THE MISSISSIPPI MASQUERADERS 

                            by

                        Imreadonly




Part 1: Plantation Plotters

"Don't be foolish, Susanna.  It will be no different than a 
masquerade ball."

Susanna looked at her beautiful sister with astonishment.  
Masquerading as a slave wench was hardly the same as going 
to a party. 

Susanna's sister, Julia, was 21, and spellbindingly beautiful, 
with long red hair, fiery green eyes, and a smile that lit up 
the room.  She was also, Susanna knew, willful to the point of 
being less a sister than a force of nature. 

Julia had always been in charge, ever since they were young girls, 
and Susanna was always the dutiful little sister, tagging along 
with whatever Julia wanted.  It was even more so now that Father 
was gone, even worse, for now there was no counterweight to Julia's 
mischief.

"The problem with you is you lack confidence," Julia huffed.  "You 
and I have been running this plantation ever since Father became 
ill.  Why, until Judge Lee was appointed to relieve Father of his 
duties, we were practically running the county court, too.  There 
is nothing I... uh, I mean...WE can't do!"

Susanna remained silent.  There was nothing Julia couldn't do, or 
so Julia believed, even though Susanna knew her sister had an 
unfortunate tendency to bite off more than she could chew.  
Susanna hoped that this wasn't one of those times, since she 
very much wanted Julia's plan to work.

Susanna was a good girl, daddy's girl, everyone's favorite.  No one 
had ever raised a hand to her in anger.  Perhaps that was why she 
found spankings so wickedly fascinating.

"But will anyone believe we're slaves?" Susanna said, staring in 
fascination at her own perfection-reflection in the full-length 
mirror. 

Susanna, whose vanity had long ago consumed her personality, found 
it hard to believe that anyone could gaze upon her with anything 
other than a spirit of worship.  With her long blonde hair, gentle 
features, and piercing blue eyes, Susanna was about as far from one 
of those filthy slaves out in the fields as a girl could be. 

Susanna knew she was prettier than her sister, and that Julia knew 
it, too, although she would never admit it.  Julia was taller, 
certainly, and hard working, but Susanna was the more desirable 
of the two...the only girl prettier than Julia in the state of 
Mississippi, by popular agreement. 

Susanna knew that Julia resented her little sister her stunning 
beauty, although, typically, Julia dealt with the unpleasantness 
of this reality by steamrolling over it.

"They sell slave wenches fairer than you in New Orleans all the 
time," Julia replied dismissively, as if her sister's concern 
scarcely worth a second thought.  "Fairer, if the truth be told."

Susanna knew her sister's response was a lie, for there was none 
as fair as she. 

But both sisters knew they had sold girls quite fair in the huge 
rotunda of the St. Louis Exchange Hotel in New Orleans.  Julia 
and Susanna had overheard the men chortling about it in the 
study, as they enjoyed their brandy and cigars. 

Susanna preferred to ignore such "unpleasantness."  Julia, her 
business-minded sister, was far more astute.  How many times 
had Julia helped prepare the slave papers for her father's court 
to endorse, slave papers that described the sale of women with 
only 1/8th, 1/16, or even 1/64th African blood? 

A few drops of the wrong blood was all it took.  The carefully 
prepared slave papers described the girls' features in detail: 
their fair white skin, blue eyes, and their hair -- golden 
blonde, or sometimes even red, as red as Julia's own...

"Maybe there's some other way...," Susanna said, still doubtful.

"We've been through this 1,000 times, silly!" Julia huffed. 

Indeed they had.  Julia and Susanna had been "play spanking" each 
other for years, ever since that time Julia had dragged her sister 
down to the barn to watch the bucks get their whippings.  Neither 
girl would ever forget the sight of the muscular men, hanging by 
their ankles, upside-down and naked, as the overseer swung the 
paddle.  That moment had awoken a life long fascination with 
corporal punishment that neither girl could explain, or, given 
the way people were, even discuss.

The "play spankings" were entirely unsatisfactory.  Neither girl 
hit very hard, and, when they did, the other would stop the 
proceedings immediately. 

"Play spankings," the girls soon realized, would never take the 
place of punishment spankings, given for a real offence and over 
which the spankee had no control. 

Control.  Yes, that was the key word.  Julia was brilliant, hard 
working, and never at a loss for words.  She was always in control, 
which meant she could never truly experience a spanking.

There was always a chance that their future husbands might spank 
them, of course, but Julia had realized long ago that the girls' 
respective fiancés were far too gentlemanly to ever take them in 
hand.

Both girls felt the pressure to marry, especially now that Father 
was dead, but Julia resisted.  A husband, she knew, would control 
her in every way except the way she wished. 

Their two beaus were brothers who owned a large plantation just up 
river from New Orleans.  Perhaps the two sisters would visit them, 
and string them along a bit further, after a grand adventure 
together in the city. 

It was always nice for a pretty girl to have a wealthy, handsome 
man on a string, even if she never intended to marry him.

Julia, in particular, felt her man was too weak to fulfill the 
fantasies she dare not describe.  Oh, they were strict with their 
wenches, but it was all candy and flowers for her, sorry to say.

How could the girls describe to these two men their desire to be 
spanked?  They could not.  And so Julia and Susanna, mistresses of 
their world, whose word was law at their plantation, were reduced 
to peeking through the slats of the barn as the slaves were 
punished. 

What else could they do?  Proper southern ladies weren't allowed 
to watch punishments (at least on their plantation) or discuss 
punishments, or even appear to be too interested in them.  They 
could trigger them, of course, and Julia in particular had taken 
advantage of her father's illness to tighten the reins on her 
slaves considerably.  Julia was forever complaining to the overseer 
about some trifle, and then watching with smug satisfaction the 
next day as the unfortunate servant gingerly nursed a freshly 
paddled bottom. 

"Goodness, Toby, what is the matter with you?"  Julia would drawl.  
"A big strong buck like you, and you're walking like your bottom 
was stung like bees been at it."

"Goodness, Jemima, why are you eating your slave mush standing?  
Is your bottom feeling poorly?"

One servant, Jewel, was the particular target of Julia's wrath.  
She had been a favorite of her father, and the Judge specified 
clearly in his will that she was not to be sold after his 
death...a stipulation that did not, however, exempt her from 
discipline.

Jewel was a lovely girl, who as coincidence had it was born on the 
plantation only a year after Julia.  Jewel had light brown skin, 
red hair, green eyes, and a bright, winning smile that many thought 
was as lovely as Julia's own. 

Julia had often wondered about Jewel's parentage, for the slave 
wench that bore her was not married, and there were no bucks on 
the plantation with red hair.  Her coincidental resemblance to 
Julia was most annoying, and Julia became particularly irritated 
whenever he heard her father refer to the slave as "daughter," 
feeling such references, even in jest, were entirely inappropriate. 

She also found the similarity of their names -- Jewel and Julia -- 
most annoying.

One summer, Julia had fallen ill with the fever.  When she 
recovered she was enraged to discover that her father had 
actually moved Jewel into her place in Julia's office and 
had let her manage the plantation and help prepare the court 
papers.  It galled her that Father had taught Jewel to read, 
galled her that Jewel had so easily taken her place, and 
galled her still more when she discovered that Jewel had 
brought in more money over the summer than Julia ever had,

Jewel's natural ability, vivacious personality, and winning smile 
annoyed Julia considerably, and now that her father was dead, she 
saw to it that the pretty slave wench had a good dose of field work 
added to her household duties.  Jewel worked hard, but never hard 
enough to satisfy Julia.  Now that Father was gone, she saw to it 
that Jewel was paddled regularly.

After one particularly vigorous hand spanking, in which Jewel was 
punished for failing to wax the enormous entrance hallway floor to 
her mistress's exacting standards, Julia, feeling playful as she 
relaxed in the bath, decided to rub some salt in the wound.

"My!" she said, flashing her brightest and most mischievous smile, 
"you do look glum.  Is it because my father is no longer here to 
dote on you?"

Jewel said nothing, but stared daggers at Julia as she stood next 
to the enormous bathtub, submissively holding her mistress's towel. 

Julia hoping to goad the slave into a foolish reaction, continued.  
"From the way you've been rubbing your bottom, wench, I'd say the 
Jewel your bottom most resembles is a big red ruby." 

