The sun rose and it set. The moon shined her light and she faded away, providing the way for the sun once again. And he...he had turned into an animal. A pitiful animal chained to the body of the woman who laid under him. Time and time again, over and over, he surrendered to the selfish appetite he had for her. With his body, he claimed her, pleasure choking the very life from him. Her thighs, her hands, her mouth, her breasts held him in slavery and he didn't want to be free. What worlds had been opened to him as he sought for more, dived for more. What maddening, never-ending, pleasure blinded him. One night wasn't enough. It dared never be enough. He had known when she'd left that he'd call again. He would demand her presence again. And so, he did. And, she came.
How he'd changed under her touch and care. In the fields, dusk clinging to the sky, trembling breath and heaving hips, voice, noise, silence, passion most ardently appearing between their mouths and bodies. Surrendering to climax, her greatest request, was one said in the throes of insanity. At first, he hadn't paid any attention to it. But the more she said it, the more he felt inclined to give it to her. Give me a son. Lips carried declarations of love and freedom, a life away from the hell she was enslaved to. Free me. Make me yours for real. Not just here hiding in the sugar cane. Foolish to utter, foolish to dream, but in air, his mouth against her own, he swore to make it reality. His heart had been so full, thoughts and emotions spinning out of control.
Each time they met, he always left a deposit of his affection inside of her, hoping and praying that when it grew into something beautiful, she'd be free enough to enjoy it with him. Together. Their lover's tale continued well into the next two months and as his time there drew to a close, she revealed to him that she was with child. It was entirely too early to see any such signs but she was confident that with time, she would begin to show. When she'd told him, he had felt so many things. Fear. Worry. A little bit of uncertainty. But a big part of him felt excited.
***
She had rose early, as she always did. Slipping away from his arms, she soon got up and stood. The moon had been high and full the night previously and she could feel a tossing in her stomach. Like angry waves that crashed against the shore, they had woken her up out of her sleep. She didn't make it a habit, looking into the mirror in his room. She never much had time for that. But this morning, while he still slept, she took the time to really observe herself. Staring at her reflection, she gently examined her breasts, tender and bruised with love marks. Further down, she pressed flat palms against her stomach. It was too soon to tell but having been pregnant before and having given birth, the feeling in her body was familiar. There appeared no change, flat and muscular flesh lay underneath her fingertips. Hm. She'd have February inspect her.
In the silence of the morning, she dressed and left him, closing the door as quietly as she could muster. The Big House was eerie when it was quiet but she could in fact hear the small nuances of the other House slaves as they began to prepare for the day. Stepping out through the kitchens, she headed towards the small cluster of row shacks. It was no surprise that February was awake when she got there.
"Morning, February."
"Marn'nin Anne."
"I need something."
"Like what?"
"Me wan ah know if me carry pickney." For a moment, the older woman just stared at her, disbelief and shock on her face. But then she resigned it all and put down her pounding stick. Since she'd been spending most of her time with de white man in de Big House, she had taken up the duty of preparing the cassava and plucking the few vegetables from their wee struggling garden for dinner.
"Come inside." Leading her into her small shack, she instructed the younger to lie down on her makeshift bed of straw and hay. Lifting up her shift, she laid a hand on her stomach.
"Yuh no bleed?" Shaking her head, she watched as her hands began to roam, further down to where her triangle lay.
"He leave 'is seed?"
"Every time."
"Hm."
"De sickness comes."
"In the marn'nin?"
"Yes." Her hand didn't linger there much longer and she motioned for her to put her shift in right order.
"Though it be faint, me feel somethin." February was one of the most seasoned healers on the plantation, and her vast knowledge was immeasurable. She possessed a power surely to have been given to her by the ancestors. One touch and she could tell so much. If she felt something then it just confirmed what she already knew. She was pregnant.
"Me mek yuh medicine. For yuh sickness."
"Thank you." As she sat up, February knelt down, looking her dead in the eye.
