Carolina Queen pt. 1  

	The Carolina Queen lay waiting for high tide and an on-shore
wind to carry her over the bar into Charles Town harbor.  On
board were the usual cargo of manufactured goods and clothes, and
about 20 passengers, mostly from London.  One of these was George
Ashcroft, one of the Carolina Queen's best customers.  Ashcroft
had actually never sailed on the Carolina Queen before, but he
had used  her many times to ship rice and indigo from Carolina to
London.    George had sailed all over Europe, from St. Petersburg
to Naples, especially to Amsterdam, but this was his first visit
across the ocean to King George II 's American colonies.  He was
traveling accompanied by his servant, Rumsfeld, a Jew from
London.  	
	He did  not enjoy spending a month at sea, but this time he had
no choice.   His older brother John had died, leaving no one to
run the plantation.  According to John's will, the plantation was
to go to his eldest son, Henry.  But Henry was only 10, and his
mother Martha wanted him raised as an English gentleman, and had
no intention of returning to South Carolina.  Martha gave George
the option of running the plantation himself, or of selling it
and returning to London.  George was already making two thousand
pounds during a good  year in trade, so his initial inspection to
the books of the plantation inclined him toward the latter.
	One reason George hated the trans Atlantic trip was that it
deprived him of feminine companionship.  Ashcroft was not
married, but he was a frequent habitue of the brothels of London,
Amsterdam and other ports.   The lack of satisfaction, plus the
monotonous ship-board food, was making him irritable.  
	When the ship finally docked at Charles Town, Ashcroft was met
by his agent, John Chaney, who took him to a small town house
that his brother kept in the city.  George had Rumsfeld take the
baggage to the house, while he dined with Chaney.  The two dined
at the best inn in town, while Chaney outlined the situation with
his brother and the plantation, Ashcroft Hill.  
	During the port, George announced that he wanted to find a woman
for the evening and asked Chaney for a recommendation.
	"The Bitchy Squirrel  is the best of the white houses, but
you'll have plenty of opportunities  for black nookie at Ashcroft
Hill."  Chaney said.
	George wondered about the opportunities, but he did not ask for
an explanation.
	Because Charles Town had many more men than women, it did not
lack for houses where women could earn a comfortable living by
satisfying the men.  The primary difference among them was price
and color.  The black houses were staffed by women who were
legally slaves, but who in fact functioned on their own, in
return for a fee to their masters. The white houses were staffed
by every body else. In general, the black houses were less
expensive than the white houses.   In addition, black men were
forbidden to attend a white house.  
	 The women of the Bitchy Squirrel  came from all over the
Atlantic littoral, but there were more Irish and American Indian
than any thing else. George found the hostess of the Bitchy
Squirrel to be an Irish redhead, who had once been pretty, but
was now a bit plump.   She was eager to arrange some one to
please him, because she knew than rich men just off the boat were
the best customers.  
	She said, "George, this is Marianne.   For a fee of one guinea,
she will do what ever you desire to make you welcome in Charles
Town."  
	Marianne featured honey brown skin, but an Irish face.  She wore
a tight corset which came just under her breasts.  She smiled and
said, "You let me take care of you, and you will have a wonderful
time,"  as she lead him up the stairs to her room. 
	As soon as they got there, Marianne had George sit on the bed,
while she removed his doublet and hose.  She then unbuttoned his
shirt,  and started to kiss his body.  However, George was too
excited for these preliminaries.  He seized Marianne and started
to grope her through her corset.  
	"Let me get this out of your way,"  she said, untying the
corset, and revealing her lovely body.  George pushed her down on
the bed to fondle her breasts and slit.  As soon as she started
to breath faster, George thrust his stiff prick inside her cunt
to the hilt.  He was so excited that all he cared about was
getting his release.
	"I'm going to roger you  until the tide goes out!"  George
exclaimed, moving in her as fast as he could.
	"Do it, but it must be low tide."  Marianne replied.  She tried
to keep up with him, but found it impossible.  Instead, she let
him bang away at her, believing that he had enough for a second
round.  George pushed rapidly, squeezing her tits as he move.  He
was almost there.
	"I'm going to cum.  I'm going to fill you up."  George yelled. 
