The Antebellum School Project (Ch 5 added 9/27/24)

[computerphoto]

Mars357, thank you for your enthusiastic comment (and also to all those who took the time to comment and offer their insights.) I am working on the next two chapters as you read this and I am hoping to post them very shortly and several more chapters are in the works. I originally envisioned a 10-chapter story but this last week I have completed the outlines for at least 15 chapters as other ideas flooded my brain. I hope these future chapters will be as entertaining as the first chapters already posted. It takes a bit of time to flesh out this story with all the research I am putting into this combining historical fact with fictional characters in the present day and still keep it interesting.

Btw, several readers have asked about where I am getting some of my historical facts from and I will, when I get far enough in this story, post some of my favorite references. I am amazed about some of what was documented in the late 1800's that has been glossed over or eliminated from what actually occurred in many plantations. (No, slavery was and is terrible, but reality was far different than what is now portrayed to fit the modern narrative. By the way today's trivia question - which isn't relevant to this story but I found interesting - Do you know who the third largest group of slave owners where outside agricultural plantation owners in the South and in the territories west?

Native Americans - that is Indians - specifically the Cherokee, the Creek and the Choctaw and the Chippewa nations and that includes blacks purchased or traded for; white settlers and other Native American Indians who were taken as prizes of war.) Just a little food for thought. Anyway, back to the story.

Hooked6

I am impressed that you have taken the time to do all the research, it just shows how great of a writer you are and how dedicated you are, this will be a very amazing story and we all can't wait for the next parts.

[Hooked6]

The Antebellum School Project
BY: Hooked6

Chapter 4

I was now permanently marked as a slave right on the upper part of my left butt cheek.

“Who was the bastard that bought me and sent me this so-called gift? Tell me. I have a right to know,” I snapped angrily.

Angie gave me an awkward grin and just waved playfully at me. “It was me, dear step-sister.”

I don’t know if it was the way she was giggling or the overwhelming number emotions that I had all jumbled around in my head, simultaneously making their presence known, but all I could do was laugh. Yes, you read that right, I laughed. It was either that or cry and I certainly didn’t want to do that again in front of all those people. I had just been permanently marked by burning my skin with a red-hot, iron branding disc like I was some sort of cow or something. The indignity of it all is hard to fathom. It was incredibly humiliating – even pissing myself over the pain as my classmates all watched! I couldn’t believe that Susan would have allowed that to happen to me because, ironically, my step-mom would always constantly give jeering looks and make degrading remarks to people walking around town just sporting visible tattoos. What in the world is she going to think of me now that I had been actually branded? For one thing, she’s going to treat me like dirt; that’s what.

My thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Longacre dousing the burning hot coals in his forge with a large bucket of water making a loud searing sound sending an immense, white cloud of smoke soaring up into the air. The noise startled me for a second and then a HUGE feeling of relief swept over me as I realized that he was NOT going to do any more branding on me or for that matter, making any more iron implements of torture for me either. Not today anyway.

I let out a sigh of relief as I heard Mr. Conner speaking rather loudly thanking everyone for coming. My day was done! I noticed people gathering up their things as several people stood in small circles talking among themselves as the bulk of the guests started slowly drifting away here and there in groups of three or four.

It is funny what the mind starts thinking about at times like these. How did all my classmates get here? I was genuinely surprised to see such a huge crowd when I went onto the veranda earlier. I didn’t recall seeing any cars parked in the front yard nor did I hear cars arriving or doors slamming while the drama club was groping me up. I giggled as I wondered if they all arrived by wagon or on horseback. Given all the detailed preparation that had been made for my auction, it wouldn’t have surprised me one bit if they actually had done that somehow.

Then another troubling thought ran through my mind. I had only just made up my mind to help Angie with this project yesterday night! How could Angie have planned and arranged all of this overnight? I mean the logistics and coordinating all of this surely would have taken weeks not just a few hours in the middle of the night. Getting all my classmates organized, getting them fitted for these period costumes alone would have been a nightmare. For Pete’s sake you can’t just call up the County Judge and tell him to drop by the next morning on a Saturday, can you? Don’t they usually play golf or something on the weekends? How does one look up a judge’s personal mobile phone number anyway?

The more I thought about it, the more concerned I grew. Still, Angie was a very methodical person, which is why she was definitely college material. She wasn’t scatter-brained like me putting things off until the last minute. Surely she had been working on the details of this project all semester and only had to make a few calls to put her plan into action. Although . . . it has been my experience that complicated things like this with so many people rarely work out so perfectly like they did today.

I tried to put my doubts and fears to the back of my mind. I had more important things to worry about. After all, I was still totally naked, bent over and securely tied this log frame right out in our front yard. That point was made clearer as a couple of my female classmates came walking over to me with broad toothy smiles. They stopped right in front of me, pointed their phones at my face and began taking pictures of me. One of them even bent down and took a close-up of my pitiful little breasts dangling down towards the ground.

“Boy, Brooke, you really look a sight? I can’t believe you did this. I mean you are all nekkid and everything, right outside in front of us all?” Amber said half giggling.

The other girl, who I wasn’t familiar with added, “Who would have thought? Of all people? Only a real slut would be constantly dripping girl juice down her legs as some guy literally burned her ass off. Who would do that except a skank. That was really something to see though, I can tell you. Oh, and, Brooke, you stink by the way; did you know that?”

“Is she STILL leaking?” Amber asked, incredulously, as she hurried around behind me. “OMG, she really is!” I heard the sound of her camera phone going off and I know she was intent on capturing not only my open labia but my obviously wet thighs and legs as well, which I am sure were clearly seen in the sunlight. I knew I was incredibly aroused as I could feel it.

“She must not mind all this very much. Did you seen her pokey huge nipples all swollen up and red? She is one horny bitch.”

“Will you two go away and leave me alone?” I snapped angrily. “I can’t help what my body does. I hate this. I am just helping my step-sister with her school project. That’s all. Nothing more.”

The girls both laughed heartily at my tirade. “Yeah right . . . school project. Whatever, slut.” I could hear them walking away down the driveway chuckling as they left.

I was fuming at those girls when two more classmates of mine – a boy (okay a really handsome guy at that) and a girl - came up to me. I was about to read them the riot act before they could trash talk me, when the girl stroked my hair and softly said, “Did that hurt much? I felt really bad for you.”

“Yeah, it looked awful.” The cute guy said. “You are probably the most courageous person I know to go through all that just for your sister. I admire you a lot. I am Brian, by the way. I have seen you at school, but I don’t really know you.”

As embarrassing as it was to be bent over, bound naked in front of them having this conversation, their comments made me feel better and made my sacrifice for my step-sister feel worthwhile. At least some people appreciated what I am doing for my family. “Hi, Brian. I’m Honey . . . I mean, I’m . . .”

Just then I heard Angie immediately interrupting me, “That’s right. This is Honey. She is now legally known just as Honey. She is no longer who she was. She is just mere chattel, henceforth and forever more to be known as Honey.”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Conner told us about that.” He then patted my head gently and said, “Nice to meet you, Honey.”

