by Phair
DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS:
See Part 1 for details.
Feedback:p.phair@comcast.net
and you can visit my web site at http:www.phair1.com
Jordan's long, chilly wait on the front stairs was rewarded when she saw
Cory walking toward her. Jumping to her feet, she raced to close the distance
between them. They met in a spinning hug that left them both giggling and
breathless.
"Seems like you're feeling better," Cory's voice cracked slightly.
"Only because I had a good physician," Jordan kissed him once on each cheek.
"You're growing by the week! Look how tall you are?"
"Doc Iversen says the same thing everyday," the boy, who was quickly becoming
a young man, shifted awkwardly, "only he ain't so happy about it. I keep
getting too big for my clothes."
"I bet we could find something big enough to last a while for you to take
back," Jordan had seen too many Masters cruel enough to withhold food to
a slave getting too big and too strong too fast.
"That'd be great," Cory smiled broadly. "So, what're you doing out here
in the cold?"
"Master Tess said I could help you today. I already went ahead and checked
the upper Manor. Nobody's sick or injured. There are the new slaves from
the auction that need to be seen. Their all in quarantine. Then there's
clinic for the field hands. I don't know how many are there," Jordan listed
in a rush. "We should get going. I'll explain as we walk."
"What's the hurry?" Cory felt slightly confused by Jordan's unusually harried
manner.
"I'm excited to see you and help out and be outside and, come on, let's
get moving," Jordan pulled the boy into a brisk pace toward the quarantine
sheds.
The quarantine sheds were kept some distance from the fresh water and permanent
housing of the Manor. Its positioning allowed for burning the entire structure
to the ground if an outbreak grew too threatening. Likewise, the living
spaces were meager and easily replaced; bare, cramped room, narrow cot,
thin mattress, thinner blanket, one cup, one bowl. Hardly a place for the
fit to pass a few days, the quarantine sheds were a sure death sentence
for the unfortunate slave who was truly ill.
Cory had the hulking slave in charge of the sheds unlock the doors one
at a time. The physician's apprentice would then examine the inhabitant's
hair for lice, eyes, nose, and mouth for infection or sores, listen to
the heart and lungs for skipped beats or brewing pneumonia, check hands
and feet for limitations. Once Cory was satisfied the quarantined slave
was healthy, he gave Jordan the nod to provide food and water while he
moved onto the next door.
It was not lost on the young man that Jordan seemed anxious with every
lock opened then pretty blonde appeared somewhat disappointed. Her behavior
changed when the third to last door opened to reveal a scowling, auburn
haired girl. Jordan's cheeks lost their color and a thin line of sweat
was obvious on her upper lip.
"Are you ill?" Cory interrupted his examination to ask his friend.
"No, I'm fine," Jordan reassured
Cory accepted Jordan's denial in order to focus on his difficult charge.
His duties with the girl were drawn out by her resistance. He coaxed and
promised and finally pleaded for her to let him do his job. It took a physical
threat from the supervising slave to get the girl to cooperate in the most
grudging ways believable.
"She only gets half," the slave in charge reminded Jordan in a gruff voice
before moving with Cory to the next door.
"Well, if it isn't the Master's whore?" The girl spit in Jordan's face
when she approached with food. "I'd stave before I'd eat by your hand.
You're let yourself become nothing more than a filthy bitch in heat for
that fucking cunt that owns us."
"Keep your voice down," Jordan cautioned with a frown. "How did you get
here? What happened? Why aren't you with your father? He got enough credits
from selling me to take care of you until is was time for you to marry.
Laney, why are you so far from home."
"Enough credits! Right, except he drank most of it away during the first
six months. As for marriage, my only suitor could not come up with enough
of a dowry. Father knew he'd get more with the slavers. I guess he didn't
want to risk another illegal sale. Sold me the night before my eighteenth
birthday," the girl snatched the half filled bowl out of Jordan's hands
and began to gobble down the food.
"Easy. Don't eat so fast. You'll get a belly ache," Jordan tried to stroke
the filthy hair back from the girl's grimy face.
"Like you care," she pull away from the concerned touch.
"I do care," Jordan felt tears fill her eyes.
"You left me behind, alone, with him!"
"Quiet," Jordan stepped closer with the cup of water. "I had no choice.
You should understand more than anybody else. Look, we can't talk about
this now. I'll figure out a way to come back."
"Sure you will," the girl deliberately dropped her empty bowl and drained
cup at Jordan's feet before sulking back to her cot.
Jordan shut the door and fixed the lock. Her heart nearly broke when it
clicked into place. So lost in her own thoughts, Jordan missed the heated
sneer of the slave in charge as he mumbled a curse to Cory.
"Jordan," Cory called gently, "you're running behind. Let me help with
the food so Earl can get back to his duties.
Jordan nodded her reply. If she had tried to open her mouth, only sobs
would have come out.
