Oak Alley plantation

[gerembeau]

Eulalia kindly translated that text, partially based on true details.
Warning, it's strictly a fantasy !!! M/f/Civil war, slavery, extreme gorish torture, snuff.
You'll have one pic for each message, the final pdf could include 62 pics at the end.




Oak Alley plantation, March 23, 1860, afternoon

Henry Cornelius Burnett placed his hand on her plump belly, not daring to caress it.

But his pleasure was great as he heard in the distance the crunching of gravel under the weight of the cart - more like a cage on wheels - which the shade of the plantation's avenue of tall sequoias did not yet reveal.

Suddenly, the tall cart emerged abruptly from the darkness, the intense brightness cruelly revealing the nakedness of the poor thing huddled in a corner, knees bent against her chest, one hand pressed to her buttocks and her hairy cleft.

The two slave-hunters jumped out of the cart, the younger one unleashed the dogs to let them romp in the vast park, while the older one approached the porch, keeping a certain respectful distance, but smoothing his moustache with a conceited air. He waited until the dogs had stopped barking.

"Mister Burnett, I told you she wouldn't get far this time!

Burnett did not answer for a long time. He approached the cage, poking his sword-cane at Harriet Spykes's body. Her beautiful deep-black eyes widened, her mouth opened without being able to utter a sound, and she suddenly stood up, poorly concealing her ample bosom that swayed from left to right as she tried to escape the jabs. When she realized that his sinister game was designed to make her let down her guard to reveal her full nudity, she accepted the shame of standing exposed before the crowd of slaves, Burnett, his daughter Ada and the slave-hunters.

Only then did Burnett proclaim, "Good work, gentlemen!"

Ada, her delicate angelic face under thin gold-rimmed glasses, turned to her father, "And what are you going to do with her, Father?"

"This is the second time, my dear, you know I have to make an example of her. John will hang her.

Wheedling, as only a young girl knows how to do with her father, Ada tugged on his arm, twirling her long blonde braids, "Daddy, it's been a long time since we whipped a slave, you know?"

"Yes, my dear, but that's not the way to execute a slave, it's not right."

"Daddy, it's my birthday tomorrow, don't you want to make me happy? Who knows when there'll be another opportunity?"

Burnett grumbled for a few moments, Ada tugged at his arm again ...

"Call John!" he yelled as a command.

 

[Loinclothslave]

Eulalia kindly translated that text, partially based on true details.
Warning, it's strictly a fantasy !!! M/f/Civil war, slavery, extreme gorish torture, snuff.
You'll have one pic for each message, the final pdf could include 62 pics at the end.




Oak Alley plantation, March 23, 1860, afternoon

Henry Cornelius Burnett placed his hand on her plump belly, not daring to caress it.

But his pleasure was great as he heard in the distance the crunching of gravel under the weight of the cart - more like a cage on wheels - which the shade of the plantation's avenue of tall sequoias did not yet reveal.

Suddenly, the tall cart emerged abruptly from the darkness, the intense brightness cruelly revealing the nakedness of the poor thing huddled in a corner, knees bent against her chest, one hand pressed to her buttocks and her hairy cleft.

The two slave-hunters jumped out of the cart, the younger one unleashed the dogs to let them romp in the vast park, while the older one approached the porch, keeping a certain respectful distance, but smoothing his moustache with a conceited air. He waited until the dogs had stopped barking.

"Mister Burnett, I told you she wouldn't get far this time!

Burnett did not answer for a long time. He approached the cage, poking his sword-cane at Harriet Spykes's body. Her beautiful deep-black eyes widened, her mouth opened without being able to utter a sound, and she suddenly stood up, poorly concealing her ample bosom that swayed from left to right as she tried to escape the jabs. When she realized that his sinister game was designed to make her let down her guard to reveal her full nudity, she accepted the shame of standing exposed before the crowd of slaves, Burnett, his daughter Ada and the slave-hunters.

Only then did Burnett proclaim, "Good work, gentlemen!"