Jewel clenched her teeth, but did not respond.

"So tell me, pretty wench, is your bottom as red as your hair?"

"You should know, mistress," Jewel replied quietly.  "You were 
peeking through the barn slats, watching."

Julia, flustered, wasn't sure how to respond.  "I don't know what 
you mean."

"Yes, you do.  You and your sister like peeking in while the slaves 
get punished.  Everyone knows about it.  I don't think either of 
you'd be so curious about whuppings if you were a slave yourself."

Julia's eyes opened wide as saucers.  She, a slave?  A free-born 
white woman could never be a slave. 

The comment was so ludicrous that Julia lost the power of speech.  
She simply stared up at Jewel, mouth agape, too stunned to respond.

"Stand up," Jewel said.  Her voice was quiet, calm, but commanding, 
not unlike Julia's father, the Judge.


Julia didn't know why she did it, but she stood up in the tub.  She 
was quite naked, but Jewel made no move to cover her mistress with 
the towel, as she always did when Julia rose from her bath.

Julia, feeling quite vulnerable, cupped her hands in front of her 
to shield her fiery red bush from her slave's amused gaze.

But Jewel was not interested in Julia's front.  She moved around 
behind, and slowly ran her hand across Julia's soft, lily-white 
behind.

"Yes, your white fanny would redden up nicely under the paddle," 
Jewel chuckled.  "The overseer would lay it on hard, too, until 
the color in back matched that pretty red grass growing between 
your legs."

Julia blushed as she melted under the power of Jewel's enormous, 
beaming smile, so much like her own.  "That's it, isn't it?  You 
whup me because it's the closest thing you can get to whupping 
yourself.  You want a slave punishment, don't you?  But can't 
get one, because you're white."

"Well, be careful what you wish for, Miss Julia."  Jewel grinned 
evilly.  "God hears our prayers...the bad ones, too.  Some day 
you might get what you want...and what you deserve," she snapped, 
punctuating her warning with a hard, stinging spank across Julia's 
naked behind.

Julia, too shocked to speak, breathe, or move, stood motionless 
as Jewel casually tossed Julia's towel across the room before  
sauntering out the door.

Julia stood, naked, stunned, and aghast.

She looked over her shoulder.  In the mirror she could see the wide 
red splotch from her first real spank branded proudly on her bottom.

Jewel had left the door open, but Julia did not care.  Staring at 
her spanked bottom, lost in the moment, she reached between her 
legs and began to slowly finger her dripping wet sex.

The next morning Jewel was relieved from both fieldwork and 
housework.  She was transferred to light domestic duties in 
the guest house on the other side of the plantation.  It was 
easy work, and, every week, she received a packet of sweets 
and a small stipend which she could eventually use to purchase 
her freedom.  It was an unspoken request from her mistress to 
never mention what had occurred between them to another living 
soul, which Jewel wisely never did.

Although Jewel was kept far, far from her sight, from that moment 
on Julia thought of little else.  Jewel's taunting words burned 
in her ears: 

"I don't think either of you'd be so curious about whuppings if you 
were a slave yourself."

"You want a slave punishment, don't you?"

"Your white fanny would redden up nicely under the paddle...."

Julia, ever resourceful, quickly devised a plan. 

Susanna, loyal but not nearly so brave, was skeptical.  "No one 
will ever believe we're slaves," she protested.

"Slaves aren't all dark, silly," Julia explained.  "Slavery is a 
matter of birth and blood, not color.  I've drawn up slave papers 
for octoroons and hexadecaroons for the court sales Father did 
when he processed estates.  I've seen the identification drawings 
of the girls they attach to the papers.  They're as white as you."

"They're only drawings...," Susanna protested.  "We SOUND white."

"Happens all the time," Julia said, in a tone that suggested 
she was discussing the weather.  "After her father dies, some 
unfortunate creature, raised white, discovers her mother was 
actually one of the octoroons on the plantation.  Shocking as 
it may seem, it's not uncommon for plantation masters to take 
advantage of their slaves in that way.  Fortunately for us, our 
father was a man of character."

Susanna, looking uncomfortable, did not reply.  Julia, on a roll 
and oblivious to Susanna's strange reaction, blustered on. 

"The girl looks white, talks white, and is white, only she has a 
few drops of black blood, so she is legally a slave.  The papers 
are signed, and she is on a block in New Orleans, precisely as if 
she were the duskiest of Hottentots."

Susanna, far more naive in the legality of these things than her 
business-savvy sister, gasped at the image. 

A white girl, naked on the auction block...for shame.

Susanna, recovering, allowed her mind to race ahead.  "But...if we 
do this...and we get our paddling...we won't be marked, will we?"

"No, that's why we're having the paddling professionally done.  The 
paddlers at the slave houses know how to whip the light-skinned 
fancy girls so that no marks are left to decrease the girl's value. 
When we managed Mr. Monroe's estate, Father paid to whip the 
fancies just to keep them from getting uppity."

"Are you sure?" Susanna asked, her voice quivering.  "Are you 
absolutely certain?"

"Yes, I wrote the bank drafts myself, silly.  It will be a simple 
matter.  I will bring you to the auction house and tell them you 
are my father's uppity concubine, and I wish to have you paddled 
while he is away.  If there are any questions about your identity, 
I will have your slave papers with me, to settle all disputes.  I 
will take care of all the details for you.  What could be simpler?"

Susanna was not convinced that it would be that simple, but, like 
her sister, she was eager...no, desperate to find out what a real 
spanking was like. 

Biting her lip, Susanna nervously agreed to Julia's plan.

Julia was as good as her word and prepared the slave papers for 
Susanna and herself with great care.  The court forms and seals 
were no problem; those were in Father's desk.  And Julia had 
been signing her father's name for years.

Sketches of the slave, while not strictly required, were considered 
prudent, particularly when the girl was fair enough to pass for 
white, and likely to run away.  Julia, ever a stickler for detail, 
had her slave, Doodles (so dubbed because of his skill with the 
pencil), execute exquisite pencil sketches (one full-face and one 
profile) of both sisters. 

She told him they were for a letter to their beaus.  Instead, she 
attached them to their slave papers.

When Susanna saw her slave papers, signed, sealed, and delivered, 
she was horrified.  The document described her perfectly: the color 
of her hair, the sound of her breathy voice, her talent at playing 
piano, and (most embarrassingly) her every mole and blemish. 

Julia, having written these documents for years for her father's 
court, knew how livestock was described. 

Julia's document was similarly accurate.  Despite her sharp 
embarrassment, she spared herself nothing, taking special 
note of the "pink pebble nipples, which harden when she's 
nervous" and "the fire red hair between the wench's legs, 
sparse enough to show the lips of her sex."

Susanna was horrified to see herself so intimately described, and 
it shamed her to see her virginity and the virginity of her sister 
reduced to a check-box on a form.  But that was how wenches were 
valued, since an intact maidenhead would raise her price on the 
block.

"You used...our real names," Susanna said. 

"Well, I have to own you...and you have to own me.  Don't worry, 
your slave name is 'Honey.'  That's what I'll call you in New 
Orleans."

"This says I'm the bastard child of the slave wench that bore 
Jewel."

"Yes, Jewel's a light-skinned wench, so I picked her.  The closer 
we stick to the truth, the better.  If someone asks you your real 
name, or starts to question you during your paddling, I want you 
to be able to give answers that match the form."

Susanna wasn't at all convinced that such accuracy was necessary, 
or even advisable, but as always she bent to her dominating 
sister's will.

It was a short boat ride from the plantation to New Orleans, and 
the first two days of the trip were lovely.  Julia got top dollar 
for their cotton and tobacco crops, far better than her father 
ever did. 

Their business concluded, Julia prepared for the recreational 
phase.

The two sisters' relationship to the "peculiar institution" of 
slavery was simple.  Julia, who had been raised on a plantation, 
never considered the morality of it.  For her, being a slave owner 
was a natural extension of her superiority in all things, moral 
and intellectual.  She, born superior, was destined to rule over 
others: her beaus, her sister, her father, and yes, her slaves.  
It was her divine right.

She never questioned her views, since they were, she was sure, 
quite perfect -- which is why the slave girl, Jewel, with her 
winning smile, cunning intellect, and beautiful red hair, 
bedeviled her so.