“Well, we had best be going,” The girl said, then looking at Angie for a minute continued, “I won’t embarrass her by taking some pictures of her naked like she is, but if you have any that you think are appropriate to share, would you mind sending me one?”

She was a class act this girl, I thought. She was concerned enough about my feelings to refrain from taking pictures of me like this. I needed to find out who she was as I’d like to be her friend when this is all over – him too, if I was honest.

Angie just laughed. “You don’t need to worry about embarrassing her. Go ahead and take all the pictures you want. I don’t care. I own this slave now and what she wants is of no importance any more. In fact, this isn’t embarrassing at all compared to what is in store for her later on. Take your pictures. You have my permission.”

What the hell did she mean by “what was in store for me later?”

“Well . . .” the girl said cautiously. “If you really think it is okay . . .” then her demeanor changed radically as she suddenly squealed with excitement and raised her phone towards my face and said to me, “Sorry, but I am just dying to have a picture of you like this. This is so cool!” She then began taking images of me from all sorts of angles – from my side, my backside, my chest. It was like she was a kid at a rock concert taking pictures of her favorite band members up close and personal. Then she did something no other classmate had done as I was tied up – she bent down in front of me and took a selfie!

“WAIT A MINUTE!” I heard Angie shout.

“Oh, was I not supposed to take a selfie? I’m sorry, I’ll delete it right away.”

“Oh no, don’t do that. I just thought you would want one like this.”

Before I could react, Angie shoved my stick gag back into my mouth and tied it off behind my head once again stretching my mouth into that horrible haunted house type grin.

The girl squealed again with delight and said, “AWESOME! Brain, get down here and we will both get into the picture.” Angie, being careful not to get into the frame herself, reached down by my side, grabbed my hair and pulled back, raising my head up so I couldn’t hide my face as the sound of the camera shutter went off several times in succession.

The girl checked several of the images she had taken and remarked excitedly, “Do you see that!? What a face! It is like she is in shock or something?” Her remark caused everyone but me to laugh.

“Oh, that’s just from the taste of the stick gag. It has well over a hundred and sixty-nine years of semen worked into it as that is a real slave bit used to keep female slaves quiet – a few male slaves too I shouldn’t wonder. She ABSOUTELY HATES the taste of it.”

Again, everyone laughed. Why does everyone think that comment is funny? I don’t get it.

The girl stroked my hair several more times, gave me such a genuine smile, and said, “Thank you. You made my day. I suppose it’s no secret what I will be doing to your pictures when I get home.” After an embarrassed little giggle she added, “Oh, sorry. . . I probably shouldn’t have said that. I actually bid on you; ya know. I took out all of my spare savings and brought it with me. I didn’t decide to register until the last minute. It was fun competing with the other bidders. It was all so exciting. I hope they do another one of these in the future. Maybe I’ll have more money saved up if they do. I could have had such a great time with you if you would have been mine.”

With that, they both left. Her comment sent a tingle down my spine and I felt my clitoris wake up again in earnest. Before today, I never would have guessed that another girl could have that effect on me.

*****

Many people walked by, gave me the once over as they smiled at me and went on their way. I suppose not many, if any, of them had ever seen a naked girl bound and gagged right before their eyes, let alone watched a real branding done on a real girl’s butt before. It must have been an amazing experience for them. It was for me I can tell you. It is not something I wanted to ever experience again though. I was just glad this was almost over. My muscles were aching and I was really looking forward to relaxing and maybe getting something good for dinner.

I watched Mr. Longacre pack everything up into his wagon and lead his mule off down the driveway. He waved at me as he started to leave. I wondered if he felt any guilt in knowing he just put unremovable shackles on me and left me permanently scarred for life. It probably was just all in a day’s work for him as he showed no real emotion either way. Still, he did treat me gently and defended me a few times in front of Angie and my step-mom. I guess he was an okay fellow. I just hoped he really knew how to get these shackles off of me when this project was over. I am sure he was just kidding about these being permanent – well, the shackles anyway. I was pretty sure my branding scar wasn’t going away.

Pretty much everyone left and I was alone in the front yard, when I finally realized I was hearing traffic sounds again. Cars were going up and down the road in front of my house again. There didn’t seem to be any cars during the auction. I was sure of that, now that I had a chance to notice the traffic sounds again. Is my sister’s influence so strong she could close off our road for several hours? I guess maybe that was the Sherriff’s doing.

Hearing those sounds as my naked rear end faced the street, I began to get nervous again. It was one thing to have people who were part of this project seeing me like this. It was quite another knowing that absolute strangers might be seeing me like this now.

I tried calling out for Angie but with that gag back in place it just came out like a muffled “Ahhhfffeee . . . Ahhhfffeee!”

Nothing.

I tried a few more times but no one came. If they were trying to teach me patience keeping me tied up like this, their method was really working. I had no choice but to wait and endure it.

*****

I was exhausted, thirsty, and sore when I heard the sounds of shoes walking on the wooden veranda. I looked up and both Susan and Angie came down the steps and headed towards me, “At last” I muttered to myself.

It wasn’t until they came closer that I saw that Angie was carrying something in her hands and Susan had her hands behind her back.

When they reached me, Susan seemed so happy. “You were really wonderful today. I am so very proud of you. Everyone was remarking on how you dealt with everything. Why even Mr. Conner said he clearly thought that after the scholarship committee and the Board of Reagents see Angie’s final presentation, assuming everything else goes well, she was sure to get that full ride scholarship. Her research coupled with this reenactment would practically guarantee at least a book or two also gets published. He said that would be great publicity for the school and the town.”

Great. Just what I need – more publicity of my shame.

Susan then bought out a glass of cold lemonade with a straw from behind her back. “I thought you might could use this. Drink it slowly though.”

“Affffyouoooooo” I said hoping she’d get the hint and take that infernal thing out of my mouth. Mercifully she just laughed and directed Angie to get rid it so I could drink.

“Sorry,” she said. I didn’t realize that you still had that on.

Angie put something in her pocket and did as her mom had asked. She began talking as she worked on getting my gag off. “We were watching the documentary videos taken today and everything was just perfect! Seeing the crowd of people all dressed in period attire, our old house in the background, your facial expressions of fear, embarrassment, pain, and humiliation were all so evident . . . Everything was just so perfect. It couldn’t have been better.”

I took several long swallows of lemonade and, like before, it really helped. I was never a big fan of lemonade but today it was marvelous. “So, are you going to untie me now? Can I get up already?”

Susan said plainly, “Not yet, sweetheart . . . oh, I probably shouldn’t use terms of endearment like that anymore. Sorry. Anyway, you will need to stay in like this with your butt muscles stretched like they were for the branding for a little while longer. It helps the scar set in and it will heal better. If you stand up or change positions too soon, your muscles relax and you will ooze again and we start all over.”

Just then I felt something cool against my wound. “Hold still,” Angie said firmly, “It is time for me to gently dab some more of this Indian Burn Medicine on you. Keeping your wound and the salve in the sun helps prevent Ague, or as we say today, an infection as well as help in pain relief. If we do this right, you will be pretty much healed by this time tomorrow. Well, that’s what I am hoping for anyway.”

“You mean I have to stay this way until tomorrow afternoon??! You’re out of your mind!”

