Sharecropper
Authors Notes: This is a historical flash story needing details that can't be worked into the story. The people involved simply weren't educated enough to understand what was happening around them.
The evolution of sharecropping was complicated due to the Civil War, evolving laws, and general Southern defiance against the Northerners. I've tried to touch on some of the more significant issues in the following explanation. Still, it is not a complete explanation of the past. LOL, That explanation would be longer than the story itself. There are lots of good reference sources if you'd like to know more.
Interestingly enough, when I went to Googled the word sharecropper, the very first result was a story on Literotica.
Sharecropping:
(Very, Very Simplified Explanation)
At the end of the Civil War, in an attempt to deal with the growing number of refugees, General Sherman issued Special Field Order Number 15 in January 1865. It granted freed slaves a mule and 40 acres of land in islands and coastal regions of Georgia.
Instead, as one of the Reconstruction's first acts in the summer of 1865, President Andrew Johnson ordered all land under federal control to be returned to its previous owners.
Troops were used to either evict the former slaves from their 40 acres or force them to sign labour contracts with the plantation owners.
After the war, the South was broke, with little currency or credit available. Plantation owners couldn't afford to pay for labour. Instead, as landowners, they could force contracts to farm the land, making the former slaves and others buy equipment and seeds from them on credit at disadvantageous prices and terms. It often included high interest rates on "loans" and crops that could only be sold to the plantation owner at prices the owner set.
In turn, sharecroppers got to work the land they "rented" from the plantation. Laws were passed, giving the plantation owners the right to have sharecroppers thrown in jail or evicted for non-payment or other perceived offences. Local courts and the law backed up the plantation owners, often in defiance of the existing Federal laws. Especially if the sharecroppers were black.
What isn't generally known is that it wasn't just about the freed slaves. About two-thirds of the people involved in this different way of farming were poor white families.
Uneducated sharecroppers couldn't tell if the accounts the plantation owner presented them with were accurate. Frequently, they weren't. That often left them with more debt at the end of the year than at the beginning. And once they were in debt...!
Sharecropping turned into the South's new way of farming. Often, the landowner abuse made it almost as bad as the slavery it replaced. It persisted until 1940.
With new power imbalances firmly established, women were taken advantage of.
This is such a story.
All characters of legal age.
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Rebecca pulled the bread out of the stove and put it on the counter to cool. With the morning's dishes washed and the cabin swept, it was time for her to go foraging. Adding berries and edible greens to their food supply was a daily chore.
Isaac was working in the hot sun, hoeing weeds at the other end of their forty acres. Later in the afternoon, when it cooled, they would carry buckets of water for the plants.
She tied on her well-used flared brim bonnet, greyer than white these days from so many washings, then pushed the door open into the day's blistering heat. Even though it wasn't noon yet, the temperature was scorching. She stood there for a moment, undecided. It was too hot to go out dressed as she was. She ducked back into the cabin and took her dress off. Removing her chemise and pantaloons, she put her dress back on. The faded cloth felt cool next to her naked skin. She sighed with pleasure, feeling better already. It was a wicked thing, but the hot sun in Georgia made for some trade-offs. Besides, nobody was around, nobody would know.
It would be cooler to stick with a patch of woods that ran alongside their land and the neighbours' border. Lots of greens grew along the edges in the brighter light.
Before she could leave, she heard the slow clip-clop of a horse approaching. She had come to know that hoofbeat over the last two years. The horse had a slightly lame front foot; one clop took a fraction of a second longer than the other three.
HIM!
She peeked out the cabin door. Sure enough, the Plantation Overseer was ambling down the path.
She knew what he wanted.
There was no escaping him. She could scoot out the cabin door, although she had long ago lost the desire to run. She might make it as far as Isaac before he rode her down, but Isaac had no idea what was going on. She wanted to keep it that way.
No, what was coming was much better than fleeing.
She went to the cupboard and took down a pot, removing the lid. There was a dense paste in there. She scooped a good measure and lifted her dress using her fingers to press the mixture up into herself. The old black woman that lived on the land adjoining theirs had given it to her. It prevented conception, and so far, it had done its job for the last two years. She cleaned her hand and wiped around her woman slit. A slight tingling warmth started down below, letting her know it was working. It seemed to sensitize her womanly parts, making any activities more enjoyable.
If nothing else, things would be far more comfortable here on the bed than out in the bush where he often caught her.
A massive pair of boots clumped across the front porch before he pushed the door open. Ducking to avoid hitting his head on the top frame, he closed it behind him. He was huge, taller than any man she'd ever known. His body was broad and hard as a rock from all the work he did. His hands were the size of shovels.
Isaac had been out working when the Overseer arrived on their doorstep two years ago with bad news. They'd just finished planting the spring crops. The plantation owner was invoking the "Get Out" clause. She and Isaac would have to leave. But before they went, there was a matter of settling the crushing debt they owed for seed and tools they could only buy from the plantation at one-sided prices and terms.
She was desperate. They had no place to go and no money. Sharecropping the piece of land they rented from the plantation owner was all that stood between them and starvation. There was no work anywhere else in the South. The plantation owner could have them arrested and jailed if they didn't pay.
She begged the Overseer to reconsider. She and Isaac had worked hard; it wasn't fair to kick them off before the crop was in. The owner could do it, she knew. Others had been booted. The sheriff would support the owner and run them off or arrest them if called on.
That was when he suggested an alternative solution. One she hated, but with no choice, she had given in. It had been going on now for two years, once or twice a week.
"Rebecca," he greeted her.
She said nothing, standing by the bed in a submissive pose, eyes firmly on the floor. She knew what he liked.
Power!
Power to sully their marriage bed! The ability to make her do what he wanted!
The power that had turned her into a fallen woman. A woman who now craved for him to do it again. That was his real power.
And her eternal shame. She had fought in the beginning! But now...?
He held her in his thrall!
He started unbuttoning his shirt, and her eyes flicked up, watching that massive, hairy chest gradually come into view. So different from Isaac's slight, hairless frame. She was mortified to feel a trickle of woman juice run down her leg, the warmth and desire to mate with him building.
She couldn't deny the effect he had on her anymore. Corded muscular shoulders and arms were revealed when he stripped his shirt off and tossed it on a chair. He kicked his boots off, and his hand went to his buckle. Her eyes tracked that hand every inch of the way, waiting, watching, dripping now with need.
Unable to help herself, she licked her lips in anticipation.
He unbuttoned himself and bent over, pushing his pants down until he kicked them off over his feet.
Straightening up, he struck a pose for her. Her eyes focused on his massive, tanned torso, muscles bulging everywhere. Her fingers itched to run themselves over every inch of his body. But mainly, she focused on that long, thick, dangling man thing. She'd never seen anything like it before him.
While she couldn't claim to have seen a lot of men nude, she lived on a plantation where men worked in the scorching sun of the fields, often naked except for a loincloth. They thought nothing of pushing that tiny cloth to the side and pissing wherever they were standing. She'd seen a fair number of cocks that way. None of them, including Isaac, came anywhere near the size and length of his. Nothing had ever brought her pleasure like he did. She'd hated him for using her in the beginning, but she'd come to love her time with him and what he did to her.
He stepped closer, removing her bonnet and unbuttoning her dress until he could slip her arms out. Then he backed up, watching the dress whisper down her body, exposing her nakedness to his avaricious eyes. His eyebrow twitched, surprised by her lack of undergarments.
"Too hot, I was going picking," she explained.
He nodded in understanding. His eyes took in every inch of her body with approval. "Beautiful," he whispered.