Susanna's feelings were different.  Compassionate by nature, in her 
heart she knew it was wrong.  Far more intelligent than people gave 
her credit for, Susanna was also far less naive about her father's 
"relationship" to the slave wenches than was her morally righteous 
sister. 

Although she bore Jewel and the other slaves no ill will, she did 
enjoy seeing them punished.  She felt sorry for them, but it was 
simply too dreadfully exciting to look away.  Secretly, she envied 
them and imagined herself in their place.

Susanna concluded that it was best not to think too hard about 
slavery or other things that bothered her.  It was best simply 
to enjoy her beautiful dresses, and parties, and men fussing 
over her, and not linger too long on the moral implications of 
her lifestyle.

Still, it troubled her, and she wondered if, by actually becoming 
slaves themselves, she and Julia might not be tempting fate, 
setting themselves up for some sort of divine retribution for 
their wicked desires.  But she quickly dismissed the troubling 
thought, deciding it was better to think about the lovely dresses 
she was going to buy in New Orleans.

After a perfect dinner at Antoine's, Julia and Susanna retired to 
their room at the elegant St. Louis Exchange Hotel in the French 
Quarter. 

Susanna gasped as she watched her sister unpack the slave shackles 
that she would wear the next day on their trip to the auction house 
for her "fancy girl" punishment.  Whistling, Julia tugged hard on 
the chains, testing their strength, and, when she finished, turned 
to her sister and flashed her broadest, brightest smile. 

"If you want to sleep on your back, I suggest you do it tonight," 
she teased.  "I suspect you will be sleeping on your tummy 
tomorrow."

		******************************



               THE MISSISSIPPI MASQUERADERS 

                            by

                        Imreadonly




Part 2: Honey Bound

Julia, anxious to get a jump on the day, rose early.  By the time 
her sister awoke, Julia had eaten breakfast downstairs and was 
back in the room.

Susanna wanted to dress for breakfast, too, but Julia dissuaded 
her, insisting that there was no time, and, "you don't want to 
overeat for something like this."

Julia, feeling very much in charge, made quick work of stripping 
Susanna out of her nightclothes.  Soon her blushing sister was 
standing stark naked before her. 

Susanna was lovely, with long blonde hair that hung down over her 
shoulders, perfectly formed breasts, and a blonde furry patch that 
made her slave name of "Honey" seem entirely appropriate. 

Julia's eyes narrowed into two envious slits as she drank in her 
younger sister's loveliness, a bitter reminder of all the times 
that Susanna had lured away the suitors that Julia had wanted.

Julia was the loveliest woman in all of Louisiana...except, of 
course, for Susanna.

As her eyes narrowed, Julia imagined her beautiful, blushing 
sister, standing as she was now, not in their hotel room, but 
downstairs, in the St. Louis Exchange's massive rotunda, naked 
on the auction block. Yes, her sweet little sister's beguiling 
looks could turn Julia a pretty penny, if properly displayed....

Susanna, feeling quite self-conscious of her nakedness, and most 
disquieted by the unpleasant expression on Julia's face as her 
eyes roamed freely up and down her body, cleared her throat, gently 
reminding her sister that it was well past the time she should be 
given some clothes.

Julia, awakening from her trance, obliged, handing Susanna a coarse 
burlap grain sack that had been modified into a sort of slave shift.

"I can't wear this!" Susanna protested.  "It's indecent!"

"Indecent for you, but not for a fancy girl," Julia said, slipping 
the garment over Susanna's head.  "First, you must look the part.  
Second, you must look as little like you did when you came in here, 
lest someone recognize you."

"But...it leaves my arms bare.  And it doesn't even come down to my 
knees," Susanna gasped, scandalized.

"Of course, silly," Julia said dismissively. "Fancy girls dress to 
please their masters, and you know what MEN are like."

Tying the twine that kept the dress from sliding off Susanna's 
shoulders, Julia explained.  "Everyone will be looking at your 
bare shoulders and arms...and those lovely bare legs.  No one 
will even notice your face.  Particularly when we put this on."

Julia quickly folded and knotted her sister's gorgeous long hair, 
tying it tightly under a slave cap that entirely covered Susanna's 
golden locks and shaded a great deal of her face. 

"I can't go outside like this," Susanna wailed, as Julia slipped 
a pair of ugly brown work shoes onto her Cinderella-in-Reverse's 
dainty white feet. 

"It's a short carriage ride to the slavers; only a few blocks," 
Julia replied.  "They're supposed to be some of the most 
experienced fancy girl handlers in New Orleans, and I'm sure 
they'll do a lovely job toasting that perfect little fanny of 
yours," she snickered.

Susanna's bottom cheeks clenched in panic at the thought.  Oh, why, 
WHY had she allowed Julia to talk her into this?

Susanna stared at her reflection in the mirror.  The bonnet covered 
her hair and hung down over her face, which was a blessing.  The 
burlap sack dress was dull and brown, and hung on her in a way 
that entirely hid her shape.  This, Susanna decided, was not 
entirely a bad thing; having her arms and legs so bare was deeply embarrassing, and she didn't want to draw any additional attention 
to her body in such brief attire.

Susanna grimaced at the irony.  She had always loved the way men 
looked at her, delighting in their flowery compliments and generous 
gifts, and in the way they fell all over themselves trying to 
please her.  And although she would never admit it, she took 
particular pleasure in drawing men away from her lovely but bossy 
big sister....

Now, dressed as she was, she very much hoped men would not look at 
her.  After all, she DID know what men were like....

And suddenly the reality of the moment cut through the fog. "I 
don't want men to look at me, because I'm a slave.  And I know 
how they use slaves...."

Yes, Susanna was now a slave, complete with papers, an owner, and 
soon, a freshly paddled bottom.  Susanna was so stunned by this 
revelation that she barely noticed Julia pulling her wrists behind 
her.

CLICK! It wasn't until Susanna tried to move her hands that she 
realized that her wrists were shackled behind her back.

"Julia!" she protested.  "That's hardly necessary...."

"Hush now, Julia said, kneeling down to shackle Susanna's lovely 
feet.  "We can't have a fancy girl running around unchained.  Why, 
if you escape, you might try to pass for white."

"If you think I'm going to let you parade me around in chains....  
I'm not budging an inch until...."

"Fine," Julia said, using the harsh tone Susanna recognized 
all-to-well from the plantation.  "We'll do it your way."

Susanna watched as Julia, clearly annoyed, took a long strand of 
coarse hemp rope about 8 feet long and tied one end into a slip 
knot. 

When Julia tossed the loose rope over Susanna's head she tried to 
pull away.  But the knot quickly tightened, and Susanna, already 
off balance in her slave shackles, was easily jerked forward.

"I have to be strict with you, or this is never going to work.  
People have to believe I'm your angry mistress, and I'm taking 
you in for a good whuppin'.  Or have you forgotten that I'm the 
one who's going to determine precisely what your punishment is 
going to be?"

Julia watched as the color drained from Susanna's lovely face.  
"Now, tell me your name, slave," Julia demanded.

"Honey," Susanna replied.

"Don't eyeball me, fancy girl!" Julia said.  "Eyes down!"

"Why are you going to be whupped?"

"Because I'm uppity, Juli...uh...mistress," Susanna responded, 
staring at her worn work shoes.

"Good, but say it like a wench.  You may have passed for white 
once, but that doesn't mean you can pretend to be a white person 
now."

"Cuz I's uppity, Mizz Julia!"

"And what is the punishment on our plantation for slaves who are 
uppity?"

"They's git the paddle, Mizz Julia," Honey replied.

"And how are they positioned?" 

Susanna looked up, startled.  Certainly Julia wasn't suggesting.... 

Julia's green eyes flashed with anger as her sister peered up at 
her.  Realizing her mistake, "Honey" quickly averted her eyes.

"They's hung up by dere heels," Honey said quietly.

How long Julia forced her sister to continue the humiliating game 
of call and response is hard to say, for the morning passed much 
more slowly for the younger sister than for the older.  Suffice 
to say, it was long enough for Susanna to feel that "Honey" was 
sufficiently hesitant, humbled, and diffident to make a passable 
slave.

