This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys and/or girls. If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.
Seaward Plantation
Chapter twelve
Seaward Plantation was a sight for Mark Appleby's sore eyes as the Hesperus began the approach to her small harbor and pier. He reached over and squeezed the dark brown hand of Troy--not for the first time on that trip--and smiled at him, then at Troy's younger brother Hector. Their honest brown faces broke into big, glad grins in return--and not for the first time on that trip, either! Although he had only been gone for two days, it was a joyful reunion among the three. Seaward was such a haven from a cruel world that its people, white and black, were coming to feel that absences from it were unnatural, a sort of perilous voyage.
Freeing his hand to negotiate the tricky approach to the pier, Troy spoke.
"Master, I forgot to tell you.... Cassius and Portia have something to show you. They said they would be waiting for you at the pier."
Appleby was looking forward to seeing the newest residents of Seaward again anyway, but the mystery added to his anticipation. The Hesperus took in canvas and glided gently to a stop at the pier. The mulatto brother and sister were indeed there, and Cassius sprang forward to help secure the boat to the wooden uprights. Portia watched from a few feet away, smiling a big welcome, with something behind her back.
"Welcome back, Master!" said Cassius--and then rushed forward and hugged Appleby tightly, affectionately. Appleby returned the embrace and kissed the light brown slave on his forehead. "Master," said Cassius, "we have something-- Portia and I have something--to show you!" Troy and Hector, securing the boat and unloading their master's bags, smiled conspiratorially.
"So I hear, Cassius," Appleby said, and smiled at Portia, "What can it be?"
Cassius assumed a stance like an opera singer on the stage, and to Appleby's astonishment began to sing. "ABCDEFG, HIJKLMNOP," he warbled in his mid-adolescent voice. The sixteen year old sang through to the end of the alphabet, with feeling and perfect diction, then bowed low with a flourish of his arm. Appleby burst into laughter and applauded loudly, for there had clearly been progress in rectifying the boy's illiteracy while he had been gone. Then Portia approached, beaming, and sidling up next to Appleby she pulled from behind her back, with great ceremony- -a primer! Opening it, glancing repeatedly up at Appleby, she began to read slowly: "Oh, see Nat run. Run, Nat, run!" Haltingly but with no errors, she went on for two pages before snapping the book shut and looking up at Appleby in triumph.
"Wonderful, Portia, wonderful," he said, "How very proud I am of you, and what wonderful progress the two of you have made in only two days!" Affectionately, he put his arm around the seventeen year old slave girl and hugged her. Pulled close to him, she put one of her arms around the white man's waist and hugged back. For a moment the two of them stood there in a friendly embrace--and then Appleby began to realize that for his part, at least, it was beginning to feel like something more than friendship, for he felt an unmistakable stirring in his groin.
"Troy taught me, master," said Cassius. "And Hector taught me," said Portia, looking at the black boy. Hector smiled back at her and hung his head for a moment in shyness.
"Well, shall we walk up to the house?" proposed Appleby, and they all agreed. Troy grabbed one of Appleby's bags while Cassius and Hector vied to carry the other one. The whole party set off--but Portia and Appleby kept arms around each other in a light embrace. Did either one try to let go? No, and Appleby wondered what it meant, wondered what his own intentions were--especially when Hector, having lost the bag-carrying privileges to Cassius, came up on Appleby's other side and put his arm around his master as well, interlocking with Portia's arm, the three of them walking together up the lawn toward the house.
As they approached the house, the rest of the people of Seaward came out from barn or cabin to greet Appleby. Pan and Bacchus danced around him with glee, sandwiching him with hard-groined hugs; did these twins ever lose their erections, the white man wondered. On the verandah the boys seized their master's bags from Troy and Cassius and took them up for unpacking. Portia joined Mama Cass and Mama Juno to prepare a community meal for lunch, while Priam, Cassius, and Troy went to attend last minute chores in the hay barn. Athena waved and smiled as she passed by below the verandah, baby Apple in her arm, on her way to help in the kitchen.
Only Hector remained with Appleby. "Master, may I talk to you for a minute?" he asked.