“No silly. Just a while longer. We will get you up as soon as we can. It is in your best interest just to cooperate.”

“Speaking of being out of your minds, What the fuck was that branding all about it? That was just plain cruel. You should have told me!”

“Slaves knew very little about what was going to happen to them when they were first sold. Add to that the language barrier for some of them and I am sure it was a very stressful experience. We didn’t tell you for a couple of reasons: You would have refused . . .”

“YOUR DAMN RIGHT I WOULD HAVE!” I shouted angrily.

“And we would have done it anyway even if we had to have the boys hold you down with the Sherriff’s assistance. It was better this way and we got an absolutely gorgeous branding. Under force, you certainly would have moved and we might have had to do it over – maybe two or even three times. No, our way – the way it was done back in 1845 – is best, and it is historically accurate. Pretty much ALL slaves were marked.”

“I have a few things to say to you both about that. If you think . . .”

“Save it for your diary entry tonight. Make sure and write down all those venomous emotions and vivid thoughts down. That’s what we need anyway.” Angie said as she finished up dabbing my butt.

Susan got right in my face and added, “And if you insist and talking or complaining any more, I will have you gagged again and you can stay that way all night. Got it?”

I nodded my head in agreement afraid to risk their wrath anymore. I finished the last of the lemonade before that was taken away from me and then they left me to pout and believe me, “pouting” wasn’t a strong enough word for what I was mulling over in my mind at that moment. I was FUMING!

*****

I must have fallen asleep for some time as I woke up to near darkness. It was late. I wasn’t sure of the time but it was definitely dark. I could see the lights on in the house. I shook my head a few times trying to get myself fully awake and stretch my neck muscles a bit. After my much-needed nap, I felt better. I was still naked and tied, but sleep helped.

The cooler air felt good and there was a gentle breeze wafting through the air. I liked that a lot. It shouldn’t be long now, I thought.

Just then out of nowhere, someone from behind me shoved a canvas bag over my head basically blinding me and told me to be quiet; that if I alerted anyone in the house there would be hell to pay.

“What’s going on?” I whispered calmly as I was sure it was Angie just messing with me.

Then I heard a voice that I didn’t recognize and my heart began to pound!

“I saw the way you were acting out here all afternoon, you slut, and now you are going to get what is coming to you. You’ll get a lot worse if you don’t cooperate. Got it?”

I started to panic, yanking on my bonds desperately trying to get free but it was of no use. I was held fast and wasn’t going anywhere. I was about to scream for all I was worth when I felt fingers gently rubbing between my legs and I am ashamed to admit it but it felt really good.

“So, you LIKE that huh, bitch?” the strange voice asked in a somewhat teasing manner. It was female voice, somewhat young like maybe someone my age perhaps, but I wasn’t sure. One thing I was sure of, however, was that it wasn’t Angie, or Susan for that matter.

The stranger’s finger movements quickly got me very wet in no time. Soon, I felt the fingers reach up to my clitoris causing me to softly moan as this girl began moving faster and with more intensity. Who was this girl?

“ANSWER ME, bitch? I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” The girl whispered rather demandingly this time. “Do. You. Like. This?”

Ah . . .” my voice replied quivering. I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. I was being assaulted in my own yard by a stranger and there wasn’t anything I could do about it – yet, it felt ever so good and I was unsure I really wanted it to stop. I had been ever so horny and aroused all damn day and it did feel pretty nice. I needed to do something – scream for help or let her do whatever she was going to do, so I finally reluctantly answered, “Yeeeessss, I . . . like . . . it.”

“I knew you would, you sleezy whore.” The voice sounded familiar but since she was whispering in a teasing manner like she was, I wasn’t quite sure. Was it one of the pair of cruel girls who talked down to me while I was tied to this log frame earlier? It might be one of them I suppose. Amber maybe? It was just like one of them to have sneaked back into my yard after everyone was gone to torture me. Was it that friendly girl who took the selfies? Naw, that girl was too timid always making sure if it was okay before she did anything. She was too nice to do something like this.

The wet fingers left my clit and began making circles around my labia which sent shivers up my spine. I was getting close – VERY close. Who is this idiot? Why am I letting this stranger do this to me? I’m not really that kind of person. I’m really not. I need to stop this right now. I need to stand up for myself.

Before I could do what I had intended to do, she moved her hand up back to my engorged and ever so sensitive clit again and started tapping on it and I started to lose it – it felt that good.

Wait! Something clicked in my addled brain. The tapping on my clit . . . I know who this is! It was the biggest bully and the most popular girl in my school. “SARAH ANN!” I called out to get her to stop but it was too late. I came and came hard. If I wasn’t already tied so securely, I would have collapsed on the ground in wild convulsions. I was so lost in pleasure that I barely heard her wild giggling.

When I finally regained my composure, she pulled her hand out between my wide spread legs, wiped her dripping fingers and hand on my back and laughed all the more. “Damn, you are one randy bitch, you know that?” She then walked around to my face, obviously not worried about being recognized as I had already called out her name, and planted a big, open-mouthed kiss on my lips which naturally involved tongue. I was too weak to resist and just let it happen.

When she pulled away, she just laughed; patted my head like I was a puppy dog and disappeared into the darkness.

I was so ashamed. Once again, she got the best of me. Of all people bringing me to such an intense orgasm. I really hated her.

*****

A little while later Angie came out and untied me from the pole-frame. I was so stiff I could hardly move. Angie surprised me massaging my arms as she apologized for the length of time that I had to stay immobilized but she assured me that enduring this now was for the best as I would heal faster with less pain. When she started massaging my legs as I stood there, she began laughing out loud. She must have felt my vaginal leakage on my upper thighs. “Good grief, girl, doesn’t that thing ever dry out?” she asked mockingly. I ignored her comment.

Mercifully she had no idea of the intense orgasm I had just experienced. She didn’t push things anymore and when she finished, we walked back to the house.

Susan met us when we entered, “Your dad called while you were outside and I told him how very pleased I was with your performance today. He wanted me to tell you that he was very proud of you but he also knew you had a long way to go and he wants you to give it your all for the next few weeks. He said he knew it would be hard so just do it for him if nothing else and not let him down; that he was counting on you.”

I was so happy at hearing what Susan had said and I was actually also pleased that she had given me what apparently was a glowing report to dad. Knowing that he was proud of me made it all worthwhile.

“Did dad say when he will be coming back to Georgia?”

“Probably by Friday or Saturday at the latest. He has a lot of work to take care of.”

Well that just sucked, I said to myself. “I’m hungry. Is there anything to eat?”

“Angie led me to the kitchen and much to my astonishment, there was a bowl on the floor full of left-over food from their dinner apparently. It smelled good so I got down on my knees and starting eating as I was really starving.

I was shocked and embarrassed when Angie said, “You don’t have to eat like a dog, you dope. You just can’t use the furniture. Slaves are prohibited from acting like one of the family. You can eat standing up unless you are ordered to do something else. Which reminds me, I would prefer it if you didn’t sit on your wound just yet though. Come to think of it, for tonight it might be best just to stay on your hands and knees while you eat. You are kind of cute eating like a mangy dog.” She chuckled at her own comment and Susan just smiled.