He felt a month of pent up frustration straining against his
balls.  
	"I want it. I want it."  George yelled.  
	"Let it cum."  Marianne said.  Marianne did not mind if he came
into her.   Like most prostitutes, disease  had impaired her
ablity to bear children. 
	Suddenly, he did.   As he repeatedly pushed into her, with each
thrust came a squirt of semen.   Squirt after squirt came pouring
out of him into her waiting box.  He continued to push even when
he was finished, until he was sure he had drained himself
completely. 
	"Wow.  I needed that.  You drained me completely. " George said,
as he pulled himself off Marianne and lay down beside her. 
	"I doubt you're fully drained, but we'll see."  Marianne
replied.  She got wine and food for both of them.   George asked
her about life in South Carolina and whether she had heard of
Ashcroft Hill.  After they talked for awhile, Marianne decided to
address the reason they had come to her room.  She played with
his prick, bringing it back to life.  She leaned over to lick it
gently.
	"Have you ever had a woman take you in her mouth?"  Marianne
asked.
	"Many times, especially after a bath in Amsterdam.  I like when
you do that."  George said. 
	"They say I'm one of the best at that," she said.
	With that, Marianne dedicated herself to the task at hand, or at
least at mouth.  She licked him around the edges of the foreskin.
 George just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.  She opened her
mouth to engulf him whole.  She put just enough tension on her
sucking that his prick became stiff and sensitive.   
	"You have a wonderful member. I'm going to have to do something
special with it," she said.
	She lifted herself up until she was straddling him.  She then
lowered her pussy carefully until it contained his  prick. 
Marianne wanted to give him a good time, but she also wanted to
satisfy herself.   She felt she would have a better chance of
doing that it she controlled the pace.
	She slowly covered his prick until she was sure she had the
whole thing.  It felt good to be able to feel him deep inside. 
She moved slowly up and down, keeping a gentle rhythm.  George
loved what she was doing to him, but started to thrust his hips
in time with hers.  Marianne put her hands on her tits,
stimulating them more, as George played with her ass.  
	"Keep it up.  You feel wonderful."  George pleaded.
	"Oh honey, you fill me with pleasure too."  Marianne sighed. 
	She started to pick up the pace, letting the pleasure grow.  As
it grew, she moved faster. She let herself go, wanting to feel
the warmth grow in her loins.  As it got hotter, Marianne's
sigh's had disintegrated into loud grunts,  as she urged herself
on to greater heights. 
	"Oh yes.   It's going to happen."  Marianne grunted.
	By this time, George had also lost himself in erotic abandon. 
Although it naturally took longer the second time,  George was
indulging himself in the exquisite pain of an impending orgasm. 

	But it happened to Marianne first.   She started screaming with
pleasure as her body burst forth, with a tremendous release. 
George kept pumping her through her orgasm, and brought her to
the brink of a second one, when his organ popped its white love
juice.   Marianne held on for a second time, letting his orgasm
be her cue for one of her own. 
	By the time they were finished, all Marianne could do was lean
down and kiss him.  He was certainly one of the better clients
she had in while.  He was even better when he tipped her an extra
five shillings before he left.  
	George spent the next several days learning about Charles Town
and getting ready to his trip up river to Ashcroft Hill.  He saw
African slaves being delivered and sold by the harbor.  They were
emaciated by the physical and emotional stress of being plucked
off their native lands and shipped to America.  Most of the
slaves were men.  Slaves of both sexes stood naked to the waist
as prospective buyers studied them.   They were mainly in demand
for heavy field work, which took its toll in health and life.  
	Colin Powell, George's overseer at Ashcroft Hill, was in town to
meet George, buy a few slaves, and obtain other supplies for the
plantation.  Powell was a big, pleasant man, but not very smart.
George realized that he had to rely of Chaney to make the
important business decisions regarding purchases and shipments. 
	They passed numerous plantations as they slowly made their way 
up river to Ashcroft Hill.   The dock by the river lead to a road
leading up a steep hill to the house. Before going to the house,
they stopped by the church to pay their respects to the grave of
John Ashcroft.  John had died of a fever common to that area. 