It was, as promised, a short carriage ride through the Quarter to 
the slave traders...at least for Julia.  For "Honey," who trotted 
along behind the carriage with her rope leash tied to the elegant 
carriage's rear, the trip seemed much longer.  By the time they 
reached the slave trader's shop on Barracks street, her burlap 
sack was soaked with sweat, and the slender twine knots that held 
the sack on her body were precariously loose....

Julia left her sister tied to the carriage as she confidently 
walked up the steps and entered through the front door of the 
establishment.  Honey kept her eyes down, partially at Julia's 
command, but partially to ignore the stares and rude comments 
from passersby who strolled past the lovely fair-skinned wench 
tied to the carriage like a dog awaiting its master.

"Pretty wench."

"Hard to see much with that ugly old sack on her."

"But what I see, I like."

That conversation faded as the men continued on.

"Mommy, why is that woman shackled like that?"

"Pay her no mind, dear.  She's only a slave."

Then, another exchange:

"Looks like that slimy bastard Moreau got his hands on another 
fancy wench."

"Poor wretch.  I hope he sells her.  The ones he keeps don't have 
it easy, from what I hear."

That horrifying conversation was cut short as Julia returned in the 
company of a foul, coarse, unpleasant little man that she addressed 
simply as "Moreau."

"This the wench?" he asked.  "We do the whippings out back, in the 
barn.  Have your driver take her there."

Julia smiled as she watched her sister trot behind the carriage 
and make the turn into the driveway.  She had been looking forward 
to this, but the actual experience of seeing Susanna in this 
humiliating situation was more exciting than she had ever imagined.

Julia and Moreau entered the barn by passing through the house and 
cutting through the courtyard, and, by the time the driver led 
Honey in by her leash, Julia was already dropping coins into 
Moreau's grasping, piggish hands.

"I want her hung upside down and paddled," Julia said brusquely, 
relishing her sense of control.  "Twenty licks, hard. No marks."

"Twenty licks will leave marks.  Ten would be better, provided the 
jumper don't stroke her too hard."

Julia looked over at the massive "jumper" who was standing, arms 
folded, awaiting his work.  He was enormous and gorilla-like, 
with arms as thick as tree trunks. 

Julia trusted he would do his job well.

Toward the door, closer to the driver and Honey, stood a large 
black man, apparently the jumper's assistant.  The slave stood, 
unsmiling, guarding the door through which the newly minted 
slave girl had just passed.

"Take off her bonnet," Moreau ordered.

The slave girl shuddered as the large black man came forward 
and undid the knot under her chin.  His hands were not cruel, 
but they were insistent, and Susanna did not resist.  She did, 
however, struggle for breath, for this was the first time a 
black man had ever touched her.

Moreau squinted as the bonnet was removed, and the fancy girl shook 
loose her long, golden hair. 

"She's mighty white," he observed.

"I have her papers here," Julia said, quickly reaching into her 
purse. 

Julia was proud of her prior preparation in bringing the papers, 
and proud of the papers themselves, which were letter perfect.  
Her sister, however, felt sickened as she watched the evil little 
man with the beady eyes read the papers that described the 
heart-shaped beauty mark on her inner thigh, the tiny scar on 
her finger, her "full, firm breasts," and even her virginity.

Moreau walked over and gently took her hand, confirming the small 
scar she had received as a child when her big sister, Julia, had 
accidentally cut her with a knife. 

"If we're going to string her up, we should tie some rope around 
her legs, so that dress doesn't fall over her head," the jumper 
said flatly.

"I want her paddled naked," Julia said. 

It took a moment for the words to sink in.  "Naked?" Honey gasped.

"Yes, naked, you little whore," Julia said, her voice oozing venom. 
"That will teach you to parade yourself, drawing attention you 
don't deserve."

Moreau, smiling broadly at the thought of seeing the beautiful 
slave girl naked, expressed only one concern.  "She's mighty 
white," he said again, glancing at the black slave standing next 
to Honey.  "If you'd like to have Rufus leave, the jumper can 
string her up instead."

"Don't be silly," Julia said, clearly in charge as she walked 
across the barn toward her trembling sister.  "There's no 
reason that Rufus shouldn't watch.  There's nothing wrong with 
one slave helping to whup another.  In fact, it's good for them 
both.  Spectators can provide a salutatory lesson."

"Honey" clearly did not agree and tried to pull back as her cruel 
sister pulled at the flimsy twine that held up her dress.  But 
the knots were already loose....

Julia's eyes gleamed as Honey's pathetic dress fell to the floor 
in a useless puddle, revealing her nakedness to the leering men.

"You don't have to unshackle her ankles, Rufus," Julia said, 
roughly pushing the freshly stripped slave girl backwards onto 
the floor, smiling as she landed hard on her butt.  "But do take 
off those ugly brown boots.  I want to see her wiggle her toes 
when the paddle makes her jump."

The hulking black man needed no urging, as removing the girl's 
shoes gave him ample opportunity to raise her feet in the air 
and part her legs.  "Honey" fought back tears as he leisurely 
surveyed the treasures the blushing "fancy girl" most desperately 
wished to hide.

"Gag her, too," Julia said.  "I don't want her shouting out lies 
and curses during her paddling."

Julia's eyes locked with her sister's as the bitter, worn, and 
well-chewed slave gag was fitted into place.  It was disgusting, 
but Julia felt it necessary, lest her sister utter some inopportune 
truth in a desperate attempt to halt her punishment.

Ordinarily Rufus would have simply bound her ankles with rope and 
tied them to the hoist, but, since "Honey" was already shackled, 
he simply hooked on one of the center links of her ankle chain and 
pulled her up. 

"Honey" gasped as she felt the strong black man pull her off the 
ground, feet first, then legs and bottom, until finally she was 
hanging upside-down, with her long blonde hair dusting the straw 
on the floor as she gently swayed there. 

Julia smiled.  Gagged and inverted, with her hands shackled 
her, "Honey" was truly helpless.

"Let's get started then," Moreau said, turning to the jumper.  "We 
don't got all day for this.  Remember, no marks."

Turning to Julia, he asked, "How exactly was she uppity, miss?"

Julia's face tightened.  "I heard her say...well, others say...I 
mean...she thinks she's prettier than me," Julia spat, her voice 
dripping with envy.

Moreau laughed at the gorgeous redhead's open display of vanity.  
"Why, I doubt there's a woman in New Orleans prettier than you 
are, Miss Davis," he said, tipping his hat to Julia.

Julia smiled, basking in the compliment.

Moreau turned and looked at the naked slave girl, gently swaying in 
her chains.  Even upside-down, her features were soft and gentle.  
Her apple-shaped breasts were perfect, her legs long and slender.  
The hook that was holding her formed a fulcrum, which kept her legs 
parted and left the lips of her golden honey pot ever so slightly 
displayed.

"You are as pretty as they come, Miss Davis," Moreau admitted 
softly, his eyes now feasting on the blonde slave girl's 
nakedness.  "But, I have to say, for a slave wench...."

His voice trailed off as Julia's face reddened with fury.  Even 
now, her little sister was upstaging her.  Even now, naked and 
in slave chains, she was drawing men away.




               THE MISSISSIPPI MASQUERADERS 

                            by

                        Imreadonly




Part 3: Honey's Paddling 

Julia's green eyes gleamed as she watched the burly jumper select 
a paddle from the large collection hanging on the wall.  It was a 
small paddle, thinner than the ones they used on the plantation, 
but close enough in its general make and purpose to remind Julia 
of those countless times she had knelt with her sister and peeked 
through the cracks in the barn as some wretched slave got a 
whuppin'.

Julia face formed a tight, satisfied smile as the jumper lightly 
tapped her sister's alabaster bottom in preparation for the first 
stroke.  "This is going to be good...," she thought.

Susanna's bottom cheeks clenched and squirmed in nervous 
anticipation as she felt the tap of the paddle.  Restrained 
and gagged, Susanna was truly helpless, and she knew that 
there was nothing she could do to save herself from the 
inevitable punishment. 

"So this is what it is to be a slave," she mused, her startling 
realization cut short by the Whoosh! of cool air caused by the 
paddle slicing through the air....

Susanna felt herself swinging upwards, and, for an instant, the 
ceiling seemed to be moving toward her.

The searing fire from the paddle didn't reach her brain until her 
swinging body reached the top of its pendulum-like arc.

She screamed lustily into her gag as, for an instant, she hung 
motionless in the air....