“Yes, Angie.” I replied.

“You had best start using ‘yes, ma’am’ and ‘yes, sir.’ Slaves never used proper names unless someone asked a question that needed your owner’s identification or when it was necessary. Then I am ‘Miss Angie’ and Susan would be, ‘Mistress Susan.’ We will cover all that and much more tomorrow.

Susan came into the room with a large wooden cup and handed it to me. When I looked at it, I saw the name Slave Honey on it. “This is your cup,” she explained. “You may only drink out of this cup and that bowl also has your name on it as well as that is what you will eat out of from now on. When you are done using them, it will be your job to wash them out and place them in your room off the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Later as I was finishing up cleaning my cup and bowl and was putting it away in my room, Angie walked in and instructed me to lay down on my bed, such as it was, on my stomach. She then proceeded to dab more salve on my wound which, despite all the time that had passed since my last application, hardly hurt anymore. I was pleased at that. She told me that she would be waking me up a couple of times during the night to re-apply the salve.

After she was through, she handed me my journal and my pen and instructed me to write a detailed account of what happened to me that day, in my own words; not writing what I thought she wanted me to say. She wanted my real thoughts and real feelings. Don’t hold anything back she said.

“When you are through, you will need to sleep on your stomach like you are now or on your right side making sure to keep your weight off your branding site. I will know if you don’t, as you will then be really sore as heck by morning, and I mean REALLY sore, so you best do as I say. You have an early start tomorrow so don’t stay up too late.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Dear Diary: I started writing. This is going to take some time, I thought.

Chapter 5 More training and a surprise.


..

[Legoman2]

Beautiful chatper i can wait to see the dads reaction when he gets home maybe he has second thoughts about it but the step mom preswads him to keep it going

[Skylar21]

Thank you for this chapter 4. Nice to read of Honey's recovery from branding. Her interaction with her "visitors" while bound is a good read.

Good to read the reference to her dad, that he is still part of the story.

Again, thanks for continuing this saga.

[protonboy2024]

Fantastic! I'm so looking forward to more.

[computerphoto]

The Antebellum School Project
BY: Hooked6

Chapter 4

I was now permanently marked as a slave right on the upper part of my left butt cheek.

“Who was the bastard that bought me and sent me this so-called gift? Tell me. I have a right to know,” I snapped angrily.

Angie gave me an awkward grin and just waved playfully at me. “It was me, dear step-sister.”

I don’t know if it was the way she was giggling or the overwhelming number emotions that I had all jumbled around in my head, simultaneously making their presence known, but all I could do was laugh. Yes, you read that right, I laughed. It was either that or cry and I certainly didn’t want to do that again in front of all those people. I had just been permanently marked by burning my skin with a red-hot, iron branding disc like I was some sort of cow or something. The indignity of it all is hard to fathom. It was incredibly humiliating – even pissing myself over the pain as my classmates all watched! I couldn’t believe that Susan would have allowed that to happen to me because, ironically, my step-mom would always constantly give jeering looks and make degrading remarks to people walking around town just sporting visible tattoos. What in the world is she going to think of me now that I had been actually branded? For one thing, she’s going to treat me like dirt; that’s what.

My thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Longacre dousing the burning hot coals in his forge with a large bucket of water making a loud searing sound sending an immense, white cloud of smoke soaring up into the air. The noise startled me for a second and then a HUGE feeling of relief swept over me as I realized that he was NOT going to do any more branding on me or for that matter, making any more iron implements of torture for me either. Not today anyway.

" " It is funny what the mind starts thinking about at times like these. How did all my classmates get here? I was genuinely surprised to see such a huge crowd when I went onto the veranda earlier. I didn’t recall seeing any cars parked in the front yard nor did I hear cars arriving or doors slamming while the drama club was groping me up. I giggled as I wondered if they all arrived by wagon or on horseback. Given all the detailed preparation that had been made for my auction, it wouldn’t have surprised me one bit if they actually had done that somehow.

Then another troubling thought ran through my mind. I had only just made up my mind to help Angie with this project yesterday night! How could Angie have planned and arranged all of this overnight? I mean the logistics and coordinating all of this surely would have taken weeks not just a few hours in the middle of the night. Getting all my classmates organized, getting them fitted for these period costumes alone would have been a nightmare. For Pete’s sake you can’t just call up the County Judge and tell him to drop by the next morning on a Saturday, can you? Don’t they usually play golf or something on the weekends? How does one look up a judge’s personal mobile phone number anyway?

The more I thought about it, the more concerned I grew. Still, Angie was a very methodical person, which is why she was definitely college material. She wasn’t scatter-brained like me putting things off until the last minute. Surely she had been working on the details of this project all semester and only had to make a few calls to put her plan into action. Although . . . it has been my experience that complicated things like this with so many people rarely work out so perfectly like they did today. ""


“Will you two go away and leave me alone?” I snapped angrily. “I can’t help what my body does. I hate this. I am just helping my step-sister with her school project. That’s all. Nothing more.”

The girls both laughed heartily at my tirade. “Yeah right . . . school project. Whatever, slut.” I could hear them walking away down the driveway chuckling as they left.



As embarrassing as it was to be bent over, bound naked in front of them having this conversation, their comments made me feel better and made my sacrifice for my step-sister feel worthwhile. At least some people appreciated what I am doing for my family. “Hi, Brian. I’m Honey . . . I mean, I’m . . .”

Just then I heard Angie immediately interrupting me, “That’s right. This is Honey. She is now legally known just as Honey. She is no longer who she was. She is just mere chattel, henceforth and forever more to be known as Honey.”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Conner told us about that.” He then patted my head gently and said, “Nice to meet you, Honey.”



I watched Mr. Longacre pack everything up into his wagon and lead his mule off down the driveway. He waved at me as he started to leave. I wondered if he felt any guilt in knowing he just put unremovable shackles on me and left me permanently scarred for life. It probably was just all in a day’s work for him as he showed no real emotion either way. Still, he did treat me gently and defended me a few times in front of Angie and my step-mom. I guess he was an okay fellow. I just hoped he really knew how to get these shackles off of me when this project was over. I am sure he was just kidding about these being permanent – well, the shackles anyway. I was pretty sure my branding scar wasn’t going away.




“Speaking of being out of your minds, What the fuck was that branding all about it? That was just plain cruel. You should have told me!”

“Slaves knew very little about what was going to happen to them when they were first sold. Add to that the language barrier for some of them and I am sure it was a very stressful experience. We didn’t tell you for a couple of reasons: You would have refused . . .”

“YOUR DAMN RIGHT I WOULD HAVE!” I shouted angrily.

“And we would have done it anyway even if we had to have the boys hold you down with the Sherriff’s assistance. It was better this way and we got an absolutely gorgeous branding. Under force, you certainly would have moved and we might have had to do it over – maybe two or even three times. No, our way – the way it was done back in 1845 – is best, and it is historically accurate. Pretty much ALL slaves were marked.”

“I have a few things to say to you both about that. If you think . . .”