Ada, her delicate angelic face under thin gold-rimmed glasses, turned to her father, "And what are you going to do with her, Father?"

"This is the second time, my dear, you know I have to make an example of her. John will hang her.

Wheedling, as only a young girl knows how to do with her father, Ada tugged on his arm, twirling her long blonde braids, "Daddy, it's been a long time since we whipped a slave, you know?"

"Yes, my dear, but that's not the way to execute a slave, it's not right."

"Daddy, it's my birthday tomorrow, don't you want to make me happy? Who knows when there'll be another opportunity?"

Burnett grumbled for a few moments, Ada tugged at his arm again ...

"Call John!" he yelled as a command.

View attachment 1167809

Thank you Ada, I agree, it’s a shame to waste an opportunity to whip a slave. I am sad it has been such a long time, perhaps Harriet’s intense whipping can make up for such a long hiatus…

Ada is clearly an exemplary daughter and you should spoil her. Perhaps give her a chance to develop her own skills as a whip-Mistress as well? Let her make the vile slave Harriet pay for her crime in blood? And it will put fear into the other slaves. You can still slow-hang Harriet after the brutal whipping, plus You should brand her as an escapee, multiple times! Make her scream, whip her unconscious, then brutally revive her for more torture. After this you can still slow hang her and leave her corpse hanging as an example to the others…

I watch with anticipatory delight!

I think @melissa may enjoy this?

 

[Barbaria1]

Nice start! Looking forward to the next episode

 

[Fossy]

I love the ACW genre as many of you know, looking forward to reading more ...

 

[gerembeau]

Short transition for the Civil war's cognoscenti....

Oak Alley Plantation, the road from Baton Rouge, April 6, 1865 at dawn


Richard Wilkes slowly put down the telescopic sight with which he had just observed the advance towards the plantation of the Northern column, about two hundred soldiers strong. He put it back in the saddlebag and turned to the band of Bushwhackers that accompanied him. The twenty or so irregular Confederates began to unsheathe their weapons, the carefully oiled and sharpened sabre, the fully loaded pair of LeMat revolvers, with their huge central barrels stuffed with grapeshot. Adjusting the primers one last time on the nipples was not easy on horseback, but were all outstanding riders.

The ambush took place on a sharp bend in the road, with a narrow bridge cutting the column in two.

At the cry of "Yup, yup, death to the Union!" the savage horde of Southerners charged the shock-stunned rearguard, crossing their line and unloading a first salvo. Each shot from the central barrel knocked down half a dozen Northerners. Bayonets glinting in the sunlight lay mostly in the grass. After regrouping a few dozen meters away, the band charged again from the opposite direction. Some of the more experienced soldiers fired back at them, but they only put a couple of Southerners to the ground before they themselves were cut down by accurate fire.

The Bushwhackers were already far away as Captain William Hood counted thirty-two dead and forty more or less seriously wounded, most of them likely to have their limbs amputated. With a grave expression, he turned his head in the direction of the plantation which stood proudly in the distance, with the sun rising over the immense roof. Their mission was clear, to raze the last plantations that could serve as a rear base for the rebels. Now he had the proof!

 

[gerembeau]

My LeMat (replica) is really terrific when I shot with the central (!)

 

[gerembeau]

Oak Alley Plantation, March 24, 1860, morning


"Go and get more seats!" thundered Burnett as he saw the Carruthers family entering the park. There was the grandfather, half-senile, but he'd been the greatest practitioner of expanding the slave herd by forced breeding. His son, was of only average intelligence, but not averse to a good flogging on occasion, the daughter-in-law, bigoted and racist, and finally the two young adult sons who had to be prepared to administer justice on the plantation that would one day be theirs.

"And three more!" These were the Woodbridges, who had come riding in on the heels of the Carruthers, father, mother, and daughters stricken with a certain amount of excess weight, and who were rumoured to punish any female plantation niggers who were too good-looking more often than strictly necessary.