"Certainly, Hector, shall we sit right here?" Appleby responded, settling into a rocking chair. Hector took another one next to it. He looked searchingly at his master, then hung his head and grinned, then looked back again at Appleby.
"I... um... I wondered.... um..."
Placing his hand over the dark brown forearm of the boy, Appleby smiled and said, "Hector, you may say anything to me, you may ask me anything. Since when are you shy with me, after all we have done together?" Hector hung his head again and grinned, then seemed to summon up both resolve and language.
"Master... did you know that... well, do you like Portia?" Appleby's heart skipped a beat.
"Well... yes, of course I like her, Hector."
"No, master, I mean, do you really like her? You know," he said, smiling and looking down again, then back, "she likes you. She told me. I mean she really.... well, you know what I mean, master."
A flood of confusing feelings washed over Appleby, and they were confusing not the least because he did not know his own mind in the matter. Words began to tumble out of him in disconnected phrases.
"Hector, I've never touched her, you have nothing to fear... I mean, she is very pretty, I like her very much, I do.... I would never hurt YOU, Hector, you know that, if you want her, I know she is yours, then.... I have wondered some times if she..... but Hector, I'm not sure of my own feelings..... but--" and on and on in that vein. All the while Hector looked at his master in mounting concern and wonder. Finally, the boy could stand it no longer.
"Master, master, please," he said, grasping the man's shoulder. "You mustn't, master. You mustn't bring that spirit here." Love and admonition were balanced in the serious tone the boy took. Appleby was brought up short.
"What... what spirit, Hector? Tell me what it is I mustn't do, please."
Hector rose and stood next to his master sitting in the rocker and hugged his head fiercely, then knelt in front of him and took the man's white hands in both of his brown ones, laid on his master's knee. Love was now mixed with urgency as he spoke gently but forcefully to Appleby.
"Do you own me, master?" he asked.
"Certainly not, Hector, not in any sense. You know that. Those papers...."
"Master, nobody owns anybody at Seaward. Papers?! You don't even own Cassius and Portia, 'though you might think you do. But see--I don't own Portia, either." He smiled at Appleby, who began nodding with growing understanding. "We share here, master; we share ourselves and we share each other. If Portia loves somebody other than me it just makes more love to go around. And how could I mind if the person she is loving is you.... and when I love you, too, master?" He paused for breath.
"Remember how Troy shared Athena with me? but see, Athena shared Troy with me, too. It was what I needed. It's what we do here, master. It's the best way. We share."
Appleby heaved a deep sigh of relief; the boy's words came to him as truths he already knew but had hidden from himself. He leaned forward and put one hand on the side of the boy's face, the other around the back of his head against his crinkly hair, and kissed him slowly on the lips, then whispered "thank you" into the boy's ear. Then he pulled back, another concern on his face.
"But Hector..... I don't know who I am. I had never.... I had never even been with a man before coming to Seaward. Just a couple of women. But now, Troy, and you, and... I think I found out that that is truly what I want, who I am.... but I also really do feel something for Portia. Oh, God! and for Athena and Helen," he said, bowing over with his hands on his face, all his guilt and conflict rushing out.
"It's alright, master, it's alright," said Hector, reaching up rubbing his master's shoulders and neck, still kneeling before him.
"But I don't know who I am, Hector. Am I to be with women? am I to be with men?"
Hector looked in wonder at the troubled face of the white man, who was so caught up in webs of his own making. Shaking his head to clear it of those webs, he went right to the point, which was so simple after all.
"Be with the one you're with, master. Do you have to decide? If you feel like it, alright, if you don't, that's alright. Why say you are this thing forever, when you might want to be that other thing the next day?" The clarity of the simple truth flashed on Appleby like lightning. He began nodding, slowly and then more vigorously. What chains from his upbringing had bound him? Those were chains that had been rusting away in the free salt air of Seaward, and would now rust and fall off entirely if he let them.