“Save it for your diary entry tonight. Make sure and write down all those venomous emotions and vivid thoughts down. That’s what we need anyway.” Angie said as she finished up dabbing my butt.

Susan got right in my face and added, “And if you insist and talking or complaining any more, I will have you gagged again and you can stay that way all night. Got it?”

I nodded my head in agreement afraid to risk their wrath anymore. I finished the last of the lemonade before that was taken away from me and then they left me to pout and believe me, “pouting” wasn’t a strong enough word for what I was mulling over in my mind at that moment. I was FUMING!

*****


*****

A little while later Angie came out and untied me from the pole-frame. I was so stiff I could hardly move. Angie surprised me massaging my arms as she apologized for the length of time that I had to stay immobilized but she assured me that enduring this now was for the best as I would heal faster with less pain. When she started massaging my legs as I stood there, she began laughing out loud. She must have felt my vaginal leakage on my upper thighs. “Good grief, girl, doesn’t that thing ever dry out?” she asked mockingly. I ignored her comment.

Mercifully she had no idea of the intense orgasm I had just experienced. She didn’t push things anymore and when she finished, we walked back to the house.

Susan met us when we entered, “Your dad called while you were outside and I told him how very pleased I was with your performance today. He wanted me to tell you that he was very proud of you but he also knew you had a long way to go and he wants you to give it your all for the next few weeks. He said he knew it would be hard so just do it for him if nothing else and not let him down; that he was counting on you.”

I was so happy at hearing what Susan had said and I was actually also pleased that she had given me what apparently was a glowing report to dad. Knowing that he was proud of me made it all worthwhile.

“Did dad say when he will be coming back to Georgia?”

“Probably by Friday or Saturday at the latest. He has a lot of work to take care of.”



..

I guess like I hinted before, Brooke aka Honey never read any of the paperwork or asked questions, because she just thought she would do this and get money after it, but it sounds like she has become a legal slave and her former life is totally over that she been branded and have permanent shackles which seems are not going to come off, and also no matter what her step mom says about a few weeks, it sounds like this is her life forever, and she will be a slave for the rest of her life, and she agreed to it without knowing it.

Also it sounds like she was setup from the start, and she started thinking about that, about how long it took to organize all this and set this whole thing up.

[Hooked6]

The Antebellum School Project
BY: Hooked6

Chapter 5


Laying on my stomach I continued to write my most inner-most thoughts of what I had experienced that day – the shame at being seen naked by my school peers; the indignity of being shackled; the humiliation of being fondled and groped by several of my classmates during the inspection period to the point of orgasm as my classmates witnessed it all; the degradation of being bid on and ultimately purchased by another human being (my own step-sister as it turned out); and the down right pain of actually being branded on my bottom with the mark of a slave and the anger of having no control to prevent being permanently disfigured like that.

I also debated mentally as to whether I wanted to share the intimate and sensual feelings I experienced through it all. I knew that at some point the University’s Scholarship Committee and ultimately the Board of Reagents would read everything that I had written. My first inclination was to refrain from writing such intimate details. As I pondered the pros and cons of my decision, I realized that Angie was going to include all the videos of my experience as part of her submission and everyone on the committee would see for themselves how aroused I was, so I decided to include it all.

I am sure that the fact that I was still very horny factored into my choice, as well as to a lesser extent, wanting my sister’s project to be as believable as possible also figured into my calculus. I had endured so much and had come so far to have the committee then reject her scholarship on it being implausible and scarcely credible. If that happened, I was sure I could kiss my $30,000 that I was promised if Angie got her full-ride scholarship.

By the time I finished my entry in my journal, it was well after midnight and I was exhausted. I put out my oil lamp and went to sleep.

I had no sooner dozed off than I was rudely awakened by my sister announcing that it was time for another application of the Indian Medicine as she called it to help heal my wound. I grumbled at the intrusion but I let her carry on with what she had to do. It turns out she had to do another application at 3am as well. Just my luck. I nodded off to sleep as she was still dabbing the salve on the butt.

*****

I woke to the sound of pounding – lots of pounding and banging. At first, I thought someone was knocking my storage room door but when I looked, the door was still open like it was supposed to be. “Stupid neighbors,” I mumbled. “Who makes such noises at this time of night?”

Doing my best to get back to sleep was of no use so I just laid there with my eyes closed hoping they would stop whatever it was they were doing and go to sleep themselves.

“Good morning!” Angie called out as she entered my room in her usual cheery voice. “It’s time to get up.”

“What?! It’s morning already? What time is it?”

“It is 6 o’clock.”

“It’s too early to get up. Give me another hour, please Angie? I had a hard night laying like this on my belly all night,” I whined as I buried my head into the poor excuse for a pillow I was given.

“Why you lazy worthless piece of crap. We have lots to do today,” She explained still using her ‘happy voice.’ “Hold still, let me see your wound here for a minute.” She bent down, and using her hands and fingers, she moved my skin around a bit on my bottom for several minutes stretching the skin this way and that. “Does this hurt?” she asked as she put pressure directly my branded area.”

“Not really, why? Is there something wrong with my wound?”

“Oh no! Not at all!” She said a bit surprised. “I am shocked at how good it looks. There’s no oozing or any signs of an infection and your skin has healed over nicely. You actually have a hard, red-looking, raised circular scar on your ass – just like the books said it would look. AMAZING!” I then heard the sound of her camera-phone shutter going off. “Here. Look!”

Angie came around and put her phone in my face and showed me the picture she had just taken. Sure enough, I had a raised, red scar in shape of a circle with an “S” in the middle. It looked a lot better than it did only a day ago. It was clear and plain as day. I immediately reached back and touched it with my fingers. There was no pain and it felt just as it looked. I could actually run my fingers back and forth over it. It felt weird! I wasn’t sure if I was disgusted by it or if I was proud at how good it looked. I guess Mr. Longacre really knew how to brand things. I was truly amazed that the darn thing didn’t hurt at all.

“Enough, dilly-dallying. Get up and go pee or whatever you have to do and get back here as soon as you are done. You have breakfast to fix. I promised mom, Mr. Conner, and Miss Sedgewick a good meal this morning.

I got up and was going to complain but noticed that Angie had that stick-whip thing in her hand and thought better of it. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied and headed out of my room and down the hall to the back door.

“Don’t forget your wash your rag,” she called out after me.

I reached the back door and opened it and was greeted by the site of several men – carpenters I supposed – all working and hammering things. So that’s what that pounding noise was that woke me up this morning.

“Morning, Miss,” one of the guys said as he reached down in front of me looking my naked body over in the process. He picked up a small board that was laying at my feet on the grass. “Here, let me get this out of your way. We will be done here in a few minutes. Don’t mind us,” he said.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” I screamed and slammed the door shut. There were strange men working out there. I wasn’t going to go out there and do my business while THEY were out there! I was naked for Pete’s sakes.

Angie must have heard me scream and came back to check on me. “What’s wrong? I heard the door slam.”

“There are men out there! What is going on?”

“Oh that? That’s a little present from me to you to make your life easier.”

“Huh?”

“They are building you a period outdoor barrel shower. You’ll love it as you will eventually have warm water to get clean with.”