When everyone was comfortably seated in the wide-armed, deep-backed chairs, Burnett spoke: "Dear friends and neighbors, I assure you that you are not going to fall asleep, help yourselves to food, or smoke cigars, right now".

This was not addressed to the French cook, the coachman, nor the the slave-hunters, who were standing around the guests at their sides.

And not to the crowd of about fifty slaves who had been forcibly assembled, their faces grim and gloomy, standing behind the little assembly of whites.

Heads bent forward to look at Harriet's back; John had bound her up by the wrists from the main beam that supported the entrance to the stable.

Her feet did not touch the ground. Her slim waist above well-shaped buttocks supported a narrow bust from which protruded to the sides two large, burgeoning breasts.

"This slave ran away yesterday for the second time." At the thought of the rape he had not been able to carry out, Burnett's cheeks flushed a little. "She knew what was coming, the second time is always the last time." He caught his breath a little, half to stimulate the attention of his audience. "And today she will perish under John's whip".

A murmur of astonishment ran through the audience, the women raised their fans to their mouths, while the men nodded or looked at each other with a wry smile. The morning and the banquet would be quite pleasant, in spite of the muggy, stifling heat.

 

[Fossy]

Love the expression on Harriet's face ... let the lashing begin!

 

[Madiosi]

For all readers of the first parts. I added a few illustrations by Lionrobe/Gerembeau.

 

[Loinclothslave]

For all readers of the first parts. I added a few illustrations by Lionrobe/Gerembeau.

Very nice imagery too! Thank you!!!

 

[gerembeau]

Oak Alley Plantation, April 6, 1865, early morning

The plantation was burning to the ground. After dutifully looting everything they could carry in their saddlebags, jewelry, bottles of fine wine, objets d’art, rare weapons, the northern soldiers had spared no buildings. The horses in the stable had been requisitioned to replace those that had fallen during the battle.





Burnett lay on the ground, his shotgun still in his hands, not far from the coachman, he too had not escaped, he had been disembowelled after an unequal sword fight.

The slaves stood silent before the flames that were eating away at their miserable huts, joy mixed with anxiety about a bright but unknown future. They had known that their liberation would be close, but they did not expect an assault of such violence. Then, little by little, they began to dance. The fumes of the smoke were getting to their heads a little. But when one of them, a muscular young man, approached Burnett's corpse to stamp on it, a woman preceded him, lifted her skirt and urinated promptly on the corpse's face. "You know, now he can't graze on your pussy any more!" yelled another, older woman with a laugh.

Shouting arose a little further off, three slaves with excited voices were pushing in front of them what seemed to be a woman who had dropped her skirt and crinoline to run away faster.

The northerners were now about to leave. A soldier addressed Captain Hood, pointing to the crowd enveloping the woman, now totally naked,



"Captain, Captain, what are we to do?"

"Private, that's not our problem." Hood turned his head away as he spurred his mount.


A big THX to Madiosi who worked on the pics and explained me how to do. So you'll get directly all the images

 

[Loinclothslave]

Is something missing? Seemed to have a great start and pacey finish but what happened between March 24th and April 6th? Was Harriet whipped to death? Did Ada have a turn? Am I supposed to imagine this part - that’s okay I can imagine, but my imagination is pretty dark and brutal!

 

[montycrusto]

Is something missing? Seemed to have a great start and pacey finish but what happened between March 24th and April 6th? Was Harriet whipped to death? Did Ada have a turn? Am I supposed to imagine this part - that’s okay I can imagine, but my imagination is pretty dark and brutal!

The soldiers stole that part of the story!

 

[Loinclothslave]

The soldiers stole that part of the story!

Bloody unionist scum spoiling a nice whipping party!

 

[gerembeau]

Is something missing? Seemed to have a great start and pacey finish but what happened between March 24th and April 6th? Was Harriet whipped to death? Did Ada have a turn? Am I supposed to imagine this part - that’s okay I can imagine, but my imagination is pretty dark and brutal!

The story is divided between the 2 periods which alternate, don't worry -



Oak Alley Plantation, March 24, 1860, the morning a little later.