Tess believed she was facing a choice of the lesser of two evils. The only
two applicants for the position as overseer were in no manner qualified.
Applicant number one bragged about killing several slaves during his last
assignment. He and the owner of the estate came to blows over the matter
of discipline, so he quit. Or, to be more accurate, he said he quit. Tess
was quite sure the estate owner would have a different version of the events.
The second interviewee had dropped out of the University to get some real
life experience. He admitted he had never worked a day in his life. When
ask how he would motivate others to work, he merely smiled with a deadly
cold air. Tess shook her head at the pathetic options before her.
"Looks like you're a bit lost, my girl," a all too familiar voice boomed
from the doorway.
"Silas?" Tess' hands began to shake, "Silas Quimby?"
"One in the same!" The big man thundered into the room. "I hears you're
need'n some help."
Tess took a deep breath as she made fleeting eye contact. She had learned
early in life not to look directly at her father or this man. Before her
stood Togo's right hand man and one of her worst childhood nightmares.
He was still an imposing figure at six feet and two hundred pounds even
though his hair and beard had gone white. And, in spite of the big grin
plastered on his ruddy face, Tess knew him to be a viscous and cruel task
master. Memories of beatings long since forgotten raced through her mind.
"I, ah, I thought you went up north," Tess motioned for him to sit as she
struggled to maintain her composure.
"That I did. Enjoyed it too but the governor sent for me. Something 'bout
that sniveling slave you trusted get'n kilt. Gots me this letter for you
to read."
Taking the pages, the shaking in Tess' hand could not be disguised as anything
other than fear. Silas snorted a big laugh.
"Don't ya worry. I won't bite you now."
Tess read the letter once. Then she re-read it hoping she was misinterpreting
the intent. No amount of twisting or spin could change the governor's demand.
He wanted Silas reinstated as the overseer for the Manor. It was not a
request. It was an expectation.
"I don't understand," she muttered to the paper.
"Let me be make'n it plain for ya," only a man like Quimby could make a
wink obscene. "Governor wants me back here to watch over things. Make sure
no unfortunate happen'ns like that fire be repeat'n themselves. Can't be
letting the Manor come to ruin now, can we girl."
Tess felt a knot form in her belly. She had felt the sensation so many
times over the years in the presence of Silas that she should not have
been surprised. Her hand instinctively covered the vulnerable area as she
struggled to regain control of the situation.
"But, this is my home. I'm suppose to be Master of the Manor," the claim
sounded weak even to her own ears. "I make all decision about the management
of the Manor. That was in my father's will and agreed to in the parole
agreement."
"No question 'bout that. I'm only gonna make sure your liberal ways don't
hurt the governor's profits none." He leaned forward letting out a foul
sigh, "Tess, ya bes'n 'member, ya could as easily be Master of a cell if
the man who's really in charge don't get his due. I'd be hopin' we sees
this eye to eye on this matter. It'll go easier for ya in the long run."
"I won't tolerate you hurting slaves needlessly," Tess found a bit of courage
to glare at her tormentor.
"Needlessly?" The flabs of excess flesh around his face flushed instantly
with anger, "If'n they're wrong then they're punished. Plain and simple,
girl. End of story. And you'd do yourself a kindness watch'n that mouth
of your'n. Governor says I'm his agent now. So's ya knows what that be
meanin' to your tender hide if you be gettin' out of line on me. You'd
do well to think twice and speak the once!"
"Sorry, sir," Tess blurted out quickly as she cringed like a child before
his monumental temper.
"I have business need'n my attention in the city. I be back in two days.
You introduce me as the new overseer then." He took a moment to enjoy the
terror evident on Tess' face, "Now, don't cha be frownin' so. I'll carry
the weight of it for a while. You gets to relax with that whore of yours.
Start enjoins your position as a Master of leisure. Let me do your worry'n,"
he stood and stretched before turning to leave.
"Yeah, sure. That'll be a huge weight off my shoulders," Tess muttered
after the door slam.
Vic nearly dragged Jordan back to the Manor. He mumbled something about
Master Tess needing to leave immediately but offered no other explanation
when he found her in the clinic with Cory. Jordan noticed the normally
cocky drunk was remarkably sober. He frequently mopped his sweaty brow
as he silently urged her to hurry. Jordan was certain something had really
frightened him.
The old truck sat idling at the Manor's steps. Tess was waiting in the
driver's seat. Nervous fingers drummed the steering wheel. She leaned across
the seat to pop the passenger door open as soon as Jordan approached. Barely
waiting for the slave to climb in, Tess shifted gears and sped off.
The trip was made in silence. Tess brooded. Jordan was too fearful to interrupt.
When the fishing house came into view, Tess' mood seemed to grow even darker.
Jordan worried that Tess might already know about her relationship to the
girl in quarantine. The punishment for lying would surely be excruciating.