"You see how we are here, master. Some of us are almost all one way.... although even Pan and Bacchus have had their times with Helen!" he said, confirming a suspicion that Appleby had held since soon after coming to Seaward. "Papa is nearly all the other way, although I think," and here he looked pointedly at the white man and smiled, "I think he has tried something different recently." Appleby smiled back and nodded. "Some of us are in the middle, but we go as the wind blows. Who can say who you will want tonight, or in an hour, master? Maybe even Portia!" he said, grinning hugely. "Maybe Mama Juno!" Now, THAT was going too far, but the levity snapped the last link of Appleby's bondage. Man and boy roared with laughter at the thought of his coupling with dear Mama Juno's ample, maternal flesh.
Appleby nearly floated out of his chair, pulling the boy to his feet as well, and hugged him fiercely, grateful for the clarity that the boy's simple truths had brought him. From within came the sounds of lunch arriving from the kitchen and of people gathering. Nodding happily at the boy, Appleby embraced him once more and they went inside. Little did he know how prophetic Hector's comments would be, in more ways than one and sooner than he thought.
A pleasant lunch was followed by everyone dispersing to work at various tasks. Storm clouds began gathering in the middle afternoon, and the wind picked up. As the afternoon wore on, the weather became increasingly threatening. Squalls blew quickly over the island, and it was dark by dinner time. Everyone made their way to their own dwellings to wait out what promised to be a major storm.
Cassius, Pan, Bacchus, and Appleby shared a quiet, simple dinner by lamplight, then settled in to chores or work in the library. The evening wore on and the wind began rushing over the house as if a giant hand was rubbing it. The twins decided that they would take a bath, and soon their natural high spirits, nakedness, and the presence of a tub led to the sound of whoops, laughter, and splashing from the bath room. Appleby and Cassius, meanwhile, worked in the library; Appleby was continuing the lessons in reading and writing already begun in his brief absence, and the two were occupied with pencil, paper, and primers.
"Now, Cassius, you see how the letter 'O' is pronounced in different ways when--" Appleby stopped, a wet towel suddenly landing across his head and obscuring his vision. Removing it, he heard a peal of giggles emerge from the hallway outside the library. Deciding to ignore it, he pressed ahead, but then a brush bounced of off Cassius's shoulders, bringing a soft cry of protest to his lips. Appleby glared in the direction of the hallway. "Stop, please, we are concentrating!" There were more giggles.
Man and boy returned to their studies and for a minute there was peace. Then from one direction inside the library came a small hunk of soap that bounced painfully off of Appleby's head, while from another direction inside the room came another piece of soap that landed on the paper on which Cassius was painstakingly writing out simple words, covering the paper with a streak of lather and quite ruining the boy's efforts. Squeals and giggles now erupted from inside the room, and turning around in their chairs Appleby and Cassius saw both twins, freshly scrubbed and as naked as the day they were born, peeking out from behind the reading chairs. It appeared as if sweet reason would be of no avail. Appleby and Cassius put their heads together and whispered for a moment, then each of them bolted out of their own chairs and in the direction of the boys' makeshift forts. Bacchus slipped out of their way, but Appleby and Cassius converged on Pan, trapping him. Appleby grabbed him around the arms and chest while Cassius held on to his legs. Securing the boy tightly, who was by now laughing hilariously and wriggling like an eel, the two captors carried him up the stairs quickly and into Appleby's bedroom.
"The wardrobe, for a moment!" cried Appleby. Swerving by that furniture, he reached in and grabbed a handful of silk cravats that were hanging on a bar. They threw Pan, hysterical with laughter, on the bed face down. Throwing their bodies on top of the thirteen year old to restrain him, Appleby tied both the boy's hands together with one end of a cravat, then pulling the boy's arms and hands together straight up over his head he tied the other end of the cravat tight to the headboard of the bed. Meanwhile, Cassius, sitting on the boy's legs, tight his feet together with another cravat and, pulling them down toward the end of the bed, tight the cravat to the footboard. Surveying their handiwork, they saw the caramel brown boy tied up like a pig on a spit, still giggling uncontrollably, his firm, tight bottom rising invitingly in the air.