"Be careful, Anne." Feeling compelled, she gave her a hug. The arms of the woman hugged her back and she let her up. Leaving her shack, she gently placed a hand on her stomach. Fear gripped her for a moment and then the fear turned to guilt. Do your best, unborn. Do your best to free us both. She knew it was wrong... to use the life of her unborn child as leverage. But, she had no other choice. And, she felt strongly about this one. That it would live. This child had her ghana. It would fight and it would not accept the fate of its forefathers. Sighing, she headed back to the Big House. Now, all that was left was to tell him, and, perhaps finally, she would increase her charm, to ensure that he wouldn't have the inclination to change his mind.
***
As predicted, that night he'd called for her. She went, of course. Taking her time, she climbed the stairs one by one. My, hadn't he turned into a little glutton. The thought made her want to laugh. He was too flesh drunk, no... too pum drunk to think of anything else. Ha. He had so many repressed sexual feelings and little by little, they would consume him should he not be careful. As she ascended towards his door, she had to admit to herself one thing. Those pretty color-changing eyes of his and the size of his pecker had made it fun. Mathers was short and stubby, just like his brain. Underdeveloped and lacking. That devil Wigham was far too long and thin; he hadn't enough girth for her. It hurt every single time because he tried to cram all of it inside, past what her body was willing to allow. But, the foolish love-sick puppy... Lord William Frederick, well, he was somewhat decent. Still severely inexperienced. But decent.
Signaling her arrival, his voice gave consent to enter. Coming into the room that was growing entirely too familiar for her liking, she closed the door. Finding him already naked and sitting on the bed, a small smirk cracked through her mask.
"Yuh look ready." A flush of his cheeks and a cough-laugh replied.
"I was hoping...well..."
"Speak tall, Will." Clearing his throat, he tried again, his voice much firmer this time.
"I was wondering if you could do that one thing..."
"I do so many tings, love. Yuh have to be specific." She teased, removing her shift. His hands grabbed the bedding.
"The thing where you..hm...t-take me inside of your mouth..." Aha, that was his favorite so far. Approaching him, she didn't kneel as he expected. No, rather, she stood in front of him, watching as his eyes ate up the sight of her naked flesh.
"I was 'opin' tuh-night yuh do a ting for me."
"That is?" He answered, leaning forward to press his face against her breasts. Without a word, she took one of his hands from the bed and unfurled his fingers of the fist it had been in. Drawing it closer, she lay his palm flat against her belly.
"Say 'ello to our pickney."
"Our wha-" He stopped himself, and lifted his head from her bosom, blue-green eyes wide.
"You're...with child?" She made her smile sweet as pie and her eyes warm.
"Yes. Your chile." A loud exhale of shocked breath fanned across her flesh and at once, he lifted his other arm to wrap it around her. Pulling her closer in between his legs, he took then to embracing her in a full hug. He said nothing else for a long time but at the sudden outburst of joy-filled laughter, she found herself lifted up from the ground as he spun her, soon his lips kissed her too to express what words could not. Wrapping arms around him, she let him bring her back to the bed. As he covered her with his body, she for the first time, closed her eyes and let herself just feel. She would sacrifice everything for her unborn. And for the ability to walk free, away from this land. All she had to do was endure just a little bit more.
***
Not even a day or two later, he had a discussion with Sir and Lady Wigham. Making it no secret as to his feelings about her, he almost proudly told them that she in fact carried his child. He expressed a firm desire to purchase her and take her back to London. What he hadn't shared was that once he purchased her, he planned to manumit her, thereby releasing her from enslavement. The entire time, as he spoke, the two of them sat cold, stiff and rather emotionless. In a dry tone, Sir Wigham replied that he would 'think' about it. That was the end of conversation on that subject.
Naturally, it shifted to his reports to the King, and this and that. To which he obliged, knowing that he would continue to pursue the matter. After a few days, he revisited the issue as promised. The time could have been better but as they all had been pulled away during the day, at dinner seemed an available opportunity. Wigham replied not, continuing to eat his food and Lady Janessa sat pale and mum.
At the sight of Anne, who now had come into the room with several other servants, her mouth twisted. She reached for their plates each, placing the next course down before them. For whatever reason, suddenly he felt incredibly sick to his stomach. Reaching for his glass of water, he took a drink, hoping it would subside. The table finished their second course, the atmosphere tense and volatile. It was strange and rather mysterious, this sudden wave of nausea, but by the time that the fourth course had been brought out, he could no longer hold it. By the time that, Anne removed his bowl and replaced it with the next plate, vomit erupted from his mouth, splattering onto the table and soiling her hands.