“Oh . . . that’s um . . . nice of you,” I stuttered trying to makes sense out of what a barrel shower was and how I was going to get warm water out of a barrel. “I’ll just wait here until they are done. The guy said they were almost through anyway.”

“Nonsense! We have wasted too much time all ready. You get your ass back out there and pee.”

“But,” I protested, “I have to do . . . the other thing as well, ya know?” I whispered, Can’t I just wait until they are done, please? It’s embarrassing.”

“You mean poop?” Angie asked laughing? “What do I care if you are embarrassed. You’ll have to do that sometime and I would rather you do that now before you bathe rather than later on and be dirty all day. We will have company before too long and they are sure to notice such things. NOW GET YOUR ASS OUT THERE or I will drag you out there myself and whip you in front of those guys and you will STILL have to take care of business!”

I reluctantly opened the back door and looked out. All three guys were working – one on a ladder and the other two were holding some small boards watching what the guy on the ladder was doing and giving him some directions.

I felt Angie’s hand on my back giving me a shove so out I went and ran like a crazy women toward the hole in the ground. Maybe if I was fast enough, I could get far enough away they wouldn’t realize what I was doing out there.’’

“Hey! You forgot your rags – the dry one and the wet one for your back passage! Get back here!”

I had no choice and slowly walked backed towards the house. Did she HAVE to shout about one rag for my back passage? Now they will know for sure what I was going to be doing.

When I reached the house, I heard one of the guys chuckling a bit as Angie handed me the rags. She had already wet one of them for me saving me the trouble.

Taking the rags in hand, I quickly ran off. I then heard everyone suddenly burst out laughing. They knew alright, they knew.

I kept my back to them as I hovered over the hole in the ground out there for the whole world to see and did my business. I then awkwardly cleaned myself as I assumed they watched. How awful! I had never done anything like this before. I then carefully folded up the rags and resumed my long, slow trek back towards the house.

The workmen had finished and were talking to Angie when I arrived. “Well, what do you think?” she asked, waving her arm proudly towards a wooden barrel that was cut in half mounted on a wooden frame fastened to two round vertical logs buried into the ground and rose about 8 feet in the air. A small rope dangled from the bottom of the barrel that hung down to about 4 feet above the ground. The workmen had also made a wooden platform directly on the ground underneath the barrel. The platform had a wooden frame on the sides keeping it off the ground. The floor had wooden slats with 2-inch spaces between them. The platform looked like what we would call a shipping pallet today only a little bigger.

“Nice,” I said quietly as I looked up at it. So, this was an old-timey shower, eh? Interesting, I thought.

https://imgur.com/udcmdDx

“This is a slave shower. The residents of the big house normally took baths in their rooms. Slaves cleaned themselves outside.”

“So, like, how does it work exactly? Am I supposed to pull the rope and the entire barrel tips over and dumps all the water all over me or something? How to I rinse off then after all the water is gone?”

Angie sighed impatiently. “Go wash up your dirty rags in your bowl by the house then hang them up to dry and come back and Mr. Anderson will show you.” Angie directed.

I did as she asked as everyone talked among themselves. When I started back, Angie called out, “Bring a new rag and your soap.” She wasn’t really going to make me wash myself while they looked on, was she?

“Step up on the wooden floor, little lady,” Mr. Anderson instructed gently.

I carefully stepped up onto platform. “Now, Little Lady, if you look up, you will see several holes in the bottom of the bucket. When you pull on that rope, a small, metal plate inside the bucket will slide away from the holes and water will fall. That metal plate is connected to a small spring hinge like the larger spring hinges on a wagon or a horse drawn buggy. As long as you keep pulling on that rope, the water will drain out of the bucket. When you let go of the rope, the hinge will cause the metal plate to slide back over the holes and the water stops.”

“How much water is in there? I mean I doubt there is enough in there for me to clean myself and rinse off.”

“That there, little lady, is one-half of a 25-gallon barrel used to haul water on a 19th century buck board wagon. So that is roughly 12 and a half gallons. The trick is to pull on the rope and allowing the water to get you wet then let go. Then you can take your time washing yourself and your hair or your private unmentionables.” He paused as the other men giggled obviously amused at his use of his delicate language. “When you are done, pull on the rope again to get rinsed off.”

I nodded my head and just stood there hoping that if I didn’t ask any more questions, they would go away, but they didn’t budge an inch.

“Well, get on with it or I will whip your hide something fierce,” Angie said impatiently.

I reached up and pulled the rope and I felt the tension give way but no water rained down. “Nothing happened, sir.”

“Pull harder . . . I mean really hard . . . that’s it.” He instructed and sure enough, as I pulled harder, water came down like he said it would. It took all my might to keep holding that rope down as I twisted and turned my naked body until I was good and wet.

I shook my arm after letting go. “It’s too hard,” I said. I’m not that strong,” I complained as I stood there dripping wet as everyone looked on.

“I’m sure you will soon develop your muscles after all the chores you’ll have to do. You did just fine.”

Reluctantly, I soaped myself up washing my arms, legs and belly. But Angie saw my hesitation about lathering up the rest of me and yelled at me to get a move on.

The instant I felt my soapy hands running over my breasts I felt a surge of sensations that went right down my spine and to my pelvis. Darn, did that feel good! Knowing that these men were watching my every move only amplified these sensations. It wasn’t long before my hand was between my legs rubbing myself in earnest, ostensibly to get myself clean of course. I heard Angie start to giggle as she knew what I must have been feeling and how embarrassing this was for me.

“Don’t forget your butthole,” Angie said trying to be helpful but chuckling the whole time. I must have turned two shades of red I was so embarrassed. Why did she have to say that? The smiles on the workman really got to me as I knew what they were thinking. I worked the soap all over. Then pulled the rope with one arm as I tried to rinse off. I used one arm to try and rinse off then changed arms pulling the rope to do the other side. I barely got my legs rinsed when the water ran out. My chest, backside and hair were still full of soap.

“Hey! What happened? What happens now? How do I fill that barrel thing?” I asked, trying to keep the soap dripping from my hair out of my eyes.

Mr. Anderson looked at one of his workers. “Charlie, did you fill that barrel all the way up?”

“Gosh darn it. No, I only filled it up enough to check for leaks earlier this morning. It was only half full. I meant to fill it the rest of the way up but I forgot when she came out all nekid.”

One of the other guys ran away from the barrel tower the short distance towards the house. I thought he was going to turn a valve or something to fill up the barrel. Boy was I wrong. He returned and tossed an empty wooden bucket with a handle on the ground. “There you go, slave. Go fill it up and while you are at it, bring back that wooden ladder too.”

I must have looked a sight – still soapy, my hair dribbling soap down my back and breasts. There was no way I could carry both the ladder and the bucket. I got the ladder and leaned it against the back of one of the poles and then went to fill up the bucket. I had to use two hands to carry that bucket as it was pretty heavy – not too heavy to manage, but two hands made it easier. Then I had to climb that ladder several rungs, one hand on the ladder rails and the other hand holding the bucket. When I got high enough, I balanced myself by using my legs spread wide against the sides of the ladder so I didn’t fall and raised the bucket and poured out its contents.