Returning to the ground floor, Appleby and Cassius found Bacchus somewhat harder to discover since the boy had hidden, but his giggles gave him away and he was pulled out from under the dining room table. His fate was the same, and soon two slim brown boys were laid out and tied down, butts up, on Appleby's bed. The white man and mulatto boy gave a moment's thought as to what to do, then by mutual consent they undressed themselves. Their penises, ruddy pink and medium brown, were already beginning to rise in anticipation.
Appleby began the festivities. "Boys, you have been very naughty to interrupt our work and to spoil Cassius's lesson," he said, "and for that you get this." Standing on the side of the bed nearest Bacchus, he raised his arm and then brought his hand down on the bare butt, palm open, making a tremendous smack. Bacchus gasped, but hardly giggled any the less. Cassius followed his master's example, winding up his arm even farther and swatting Pan's upraised bottom with a crack. Pan shrieked, but directly resumed laughing.
"Are you sorry, now?" asked Appleby. "No!" chorused the twins, laughing. "Well, then," said the white man, and he and Cassius fell to work. Smack! Smack! they went in turns. Soon the twins were moaning in pain but still laughing in between their cries. As moans and cries of "Ow!" and "Don't!" and "Not so hard!" began to predominate, their medium brown butts gradually darkened, bottom-blushes spreading reddish brown over the firm hills of flesh.
Once again the captive boys were asked if they were sorry, and could hardly answer so occupied were they with both soft moans of pain but also persistent laughter. Appleby and Cassius looked at each other; the white man nodded toward the lubricant on the table by Cassius's side of the bed. The mulatto slave helped himself to a big gob of it and passed it to his master. Man and boy inserted some of it in the upraised, winking anuses of the two brown boys on the bed, but not too much--this was not meant to be comfortable. The rest they smeared over their own rampant cocks. Climbing up onto the bed, with coordinated timing they each put their penises against the anus of the boy beneath them, and pushed in with one long movement.
Now, that really did silence the giggles of the thirteen year olds, who gasped and protested. Unheeding, Appleby and Cassius now began to take out their frustrations on the boys, pounding their asses with long, forceful volleys, swinging their hips while they held their torsos up off of the boys, who writhed inches below them. Faster and more forcefully the man and his mulatto slave swung their hips back and forth. Pan and Bacchus were now getting into the rhythm of the coupling and were thrusting their bottoms back toward their lovers as well as they could. Appleby and Cassius, shoulder to shoulder, looked back and forth from each other to the bound boys beneath them, and when they came it was at the same time, both roaring from deep in their chests and slamming forward to press their groins into the brown bottoms beneath them with all their might. They held that position until they stopped quivering, then slumped forward onto the sweating boys below.
In a moment, Appleby felt able to whisper, "Sorry yet?" Another giggle escaped from Bacchus beneath him by way of answer, echoed by Pan who was lying side by side to him, still impaled on the rigid cock of Cassius. Appleby looked at Cassius, lying on the boy next to him, and sighed. "Plan three," he said.
The man and mulatto boy pulled out of the assholes below them and each stood by their side of the bed. They rolled the thirteen year old boys over, an easy accomplishment that merely twisted the cravats tying them hand and foot. The boys' caramel brown, muscled abdomens were slick with their own precum, their dark brown dicks now stuck straight out in the air, and their giggles had returned in full force as they anticipated a sexual adventure of their own. But they did not conceive of what Appleby and Cassius had in mind. Each took up another cravat and tied it as a gag around the boys' mouths, not so tight as to be uncomfortable but tight enough to discourage articulate speech. "Mmmph?" said Pan, echoed by Bacchus's "Wowrrrr."
Appleby and Cassius now lubricated each thirteen year old, stiff cock and lubricated their own assholes liberally, then together they mounted the boys facing their feet, their muscular backs toward the boys' faces. The rigid cocks of the captive twins slid right up the rectums of the white man and mulatto boy. Pan and Bacchus let out gagged squeals in anticipation. What happened next was certainly not anticipated, though. Appleby calmly reached over to the side of the bed where he picked up the primer he had placed there before. Holding it over by Cassius, who was shoulder to shoulder with him, he began.
