Master Rastus
Part 2

It was going to be a hot day.  Even in the early morning, as the sunlight
 poured across the farm from the east, the humidity could be seen in a low
 hanging mist against the fringes of forest.  The birds were singing lustily.
 To Rastus, it was one of the most beautiful mornings ever, as he sat on the
 massive front porch of the plantation, dressed in fresh, white cotton
 trousers, sipping coffee he had perked for himself.  In his mind, he was
 planning the day's work on the farm, and how he would s avor his new status
 as plantation master.  "Massuh Rastus," he repeated to himself.

Amanda Richards was the first up of the remaining tenants.  She strolled out
onto the front porch in a lovely, pale blue dress with a ruffle off the
shoulders.  Amanda loved those sundresses, and looked good in them, which is
why her shoulders were a sultry chestnut brown.  The blonde haired teen never
looked Rastus in the eye when she spoke to him.  Rastus always hated that.
She'd turn her head aside as she gave him orders, as though his very presence
were despicable.

"Rastus, I can't find Mommy anywhere.  Do you know where she is?"  Amanda
asked.  "And where's Minnie?  That nigger is supposed to have my breakfast
ready."

"Yes'm, Miss Amanda," Rastus answered.  "I knows where yo mammy is.  She's out
wit yo pappy in the fields. She want me to come fetch you."

"Really?  Well, Let me get my parasol," Amanda turned.  "Honestly, what would
mommy be doing in the field?  She's no stable girl!"

"You won't be needin' yo parasol, Miss Amanda.  It won't take long."

"Oh, very well."  Amanda followed Rastus across the yard and down the trail
toward the tobacco fields.  It was a long walk, as she gathered the front of
her skirts above the dew soaked grass.  Rastus rambled on about the glorious
day.  Amanda didn't talk to Rastus much, though.  It was beneath her to
befriend the help.  Also, she became aware of something strange.  There were
no workers in the field.  By now, her Daddy always had the darkies up and
topping the tobacco, or whatever needed to be d one.  She usually heard their
distant songs.  But all was silent this morning, save the birds and cicadas.

Rastus led her to the little enclave of slave huts.  Amanda stopped.  "Mr.
Rastus, I do declare!  It isn't proper for a lady as myself to be down in
these quarters!"

"Just a minute, Miss Amanda.  Yo folks is just over the rise."

Rastus savored the shock on Amanda's face as they turned behind the shacks and
she saw her parents.  Collin and Scarlet Richards were standing in a cane pen,
where disobedient or inefficient niggers were held for punishment in the
night.  The Richard s gripped the cane uprights like prison bars.  Her father
was naked, save his baggy underwear, and her mother wore his nightshirt.

"MOMMY!  DADDY!"  Amanda gasped.  "What is happening?"

The shamed and imprisoned young parents had no answer for their teenage girl.
As they stammered for explanation, Rastus provided his own.

"You see, Miss Amanda, I'ze taken over this plantation.  Things is gonna be
different.  You all is working fo me, now!  I be Massuh Rastus!"

"That's absurd!" Amanda fumed.  "You can't get away with this, you little
 Darkie!  They'll horsewhip you!  You'll hang!"  The pampered girl began to
 scream for help.  But she only awakened a few of the other, oversleeping
 slaves.  And there were only a few of them left.  During the remainder of the
 night, Rastus had freed the families in the camp, and sent them on the way
 for the underground railroad to the north.  He had only left the two other
 men like himself, single and beaten, to choose if they would stay and try to
 run the farm with him.  One by one, they tottered out of their little cabins,
 pulling on overalls and tying up trousers.

"Hey, Rastus.  What's up?  Wha-?  Well I be damned!"  The other slaves slowly
apprised the situation as they gathered close.  As Amanda realized who was
answering her cries for help, she stopped calling.

"Mornin' boys!"  Rastus answered brightly.  "Gonna be some changes around
here!  De others is gone.  An' we is in charge now!"

The two younger blacks laughed and cheered Rastus.  Amanda fumed.

"De first thing," Rastus declared, "is to teach these whiteys their new place
around here!  They's gonna work and work hard fo' us!"

"I'll never!"  Amanda gasped in response.

"And this prissy young girl is gonna start by rakin' out the pig pen!"

"NEVER!  HOW DISGUSTING!  YOU REMEMBER YOUR PLACE, NIGGER!"  Amanda
threatened.  At least she was looking Rastus in the face now.

"Naw, little girl.  I think we gonna teach you your place like yo' daddy
teached us when we first came.  Wanna whup her, boys?"  The cheer of consensus
came from the others, as they circled Amanda, taking her slender arms and
leading her across the y ard to a simple, box type frame.  The girl had never
worked a day in her life, and though she was lean, she could offer no
substantial fight as the black men tied her wrists to the crossbeam  above.
When they backed away, Amanda was shocked to she t hat Rastus had the bullwhip
coiled in his hand.  He must have been concealing it all along!

Rastus had been planning this moment with delight.  He'd always had a
simultaneous love and hate for this spoiled brat.  He hated her attitude,
which symbolized everything against which he struggled.  But he loved her
fresh, tanned face and the way s he flitted around the house in these low-
shoulder dresses.  It had always reminded him that he was a man.  It gave him
joy to take the lead.  The Richards in the pen were beginning to shout at
Rastus, but he paid them no mind.