"One!" Rufus shouted out.

"Ha!" Julia said, crying out in delight as she watched her sister 
fly through the air.  "Yes, that's it!  Make the little harlot 
swing."

The jumper allowed Susanna to swing past him in her downward 
arc...only to help her upward swing with another stroke of 
the paddle. 

"Two!" Rufus said. 

"That was a good one!" Julia said, her bright smile lighting up the 
dark and cavernous old barn.  "Lay them on smartly now...I want her 
to jump with every stroke."

The jumper needed no encouragement.  This time, he used gravity 
against her, landing the stroke against her tender bottom as she 
swung downward into the spank.

"Three!" Rufus intoned. 

"Ha-ha-ha!" Julia said, clapping her hands with glee.  "Yes, that's 
wonderful.  Let her spank herself.  Let her perky bottom swing into 
it."

Susanna, feeling quite disoriented, swung helplessly in her 
shackles.  Everything was a blur -- the snap of the paddle, 
the fire across her fanny cheeks, the bulges in the watching 
men's trousers, and Julia's beaming, joyous smile....

Whoosh!

"Four!"

"You dance, beautifully, dear!" Julia teased, delighting in her 
sister's predicament.  "Just like at all those fancy balls, 
where you pretended to be white and more beautiful than me.  
Are you enjoying your dance now?  I am."

CRACK!

"Five!"

"Swing, you little slut, swing," Julia cackled.  "You always 
enjoyed having all the men look at you.  Once again you're 
the belle of the ball."

WHOOSH!

"Six!"

"Do you know where they're looking, you little whore?  That's 
right, between your legs, at that little golden fleece you're 
so proud of.  And at those bouncing breasts and at your jiggling 
fat bottom."

None of the watching men thought the lovely blonde's quickly 
reddening bottom was anything but perfect.  But all were too 
transfixed by the sight of the blonde's luscious naked body 
swinging through the air to make the correction. 

The jumper paused as he surveyed the slave girl's swinging form. 
"Steady her, Rufus.  She's swinging too much."

"I want to see her swing!" Julia protested.  "Make her dance, like 
she did in the ballroom."

The jumper shook his head.  "Look at her face.  She's too dizzy.  
Almost senseless."

It was true.  Honey's mind was spinning.  "Mistress is angry," she 
thought.  "I's uppity.  Mustn't be uppity."

Julia, however, would brook no delay.  The men watched as she 
strode outside, frowning, and dunked a bucket into the horse 
trough.  The men jumped out of the way as Julia returned with 
the brimming bucket and threw its contents over the helpless, 
dangling slave.

SPASH!

"Wake up, you little slut.  I'm not finished with you yet."

The naked blonde sputtered into her gag and flinched as water 
splashed into her eyes and ran down her nose and throat.  Trying 
to get the water out of her nose, she shook her head, causing her 
wet blonde hair to twirl through the air.

"Spank her some more...hard," Julia huffed.  "She's lively enough 
now to feel the sting."

"Someone should hold her for these last few strokes," the jumper 
observed.  "A lot of the force is being absorbed by her swinging 
away from me."

Julia knew nothing of the physics of spanking, but she did know 
that she wanted her perfect little sister to suffer the full 
impact of every stroke.  She moved towards the naked blonde girl, 
preparing to hold her steady.  But then she stopped short and 
looked down at her helpless slave with a cruel smile.

"No....  Let HIM do it," she said, pointing at Rufus.

Rufus didn't have to be told twice.  As Julia had hoped, the large 
black man used the opportunity to run his hands along her slender 
bare calves and press the enormous bulge in his pants directly 
against her crotch.

Honey, who had been treated to a cascade of images as she swung 
through the air, now found herself staring at the tops of Rufus's 
work boots as she felt his bulge pressing against her.

She was mortified, but soon she felt more urgent concerns.  She 
tensed again as she felt the jumper tap his paddle lightly against 
her bottom, measuring the next stroke.

Whoosh!

"Seven!"

The jumper was right.  Constrained in Rufus's tight grasp, the 
pretty blonde now felt the full force of the blow.

Julia smiled at the sight of her sister screaming lustily into her 
gag.

Rufus, for his part, enjoyed the sensation of the beautiful 
fair-skinned girl rubbing against his erection.

"See!" Julia said, almost squealing with delight.  "She's wiggling 
her toes!  The little slut is feeling it right down to her toes."

Moreau watched with knowing eyes as the red haired beauty cackled, 
clapped, and laughed at the beautiful slave's distress.  Men could 
be demanding masters: thoughtless, cruel, and harsh.  But, in all 
of his experience, he knew that nothing could match the sadism 
fueled by the jealousy one beautiful woman felt for another.

Men bought the fancy girls.  But it was always their wives, 
mothers, and sweethearts who watched them whipped...and 
laughed as it was done.

Whoosh!

"Eight!"

"Your bottom is red now, Honey," Julia teased.  "A few more strokes 
like that, and it will be the color of my hair."

Whoosh!

"Nine!"

The naked girl squirming from the force of the blows, tried to 
wiggle free.  "My, you do like rubbing against Rufus," Julia 
teased.  "Are you trying to court him?"

Rufus, who spent the whipping looking down between the squirming 
white girl's splayed thighs, grinned eagerly.

"Well, Rufus is available for stud," Moreau said, ever the 
businessman.  "Although it would be foolish to waste her 
virginity on the likes of him.  A girl like her would bring 
a fine price."

"Do you think so?" Julia said, enjoying the look of horror on 
her sister's sobbing countenance.  "How much do you think she'd 
bring...on the block?"

"Well, I'd have to see her run a little first, and hop up and 
down, and maybe fetch some water.  I'd have to check her teeth.  
And, of course, I'd have to make sure she was really pure, like 
those papers claim."

At news of the coming "inspection," Honey screamed in panic into 
her gag, squirming so violently that Rufus almost lost his grip. 
Almost.

Julia beamed broadly at her sister's terror.  Today was better than 
she had ever dreamed. 

But, alas, all good things must come to an end.

Turning to the jumper, Julia flashed her most becoming smile.  
"There's a handsome tip in it for you if you live up to your 
name, jumper."

Ever greedy for coin, he raised his paddle high in the air. 

The last stroke was a sizzler, and Julia burst into spirited 
applause as the paddle breathed fire across Honey's lovely 
bottom.

Rufus, conscious of the blonde's tenderness after her paddling,  
eased her down gently, so she could put her weight first on her 
back and then roll over onto her tummy to avoid having to rest 
her fanny on the hard stable floor.

She stood naked as Rufus dumped the sack dress over head and retied 
the knots.  She winced slightly as he discreetly squeezed her 
bottom through the coarse burlap. 

But she barely noticed.  So shamed was she that she seemed almost 
immune to further indignities.  Instead, her eyes blazed with fury 
as she watched her smiling, laughing sister drop a couple of coins 
into the jumper's open palm.

The carriage driver had watched the slave girl's whipping and had 
found it as exciting as everyone else.  Nonetheless, sensitive to 
the pretty blonde's suffering, and aware that her freshly paddled 
fanny made each step agony, he made a point of driving the carriage 
slowly through the streets of the French Quarter.

Julia didn't mind a bit.  She relished her sister's tearful 
countenance in the reflection of her compact as she endlessly 
pretended to powder her nose, enjoying the way Susanna winced 
with every bump.  Julia wanted the trip home to last as long 
as possible.

She decided to skip lunch.  Instead she handed "Honey" the key to 
her shackles in the hotel lobby and ordered her up to their room, 
"before you get into more mischief."

Then Julia retired to the hotel's elegant spa.  Luxuriating in the 
warm water, her hand slid down her belly toward her fiery red bush 
and eased between her milky white thighs. 

"That's it," she cooed, reliving the moment as she gently stroked 
herself.  "Make the little bitch dance.  Paddle her fanny red, 
jumper."

Upstairs in her hotel room, Susanna, free of her slave shackles 
and her shameful dress, lay naked on the bed, sobbing. 

She knew that Julia envied her beauty, and she knew how she treated 
the slaves. But she had never dreamed that her sister could be so 
cruel to HER.

The experience had been mortifying, and Susanna -- sheltered, 
sweet, and innocent -- had never known such pain and shame.  
But it had also been horribly, dreadfully, exciting.  Soon, 
her hand found its way between her legs as she too began to 
gently finger herself.