"Now, Cassius, as I was saying, 'O' can be pronounced in different ways. See, in this sentence..." The horrible truth began to dawn on the twins. Their master and the new slave boy were simply going to sit on their rigid penises-- perfectly still and unmoving. Encased in the warm, moist love tunnels, the organs remained erect and throbbing. But their captors were not going to move a muscle to bring the twins to orgasm, and neither boy was in a position to move his own hips up and down for that purpose. Soon squeals and moans of frustration began arising. Each of the twins shook and vibrated their loins as they could, they thrashed left and right as much as possible, but it was useless.
Now Appleby and Cassius were the ones to begin laughing and snorting. Soon, neither one could maintain the pretense of having a reading lesson. Nodding agreement, each one pivoted around on the rigid cock that impaled them to face the twins, still kneeling calf by calf astride each boy. Leaning forward but not losing their position, they untied the silken gags from between each boy's full lips. "NOW... are you sorry?" said Appleby.
What pain could not achieve, the withholding of sexual ecstasy could. "Yes, master.... oh, yes sir!" came two replies, followed by solemn assurances, delivered pantingly, that they would not misbehave again. At that, the white man and mulatto boy began to rise and down on the dark brown dicks inside of them, massaging bellies and chests, tweaking nipples with their hands. Given some freedom of movement, each boy swung into the motion with vigor, clutching and kneading the strong thigh muscles of the man or boy above them. It did not take long before Pan and Bacchus cried out, torsos twisting up, hips pushing up into the rectums above them, and discharged their semen in long eruptions. Appleby and Cassius slowed their rhythms gradually until each boy collapsed, spent. Then the man and older boy leaned forward on top of the twin beneath them, covering them with their bodies, kissing them lightly until normal breathing returned.
As the sexual storm passed it became clear that the storm outside was increasing. The four rose from the bed and, arms around each other, went back downstairs to wash in the bath room. Thunder and lightning was now all around the house, it seemed, and the wind was really quite strong. Appleby was glad for the stout construction of all the buildings at Seaward. Going back upstairs, they decided that to give each other room, and needing rest, Appleby and Pan would sleep in one bed, Cassius and Bacchus in the other. With goodnight kisses, the couples went off to separate bedrooms to pile in together in sleep.
Appleby awoke in the middle of the night to tremendous thunder. But there, behind the thunder.... was there another kind of sound, similar to it? There it was again, now nearly covered by the howling of the wind. Rising, he looked out the window, but could see little through the slashing rain against the pane. Then he heard a door to the house downstairs open, the louder rushing of wind, and then the door closed. Quick footsteps up the stairs, then Troy burst into his room, covered up tight in a waterproof cloak.
"Master.... it's a ship, master! Come quick.... lanterns, and the spyglass from the library, sir!" Rousing the three boys, Appleby dressed quickly and all four of them hurried after Troy downstairs. Donning the new protective gear Appleby had purchased for everyone, and retrieving the telescope Troy had requested, they followed Troy outside into the wind. There they fell into step behind Priam and Hector, who were leading the way, fighting the gale force winds as they battled their way to the cemetery, the highest spot on the island. Sheets of rain lashed down, and Appleby was afraid they would be soaked regardless of the good clothing and boots they wore. All the while, a sound that was thunder but not thunder sounded periodically amidst the actual storm.
Reaching the lookout point that was the cemetery with some difficulty, a fearful scene was revealed. The lightning was now almost constant, and looking to the east, out into the Atlantic, they saw a merchant ship that had evidently run aground on the rocks and shoals that lay a mile or so beyond the island as a sort of natural fence. It had three masts with now only shreds of sails attached, and a smokestack in the middle, but even as the people from Seaward watched, one of the masts snapped off and literally flew away in the storm. Then a flash erupted from the side of the ship and Appleby knew what was making that strange noise like thunder: the ship was firing a cannon in distress, to call for any help that could be rendered.
