A New Life For The Field Hand
30 year old slavemistress Sally-Anne, and her 65 year old husband Victor, were seated side by side on their veranda – she in her casual jeans and T shirt; he in his formal, businessman suit – sipping champagne as they surveyed the great wealth of their rubber plantation in front of them. Both white master and black mistress were feeling aroused – he because he had just taken some Viagra; she because she had just whipped one of the lowly field hands for poor performance. The lazy, whipped slave was suffering, meanwhile, in the so-called ‘recovery’ stocks directly below the balcony on which his masters and betters sat, the freshly-made whip-wounds glistening on his sunburnt, white back in the southern Gynarchy’s, late-evening, summer sunshine. Master Victor laughed at the sight and sound of the still-sobbing, whipped-by-his-pretty-young-black-wife, field hand down below: ‘Ha! Ha! You certainly gave him a good working over, Sally-Anne darling! You worked his lower ribs a treat, my...