At once, Wigham stood up and pushed back his chair. The other attending slaves pushed Anne out of the way and tried to consult him but he'd turned and continued to retch, now hunched over the chair. Lady Janessa shrieked, shoving her chair back. Her eyes grew wild as she watched Anne kneel and place a pot underneath him. Watching him spit into it, she advanced.
"Lord Frederick!" Shoving the slaves out of the way, she knelt and lifted her handkerchief to his mouth.
"We'll fetch a doctor! Get a doctor! Don't just stand there, you stupid swine!" She cursed, watching at they at once turned and scurried out of the room.
"I'm...alright..." He breathed, accepting her kerchief. Coming to her feet, she turned and slapped Anne with vicious force.
"Clean it up. Now."
"Yes, Mistress." Taking the pot, she quickly took the vomit covered dishes and hurried out of the room.
"Do you fare better, Lord Frederick?" Wigham asked, stony behind his chair.
"Yes. Perhaps one of the courses did not agree with me. There's no need to fret."
"Oh, but we shall rectify this situation." Leaving him, she returned to her seat.
"You are a guest in our home. If we were to let this infraction go, the reputation of our plantation would suffer." Lips pulled back to reveal teeth, she spoke, as a host of slaves, including Anne came back in to remove the soiled tablecloth and de-set the table.
"Anne is one of our primary cooks. Should there not be something to your liking, she should have been made aware of it. Surely, in all of your... frolicking, I would have thought that she would have figured it out by now. Her comment was left unanswered.
"I understand that you've taken a real liking to Anne. Everyone who meets her does." Wigham chose to speak now, eyes glued on her bottom as she knelt in front of him.
"You must not forget your station, Lord Frederick. What will the King say to you, having brought back an enslaved Negro wench?" He followed the action of his wife and sat down.
"It is of no surprise that the frequency in which you have requested her has produced the possibility of offspring." He lifted his glass up to his mouth.
"You seem to have made up your mind about this, Sir Wigham."
"Yes, well...as she is my property, by law, the offspring borne of the mother, also is my property."
"If I offered a handsome sum for the both of them?"
"It is not yet clear if she is in fact pregnant. For all we know, she could be lying."
"Sir Wigham, what reason would you have to refuse me?" The man grinned, finding the whole situation humorous.
"Because I can." The younger man grew quiet.
"Until her claims are proven correct, we will cease any further talk of this." Coming to stand once more, he grabbed the neck of Anne and forced her to bend over. Taking one of the many glasses, he smashed one against the table, causing it to break.
"I urge you to remember that while you've indulged in her body, she still belongs to me." The woman beneath him protested as he hastily lifted her dress.
"John, not here! Please." Lady Janessa begged, losing all color from her face. Ignoring her request, he forced entry into her, causing her to release an exclaim of pain. Moving his hand from the back of her neck to the front of it, he squeezed, proceeding to choke her. She moved her hands a bit too much for his liking and at once ceased that by impaling her hand to the table with the broken off glass flute. She screamed, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. He roughly took her, there in front of everyone, grunting his pleasure at her humiliation and suffering. Yanking her head up, he leaned down, pressing his mouth against her now closed eyelids.
"Don't make this mistake again, Annie. Embarrass our guest again and I'll slice your neck open. Understand?" She didn't answer, couldn't answer as the assault was too much, too violent even for her to muster words. Her silence was good enough and when he released his seed inside of her, he let go of her, finally taking his pressure off of her injured hand and neck.
"Clean the rest of this up. Now." He barked, delivering a brutal blow to her backside. At once, she yelped and got up, limping as she tried to grab hold of the remainder of the dishes and cutlery. Cradling her bleeding hand to her chest, she hobbled away, finally withdrawing her presence from them for good. Casually, he fixed his breeches to right standing and took his seat once more.
"She will not be visiting you tonight. Or any other night henceforth." At once, he got up from the table, hands clammy.
"Very well. I bid you goodnight, Sir and Lady Wigham."
A/N: this made me sick to my stomach honestly. Wigham is such a monster. *throws up* I decided to split one long chapter into two! Let's go~