But no help could come; it would have been suicide even to attempt taking the Hesperus out in this storm. The ship sat at an odd angle, evidently hooked onto a reef or mighty boulder below the water line. Smoke streamed out of the smokestack, but to no avail; she was a stern-wheeler, but it could be plainly seen that the storm had smashed her paddles. A few pieces of board flapped and circled crazily at the rear of the ship. Suddenly a quick flash of white steam cloud emerged from the middle of the ship. The storm blew it away in an instant, but then there was a tremendous explosion. Evidently sea water had reached the red hot boilers. The wind quickly cleared the smoke and steam to reveal a horrible sight: only one half of the ship remained, and it quickly tipped at a forty-five degree angle and was gone. Dark objects floated here and there on the boiling water, and that was all that remained.
"Quick, to the shore!" shouted Troy, "maybe somebody will make it ashore!" By the quickest path the three men and four boys fought the storm down to the beach. Breaking into teams, they spread out north and south, and for an hour patrolled the beach. Appleby, working with Hector and the twins, was returning from the southern extremity of the beach when he saw it just off shore: a raft, or really just a part of the hull of the ship, tossed about by the towering waves. And on it there hung the figure of a person.
Sending the twins to the north to fetch the rest of the party, Appleby and Hector calculated where the shipwrecked sailor was most likely to make shore. His battered bit of wooden hull was flung ashore by a mighty wave about where they calculated, but as they ran up to it they could see nobody--the piece of wreckage was washed bare. Another wave came crashing in and, as it receded, they saw the figure of a man lying on the beach, tossed down by the wave like driftwood. They ran to it and, each grabbing an arm, hauled the body up the beach and out of the way of the next wave, which pursued them like a fury. Finding the shelter of three trees that were clumped together, they put the man down on his back.
Appleby quickly checked; it was hard to tell in the storm, but he seemed not to be breathing. Flipping him onto his side and coming around behind him, Appleby reached around and squeezed hard just below the rib cage, then squeezed again. It worked. The man jerked frantically, rolled over onto his hands and knees, and vomited violently onto the sand. Gasping for breath and desperately sick, he continued retching and vomiting, spewing sea water out of his gut and lungs, fighting for air. The sound of feet thudding on sand could be heard even above the storm as the rest of the party came up.
"Any more besides this one?" asked Appleby. Everyone shook their heads in sorrow. "Well, we cannot wait and watch any longer," he said, "we will be swept away ourselves if we remain, and this one needs attention," and a huge wave that came nearly up to their location confirmed his words. "Who is fastest?" he asked, and Hector stepped forward wordlessly. "Hector, run, rouse the women, tell them what has happened and ask them to bring herbs and medicines to the house; we will put him upstairs." Off the boy went with remarkable speed, as the rest of the party locked arms to lift the gasping, exhausted man and carry him off.
Making as much speed as they could without doing more harm to the castaway, the party worked their way against the storm back to the house. As they came up the verandah steps the door was flung open, held by Hector. Mama Cass, Mama Juno, and Portia stood with lanterns and healing supplies within. Athena had apparently remained behind in her cabin because of baby Apple. The castaway was carried in through the pantry. Semi-conscious, eyes fluttering behind half- closed lids, he seemed not to be in good shape at all. Tsking and clucking, the women took command. They stripped off his wet clothing, or what remained of it from the lashing of the sea, and then led the way upstairs, pots and vials of medicines and steaming herbal concoctions in hand. Appleby, Cassius, and Priam carried the naked man up the stairs and laid him gently on towels that had been spread in one of the bedrooms. The boys followed closely, observing every detail. Then the males were shooed from the room by the women who closed the door and gathered around to practice their healing arts.
In the hallway the exhausted men and boys stood around, dripping, looking at each other in shock and wonder. Bacchus, standing near Appleby, tugged at the sleeve of the white man's rain gear. "Master.... master, why are his eyes like that? His skin, his hair? Is he alright, master?"
