Editor's Note: this submission contains fictional characters using racial, ethnic, gender- or orientation-based slurs.
My 'historical fiction' (an oxymoron, using fiction to present historical facts) story takes place in Virginia, the tobacco growing center of the world, in 1801. I attempted to be as historically accurate as possible in reference to: persons, places, practices, dates, and decrees. Unfortunately, it's necessary to use the 'n' word when story telling of slave breeding in an era condoning the barbaric practice.
The first derogatory usage of the term nigger was in 1775, one year before the Declaration of Independence (DoI), which did absolutely, positively, nothing to emancipate the slaves. Quite to the contrary, the Colonial victory over the British extended the duration of slavery three generations by most estimates. These inconvenient truths aren't something high school American history books are likely to point out, glossing over slavery giving the subject 1/10th of the attention it deserves.
Thomas Jefferson's DoI sole stirring phrase, 'All men are created equal,' should have added the word 'white' before men since all colored people, both slave and indigenous, were excluded. They were either considered slave property or Indian vermin to be rid of. The description 'merciless Indian savages' is part of the DoI. Washington was an especially feared Indian killer earning the Iroquois nickname 'Town Destroyer'. Use of the world 'men' was correct in that it excluded all women.
The fact the United States of America was founded upon liberty for some and slavery and annihilation for others is indisputable. Past wrongs are being corrected, but oh, so slowly, with decades of two step forward and one step back legislation. The last major Civil Right legislation passed some fifty five years ago with the passage of the 1965 Voting Rights act, enabling black women the right to vote.
If you are offended reading the 'n' word, and 'boys', referring to black men, then please read something else. Also, if you find the story unsettling, discovering more than you'd like about slave breeding and our Founding Fathers active role in perpetuation of the holocaust called slavery, all I can say is that taking a 'red pill' isn't the easy way to go.
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Young Jed Harman had finished washing up, after working a twelve hour day tending his twenty acre crop of tobacco, when he heard horses approaching his one room cabin. Telling Amy, his bride of six months, to stay inside while he investigated, Jed stepped out on the front porch to greet the strangers with his rifle at the ready.
Jed couldn't help but gawk at the expensive beautifully crafted red-velvet upholstered surrey drawn by two magnificent horses as it drew near. In the back sat a finely attired middle aged white man, with two equally well dressed large black men sitting in front, who Jed naturally assumed were freemen since slaves only wore rags. What distinguished the two black men was that one had an unmarked face while the other had fresh cuts and bruises looking like he had been beaten.
"Good day my friend," the white man spoke. "My name is Peter Brown, call me Brown, one of my horses has thrown a shoe. Can you please assist us?"
Raised by a family of good samaritans Jed didn't hesitate a second, saying, "Happy to oblige. Move your team over to the barn and I'll be along shortly, after I talk with my wife."
Amy of course had been listening to the conversation through the door and watched the surrey pull up, so what Jed told her came as no surprise.
"I bet that surrey and team cost more than our entire farm!," Amy said, awe struck by Brown's wealth.
"Probably buy us out a couple of times over," Jed laughed.
"Did you see them black fellas?" Jed asked. "They looked like Nubian kings sitting on a throne."
"I've never seen black boys who weren't filthy, stinking, and sweating plowing behind a mule in my entire life." Amy exclaimed, proving the adage that clothes make the man, intently looking forward to meeting them even thought she was brought up as a racist.
Amy had never talked directly to a black man in her life, but they became a source of repressed erotic desire after watching a naked group of them climbing out of a swimming hole a couple of years ago. Having three older brothers she grew up in a household of dicks, but the cocks on the black boys hung due to the length and thickness while her brothers only stuck out straight for a couple of inches, like her husband Jed. Seeing those massive cocks instantly turned Amy into a size queen. The fact they were black, the ultimate taboo for a white woman, only increased her fantasy desire to be nigger fucked.
Every time Jed made love to her Amy's mind would flash back to the mental image of the group of black boys scampering out of the swimming hole with their large hanging black cocks flopping from side to side, laughing as they ran to the bushes to fetch their clothes. In her fantasy they surround her, force her to her knees, and make her go around the inside of the circle sucking each of their coal black African cocks. Once hard they bent her over an old log and took turns doggy fucked her, sending streams of black slave baby cum racing down both of her legs.
Not being able to unsee what she saw, Amy had her granddad carve and polish a twelve inch long, two inch thick, 'rolling pin' out of a piece of ebony wood so she could 'make cookies'. Tapered at both ends it was a perfect black cock dildo, and her most prized possession. She used from time to time giving herself orgasms her husband was incapable of producing, stuffing a rag in her mouth to muffle the screams of ecstasy.
"Why don't you make some lemonade and bring it out to the barn in a bit." Jed asked, happy to be entertaining such wealthy guests.
"Sure sweetheart, and I'll bring some biscuits and honey too," Amy said, feeling the same tingle in her loins as she did taking the 'rolling pin' out of the cupboard when Jed was in the field.
Brown unhitched the horse missing a shoe and led it into the barn while the two black men remained in the surrey. While Jeb prepared the hoof for re-shoeing they struck up a conversation.
"So how many acres of tobacco do you plant"?
"Twenty."
"Any field niggers helping you out? Twenty acres is a load of work even for someone as young as you... how old are you?"
"Answering both your questions, nope, and I'm twenty, the same age as Amy, my wife. We can't afford any slaves but I'm hopefully we have a bunch of kids to help me out. Without more hands doing what I'm doing now at forty would be hard, and at sixty impossible. I ain't afraid of hard work, mind you, but at some point in life you have to slow down."
"I know what you mean, there isn't any crop that's more labor intensive than uppowoc (Indian for tobacco). So you say you've been married six months and your wife still isn't with child?"
"It's not from lack of trying," Jeb laughed, there isn't a night that goes by that I don't spill my seed inside of her."
"Have you ever been sick as a child?" Brown asked.
"What kid hasn't?" Jeb laughed.