John, a foreman on the plantation, tall, bearded, and lean, a scar from ear to mouth made by a resisting slave, was flattered by the interest now being shown in him by the audience. On a small table, he arranged the two whips and the dagger he had carefully selected.



He grabbed the thinner of the whips, a simple hemp cord at the end of a long, slender rod, and presented it to the planters as the one intended for a mere warming of the skin.

The first whip-strokes, at this stage spaced a few seconds apart, brought only small cries of surprise. Harriet turned her beautiful Ashanti face towards John with a look of astonishment. Then, gradually, from her bouncing buttocks to the middle of the back, the lashes became more intense, more frequent. White marks were now visible along the slender body that was wriggling sensuously, and drops of sweat were splattering on the grass with each stroke.



Harriet's yelping had become a little more shrill. There was a pause during which she could be heard panting slightly to catch her breath, but no words passed her lips. She was determined to keep her dignity to the end, with no illusions about her impending demise, she would not cry for mercy.

After a few moments of this titillating prelude, John put down his toy whip and grabbed a strong Everglades bamboo cane. Thick enough at the base to require a large hand, thin enough at the other end to wrap around the contour of a buttock.

Harriet let out a high-pitched squeal as the cane drew a first purple streak just below her bottom. The blade had not been blunted and its fine barbs had traversed the skin in several places. Without leaving her any respite, John struck twice very quickly in the hollow of her kidneys, and Harriet arched her waist, letting her breasts blossom over her flanks, giving the utmost pleasure to the males in attendance. The back was the next target, bringing a drier sound, a "crack!" as the spine was bruised, and, without any padding of flesh to soften the blow, the welts dripped blood that mingled with the steady stream of sweat.



John had found a certain rhythm that allowed Harriet to foresee and anticipate the next thrash, to cushion it by slightly tilting her targeted body part to shield it from the violence of the blow. John was not fooled, but in a way he wanted to spare Harriet's strength to preserve her reactions when she would be whipped from in front, and the audience also seemed to be enjoying the erotic swaying of her rear end.

 

[gerembeau]

Oak Alley Plantation, June 2, 1864, afternoon

Naked in the river, the slaves sang and laughed, on that free Sunday when they could bathe in the warm water instead of working in the fields. The moistness of the air and the water like absorbent cotton, the songs of the men taken up by the old women lying on the yellowed grass, the young women splashing in the water, swaying their mammaries to the rhythm of the current's lapping....

Attracted by the laughter, Ada stepped off the path to get closer to the shore and look over a bush. She found what she had hoped to see not far from the shore. No more blond braids, but a severe bun that suited a young woman of good society in search of a husband.
The tips of her breasts hardened as she detailed the anatomy of the men lying in the grass, some of them having fun grabbing their sex in the direction of the young females who burst out laughing with a lot of comments on the manhoods that were unfolding before them.



Ada felt the need to lift her dress off her skin to let her well-developed breasts rest.
Jesse Spykes got up and took a few steps stretching his caryatid body. Ada remained amazed by the beauty of the forms of the young man and more still of the virile member which went down almost at the middle of the thigh.
She already knew that she would caress herself in the night by imagining this stake to graze for a long time her big lips, then the big glans masturbate her clitoris, before abutting brutally in her matrix when she would open herself.
She withdrew on the tiptoes to remain invisible, it was not conceivable that she was surprised in this position.
She was unaware that she had been betrayed by her slightly protruding headdress above the foliage.



But Jesse had noticed her, his eyes lowered to hide her features distorted by rage at being watched like cattle. The memory of his mother's execution, which he had never forgotten, flooded his mind as it does on every anniversary of her death, and he dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand, growling in pain.

 

[gerembeau]

Oak Alley Plantation, March 24, 1860, morning, moments later


The buffalo leather whip was impressive, menacing as a weapon of war, and John slammed it into the ground so that the planter families would be fully aware of its wounding power. The crowd of slaves already knew it, most having endured the ordeal of punishment. No matter how short the punishment, they knew they would not be able to sleep on their backs for many nights.