Looking at the boy, Appleby suddenly realized with a shock how isolating it must be to live in the paradise of Seaward; how much wisdom that way of life imparted, but how much basic experience must be lacking. Gently, he explained: "Oh, yes--he is quite ill from the shipwreck. But as for his appearance.... I expect that he is Chinese, or Japanese perhaps. He is from Asia, I suppose. That is how people look over there."
Looks of wonder passed all around, and "China," "Japan," and "Asia" were repeated as if they were magical incantations. The party began to move downstairs, stripping off their wet gear and hanging it in the bath room and the pantry to dry. By the time Appleby had put off his own wet things and come back out, he discovered the entire male population of Seaward in the library, some of them half naked from shedding sodden clothing, pulling out atlases and books to look up these magical places. For a moment it almost seemed magical to Appleby, as well; how did someone from Asia end up washing ashore off the coast of South Carolina?! But then it occurred to him that sea lanes had always mixed the dust of many lands throughout history, and this must be no exception. Ships of many nations came and went through Charleston. Ships' crews were often quite a mixed stew. At any rate, they would know his story soon, when the new arrival was well enough to talk... IF he were ever well enough to talk.
Appleby, the twins, and Cassius went back upstairs to fetch spare clothing for their friends; the door to the sickroom remained shut, the sound of coughing and retching coming from within. Sharing the dry garments all around, they bade everyone good-night as the company went back out into the storm, which seemed as if it had moderated somewhat in the last half hour. The remaining four waited in the library, reading, then heard the sounds of footsteps on the stairs. Cass and Juno lumbered down them and into the hallway.
"He is mighty sick, master, but he will make it," said Juno. "He must rest in bed and not be moved....or excited," she said, wheeling upon her twin sons with this last statement and shaking a finger at them, glaring ferociously. They shrank back cowed, nodding dutifully. "Portia will sit with him for a while," added Cass. The two women bundled up against the wind and rain and walked back out into the storm.
Appleby, Cassius, and the twins crept back upstairs quietly. The sickroom door was ajar, so Appleby opened it a bit more and peered in. Lamplight cast soft shadows in the room. Portia was sitting in a chair by the invalid's bedside, spooning between his lips a strong smelling herbal mixture. Smiling at Appleby's appearance, she set the bowl down, felt the man's forehead, then slipped out into the hallway.
"It is best that he be watched all the night, and likely through the day tomorrow," she whispered. "I can sit with him."
"I shall rest for just a few hours more and then come to take your place, if you will show me what to do," said Appleby. Portia nodded a hurried agreement. A soft groan from within the room recalled her to her duty. "In a few hours, then," she said to Appleby, and slipped back inside.
Appleby slept hard for a while, then awoke. The wind by now was a soft rushing sound, but there was no longer any sound of thunder, lightning, or rain. Looking out the window he could actually see glimpses of the moon peeking out now and then from behind the scudding clouds. Consulting his pocket watch, he realized it was time to go relieve Portia.
Stepping quietly into the hallway, he opened the sickroom door slowly, not wanting to startle anyone. The patient lay on the bed all bundled up, sound asleep, snoring steadily. A smell of herbs and medicine, sharp but not unpleasant, hung in the air. Portia likewise was asleep, still sitting in the chair, her chin on her hand. In the lamplight Appleby was struck by her beauty, her rounded face enveloped in a halo of frizzy brown hair, her light brown skin darker in the shadows, her full lips slightly parted. The fabric of her blouse stretched taught over her breasts, and rose and fell lightly as she breathed. Her physical resemblance to Cassius was remarkable, but of course she was also different, possessing her own feminine beauty.
Not wishing to startle her, Appleby stepped up close to her and whispered her name. Not getting any response, he reached out and touched one shoulder lightly. Portia awoke suddenly, starting up and rising in confusion--right into Mark Appleby. His hand, which had been on her shoulder, remained there, steadying her. Reflexively, she put a hand on his side to regain her balance. She looked into Appleby's eyes in confusion for a moment, then everything fell into place. "Oh, master! I was asleep," she said, and a smile crossed her lips. He smiled back. Their eyes locked. It was like kicking a stone down a rock slope, for it started the avalanche.