As I was emptying the bucket, I noticed the guys were all behind me on the ground looking up between my legs which made me cringe. “Don’t worry. If you fall, we are back here to catch you,” one of them said helpfully

Yeah sure. “I’ll bet you that’s what you are back there for.” I said to myself. The sensations in my pelvis returned when I realized they only wanted to gawk at my sex. It was a rather nice feeling despite knowing they were just treating me as a sex-object. It was also weird that they thought of me in that way even though I was covered in soap. For the life of me I couldn’t imagine how that sight of a wet, soap covered girl with disheveled hair could be sexy. Men are weird, I thought.

I carefully climbed down the ladder and walked back to the house and filled up the bucket again. I repeated this process 5 times before the barrel was pretty fill. The last time I climbed down the ladder I actually slipped on a wet soapy rail and fell backwards screaming in a panic. True enough, the guys caught me before I hit the ground. I was so relieved until I became aware that there were hands covering both of my breasts and another hand was high on my thigh resting against my labia. Just the thought of these guys touching me like that – innocent though that touching was – almost sent me over the edge.

They put me down gently and I thanked them for coming to my rescue.

“Good thing we were here, right?”

I smiled a knowing grin and replied, “Yes, it surely was.” I have NEVER been a tease or a flirt, but I had to admit that was fun.

In no time I finished rinsing off and then was told to fill up the open-topped barrel again so that the sun could heat the water during the day for the next time I bathed. So that’s how the water got warm . . . the sun. How clever.

Once again, the men stood guard since the ladder was still wet and soapy only this time, they got a much better view of my pussy because I was now clean and no soap obstructed my important bits.

When I was through, the workmen bid farewell to Angie, picked up their tools and left. Angie combed out my hair for me as I “air-died” in the rising sun.

*****

“Stir the eggs in the pan, Honey. Don’t just let them sit there frying. You are making scrambled eggs, remember?” Angie instructed. The only things I had ever really cooked in my life was heating up a frozen TV dinner or making popcorn in the microwave, Now, here I was actually cooking in a cast-iron pan.

“OUCH!” I cried out as hot grease from another cast-iron pan containing bacon splashed my arm. “Damn, that hurts!”

Angie was showing me what was expected of me whenever I was on kitchen duty as a “House Slave.”

“There are three main types of slaves that you are going to learn to master for my project,” she explained, “House Slave, Farm Slave and Fancy Girl.”

All the kitchen house slave stuff surely didn’t suit me. I am not naturally very kitchen- savvy like my step-mom or Angie seemed to be. That Fancy girl thing sounded right up my alley. I wasn’t really sure what a Fancy Girl did but I imagined wearing a fancy silk dress, mingling with other well-attired men and women serving as an attendant for the lady of the house or maybe greeting guests as they arrived and maybe announcing them. I liked the idea of being on the softer side of slavery. Now THAT would suit me.

“Watch it!” Angie chastised. “You’re burning the bacon. Turn it over so the other side gets done. And take those eggs out of that other pan and put them in a bowl before you burn them too and then make some more.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You better check your biscuits as well.”

Earlier Angie showed me how to set a proper table and had me place flowers on the table. Where she got the flowers from, I had no idea. She also had me set place-settings for 8 people. Besides Angie, she only mentioned to me about Mr. Conner, Miss Sedgwick and her mom. I guessed the other settings were just practice for me or maybe to give the breakfast guest a choice of where to sit.

“Those biscuits look good, Honey. Nice job. Put them into a bowl and cover them with a clean towel. Then, start slicing some fresh fruit for the table and after that start the grits.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Good grief I’ll never get all this done without screwing something up. There is so much to do.

*****

The table looked good and I double checked that all the condiments had been laid out. Fanciest table I had ever seen in quite some time. Angie came around the corner all dressed in period attire. She looked really nice and I told her so.

“Um, should I be getting dressed now that things are ready? Maybe a serving outfit or something. This is such a fancy table setting I thought you’d want me to make a good impression.”

“Oh, you’ll be making a good impression, alright. You are fine just as you are.”

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Naked and in shackles?” I complained. “But you said I’d be given things to wear in certain situations and . . .”

“That’s right. There will be times when you will be given things I want you to wear like when you go to school tomorrow but today isn’t one of them. You don’t get to make the rules or decide what is proper. I do!”

“But . . .”

Just then someone was knocking on the door.

“That’s it. You will be punished for complaining later. Right now, you had better knock off your attitude and answer the door as I showed you earlier. And remember, EVERYONE is your better. YOU are nothing but property. You will defer to EVERYONE doing as they ask unless I instruct you differently or it goes against something that I have already told you.”

“Yes, ma’am” I whined, clearly disappointed that I was still stuck being naked. I was really getting into that whole Downton Abby, Gone with the Wind, elegant thing. I heard what she had said but my mind was still dwelling on what I had pictured in my mind.

I checked myself in the hall mirror and primped my hair a bit, took a deep breath and opened the door. “Welcome to the Harkins house,” I said in a meek but welcoming voice, looking down at the floor as Angie had taught me.

I suddenly heard giggling. I quickly looked up and saw four of my classmates – Rosie and Frank, Ellen and Clyde - all dressed in period attire! None of these people were at my auction yesterday. I was shocked and embarrassed standing here like this, yet they clearly had been invited as they were all dressed appropriately and must know what happened to me the day before.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite us in? Rosie asked with a big grin.

“Oh, um, yes. Please excuse me. Won’t you please follow me to the Parlor?”

I led the way as they all followed silently, their shoes echoing on the old wood floors with each step they took.

“Nice butt, Honey,” Frank said as Rosie playfully jabbed him in his side with her hand as I showed them into the parlor. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. My mistress will be in shortly. Can I get you something to drink while you are waiting? Some orange juice or some sweet tea perhaps.”

“None for me,” Clyde replied.

“I’ll take some sweet tea,” Ellen said as the others all declined. I nodded to Ellen acknowledging her request and politely started to leave the room. As soon as I passed the threshold of the Parlor, the others began laughing.

I heard them saying things like, “She walks around naked?” and “Get a load of her shackles,” while the girls were more demeaning in their comments like, “Who knew she hardly has anything up top. She must have been stuffing her bra the whole time.” But the worst came from Ellen when she asked, “Did you all see that clit of hers? It was all angry and red poking out like that. It was HUGE!” Everyone laughed all the louder as I passed Susan, my step-mom, in the hall on her way into the Parlor to greet her guests. She gave me a knowing smirk, clearly relishing my humiliation as she walked by me. She must have heard everything those classmates of mine had said – especially Ellen.

I was almost out of earshot making my way back to the kitchen when I heard my step-mom calling, “Honey. Come back here.” Though she wasn’t shouting, from the tone of her voice I knew this couldn’t be anything good.

“Yes, Ma’am?” I asked as I re-entered the room.

She had that smirk still showing on her face as she raised her finger at me and pointed, “What is that?” she asked rather sarcastically.

“What is what, ma’am?” I asked clearly having no clue what she was talking about.

Susan walked right up to me and pointed at my pelvis. “What is THAT?”

