Forbidden Fruit

The year was 1848.

Anna Lee was tending to her garden when a field hand approached her. The southern sun beat down on his dark skin, reflecting off his glistening shoulders, strong and muscular. Field hands were bred for their size, strength, and health, while the house niggers were selected for docility and loyalty.

“You may approach, Jamal,” Anna Lee drawled.

“Yes, mistress,” he said.

Anna Lee lusted after her slaves. But she had never tasted the forbidden fruit. God hadn’t meant niggers and whites to breed. She may have a soft spot for her husband’s slaves, but sex was unnatural and surely impossible, in any case. No petite white woman could take one of those beasts inside her.

She didn’t feel guilty for lusting after Jamal, or any of the others. Many nights had she massaged her clit, thinking of what it would be like to be taken by her slaves, held down and violated. God, she wanted them. Besides, she saw the half-breeds running around her property, knowing full well how they’d been hatched. The slaves would come from the dark continent, black as the night; and then suddenly, a few light-skinned ones were running around the yard. She knew. They all knew. If her husband could fuck one of them without shame, so could she. It was only fair.

Of course, there were practical matters that prevented such an affair. Her husband could shove his dick inside a negress, but it was quite another thing to have a cotton-picker put his giant ape cock inside her delicate white pussy.

Once, when Jamal was being whipped, she meandered outside to see his punishment. He was naked, tied against the barn, taking beatings from a leather whip that cracked down on his broad shoulders again and again. She suppressed a gasp when she saw his big, hanging dick. He was as hung as a horse.

She retired to her quarters and came again and again to the sounds of Jamal’s beating.

She cleared her throat, shaking off the memory. “What do you want, Jamal?”

“Yes, miss, I just…well…"

“Yes?”

“Massa told me to help you with your garden.”

She straightened up.

“I don’t need help with my garden, boy. It’s for pleasure, not for profit.”

“Yes, miss.”

She paused. “You say my husband told you this? To help me?”

“That’s right, miss.”

Anna Lee glanced down at his pants, wondering if he was attracted to her. What an absurd question — of course he wanted her. How could he not? But she always wondered if her husband knew. She could hardly conceal her lust for the help, try as she might. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so far-fetched that he knew of her attraction, but why would he encourage such a thing?

“Well, Jamal…I do have something you could help me with.”

“Yes, miss.”

“It’s inside.”

“Am I allowed inside, miss?” He asked.

“Today, you are.”