Appleby's other arm came up and he caressed her other shoulder. She put her other hand on his waist. And they came together in a passionate, long kiss. Truly, in that first embrace it did not matter who was male or female, black or white; there was an electric attraction powered by both flesh and spirit that transcended such trivial differences. Lips explored lips, tongues slid along tongues- -they broke apart, breathing heavily, then came back together again in a tight embrace, Appleby burying his face in the sweet-smelling halo of Portia's soft, frizzy hair.
"Can... can he be left for a moment?"
Breaking away to look closely at her patient, Portia said "Yes." Taking her hand, Appleby led the way to another empty bedroom, thinking that at this rate he would need to build an addition to his house before long. Slipping from the silent hallway to the room, the white man and mulatto slave girl embraced again with passion, then began pulling clothes away from each other. Appleby took the lead, lifting fabric, undoing buttons, encouraging the girl to remove her garments. Soon she stood naked before him as she had the first day he saw her. Only his shirt and undergarments remained. Gently, smiling up at him, she unbuttoned the shirt and let it slide to the floor.... then tugged at his undergarment, which likewise dropped away. His penis, already hard, sprang out. Gently, she grasped it with one hand, while she placed her other hand on the white man's broad, muscular chest, running fingers through the sparse patch of hair in the center that ran in a line down to his groin. Appleby cupped the seventeen year old slave girl's firm, pert breasts, then lowered his head to suck the dark copper nipple in a wider aureole. The moon, intermittently uncovered by the passing clouds, lit their tanned white and light brown bodies with moving patches of yellow light.
Portia breathed heavily, sighing with passion. Appleby took her hand and led her to the bed. Falling together side by side, their hands began voyages of exploration, sliding and probing, fondling and patting, ruffling and smoothing. Rolling over on top of the girl, Appleby's rampant penis leaked precum onto her rounded but muscular belly. He kissed her lips again, her face, the side of her face and neck, and then stuck his tongue in her ear, working it around as the slave girl writhed in pleasure beneath him, pulling him closer to her with her hands around his shoulders.
He could wait no longer. Rising up a little on one hand, he positioned his rampant, hard cock at the girl's vaginal opening and moved the dickhead up and down a little in the opening. It was already moist with the girls secretions, and became more so with his precum. Then, gently and with great tenderness, he entered her.
Portia cried out, but not in pain. Her eyes were wide, her hands clasped around the white man's neck, her fingers tugging at his long light brown hair. Her legs, bent at the knees, were spread wide as the muscular white man began to glide in and out of her. She began pushing up to meet his thrusts, then to move her pelvis in a slow spiral that gave Appleby exquisite pleasure. Faster and faster he pumped, taking long, loping swings in and out of her. Feeling his climax approaching, he lowered himself to her, his chest riding on her sweat-slick firm breasts. He grasped her by the shoulders and she clutched him around the back and the two pulled into each other, holding each tightly as he came, whispering her name over and over, pushing his groin into hers as her hips moved slowly up and down. Then she shuddered and clenched, in the throes of an orgasm herself, moaning from deep inside her chest. Slower and slower they moved, their breath ragged and labored, and then they stopped and were still.
Each held the other; soft cooing sounds, gasps, and moans filling the silence. Appleby rolled off of the slave girl and, lying on his side, traced paths with his fingers against her shiny, light brown skin. Portia caressed the white man's face in her hands, running her fingers lightly over his lips and nose and through his hair.
"Cassius has been very lucky," she said, naturally revealing her knowledge of her brother's recent experiences at Seaward. "So have I," she said.
"And so has Hector," chuckled Appleby, laying everything in the open.
A fond look came into her eyes. "So has everyone at Seaward, I think, master. I do not remember being seen by you that first, terrible day at Mr. McGillicuddy's, but Cassius told me everything. Thank you so much, master," she said, pulling him to her again and embracing him tightly. "But you have a patient, doctor!" she said, smiling. Grinning back, Appleby rose and quietly dressed himself again. By the time he was done, Portia lay asleep on the sheets. He covered her gently with the sheets, then slipped out the door and down the hall to take up his watch.