They were met by several house slaves, lead by Jeb Bush, the head
slave driver.  Bush was an ugly big black man who scared the
slaves just by looking at them.  He almost scared Ashcroft. 
	A carriage took them up the hill.  When they arrived, Chaney
pounced on a woman slave who was drawing water at the well.  As
he dragged her into the wood house he said, "This is what I mean
by opportunities for black nookie."   Soon the sounds of sexual
pleasure were emanating from the wood house, mainly from him. 
Rumsfeld also wanted to pounce on the women, but he wasn't sure
he was allowed to. 
	The plantation house itself was large but not well kept.  It
obviously was missing John to run things.  Powell introduced
Ashcroft to the house slaves, who stood to meet him.  The few
male slaves gave him a proud defiant look, but the female slaves
smiled and stuck their chests out at him, letting them see a
glimpse of breasts.  They were a lot prettier and healthier than
the scrawny specimens George had seen at the dock.   Several
children ran around the house, several of whom were a lot lighter
than their mothers.   George surmised that these were John's
children, or perhaps Powell's or Chaney's. 
	They went into the house, where Powell showed George the master
bedroom.  There he was greeted by the head house keeper,  slave
named Melinda. 
	"She was one of John's favorites."  Powell said.  George thought
Melinda was too old, but he did not say anything.  Melinda also
had several light skinned children about her, including a baby
she was still nursing. 
	"She's mine, "  Powell said, patting the baby on the head.  
	George indicated he wanted to rest until dinner.  Dinner was
large and well prepared, with dishes of ham and  duck accompanied
by  plenty of rice.  
	Before retiring, Melinda asked, "Will you be needing me,
tonight, master?"  She was obviously disappointed when George
said no.  She spent the night with Powell. 
	For the next several days George explored the plantation, asking
questions of everyone, including the slaves.  He also made some
impressions regarding the slave women in the house.   The women
had jobs as maids, cooks, or gardeners,  but the tasks were not
difficult or onerous.  They were desperate to please him, for
fear of being banished from the house and its status, and made
work much harder in the fields. 
	George was particularly attracted to a chamber maid named Sara.
She was  tall, pretty, and slightly lighter skinned than many of
the slaves, but too old to be John's or Chaney's daughter.  In
fact she had no idea who her father was.  She smiled at George
whenever she saw him, clearly indicating that she wanted him to
notice her.
	After being there for a week, George decided to find out about
Sara.  After supper, he had Melinda send her to his bedroom.   He
received her, just wearing his night shirt.
	"Do you know why I called you?"  George asked.
	"You want me to please you, master."  Sara said quietly.
	"What would you do to please me, Sara?"
	"I will do anything you ask, master."
	"Anything I ask?"
	"Anything.   I want to please you, for you to keep me around."
	"Take off your blouse.  I want to look at you." he instructed.
	Sara slowly unbuttoned her blouse, trying to be sexy.   Like
most slaves, she was not wearing any under clothes. She hung the
blouse on a chair.  Her large breasts looked like tears dripping
off her chest.   She was proud of her body.  She walked around
the bedroom, letting him explore her with his eyes.  
	"Take off your skirt also.  I want to see your body."
	Sara quickly undid here skirt and let it fall to the floor.  She
stepped out of it, revealing her nakedness.  She wanted him to
seduce her.  She felt that her position in the house was secure
if the master could possess her body.  
	"You have a beautiful body, Sara.  Come here."
	Sara pranced over to where he was sitting on the bed.  George
reached up to feel her firm breasts.  She leaned against his
hands, covering her nipples.  She spread her legs slightly,
showing off her pussy.  George placed one hand on her pussy,
squeezing it gently.
	"You have a nice, soft quim, Sara.  Let's see how warm it is."
	George inserted a finger in her slit, while Sara stood in front
of him. She felt slightly dizzy from the attention her pussy was
receiving.  She rocked from one leg to the other, enjoying the
stimulation.
	"Let's see if you give as well as receive.  Get down on your
knees."  George commanded.
	When Sara obeyed, George lifted his night shirt.
	"Suck my member.  Make it feel really nice."  
	Sara leaned down and took in her mouth.  At first she was
disappointed by the size, but she was pleased by how rapidly it
grew to over 8 inches of thick man-meat.  She realized that he
was in a position to please her as much as she would please him.
