Alison has ideas of her own

“You know, Mr. P,” Alison's voice is low and husky, “this isn't the first time I've pretended to be a ****.”

“Well, you were pretty amazing.” We are lying side by side a few minutes later and I stroke her arm gently “By the time you're fully trained, ****, you are going to be very popular.”

“Please, Sir.” Alison is arching her back and pressing her breasts into my chest as she breaths out her little protest. “Don't say things like that. I could never be the kind of pleasure **** that men would desire. It's wrong.” I can see that she is getting off on this little fantasy of mine, maybe even more than I am.

“In my secret fantasies I was the beautiful daughter of a plantation owner in antebellum Georgia.” Alison giggles softly, “You know, the **** owner who somehow suddenly finds herself owned.”

I like the way her soft body feels pressed against mine, but I am more than a little curious about her take on the whole slavery thing.

“I'd lie in my bed imagining that somehow I ended up as a ****.” Apparently, Alison is perfectly willing to continue this night as my ****. “I'd pretend to I squirm and wiggle trying to please my new owner.”

“You are a hot little slut. As pretty as you are, I bet there are a lot of men who would have been happy to own you.” The way her body lifts against mine reminds me that I've already experienced just that. I roll to the side on the great bed. My cock swings up into the air and I note that it still has some girth, even after being drained - it this the pill working or just how fucking hot it is to have Alison play '****-girl' for me.

“How could the daughter of a wealthy plantation owner end up as a ****?” I'm genuinely curious to see where Alison takes this, I've learned already that she has a vivid imagination when it comes to these types of fantasies.

“In my mind, that was never really clear, Mr. P.” Alison bites her lip and shrugs.

“In your imagination, were you a hot pleasure ****?”

“How could I have been?” Alison asks shyly, “Southern Belles were hardly taught how to please men - sexually.”

“Well then, you'd better learn fast if you don't want to end up mucking shit in the stables.” I tell her firmly, “Just being beautiful is not enough if you're a ****.” Her lowered eyes and blushing cheeks makes me want to fuck her all over again.

“You seem to be adjusting well.” I trace the line of her bare arm marveling yet again at how soft and smooth her skin was while waiting for her to continue.

“Thank-you, Master.” She smiles back at me shyly before slipping more fully into this fantasy of hers. “Before I was enslaved, my family owned scores of slaves, Master; most worked the fields, but we had six or seven of the lighter-skinned girls work the house.” Her accent becomes more pronounced as she describes this fictional reality. Alison's response is a little unexpected, but it makes sense that she might stick to her Southern roots.

“I see.” This time my fingers trace the curve of her firm breast and I see the tipple tightening in response. “What were these girl's duties?”

“Cleaning, cooking and attending to my family.” She leans closer to whisper conspiratorially, “I wasn't supposed to know this, but my father and brothers would regularly have them attend to their sexual needs.” For all her charm and innocence, it is clear that this Southern belle knew some of the realities of her state's dark history. “If Mama had still been alive, she would have put a stop to it, but I regularly heard the sound of moaning from their rooms, and more than once watched a **** creeping away in torn rags.”

“And did these pretty slaves attend to your personal needs too?”

“Not like that, Master.” Alison seems shocked by the suggestion, “They would bathe and dress me, but I never had them do anything that wicked ...” Something about the way her words trailed into silence made me probe a little more.

“But you were tempted?”

“No!” Her hands flutter nervously, and then so quietly that I can barely hear her, she amends her response, “Maybe a little, Master. Some of my friends had special bed-slaves, like my brothers and I had puppies when we were young.” Picturing this beautiful young woman as a ****-owning Southern belle made my cock start to twitch, and I point to the semi-hard member. Her hand rests on my chest and she takes her lower lip between her teeth before her hand creeps downward.

“I'll try my best, Sir.” Alison follows her hand down my torso kissing the exposed flesh as she slowly adjusts her position. At first the kisses land on my shoulders, chest and abdomen, but soon her lips are brushing against my engorged dick. “Do you like this, Master,” she whispers, “I've only started learning about using my mouth to pleasure a man.”

Before I can start to answer, the horny little '****' takes almost half of my length into her mouth and a wave of pleasure shoots upward from my groin and I can feel it swelling in her mouth.

“Oh Wow, that's good.” I groan softly, knowing that she is cleaning her own juices off my cock only adds to the growing excitement I'm feeling. “Did your house-slaves blow your father and brothers like this back in your old life.” Her eyes widen in surprise, but she pulls off of my cock long enough to answer shyly.

“Yes, Master. I saw my father in the barn once with a new **** no older than me swallowing nearly all of his thing.” Her mouth returns to work on my throbbing member, and I rest my hand on her head as she experiments with this new skill. “I don't know how anyone that tiny could swallow something that big, Sir.” She tries again to take more of me in her mouth, and once again pulls away coughing; if she wants to continue practicing, who am I to slow her progress.

I am now, however, fully erect once again and after the first unrestrained wild fucking, I want to pace myself so I can enjoy this as many times as possible.