My slaves are my property.
I treat them well; I give them food and clothing. I take care of them, the way I do with the rest of my property.
Of course, they still have to do their work. It's not like they're people, after all.
I keep hearing rumors about other people's slaves revolting. Mine would never do that. They're happy with their life on my husband's plantation.
And one of my slaves would never sneak into my bedroom during the uprising to get revenge.
WARNING: This 5500+ word short story contains mature content, including a white slave-owner's wife being taken roughly by a handsome, muscular slave with a BIG difference from white men. For adults only!
"Please," I begged. "Have mercy."
"The way you had mercy on me this afternoon?" he said. "I can show you the exact kind of mercy you showed me."
He unsheathed himself and I gasped. Under those white short pants was a tool so massive it struck fear into my heart. Virgil claimed to be a man, but I knew that he couldn't be if he was in possession of such a thing. I had only seen William's before, but there was no comparison to be made. William had a penis; Virgil had an anaconda.
"How can you want me?" I asked, choking on tears. "How can you want to take your master's wife?"
"I don't want you," he said with disdain. "I want to punish you the way you had me punished.