As per their agreement, in three days, they would go to a different 
auction house.  Then it would be Julia's turn to play the slave, 
and Susanna's turn to be her mistress. 

Anticipating her revenge, Susanna gasped and quivered through the 
most shattering orgasm of her life. 

		******************************


               THE MISSISSIPPI MASQUERADERS 

                            by

                        Imreadonly




Part 4: Ruby's Red Bottom

The two sisters made no further mention of Susanna's ordeal.  
Instead, Susanna rested and waited for her bottom to heal.  
As her sister had teased, Susanna did indeed spend the next 
several nights sleeping on her tummy.

Both had their reasons for maintaining the fiction that nothing 
between them had changed.  Julia, knowing her sister's kind 
heart and sweet disposition, hoped that a few days of sugar and 
sunshine would dispel Susanna's anger over had been done to her.  
This would lessen Julia's punishment, and perhaps, if she played 
her cards right, get her off the hook altogether. 

Susanna, who had spent her whole life being pampered and petted, 
was mortified by her shameful punishment, and she had already 
resolved not to think of it again.  It was a promise she kept, 
except when she was alone, and her hands crept down to her most 
secret place....

Susanna also knew that, if she discussed with Julia what had 
happened to her, her anger would quickly overwhelm her.  She 
had no intention of tipping how eager she was to extract her 
revenge until it was too late for Julia to back out. 

She knew that Julia had lured her into a trap, and she was very 
much looking forward to seeing the look on her face when the 
little red spider became trapped in her own web.

And so the girls resumed their customary roles for the next several 
days, with Julia shopping for dresses and fineries on Royal Street, 
and Susanna dutifully accompanying her as walking became less 
uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, Susanna called on the slave trader she intended to use 
for Julia's punishment in private, to make sure that her sister's 
punishment would be exemplary.

The subject of Julia's upcoming punishment did not arise until the 
night before, when Susanna asked her sister where the slave papers 
were, so that "we will be ready to depart in the morning."

"Are we still going to do that?" Julia asked.  "I mean, I think the 
demonstration with you was sufficient."

"It was more than sufficient," Susanna replied, struggling to 
control her temper.  "You gave your word you would endure a 
punishment, too.  If you cannot keep your word, perhaps I should 
start taking a more active role in the family's affairs."

There was a pause as Susanna, who by now was growing quite tired 
of her role of the obedient younger sibling, stared Julia down.  
Julia, unsure of what to do, tried a different tack.

"I really don't think the slave chains are necessary," she said.  
"And I certainly don't wish to be dragged behind the carriage.  
As for the punishment itself, I think...."

"I agree the chains are unnecessary, and I have no intention of 
harnessing you to my carriage as if you were a goat or a pig, 
much as it might serve you right."

"As for your punishment, I believe that is for your mistress to 
decide, 'Ruby.'  Trust that it will be no more severe than what 
you deserve."

Julia blanched at the sound of her slave name, 'Ruby,' and at the 
cold comfort that she would receive no more than she deserved.  
But seeing the fierce determination in Susanna's blue eyes, she 
realized for the first time how much her baby sister had grown up 
since their father's death.

Knowing that further argument was useless, Julia said nothing as 
Susanna rolled over and went to sleep. 

Though her bed was warm and comfortable, Julia restlessly stared 
out the window, gazing into the night as she wondered what fate 
the stars would bring her. 

By the time Julia awoke, Susanna was already at breakfast.  This 
was fine with Julia, for, when she saw the rough burlap sack that 
was going to pass for her dress lying on the bed, she certainly 
didn't feel like eating. 

She donned a simple pair of cotton drawers before putting on her 
slave dress.  The undergarment was simple homespun, as befitting 
her new status as "Ruby."  But, if Susanna got the outrageous 
notion of lifting her dress for her punishment, it would at least 
protect her modesty.

It didn't take long for Julia to dress.  She thought of sitting on 
the bed, or the chairs, but somehow, dressed in burlap, sitting on 
such elegant furniture didn't seem appropriate.

Ruby, wearing only her plain drawers, sack dress, and slave shoes, 
sat nervously on the small stool by the window, anxiously awaiting 
the return of her mistresses. 

Susanna burst into the room, whistling, with a bright and bustling 
manner she copied from her sister's cheerful demeanor a few days 
before.  Julia, too glum to enjoy the parody, stood at attention 
before her mistress, shrinking back only when she saw Susanna 
approaching her with a rope. 

"You said you wouldn't chain me."

"This isn't a chain; it's a rope," Susanna replied tartly.  "It's 
just for the trip.  I promise I'll untie you when we get to the 
auction house."

The words "auction house" sent a little shiver down Julia's spine, 
but she didn't resist as her merrily whistling sister diligently 
tied her hands behind her back. 

Julia bit her tongue when her little sister slipped a second knot 
around her neck.  She hated the thought of being leashed, as any 
animal would, but, given her treatment of "Honey" a few days 
before, she could scarcely complain.

She had supposed that they were ready to go after the loop had been 
thrown around her neck.  She was therefore surprised when Susanna 
began snaking the loose end of the rope down the back of the coarse 
dress.

"What's this?" Susanna said, finding the drawers.  "Oh, my, 
Ruby...this will never do," she drawled.  "Slave wenches 
on't wear underpants."

Julia gasped as Susanna whisked her drawers down to her ankles and 
off over her shoes.  Working quickly, Susanna snaked the rough hemp 
rope down Julia's back, up between her legs, between her breasts, 
and over the loop around her neck.  Susanna smiled as she jerked 
her blushing sister forward. 

Julia tried to object, but Susanna would have none of it.  "Come 
now, Ruby, we mustn't dawdle," she scolded, jerking on the rope.

As promised, Susanna didn't hitch "Ruby" to her carriage, 
preferring instead to parade her on foot the few short 
blocks through the French Quarter to the auction house on 
Conti Street. 

The look on Julia's face as the coarse rope rubbed against her 
most tender place -- combined with the knowing smiles and comments 
from the male pedestrians who realized precisely how the pretty 
red-headed slave had been harnessed, and how the rope was rubbing 
her, were priceless.  Susanna couldn't resist the urge to giggle 
as she paraded her beet-red slave to her punishment.

Julia, aghast, was terrified someone would recognize her.  Susanna 
knew she needn't worry.  The dazed, horrified, and humiliated red 
head in the old grain sack bore scant resemblance to the elegant, 
saucy lady who had strolled the elegant shops the day before. 

Susanna quite enjoyed their stroll and occasionally stopped to chat 
with someone when it caught her fancy.  She knew Julia found these 
diversions quite humiliating, particularly when Susanna flirted 
with a male who asked her if her wench was for sale. 

Susanna would explain cheerfully, that, "No, Ruby isn't for sale.  
I'm taking her to get her bottom brightened, for her sassiness 
and scheming ways."

The men, eyeing Julia's loveliness, would inevitably ask for 
details on the punishment, to which Susanna replied, "I have 
not decided yet, but would be happy to hear your thoughts on 
the matter, kind sir."

Julia stood staring at her shoes as the men described in 
lip-smacking detail the most effective way to punish her 
"saucy behind"...as all the while Susanna playfully 
tugged on the rope between her legs.

Julia, wanting very much for the swampy New Orleans to consume her, 
was forced to listen as the men eagerly discussed the optimal way 
of "skinning the sass off her impudent backside" while the rope 
rubbed her in an unmentionable way.

Some favored the switch, others the strap, others the hand or 
paddle.  All felt that it wouldn't truly be a spanking unless 
it were on bare skin.

A number of the gentlemen, ogling Ruby's loveliness, offered to 
help Susanna on her bothersome errand.  She demurred, explaining, 
"This girl's punishment is long overdue, and I must learn to handle 
her on my own."  The irony of the statement was not lost on Julia, 
and she silently wondered if today would change her relationship 
with her younger sister forever.

Susanna knew Julia was shocked and humiliated by her punishment 
parade.  But she also knew it was merely the first of many 
surprises to come.

They arrived at Mr. Alexander's quite late, so late that Alexander 
protested that he would not be able to attend to Susanna's "issue" 
personally, explaining he would be meeting with his new business 
partner in a few minutes. 