Tess grabbed Jordan by the arm and yanked her out of the truck without
a word. Pulling the slave behind her, she headed straight to the bedroom.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Tess began a frenzied but passionate
stripping off of their clothes. Jordan realized only then that the silence
was due to lust and not anger.
"I need you," Tess moaned as she dropped to her knees before Jordan.
Jordan stroked the dark head buried between her legs.
"You own me," she reassured. "Take what's yours."
Jordan woke when the warmth of their bed began to chill. Scrubbing open
her eyes, she searched for her lover; her Master. Tess' beautiful body
glistened in the fire light. The naked woman knelt to stoke the growing
flames in the fire place.
"I can make you hotter than any fire."
"That may be true but I don't want to freeze to death when we pass out
in total exhaustion," Tess flashed a sad smile over her shoulder.
"Let the fire take care of itself." Jordan persisted as she lifted the
blankets in an open invitation, "Come back to bed, come back to me. I need
you."
Tess sighed as she gave one last push to the log on top with the poker.
She returned to the bed with heavy feet. Jordan pulled her into a hug and
snuggled the blankets around them. Tess stole a few extra minutes to enjoy
the comfort of loving arms before facing the facts.
"We need to talk," Tess felt the blonde head nod against her breast. "The
governor has ordered me to hire Togo's favorite Task Master to oversee
the Manor. His name is Quimby; Silas Quimby. A vicious son of a bitch.
He's a ruthless womanizer, liar, and cheat. And he starts in two days."
"Do they know we stole the harvest?" Jordan questioned from her perch on
Tess' chest.
"Not yet but Quimby will figure it out soon enough. He's a clever bastard,"
Tess kissed the top of Jordan's head. "Once he has proof, I'll be sent
back to prison and the ManorŠ,"
"What are you going to do?" Jordan sat up slightly to look in Tess' tear
filled eyes.
"I was thinking that I," Tess could not look at the woman she loved, "you
know, to save you, I would, should sell youŠ,"
"WHAT?!"
"You know, back to Iggie," Tess hurried to explain. "You'll be safe with
him."
"Sell me away?" Jordan gasped in absolute horror.
"Iggie will take care of you," Tess tried to soothe the slave by stroking
her flanks.
"Oh yes, he'll take great care of a throw away whore! I'll be blowing cock
until my teeth fall out," Jordan sat up to face Tess head on. "Unless I
slit my wrists first."
"Don't talk like that!" Tess grabbed Jordan by the shoulders and shook
her gently. "Iggie runs a clean house. It's the only thing I can do to
protect you. Jordan, can't you understand that I'm probably going to prison
for the rest of my life in the next few weeks. Have some pity on me. Don't
leave your blood on my hands."
"Tess," Jordan reached out to cup her Master's cheek, "protecting me is
not the priority. Protecting the Manor isn't either. Once you believed
in freeing the slaves. Maybe the time is now to try again. I mean, Isn't
it better to die for what you believe in than to live your life in a prison
of fear. There are other options besides surrendering."
"Like what?" Tess was stumped.
"A slave revolt."
"Just saying that is treason. The standard punishment is death by impaling,"
Tess thought she might get physically ill at the idea. "Never mind that
the last time I tried to start a revolution, I only managed to get caught
and my friends were sent off to hard labor."
"Yeah but last time," Jordan pushed Tess back down on the bed and slid
her thigh between her Master's legs, "you didn't have me by your side."
"And that's gonna make a difference?" Tess grunted as her sex responded
to Jordan's gentle thrusts.
"Yeah, this time you're not alone," Jordan whispered as she stole a kiss
from Tess. "It'll make all the difference having something to lose andŠ,"
"Šsomething to win?" Tess moaned as Jordan answered her question.
"Will you send in your guards to take the Manor if she doesn't," Tosca
grunted as the short whip struck his bare ass, "agree to appoint Quimby
as overseer?"
"Not just the guards," the governor grinned as the leather tore another
line across his slave's bottom. "I plan to send in government troops. After
all, she is a paroled felon. Tess could be a threat to the federated states
if not kept under careful control."
Another crack of the whip landed on the naked slave's rear. Sprawled, spread
eagle on his Master's bed, Tosca was losing his battle not to dry hump
the mattress. Each strike made him buck his hips which rubbed his angry
erection against the soft, satin sheets. His urge to surrender to his deepest
desire was almost unbearable.
"Please Master," another snap of the whip brought him to the threshold
of spilling his load, "just an hour with the bitch. I'll promise anything
for revenge against my dear sister."
"Oh, you'll have more than an hour with her and the little slave she likes
to fuck so much." The governor dropped the whip to massage Tosca hot bottom
cheeks. "Tell me, slave, do you want me? Do you want your Master's attention?"
"Please," Tosca begged when he felt the weepy tip of the governor's penis
tease his black hole, "please fuck me, Master."
"Who's my bitch?"
"I am. Me. I am."
"Don't worry," the governor groaned as he drove himself into Tosca's darkness,
"soon your sister will be too!"