Plantation Fun House
Copyright 2003, by Chum
Chapter 1
I was doing the thing I like liked best during my eighteenth year, riding my
stallion Rusty far from the plantation house where my daddy ruled over our
slaves and family alike with an iron fist.
Our property stretched many miles in all directions from the mansion. Most
of our land was uncultivated, leaving miles of wild and heavily wooded areas.
Daddy and Momma both forbade me riding in the woods that were inland from the
river and south of the mansion, so this was exactly where I was on that warm
summer morning. Both my parents told me I was a willful, headstrong girl with a
woeful lack of ladylike graces, and I allowed as how they were right as I
grinned happily with the excitement of forbidden adventure.
Daddy was gone on one of his frequent 'business' trips, from which he always
returned looking much the worse for wear. This time he had taken my brother,
Reggie, with him, much to the chagrin of mother and I, but for different
reasons.
Mother had left that morning on a three day shopping trip to Atlanta, as
usual accompanied by Sissy, a young maid in the mansion, our carriage driver
Rufus, and Moss, the slave who did carpentry and other skilled work for the
household.
My parents were frequently apart, and home was a cold place when they were
both in residence. I couldn't understand this as mother retained the ravishing
red haired beauty, at 36, which had made her the belle of Atlanta society when
my father courted and married her. She had been 16, and he an 'old' bachelor of
28. Bearing my brother, Reg, and me a year later, had done little to mar her
voluptuous figure, making it hard to understand why their marriage seemed so
cold and their absences from one another so frequent.
Most likely it was because mother retained a graceful independence of spirit
which daddy couldn't tame, and if there was anything Master Devoe refused to
countenance it was an uppity slave or a woman who didn't know her place.
I was the singular exception to this rule. As daddy's pet I could get away
with just about anything, and I did. I mimicked his treatment of slaves, though
of course I wasn't permitted to whip them, and generally adopted his attitude of
superiority toward anyone considered a social inferior.
Mother and I grew distant as I tried, like my brother, to walk in daddy's
shadow, living in fear these last few years of waking up one day to find he has
discovered I am a woman. Maybe the reason he tolerated my boyish ways and
helped me resist every effort of momma to make me into a lady stemmed from his
own wish to keep me on a pedestal, a position no 'woman' could occupy.
My hold on this status was getting shaky. At eighteen my face was best
described as cute, my features soft and round, where momma's were well defined
and angular. My hair was chestnut and worn just to my shoulders. I had momma's
green eyes, but my nose was short and turned up at the tip, rather than long and
patrician like hers. Unlike mother's wide and sensuous mouth, mine was a narrow
bow with a slightly pouting lower lip.
I also failed to inherit mother's body. Daddy was broad and solid of body,
possessed of great physical strength. I took after him. My figure might best
be described as compact, well defined and yet definitely feminine. My breasts
were firm and high, and though not nearly as large as mother's, they were big
enough to attract male attention. They swept out from my chest with no hint of
sag, tilting up at the ends, and were capped by dark brown aureole, which
puckered into pronounced little mounds when stimulated. My nipples were a
special embarrassment. They were thicker and longer than some of the slave
nursemaids, making it impossible to keep them from showing through even three
layers of clothing, especially when something happened to make them erect.
My waist was not as small as momma's, and my hips and butt were firm and
full, but not voluptuous like hers. Our legs were different as well. Hers were
long and tapered from full-sculpted thighs to much thinner but well-defined
calves, ending in delicate ankles and well formed feet. My legs were short and
almost as muscular as a man's, but were soft of line, tapering to shapely ankles
and small, delicate feet. She stood five feet seven, I was five feet two. My
mother was a big-busted version of an ancient Greek sculpture. I was a sturdy
but pretty serving lass.
I felt a sense of liberation as I rode. Daddy's white Caretaker, Buck, would
pay little attention to my absence since I had told him I was riding to catch
mother and would be begging her to let me go on with her to Atlanta. I could
get lost for three days without raising an alarm at the main house. My horse
and I cantered into unfamiliar country where no trail lay before us.
As I rode, I became engrossed in the pleasant sensation in my loins.
Insisting over momma's protests on riding astride my horse on a man's saddle,
what sex life as I had took place mostly on my horse. A lapse of attention was
my downfall. My only thought was to keep Rusty in the jarring canter long
enough for me to feel the wonderful surge of pleasure I knew would soon sweep
upward from the hard little shaft of my clitoris. Just a few more impacts of
saddle and genitals, just a couple more, and I would cry out my release.
Moving at foolish speed for the terrain, neither Rusty or I saw the rabbit
hole beyond the fallen branch. Next thing I knew I was looking up at Rusty
standing over me, his left foreleg held off the ground. I was a little sore,
but uninjured. Far more concerned with my beloved stallion, I moved quickly to
inspect his leg. It was swelling at the fetlock, but thankfully seemed only
bruised and tender.