She started to bob up and down on his pole, delivering jolts of
erotic energy.   George put his hands on her head, to pace her
rhythm.  Sara worked hard to fulfill his wants.  
	Suddenly, George pulled her off him. 
	"I want to be inside you.  Lean against the bed.  I  want to
take you from behind."
	George got up and removed his night shirt.  He got behind  her
and placed his prick at the entrance to her quim.  He pushed in,
slow and deep.  
	"Oh master, I've never been penetrated so deeply before." Sara
sighed.  
	George began to work into her.  He reached around to roughly
grab her breasts.  He pulled breasts and slapped her ass as he
worked into her more.  Sara was moaning with mounting pleasure in
her loins.
	"Give it to me, master.  Fuck me.  Slap me.  Squeeze me.  Fuck
me hard."   Sara pleaded. 
	George was loosing all restraint.  This black wench was too
much.  She had had sex with Powell and with John before he died,
but nothing was compared to this.  
	George grunted as he exerted extra effort to fill her.
	"I'm going to cum, Sara.  I'm going to fill your beautiful black
pussy."
	"Fill it, master.  Oh my lord.  I'm cumming to too. Oh, Ooooh."
Sara's words degenerated into some high pitched squeals of
delight.
	George took complete possession of her body, as the sex juice
poured out him like a waterfall.  
	After George had had his fill of her, he climbed onto the bed. 

	"Lie next to me, Sara."
	"Yes, master."    She was in.
	The next morning George had sex with her again.  He invited Sara
into his bed on alternate nights for the next week.  However,
George thought it would be unwise to confine himself to one
woman.  He has sex with all the women of the house, including
Melinda.  But Sara was by far his favorite.  Although he did not
mind sharing the other women with Powell and Chaney, and even
Rumsfeld, he let it be known that he wanted Sara exclusively for
himself.  And she was happy to agree. 
	Unfortunately, Melinda did not agree.  She was jealous to Sara
for her youth, beauty, and for taking her place in the master's
bed.  But she was still head housekeeper, and nominally Sara's
boss.  George did not want to upset the hierarchy of the
household.  But he did not like Melinda making life difficult for
Sara.   He questioned her motives.
	Melinda had sent Sara on some errand, so she could be alone with
George.  
	"What do you want, woman?"  George demanded.
	"I think you should be spending more time with me."  She said.
	"What?  Don't you get enough from Powell, Chaney, Bush, and half
a dozen other studs around here?  You're just a bitch in heat."
	"I go to them because I don't have enough from you."  She
started to sashay towards him, swinging her hips seductively.  
	George stood up to face her. "If you want to be fucked like a
bitch, I'll be glad to oblige.  Come here. " he ordered,
menacingly.
	Melinda did not know whether to be afraid of him.  George seized
her and spun her around.   He raised her skirt, exposing her ass.
 He forced her down head first on the bed, and started to slap
her ass, hard.  Even on her dark skin, the imprint of his hand
glowed to a russet brown. 
	"This will teach you to not make life hard for Sara.  I want her
because I do.  You're many years older than I am or she is. 
Don't ever question me for it.  Understand?"
	"Yes, master."  She whimpered. 
	"Now raise your ass."  He ordered.
	George folded her skirt above her waist.
	"Because you're a bitch, I'm going to take you like one."  He
said.  Melinda knew what was about to happen, but she secretly
wanted it.  
	He lowered his hose to expose his ram rod prick.  He poked about
the entrance to her slit, and then shoved it home.
	"Tell me you're a bitch and you want to be fucked like a dog." 
George demanded.
	"I'm a bitch.   I want to be fucked like a dog."  Melinda
wailed. 
	"Say it again."
	"I'm a bitch.  Fuck your little bitch.  Take me any way you
want."
	"I'm taking you like an animal."
	George reached around her to open her shirt.  He brutally
grabbed her breasts, squeezing them until they hurt.  But Melinda
was so lost in the erotic thrill, the pain merely added to it. 
George released his animal passion, but so did Melinda.  They
moved back on each other, raising each other to higher thrills.

