Chapter 1

Miles woke up and immediately fanned himself in the hot damp atmosphere. What the hell was wrong with the air conditioner, he wondered, glancing up at the vent in the wall – and then stared. Where was the vent! He looked down at his beautiful wife, the slender and so fair Elizabeth Standish, nee Jervis – one of the Charleston Jervis’, you know – and he smiled at his good fortune in snaring this pillar of the South Carolina aristocracy. Of course his own ancestry was just about as blue-blood as hers. He had come from a long line of large estate owners whose more astute members had extended and secured the family money and estates to protect them from the ravages of economic downturns and ultimately, the civil war.

He scowled as he thought back to that terrible time for the South. Before that war, things had been so good. Blacks were slaves and did the bidding of their masters. Whites ruled the world. Now, even one of his black employees could thumb his nose at him – and get away with it.

He got up out of the bed and stared up at the wall where the air-conditioning duct should have been. It just wasn’t there! What the hell was going on? He glanced down out of the upstairs window of the huge white plantation house – and just about did a back flip.

Was that one of his Negroes down there? He moved closer to the window. It looked like Amos but this man was naked! Stark bollocking naked, his big cock and dangling balls on full show as he plied the rake over the gravel drive.

And what was that in the driveway? It looked like an old-fashioned carriage; the kind drawn by horses. But there were no horses in front of this carriage. He started to smile as he observed what stood there in place of such animals.

He turned to his wife and shook her awake. “Elizabeth! Come over to the window. Have a look …”

“Miles! Ugh, it’s so hot! What? Oh, I can’t be bothered …”

“Come on. I want to show you something really strange – and really intriguing.”

“Oh, all right,” she said, getting out of bed rather grumpily and stumped over to the window. Her expression changed as she stared down out of the window: “Good God,” she gasped. “Is it true?”

“Looks that way. Let’s go down and see …”

At that moment there was a timid knock on the door which opened to reveal a maid holding a tray containing tea and toast. But what she was holding held no interest to the young couple standing just in from the window. It was her that they looked at, or rather stared at.

She was black of course. And very young. In her late teens at most. She was quite beautiful with long, gleaming, wavy black hair, a beautiful slender figure and skin that shone with good health. They particularly noted her skin and her figure for they could see it very well – all of it. She too was stark naked! Even her sex was naked. Miles noted her vulva had been stripped of its natural hair by some process, revealing it in all its pristine beauty.

Elizabeth was just as interested as her husband for the pair of them often mourned the passing of the old South; the days of slavery and the very necessary whippings of the Negroes; the dozens of slave girls and boys in the house … All the trappings of slavery in fact. They were careful of course in whose company they mentioned these things, for in the 21st Century, blacks were supposed to be equal to whites and the courts took a rather dim view of racist utterings and even attitudes. But in private, amongst their closest friends, they openly mourned the old days – gone long before either of them were born but remembered nevertheless.

The girl entered the room and placed the tray on the little table beside the two chairs near the fireplace then stood up, her face revealing her fear of her master and mistress.

“Come here, girl,” said Miles softly.

She whimpered briefly but quickly moved over to stand before him. “What is your name, girl?”

She stared at him in confusion. He didn’t know her name? After he had beaten her butt with a cane yesterday? But she didn’t hesitate in answering him. “Milly, Master. My name is Milly.”

“And your duty here?”

“I am Milady’s maid, master.” She was mystified at his questions but fear didn’t allow any hesitation on her part.

Miles nodded and then looked her over at close quarters. She was quite beautiful, this Milly. He still didn’t understand what was going on but he was beginning to like it. So was his wife. He glanced across at her and saw the bright gleam in her eye as she beheld the superb nakedness of the girl. Firm breasts, not too big but perfectly upstanding; slender waist and a firm, slightly muscly stomach; boyish buttocks and well-developed thighs. Good shoulder and arm muscles. Oh yes, she was a beautiful specimen, no doubt of it.

“All right, Milly. Off you go.” He slapped her delectable bottom as she passed him and she squealed in pain. He stopped her and looked down at her buttocks. He could see marks across them.

“You’ve been caned, girl?”

She stared at him again. What was he on about? It had been him who had caned her! “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Who did this?”

“You did, sir.”

“Oh. Of course. All right, you may go.”

She leapt away as if bitten by a wasp and after the door closed behind her, he turned to his wife. “What d’you think, Liz?”

“I have no idea. We seem to be back in the old South but there are electric lights even if the air-conditioning has gone …”

“Let’s dress and go downstairs. I want to see more …”

As they emerged from the room they still shared (they were very much in love even if they were quite modern about that love) and moved towards the grand staircase, they stared around them in awe. Not at the house or its furnishings for they were largely as they had been last night when they went to bed, but at the servants – or were they indeed slaves who were tending them. There seemed to be dozens of them and there were as many males as females – and every single one of them stark naked and lacking any hair – anywhere on their bodies, all of which were athletic if male and slender but firm, if female.

They stared at their master and mistress being up and about at this early hour but each stood to attention as they approached and bowed his or her head in obeisance as they passed before resuming their toil with mop or duster.

All over the house, these young male and female Negroes were hard at it, industriously cleaning and polishing the whole house in readiness for their appearance, normally much later in the morning.