However, when he saw Ruby, looking quite fetching with her long red 
hair flowing down over her shoulders and blending into the brown of 
her slave sack, he gallantly offered to "make the time."

Ruby was surprised when Alexander led them, not into the barn, 
but into what appeared to be the main entrance hall of the 
establishment.  It was a long marble hallway, with benches 
along the side, where buyers could wait as the "merchandise" 
was brought up for their review.

Julia was relieved when Susanna untied her hands and neck, since 
her wrists were now quite sore, and she was pleased to be rid of 
the devilish rope between her legs.  She took her release as a 
good omen, for the fact that her hands were free meant that the 
punishment might not be as severe as she had feared.

Her relief was short-lived though, as she watched two hulking black 
slaves carry in an odd sort of contraption.  It was similar to the 
simple wooden benches that lined the hallway, except it was taller, 
and the seat cushion that covered the sitting area was much darker. 

Julia wondered how tall a man would have to be to require a bench 
that stood so high that the seat was nearly as tall as her waist.  
It wasn't until she noticed the leather restraining straps bolted 
to the frame, and the gouge marks left by the unfortunate wretches 
who had ridden the bench before her, that she realized that the 
bench was not for sitting.

She watched dumbfounded as the two slaves situated the spanking 
bench in the dead center of the grand hallway.  Confused, she 
turned to her sister for an explanation.

"Shuck down, slave," Susanna snapped.

Julia was so surprised by the harshness of the command that she 
did not fully realize that it was she who was being addressed.  
It wasn't until one of the large black men grabbed her that it 
dawned on her that she was about to be shucked.

Working together, it took the two slaves only seconds to strip Ruby 
and position her over the bench.  One man strapped down her wrists, 
and the other her ankles. 

At Susanna's insistence, the final strap, which would have been 
fastened around the slave girl's slender waist, was left undone.  
"Let her wiggle her big jiggly bottom," Susanna giggled.  "I'm 
sure her fellow blackamoors will enjoy the show."

They would indeed, for all of the men, Alexander included, already 
had thick bulges in their trousers. 

"Isn't that a pretty picture," Alexander chuckled.  "Her red 
curlies are even brighter than the hairs on her head."

Julia looked over her shoulder.  She couldn't see what he saw, but 
she could feel a breeze where a proper young lady should never feel 
the wind.  The seat of the bench was about 14 inches wide, and 
straddling it as she was, she realized that her privates and even 
her bottom hole were on full display.

"Ah thinks she be wet, Massah," one of the slaves said.  "Hot an' 
ready."

"Why I think you're right, boy.  Now that's what I call a 'burning 
bush,'" he said, snorting at his own wit.

Turning to Susanna, he apologized.  "I do hope this doesn't offend 
you, miss.  These slave wenches, even the ones with only a few 
drops of black blood, are naturally hot and frisky.  How black is 
she?"

Susanna handed over Ruby's slave papers.  "A hexadecaroon," she 
explained.  "She passed herself off as white for the longest time, 
but the little bitch was cruel to her slaves, as well as anyone 
else she got in her grip.  I reckon she could well do with a taste 
of her own medicine."

"You reckon right," Alexander said, laughing.  "A bit of strap oil 
across her pampered backside is just what she needs.  Would you 
mind my rubbing off a bit of her friskiness before we get started?  
She'll feel it more if she can concentrate."

Susanna smiled down at her sister, pleased to see that her face 
was now almost as red as her hair.  Rubbing salt in the wound, 
she gushed, "Well, she's certainly in position for it.  That 
could almost be a breeding bench." 

"Yes, we've used it for that purpose for time to time, when one of 
the wenches doesn't want to be bred.  But usually we let 'em free 
to wiggle, and just let the stud climb on top of them.  I like 
to watch 'em roll around in the straw."

Ruby tried to object, but her protest was cut short as the foul 
leather bit was fitted between her teeth, "so we don't have to 
hear the little piglet grunt when I finger her, and she doesn't 
bite her fool tongue off when I lay on the strap," Alexander 
explained casually.

Julia's eyes grew wide with panic as the gag reduced her protest of 
this shameful outrage to a muffled gurgle.  Her gagging resolved 
any lingering misperceptions that her punishment might be light 
and left her helpless to Susanna's tender mercies.

Ruby moaned into her gag as she felt the slaver's expert fingers 
glide down her sex and begin to tease her button.

"This won't take long, Miss Susanna," he apologized.  "But she's 
all hot and bothered, and it's best to get her friskiness out of 
the way, so she can concentrate on the strap."

Susanna nodded and smiled pleasantly, watching closely as he 
expertly stroked her sister to orgasm.  She knew from her own 
practice in such matters what he was doing, although she had 
never watched the process from this angle. 

Susanna was surprised to see that Julia's reaction so closely 
mirrored the sounds she made when she masturbated herself.  
Indeed, except for the color of her hair, it might be Susanna 
on the slave bench, gasping and mewing into her gag as Mr. 
Alexander drove her ever closer to the edge.  She shuddered 
at the thought....

Susanna was impressed both with Alexander's technique and with his 
gentleness as he opened up the flower before him to confirm Ruby's 
virginity.  After that degradation, and the public pronouncement of 
her "purity," it only took a few seconds more of stroking to bring 
the slave slut on the bench to the peak of ecstasy... 

As Ruby squirmed in pleasure, the front door opened, and two common 
tradesmen entered to inquire about some furniture Alexander had 
ordered for his home.  He waved the men over and began to discuss 
the furniture, even as he continued to stroke and tease the 
blushing, quaking slave girl.

As they discussed the delivery arrangements for the furniture, he 
drove Ruby onward, heedless of the added embarrassment that being 
masturbated in front of two additional strangers was causing the 
unfortunate fancy girl wiggling on the bench.

He drove Ruby onto a second orgasm, then a third.  By the time he'd 
finished with Ruby -- and the furniture -- Susanna, who had been 
taking mental notes for her own self-pleasuring, felt nearly as 
drained as her sister.

Alexander was not fatigued at all, and, after wiping off his soggy 
hands in Ruby's long red hair, moved swiftly to the second act.  
Mindful of the ticking clock, and his upcoming meeting with his 
new business partner, he lifted the seat of one of the padded 
benches and quickly retrieved a leather strap. 

The strap, 3 feet in length, was black, freshly oiled and polished, 
embroidered around the edges, with a beautifully hand carved spiral 
wooden handle that allowed him to maintain a tight but easy grip.

"Ten licks should do it," he said, striding across the room.  "As 
you said, we don't want to mark her none."

Julia had been lying limp across the bench, completely exhausted.  
But, at the sight of the approaching strap, she became quite 
frantic.  Attempting to free herself and explain the terrible 
injustice that was about to occur, she strained futilely against 
her leather restraints and shouted unintelligibly into the gag. 

Susanna smiled.  It was most amusing to see her pitiless sister so 
terrified to receive that which she had so enjoyed dishing out to 
others.  Susanna relished her sister's panic, as did the male 
spectators, who watched transfixed at the fair-skinned fancy girl 
wiggling her bare bottom and hot, oozing sex for their viewing 
pleasure.

Alexander, who had been using this particular bench for years, had 
no need to measure out the stroke.  Ruby's bottom was precisely 
where he wanted it....

SNAP!

"Oh, Ruby!" Susanna gushed, feigning sorrow,  "How it grieves me 
to see you this way.  Please know this hurts me more than it hurts 
you."

SNAP!

"If only you had been kinder to others and shown mercy, this sorry 
moment would not be necessary."

CRACK!

"I do pray, if you cannot have empathy by nature, that you can 
gain it by experience."

SNAP!

"Experience is a dear teacher, but a fool will learn from no other."

SNAP!

"Might you lay two across her thighs, Mr. Alexander?" Susanna said 
sweetly.  "It is best for Ruby to feel the sting of her sin, lest 
she attempt to avoid her lesson by shifting her weight to her legs 
when she sits."

CRACK!

CRACK!

So transfixed was Susanna by the sight before her that she didn't 
notice the man entering through the door behind her.

But the man saw her -- and gasped in disbelief. 

Grabbing her hand, he quickly turned it over to reveal her 
tell-tale scar. 

"What are you doing dressed like a white girl, bitch?" Moreau, the 
slave trader who had supervised Susanna's whipping, asked.