	George was punishing her with his thrusts.   As he felt the
inevitable release of pleasure, he hit her harder, until his
semen hit her forcefully inside her cunt.  His continued bursts
triggered a mighty orgasm, which covered her entire body.  She
was gasping for air has she came again and again.   
	George pulled out of her and stood up,  leaving her face down on
the bed. 
	"Now go back to Powell and get him to finish the job on you,
bitch."  George said contemptuously.  He actually enjoyed himself
with her, but he did not want to admit it, at least not yet.  But
he did not enjoy himself enough to displace Sara.  Melinda was
hard, while Sara had a sweetness that he appreciated. 
	An evening few weeks later, George saw Powell and the head slave
driver, Jeb Bush, whispering excitedly.  
	Then Powell came over to George and said,	"Grab your pistol. 
We're going hunting."
	George did not know what he could hunt with a pistol, which only
had an effective range of about 20 yards.  Nevertheless, he
loaded it and put some powder in the pan to prime it.  He saw
Powell and two other drivers had muskets, but Powell's musket was
the only one that was primed. 	
	George, Powell, Bush, and the two drivers walked to the slave
quarters, carrying torches. Bush and the drivers went inside one
of the cabins, while the two whites waited outside.  They heard a
woman scream.  The three drivers emerged carrying a young woman,
who was crying and screaming.   A slave woman tried to rescue the
girl, but she was beaten back with the club end of a musket.  
Other slaves looked on with horror and shame, knowing what was
about to happen.
	The drivers carried the woman to a straw pile between the house
and slave quarters.   They cruelly ripped off her clothes and
pushed her down to the ground.  George noticed that the woman's
breasts were not fully mature.
	"She's awfully young,"  he said to Powell.
	"It's best to get them early.  It's easier to train them. "
Powell  replied.
	Bush tied to girl's hands to stakes in the ground.  
	"Spread your legs."  he ordered.
	The girl continued to cry.
	"When you're told to spread your legs, you spread them."  He
ordered.  
	Each of the drivers took her legs and tied them to stakes,
leaving her spread eagle on the straw.  Bush used he whip to lash
at her breasts and pussy.   Bush shoved the handle of his whip
into her bare cunt.  George had had sex with hundreds of women,
but he never participated in a rape.  He was caught up in the
event and found the abuse  of this young wench perversely
exciting. 
	Powell said, "You are going to learn to obey.   But today is
your lucky day.  The master is going to take you himself.   He
owns you and he can take you any time he wants."
	George got down on the ground and lowered his hose.  He was
prepared to penetrate this helpless girl.   Because she was not
prepared, he found her dry and stiff.   Nevertheless, he had to
take her, because the other men were watching.  The girl was
still crying as he cruelly penetrated her slit.   He wanted to
get his relief as fast as possible.  Therefore, he moved rapidly
inside her, getting his prick hard.   She could not respond, even
if she wanted to, because she was tried to ground.   George
thrust hard and fast, until he was on the brink of cumming.  He
quickly crossed the threshold, leaving him empty, but somehow
unsatisfied.   The only satisfaction the girl felt was when he
released her pussy.
	The relief was brief.  As soon as he was done, Powell took his
place.  He was using the girl like a rag doll.  He pushed into
her, not caring at all what she felt.  While he as screwing her,
one of the drivers had lowered his pants and was pushing his
prick against her face.  Because she was still crying, he had no
difficulty stuffing it in her throat, almost gagging her.   He
removed his prick only when it became obvious that she was
choking.  He continued to rub against her budding tits until his
semen covered them.  By this time, Powell was finished also.
	Bush untied her legs and turned over onto her stomach. This gave
him a perfect view of her ass.  He wanted to use her ass, to show
her that he had total control over her.  He pushed his prick into
her ass, and rolled over so the other driver could do her cunt. 
They gave her a double assault, taking their pleasure of her.  
	Powell noticed that her mouth had gone slack.  He picked up her
head and placed his prick her oral cavity.  He began to fuck her
mouth, just as Jeb and the driver doing the rest of her. 
The other driver joined in, and in the course of the evening they
each had taken the girl two or three times.  
	George did not touch the girl again.
	When the men were finished, George asked.   "What do we do with
her now?"
	Powell said, "Nothing.   The other slaves will take care of her.