"Twenty stripes oughta teach you your place, Whitey!"  Rastus judged as he
 walked up to the girl, who was now plainly frightened.  Rastus slipped his
 callused fingers inside the elastic ruffle of lace at the top of Amanda's
 dress.  She was silent and trembling now, as were the amused black men
 looking on.  With a sudden tug, the lace stretched and popped, loosening,
 until it finally tore through.  Rastus stooped, peeling down the now loose
 bodice of pale blue over the girl's hips.  The whole dre ss fell to the
 ground around her feet.  An admiring gasp came from the other blacks.

Amanda was topless before them, her face flushed red with embarrassment.  Her
half-slip still concealed her feminine privates, but her small, teenaged
bosoms beamed white to them beneath the definite tan line on her chest.
Although it was already hu mid, her pink nipples pointed turgidly.  Her father
in the cage yelled apologies and pleas to Rastus, but he did not listen.

"You is lookin more humble already," Rastus laughed at her.  "More like the
slave you is!"

He unrolled the bullwhip, an intimidatingly long and thick, braided leather
 torture instrument.  At the very tip, it split into tassels.  Rastus cracked
 it on the ground twice, making Amanda jump, and her eyes grow large as
 saucers.  The first stripe sizzled behind Amanda's back, popping the stinging
 tassel on her shoulder blades!  Amanda screamed, jumping forward and pulling
 up on her tied wrists, arching her back and shaking her bare breasts for the
 amused slaves.

"OWWW!  GOD!  STOP IT!  STOP IT!"  she hollered.  Once the initial burn had
dulled, Rastus hit her with the second, lower across the hips.  Amanda bounced
and leaped in her nude display.  The whip actually cut through the waist of
her slip.  It fell limp across her hips, exposing more of her smooth, white
skin as it slid lower with each motion.  Three more lashes across her back,
and the white slip fell to her ankles, flashing her golden fleece between her
legs to the excited blacks.  On and on the whip cut with measured accuracy, as
Amanda wriggled and leaped in gyrations for them.

Rastus was skilled with the whip. He knew how to get maximum impact and pain
by thrusting forward and pulling back again in mid swing.  That way, the whip
would not cut the skin, but blazed with double force at the tassel's strike.
It painted her ba ck a bright vermilion.  Rastus had measured ten stripes.
Already, Amanda hung limp and dazed.

"I can see why you liked whuppin' us slaves so much, Richards!"  Rastus
taunted the distraught father in the cage. "It sho' is exciting!"

And with that power play, Rastus revived Amanda into fresh screams and
thrusts.  Circling to the other side of her, he slashed forward, jerking the
whip back for added energy.  The splayed tassel snapped and popped like a
gunshot, directly across Ama nda's exposed and stretched, tender breasts!
"Awright!" Chester, the younger of the blacks, cheered.

"Hot damn!  Rastus, do it again!"  Chester urged.  Rastus did it again.  With
 dread precision, the tassel scorched Amanda's pointed nipples in alternation.
 Each stroke made her twist and shriek, the young, fleshy bosom mounds leaping
 with impact and reaction.  Soon, her youthful chest looked scalded.  Deep red
 splotches decorated her fair bust.  Tears wetted her face and sweat glistened
 her skin.

"Girl," Rastus addressed the weeping youth.  "Yo titties sho look sore!  Is
you ready to shovel out the hog pen yet?  Or are you gonna ask for more?"

Amanda was sobbing too hard to answer.  Until the bullwhip slashed across her
throbbing knobs once more.  "YES!  YES!  I'LL DO WHAT YOU SAY!"

The black men cheered, jumping upon the dangling, nude, red splotched girl to
untie her wrists from the overhead beam.  They were laughing and jeering
continuously as they hoisted her up by her arms, half running and half
dragging her farther down the hill toward the low area of the hog pen.  As
they approached it, Amanda coughed at the smell.  She had only ever smelled
the hogs faintly when the breeze turned from the south.  That was bad enough.
But now, she was right on top of it.  It was eno ugh to make her wretch as
they threw her against the fence.

The hogs inside were wallowing, half submerged in a muck that churned mud,
food garbage and pig defecation.  She could not even imagine the sickness of
shoveling that waste out into a pile, let alone how she would do it.  Rastus
found and tossed the wide, flat shovel inside the pen.  "Go to it, Missy!
This'll put you in yo' place real quick!"

Amanda managed a feeble "No."  They did not even seem to be giving her any
clothes or boots.  She knew that the slaves had tall boots and gloves they
wore for this chore, but where were they?  Amanda was a well bred southern
girl, her body now stripp ed naked and raw from the whipping. How could they?

But they did.  Rastus opened the gate, and Ethan and Chester pulled her by the
arms.  With a great heave, they thrust Amanda into the pig pen.  She took a
few awkward, lumbering gaits and then slipped, landing with a squishy splat in
the muck, submer ging in the foot-deep slime.  She felt nauseous as her naked
front slid in the ooze, straining to keep her face above the shit and rotten
garbage.  She lay there for a bracing moment, spread-eagled and disgusted as
she felt her bare, stinging bosoms squish and slurp, the muck welling up
between her legs.

Then came the pigs.  Tame but curious, all around her.  Their wet, dirty
snouts nuzzled her bare skin, their cloven hooves digging at the muck under
her belly.  In revulsion and fear, Amanda rolled over. The pigs followed.
Over and over she rolled in the slop, until she was thoroughly coated in it.
Slowly, uncontrollably, the scream welled up within her as the niggers
laughed.

...to be continued...

This was part 2 of an 8-part story.  The rest of this story, plus 2,000 others,
is available for members of The Bondage Room.  Once inside, you'll find this one
in Story Book 20 in the Library.