Mouth agape, Susanna stared at him, unable to speak. 

Spotting the red-headed fancy girl spread out before him, Moreau 
strode across the room and lifted Julia's head by her hair.

Julia stared up at him, her eyes wide with horror.  Drat the luck!  

"What are you doing, Moreau?" Alexander asked.

"This red head was in my shop, having this blonde girl whipped, not 
five days ago.  Said she was her fancy.  And now...."

Moreau walked across the room to confront Susanna.  "Where are your 
slave papers, girl?" he demanded.

Susanna said nothing, but clutched her purse tightly to her breast. 
Moreau ripped it out of her hand, opened it, and took out the two 
sets of papers.

From the bench, Julia looked over her shoulder in horror.  Her 
idiot sister had brought BOTH sets of papers with her.

Julia desperately wanted to try to talk their way out of this.  
But, gagged as she was, all she could do was watch in horror 
as the train wreck unfolded before her eyes.

"The first set of papers says this one owns that one... and the 
other set says that one owns this one," Moreau said, reviewing 
the documents.  "Well, two slave girls can't own each other.  
That makes them both runaways."

He turned on Susanna.  "Who owns you girls?" he said.  "Who's your 
master?"

Susanna, crying, stared at him dumbly.  What could she say?  She 
had no master!  And she didn't dare speak her last name, lest she 
disgrace her family forever.

"Fine.  What you obviously didn't know is that Moreau and I are 
now business partners.  You two are runaways, so I'm calling the 
Sheriff.  Under state law, if nobody claims you in 5 days, he'll 
sign the papers to sell you at the Sheriff's auction."

"But we're white!" Susanna protested.  "We were just pretending to 
be black.  It was all a game," Susanna wailed.

"That's not what your papers say," Moreau countered.  "And they 
have an official court seal.  Mr. Alexander and I will get 10% 
of your finder's fee, plus a kenneling fee, plus 25% of whatever 
we manage to sell you for, if the Sheriff lets us sell you off."

"He will," Alexander said flatly.  "He gets to keep 50%, and he 
knows we'll get the best price for these two."

"Indeed we will," Moreau said, eyeing the two women lasciviously.  
"You two will look real sweet, standing butt naked on the block 
in the rotunda of the St. Louis Exchange." 

Moreau turned to Alexander and pointed at the naked redhead's 
dripping crotch.  "She sure is juicy," he observed.  "But is 
she pure?" he asked.

"As pure as a Christmas snow," Alexander smiled.

"How many more licks she got coming?"

"Three." 

"Let's make it eight," Moreau said.  "That will give us time to 
have Honey here shuck down so I can see if she's as pure as her 
papers claim."

As Moreau stared at her, "Honey," her fingers trembling, unbuttoned 
her dress.  Behind her, Alexander picked up the strap.

"So...are you white pretending to be black?"

SNAP!

"Or black pretending to be white?"

SNAP!

"It don't matter now.  Those papers been signed by a judge, and 
they got a court seal."

SNAP!

"You're a slave now."

SNAP!

"And you're going to squat on the block, same as all the other 
wenches."

SNAP!

"You're a hot little bitch, aren't you?"

SNAP!

"I'll make sure the auctioneers show the buyers how tight and 
juicy you are."

SNAP!

"That burning bush of yours is going to fetch me a pretty penny, 
fancy girl."

SNAP!

Behind her, Moreau confirmed that the blonde slave, "Honey," was 
indeed pure...and the Sheriff was already on his way.

		******************************

EPILOGUE

And how, gentle reader, did the story of Julia and Susanna (now 
known as "Honey" and "Ruby") end?

This much is known.  After verifying Honey's purity, Alexander and 
Moreau placed each of the two "wenches" in a cage and locked them 
in an old closet to await their fate. 

The cages, originally designed for large dogs, were so small that 
the girls were forced to remain on all fours.  A generous supply of 
newspaper and sand on the floor underneath the grate they rested on 
at least kept the smells in the stuffy closet to a minimum.

Julia, ever resourceful, was able to bribe one of the black slaves 
to get word to their fiancés, whose plantation was just up river 
from New Orleans.  How the two "fancy girls" bribed the slave, 
given that they had no money and nothing of monetary value to 
offer, is a matter I leave to your imagination.

It is known that the message was sent, and the two fiancés arrived 
at the establishment, demanding to see the girls.

The two men, being well known in New Orleans, were immediately 
ushered into the storeroom, where, to their shock, they found 
their prospective brides naked, crated like livestock, with their 
auction lot numbers already stamped in red ink on their lovely 
white bottoms!

The girls, in tears, confessed all, telling the men the entire tale 
of what had brought them to this sorry state. 

Moreau knew the two young plantation owners to be powerful and 
influential men.  Anxious not to lose his entire commission on 
the slaves, he offered, "We'll close the matter now, with only 
a reasonable release fee for myself, to pay the Sheriff and my 
associate Mr. Alexander for the confusion your lovely young 
ladies caused...and to ensure discretion, so this matter is 
never, ever discussed again."

		******************************

There are two possible endings to this story.  The more romantic 
version is as follows:

Moreau's offer was quite reasonable, and the two young men were 
gentlemen, after all.  After promising that all "dawdling" would 
stop, the girls were freed and married their men in New Orleans 
that very weekend. 

"Don't think you're off the hook entirely, Julia," her handsome 
husband warned.  "Now that I know what you like, there'll be a 
strap at home with your name on it."  Susanna's groom echoed the 
sentiment.

The two brides acted shocked.  But secretly they tingled with 
delight. 

		******************************

But there is another, darker, ending, usually told when the ladies 
have withdrawn, and the men are left alone to enjoy their brandy 
and cigars.

Julia's fiancé, promising to "make all of your dreams come true," 
turned down Moreau's generous offer.  "I want to see the two 
wenches up on the block in the rotunda, bent and spread.  I'll 
check their purity then, with the other buyers, and if they dance 
lively enough you'll have a fit price for them, Moreau." 

And so it was that the two beautiful slave girls, red-bottomed and 
red-faced, were made to stand naked on the block in the enormous 
rotunda of the hotel where so recently they had been honored 
guests.  Under the crack of the whip, each girl displayed herself 
fully, exhibiting her randy, succulent, juiciness to the lustful 
eyes and eager fingers of the standing-room-only crowd.

Their fiancés bought the two girls, and through some slick legal 
manoeuvring added their former plantation to their own holdings.  
Thereafter, the girls lived on the estates of their new masters, 
but visited their old home frequently to help in the fields, where 
their former slave, Jewel, now freed to help manage the large 
plantation, kept "Ruby" and "Honey" under very strict discipline.

		******************************

Which ending is true? 

Or, perhaps the proper question for many readers is, "which ending 
do you prefer?"

The fantasy for men is obvious. Which man has not at one time 
dreamed of owning a harem of slave girls at his beck and call, 
ready to cater to his every desire?

But how many young women of today, justly proud of their 
intelligence and independence, nonetheless fantasize of 
being transported to a time of hoop skirts and stately 
mansions, magnolia trees and Southern charm?  Some, no 
doubt, dream of what it would be like to be mistress of 
such a magnificent estate, pampered and perfumed, dancing 
at the grandest of balls.  The enormous number of romance 
novels for sale suggests the answer.

Perhaps some such women, used to the power of a distinguished 
profession or the boardroom and executive suite, are also 
intrigued by the ultimate power of owning someone else.  They 
alone would decide what clothing (if any) their slaves wore, 
what they ate, and how they were disciplined....

Or perhaps they wonder what it would be like not to be pampered, 
but to be paraded, naked on the block, with countless lustful 
eyes, male and female, transfixed by their beauty.  Do they dream 
of serving a master who, alas, would have the onerous duty of 
disciplining them if they did not please? 

Such fantasies are open to all, for as our story shows, slavery, 
whether in ancient Rome or the Old South, could sometimes prove 
to be less a matter of race, class, or ancestry than luck.  A 
modern woman's fantasy may be multifaceted, for, if a slip of 
paper proves the belle of the ball to be a bastard, her hoop 
skirts will be summarily removed, and she will face the shame 
and humiliation of the auction block.  But does such a risk make 
the time travel fantasy more terrifying...or more exciting?

I leave the question, and comments, to you.



Edited by C. Lakewood