular but covered with a softening and small layer of fat. He was massive. The cock and balls of Cassius were huge and pendulous. His foreskin was loose and long, too. Ultimately, his length would end at just under 10 inches when tumescent.
Andy laughed, "Looks like he's lookin' forward to this." He pointed at my loins.
I looked down and my own cock was hard as a rock and at its maximum five inches. I blushed deeply and was confused, panicked and afraid. How could I be so apparently amorous under these conditions and with two Negro men?