Harriet had experienced that whip the first time she was re-captured, she knew the weight of the impact, the feeling of tearing, followed by the stabbing burn that gripped the heart and gnawed at the innards. Still, the first blow on the hollow of the knees took her breath away, her primal brain had to some extent forgotten the way it resounded through all her body.

The second blow, on her muscular thighs, better braced, left a deep round purple mark. She had to clench her jaws, a dull, guttural growl escaped her lips, which was prolonged when John struck for the third time, across the middle of her buttocks.

She drew in her kidneys to allow them to absorb the shock she was anticipating better, but at once John found her shoulders, and instead of withdrawing the lash swiftly, he swung it down over the whole surface of her back, lightly peeling away the damaged skin.

Harriet turned her head to anticipate the next blow, but John put down his whip, untied his scarf and blindfolded her. Then, finally, she began to cry and plead.

John could now surprise her, either hitting the beam or aiming at any part of her body. The hissing of the whip through the clammy tropical air fooled Harriet more often than not, she had to stay constantly on the move to provide a less passive target, and her wriggling had a way of delighting the gallery, where bets could be heard being made on where the next blow would land.

After about twenty severe lashes to the acclaim of the planters, and her sobs and howls of pain, John approached Harriet with a bucket full of salt which he flung over her shoulders to limit the flow of blood from her tortured back. An inhuman bellowing shook the audience, followed by a fit of weeping that shook her torso for long minutes.

 

[Loinclothslave]

Crickey, what a wonderful description of her suffering under such a magnificent whip! The addition of blindfold is genius! She doesn’t know where to flinch yet!

“, but at once John found her shoulders, and instead of withdrawing the lash swiftly, he swung it down over the whole surface of her back, lightly peeling away the damaged skin.”

Holy shit, this is so hot just by itself! I join her suffering and bleed the same blood, awaiting more, knowing I shall suffer until the ultimate darkness finally consumes me … amazing! Thank you!

 

[gerembeau]

I'll be off next 2 days, don't worry...-

Oak Alley Plantation, March 24, 1860, the morning a little later.

Harriet was not aware of her fate until John untied her and left her lying in the pool of mud formed by her blood and sweat, to bind her by her wrists and ankles to hooks set in the two planks. When he first pulled on the ropes that held her ankles, tugging her apart, upside down, facing the audience, she let out a long howl of horror.

She had always thought that she would die little by little, anaesthetized by the pain, her back torn to the bone, and here she was offering her wide open sex and her breasts swinging from side to side. No, she was going to die in a much more terrible way, the most sensitive parts of her body were going to be tormented without respite, she was going to offer an unforgettable spectacle, her shame, her cries, her shudders, her most vulnerable flesh progressively shredded.

A feeling of revulsion made her stretch her body like a bow and she made as much resistance as she could by butting her head, until John made her hold still by slapping and furiously twisting the voluptuous breasts which went swinging down to the level of her chin.

The jerky movements of Harriet's torso eventually stilled, but her proud, tear-drenched face had repeatedly hit John's belly and even lower. After several shocks to his penis, John sensed that the repeated stimulation had turned the excitement of the flogging into an irrepressible erection.

By the time Harriet had all four limbs firmly attached, it was clear to everyone that the foreman was getting a hard-on like a donkey in his pants, as his fly became puffy.

With a look of both embarrassment and mockery, John seemed to hesitate for a few moments, then moved closer to Burnett's ear.

"Master, you know what..."

"What?"

"She's, um, at the right height right now.

"What, you mean? No and no, it's out of the question, especially in front of the slaves!"

Despite the precautions, Ada had heard everything. She whispered to her father with a simper:

"Daddy, please, I'm sure all our guests would appreciate it...and we'll still be talking about it in ten years. And even for the slaves, they'll remember even more about what can happen to them."

Burnett seemed to hesitate for a few more moments. Then, at the thought of what he had not been able to get from Harriet and was still frustrating him, he nodded his head in agreement.