 Maybe a few of them will fuck her themselves."
	As they went back to the house, they saw a few of the male
slaves helping themselves to this well fucked girl.  By the next
day, the girl was so sore and sick that it took two weeks for her
to recover.
	George went back to the house and had a particularly forceful
session with Sara.  He was not used to sex with a woman who did
not respond to him.  He felt somewhat disgusted at being part of
rape, even of a slave.
	The next day he said to Powell,  "I never want to part of a rape
again.  I think a rape ruins a woman."
	Powell claimed to agree, but he thought to himself that George
was too weak to be a good slave owner.
	George was still concerned about the girl, who was named Phoebe.
 A few weeks later he asked to see her.  He could tell she was
visibly frightened up him.  He wanted to apologize, but he did
not know how to apologize to a slave.
	"Are you still sore?" he asked.
	" A little, master."
	"Are you still afraid of me?"
	"Yes."
	"Is any man still trying to touch you?'
	"Yes."
	"Who?"
	"Master Bush."
	"Do you want him to stop?"
	"Yes."
	"Will you be less afraid of me it I got him to stop?"
	"Yes."
	"I'll see what I can do to help you."
	Jeb Bush did not appreciate loosing is newest toy, but he
figured the master wanted her for himself.  He had enough other
toys to play with.   George had Phoebe transferred from the field
to the barn-yard,  which would be easier work and away from Bush.
 He decided that if he could not get Phoebe into his bed
willingly, there was not point in being a slave owner, and he
might as well go back to England.  
	A few weeks later, George visited Phoebe at the end of her work
with the vegetible garden.
	"Are you feeling better?"  he asked her.
	"Yes, master,' she replied coyly.
	"Has Master Bush bothered you again?"
	"No, Sir."
	"May I see you in private?  I want to make it up to you what we
did to you last month."
	"Yes, sir,"  she said quietly.   She had an idea what he wanted.
  She decided that if the master wants her body, she could not
stop him, but she would try to get something out of it.
	They walked to the back of the barn.   She swung her hips around
alluringly.  Suddenly, he grabbed her.
	"I want your sexy little body,"  he hissed.
	He pushed her against the wall of the barn.  He reached under
her dress.   Like most female slaves, she did not wear any under
garments in the summer.  He fingered her pussy.  He found it to
be warm and moist.  She moaned softly.  
	"Do you want me to take your body?"  he hissed again.
	"Do what you want with me, master,"  she replyed  between her
soft moans.  
	He took that as the permission he wanted.  He lifted her dress
up to her waist,  exposing her pussy.   He fingered her some
more, before opening the flap in his britches.   He lifted her up
against the barn wall, and roughly inserted his prick.  She
screamed from the onslought.  He took that to mean her passion
was responding.  He moved in her swiftly,  until his prick was
swollen with excitement.   Suddenly, he pulled out.
	She looked at him curiously, but said nothing.
	"I don't want to do this way.  A slave should be fucked on her
knees."
	He pushed her face down onto the hay stack.   He lifted her
dress until it was by her head.  
	"Raise your ass, you little bitch,"  he commanded.
	She pushed up, allowing him to easily resume fucking her hot
quim.  He grabbed  her tits, pinching them to get her even more
excited.   He wanted her to want it.  
	"Do you want me to fuck you some more?"
	"Yes master."
	"Then ask for it."
	"Oh master, fuck harder.  Do it.   Do it.   You're making my
body explode."
	As soon as he was sure she would cum, he increased his pace.  
Soon he was pounding into her like a pile driver.   He let his
cum rush into her.    He did  not care if she became pregnant or
not.     As soon as he was done, he pulled out and stood up.   He
left her there, panting in the barn.   Other slaves heard them,
but made no effort to help her. 
	George was glad he could enjoy a pretty slave girl, but he also
feld guilty that he could take advantage of  her so easily.    He
 vastly preferred Sara and even some of the household slaves to
Pheobe, who he thought was dirty from her work in the barn.  He
never went to Phoebe again.  However that did not prevent him
from suggesting to Rumsfeld that he might enjoy her.
	Unfortunately,  before he could come to terms with all of this,
George had potentially more serious problems. 	
.