Miles and Liz stared at them all – and thrilled in their loins as they beheld so many handsome and beautiful young blacks so nakedly displayed to them. Then they went outside the front door to have a look at the carriage. It was big. One of those large open carriages Queen Victoria had favoured. It was plush and luxurious and on its side was emblazoned the Standish coat of arms. This was aristocracy in the flesh and they puzzled at the connotations of rank and position. American households did not openly display such things, even if they wanted to.

But it was not so much the vehicle but the animals harnessed to the carriage that the Standish’s wanted to look at. There were a dozen of them. They were Negroes! Twelve big black buck-naked Negroes, all very muscular with broad shoulders, slender waists and powerful thighs. Each had a belt around his waist and this was bolted to one of three crosspieces that went through and across the massive central pole which emerged from under the front bogie. Each had his hands clasped up behind his head and stood quietly, each staring into the back of the head of the slave in front of him. There were four to each of the three cross-members, two each side of the pole and each also wore a bridle including a steel bit over his head from the top of which emerged bright plumes in the Standish colours, red, gold and black. The front inside slave on the left side had reins attached to his bridle and these came back and were draped loosely over the driver’s dashboard.

But there was more. Each slave also had a tail. A real tail that seemed to be growing out of their backsides. Liz giggled as she stared at these appendages and only a warning glance from Miles stifled her mirth.

At that moment, a man hurriedly emerged from the house. He seemed to be in a high dither. “Sir, Madam. I had no idea you were up. That Milly will get a sound thrashing for not informing me …” The man looked like Jarvis, their long-time butler but he was dressed far more formally than their Jarvis ever had.

Miles held up his hand. “It’s all right, Jarvis …” He said the man’s name experimentally as if testing to see if he was right. The butler looked back at him oddly but let it pass. Apparently it was indeed their Jarvis. Miles went on: “We were hot and decided to come down for a stroll.”

“Of course, sir. Did you wish to go for a drive this early?”

They looked at one another and nodded gleefully. Oh yes. That would be fun. “Yes, perhaps we will. Thank you, Jarvis.”

The butler was black, a long-time family retainer who was always respectful towards them. Nothing had changed now of course except that he seemed even more so. He snapped his fingers and another slave hurried around the corner of the great house, pulling on gloves as he ran. He too was black, wearing the uniform and livery of a groom: jodhpurs, white shirt and tie and gleaming boots. The incongruity of the naked slaves inside and here, harnessed to the carriage – and Jarvis and this groom on the other, they didn’t even notice at this time.

The groom, whom they didn’t know, held open the carriage door for them and they climbed up after which he took his seat, took up the reins and his whip and shook the reins over the backs of the slaves. They took off gracefully, in perfect time, each muscular thigh coming up to the exact horizontal and down again in perfect unison. Their arms stayed up where they were, showing off their powerful shoulders and biceps muscles beautifully while their buttocks clenched and swayed with each perfect step. At this stage, it was just a walk as they headed down the drive and out onto the road.

At this hour, there were few other carriages but as they progressed down the road, all around them, out in the fields, they could see slaves working; some with a rag around their middles but most stark naked, their genitals all on total display. From what they could see, the slaves didn’t like it, either. Excellent. Nakedness would keep them on their toes, Miles thought.

“I wonder, Miles, why we know some of the people at our house – Amos and Jarvis, for example, but not most of the others?”

“I have been wondering the same thing. But more, I wonder where we are? This isn’t our Standhope, I know that, even if it looks like it.”

Well, I don’t care where we are. I like this Standhope and I just hope we stay here and don’t have to go back to our boring old place… Just look at their bodies, Miles, doesn’t it make your juices flow …?”

He grinned at her. “Not as much as it does you, my dear. And I have no doubt you will be calling upon some of them to your bed now and then?”

She grinned back at him. “Oh, sorry. Of course the males wouldn’t interest you but that Milly did and you’ll be as quick off the mark with her as I just may be with some of these beauties – always assuming it’s on, of course …?”

He stared at her. “Oh go on! They couldn’t parade such beautiful flesh so nakedly and not use it, surely?”

“Who knows? We are very new to this place, Miles. I think we should tread carefully for a while.”

At that moment another carriage appeared, this one much smaller and lighter and pulled by a pair of female slaves – as naked as the Standish’s male steeds. As they approached, Miles noted the little gig was being driven by a friend of his, a neighbour and he called to the driver, whose name was John, to pull up. “Henry! How are you?”

Henry Carmichael was one of their friends in whom they reposed trust and who, at least in their other lives, had shared their opinions about slavery. He pulled back hard on the reins, jerking the left hand girl’s head back painfully. Miles noted how far back into her mouth the bit reached. “Miles, Liz! What are you two doing out at his ungodly hour?”

Miles grinned. “The same as you no doubt. Out for a drive before breakfast.”

“No. I’m off to town. I want to look over Goodbody’s new slaves.” He paused and frowned. “Weren’t you going to come down later, Miles?”

“Um. Oh yes of course. I’d forgotten. Perhaps we’d better be getting home; see you at Goodbody’s …”

Henry gave them a wave and clicked his reins over the pair of tall and beautifully built female slaves’ backs while Miles admired their bodies – even Liz stared appreciatively at their so naked although rather too muscular flesh for her taste. They weren’t exactly like the female body-builders she thought grotesque, but they were certainly very muscly.

“Well,” she said. “Your day seems to be laid out for you. I’d love to come too but I sensed females are not welcome at Mr Goodbody’s, whoever he is.”

“No.” He grinned back at her. “But pump Jarvis. Try to find out what the hell is going on while I’m away.”