John planted himself in front of Harriet's face and drew his wide, razor-sharp Bowie-knife, the one that skinned deer brought back from the hunt. After having furrowed the hairy mound with his long fingers, opened the large labia, he cautiously inserted the handle into the vaginal orifice, letting the blade rest on the clitoral cap.

Harriet uttered a howl of terror as the thrust of a long fleshy member to the bottom of her throat choked her. She had immediately understood that letting him profane her mouth would spare her the mutilation of her vagina, and she immediately thought to spread her jaws as wide as possible, to avoid any contact with her teeth.

After a few violent thrusts that painfully hit the back of her throat, Harriet got the taste of the first drops of seminal liquor.

All the men, including the slaves, contemplated with fascinated faces the comings and goings of an uncommon virility.

Then, John grabbed his sex, pulled Harriet's head up by her long frizzy hair and walked his glans over her eyes, smoothing her eyebrows, going down her nose and blocking her nostrils with a big laugh.

It was the women's turn to enjoy the scene in all its blatant crudity, one they would never have dared to imagine, let alone think of seeing one day. Olivia Carruthers had signed off with an "oh", but soon her hatred of blacks won out and she opened her eyes to savour the spectacle.

John finally ejaculated long, creamy, musky-smelling salvos that slowly dripped down her ebony cheeks.

Then he leaned on the stained face and murmured with a smile "Now, you will clean me", giving with his index finger a light touch on his knife against her clitoris.

Harriet had believed one second that her femininity was going to be cut in two. Her chest relaxed, then she realized that she was no longer a raped woman, but a consenting participant, when she let rest on her tongue the still quivering glans, covered with sperm but also with other malodorous fluids.

Her tongue immediately found the long thread that protruded incredibly as if sculpted and brought back the first lot of matter.

Then it encountered the urinary meatus, its darted point marrying its contours by provoking an ultimate spasm which had climaxed at the bottom of her throat. Then, with small, rapid flicks of her tongue, she completed the toilet of the distended foreskin, before drawing the large glans in her mouth by sucking so strongly that it was John who withdrew in a paroxysm of a painful ecstasy.

In the crowd, a young observer, his eyes bathed in tears, hid his face in his grandmother's apron.

 

[gerembeau]

Oak Alley Plantation, April 6, 1865, late morning

Ada was almost reassured when Jesse Spykes put his hand on her shoulder. He was too gentle to want to hurt her, he was going to protect her from that crowd of stinking niggers. She straightened her dust-covered chest, her breast tips stiffled a little without her knowledge, and she no longer thought of hiding her Venetian blond mound. The still panting breath, she fixed her glance in the eyes of the young man. No, she had nothing to fear from this pretty mouth in heart that she would have wanted to kiss in other circumstances.
The slap took her by surprise, and undid her bun while her bruised cheek reddened.
Dazed by this incomprehensible violence, she raised her hand to prevent another slap which did not come, but the speech which followed liquefied her.
"Don't you recognize me? You don't even know your slaves...I'm the son of the one you sentenced to death by whip. We heard you, you know, we also know that it was your idea to humiliate her. So, you're going to pay for it, in exactly the same place.
The violence of the slap caused Ada to stumble and fall to the ground. Jesse slowly bent over her to pick her up and she reached out her wrist for him to lift her up. But the manly hand went straight to what was left of her bun which he grabbed firmly. Without she had time to straighten up on her knees, he pulled her savagely face down on the ground, as he would have dragged a bag of potatoes too heavy.



The spasmodic movements of his arms, his hands which ploughed the ground, did not stop the progression of his body on the grass. She lifted her chest as best she could by leaning on Jesse's wrist, but her breasts painfully scraped the stones and roots, and her buttocks bounced regularly at each lurch, under the jeers of the slaves who accompanied them.
At the end of a hundred meters of a course which left Ada panting, scratched everywhere, the short breath to have struggled in vain, Jesse let her fall again between two enormous bastaings perpendicular to the beam of the stable which had been preserved the time of the evacuation of the horses.