I looked at my classmates seated around the room and swallowed. I recalled Ellen’s comment from earlier and put two and two together and realized what my step-mom was asking about. “Nothing ma’am, really.”

“This is the last time I am asking you, what is THAT? I expect an answer.” she asked rather authoritatively as she let her finger touch my clit making no mistake to everyone in the room what she was concerned about.

It’s um . . . well that is my . . . Clitoris, ma’am.” Every one of my classmates giggled at hearing my answer.

“And just WHY is it sticking out like that in front of my guests? Are you horny?

“I can’t help it. Ma’am. It just does that sometimes. I am sorry.”

More giggling from the crowd.

“Well, take care of it. I’ll not have you embarrassing me in front of our guests like that right now.”

“Yes, ma’am” I answered meekly and turned to leave the room.

“I didn’t tell you to leave. Take care of it now; right here.”

She walked behind me, grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me right in front of my classmates making me stand before them up close and personal. “Take care of it until it is gone.” She then gave me one hard slap which echoed through the room.

“Yes ma’am,” I softly said and lowered my right hand between my legs and started rubbing my clit. I was already very wet as you can imagine just from having to appear in front of new set of my peers earlier. Now she was making me masturbate in front of them. I wanted to just die.

It didn’t take long before my body was seriously responding to my touches as everyone was smiling at me and uncomfortably giggling which only made me feel more aroused. Is it possible that I get off from being humiliated in front of others?

Then my body tensed up and I could feel both my anus and my vagina spasming – opening and closing as it were to the pulsations of my clitoris. My eyes were closed and I just froze as I came over and over for such an inordinate amount of time right in front of everybody.

After I came down from that incredible high, I opened my eyes and the last thing I wanted to see was everyone staring at me smiling. I immediately put my hands up to cover my face and cringed at the thought of what I had done. That made everyone laugh all over again.

“Honey.” My step-mom said, “What is that?” More giggling.

I looked down and that damn thing was still poking out, looking angrier than ever.

“My clitoris, but . . . it will go away shortly. It always does after, well, you know . . . I cum.”

The giggling turn to outright laughter again as my classmate, Ellen, asked, “So, you masturbate a lot, slave?”

“No! She made me,” I said in my defense hoping to deflect the obvious conclusion that I was a compulsive masturbator.

“No matter,” Susan said. “Get busy. I want that thing gone. It would seem that you are still very horny.”

I sighed deeply and got my fingers working again. I had just touched my labia again when there was another knock on the front door.

I froze in a panic as I looked back at the door then at Susan hoping that she would spare me the indignity of continuing.

“Answer the door. And, keep your right hand busy where it is as you answer it. Escort our guests into the Parlor and continue fingering yourself until you cum again.”

I couldn’t believe she just said that to me! Is she nuts? She is supposed to be my step-mom. Nonetheless I went to the door, swallowed hard and opened it like I was taught. “Welcome to the Harkins House,” I said looking at the floor.

Instead, I heard unfamiliar voice saying, “What in the hell. . .?” I looked up and saw a woman with a shocked expression on her face looking at me. Standing next to me was Mr. Conner.

“Who is . . . I mean . . .” I stammered.

“Hello, Honey,” Mr. Conner said gleefully. “Miss Sedwick is unable to make it today so my wife will be filling in. This is my wife, Carla. You may have seen her around the school office as she occasionally picks me up.”

“I, um, no sir, we haven’t met before. Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Would you both follow me into the Parlor. My Mistress is waiting with the other guests.” I then used my free hand to wave them inside as I kept my free hand fingering myself as instructed. I am not sure how many more surprises or how much more stress I can take.

As I reached the Parlor ahead of them, I remembered to announce our guests as Angie had taught me. “Mr. and Mrs. Conner,” I said politely as they went to greet my Step-mom. I took up my place as instructed and just mindlessly kept fingering myself as everyone seemed to be engaged in conversations around the room.

The whole scene was so surreal that it began to have an effect on me by rekindling my arousal, which up to that point had all but disappeared after I saw the strange women at the door. Now I was quite wet again and that familiar tingle made itself known down below.

Just when I was enjoying myself once more, I heard Susan’s Voice asking, “Honey, are you behaving yourself now? Take your hand away and let me see?”

I knew the answer but I hesitantly moved my hand from my pelvis anyway and rested it by my side.

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes, it hasn’t changed a bit?” Susan said in mock disappointment.

“Um, excuse me,” Mrs. Conner said, “I seem to have come into the middle of something. What is going on here, may I ask?”

“I must beg your indulgence. Our new slave here seems to be incredibly horny this morning. She has embarrassed me in front of my guests walking around with that huge, engorged clit of hers. Impressive as it may be, it is highly inappropriate for it to be displayed like that in polite company. I instructed her to get rid of that but, instead of leaving the room and taking care of it discreetly, she chose instead to masturbate herself until she came right in front everybody.”

But that’s not true. That’s not the way it happened. I . . .”

“Just then, Ellen, interrupted me and threw me under the bus, “Yes, it is, Mrs. Conner. We all saw it. She was standing right there playing with herself bold as brass. It was disgusting!”

“Is that true, Clyde?” Mrs. Conner asked.

“Yes ma’am. That’s what happened. She even KEPT playing with herself after being told to answer the door.”

“But . . .” I protested.

“I’m sorry,” Susan said apologetically “but I need to deal with this now. You see, Honey is new here and is in training. If I let this slide there is no telling what she will try and get away with in the future.”

“We quite understand. Go right ahead.” Mrs. Conner instructed.

My step-mom grabbed me by the hand and led me over to Ellen. “Since you, Ellen, were disgusted at what my slave was doing earlier, you should be the one to discipline her.” Susan explained. “Honey bend over her lap.”

“Huh?”

You heard me. Lay down on her lap. I am going to let Ellen give you an old-fashioned spanking.”

“But I didn’t do anything. I . . .”

“Now or it will be worse for you. I’ll let Mr. Conner do it. Your choice.”

There was no way I wanted HIM to do it so I gently laid down across her lap as Ellen tried not to giggle.

“Ellen, normally she would receive the whip and then be put into the pillory overnight. But she is new to this and has for the most part been well behaved, I think a spanking would suffice. I will let YOU decide how many she should receive. Go on, pick a number.”

Ellen gazed into space pensively as she thought it over. Clearly, she was just relishing her chance to humiliate me but she was acting as though this needed serious thought. “Fifty?” she finally said, a bit unsure if she had crossed the line and chosen too high a number.”

“Fifty sounds fine. You may proceed. Don’t hold back as I don’t want her to think she can get away with disrespecting her owners or their guests.”

Ellen let out a satisfactory breath and looked down at my butt studying her target. “What is that?”

“Oh that? Honey was branded yesterday. She had the mark of a slave burned into her butt so everything could tell if she was a slave or not.”

“Is that for real?” asked Mark incredulously. “You mean like cowboys brand a cow? Surely, that’s just a temporary tattoo or something, right? Surely somebody didn’t really burn . . .”

“Oh, but they did. We have it on video if you’d care to see it later.”

“WICKED!” exclaimed Frank as if he just won the lottery.

“Won’t that hurt her or cause a problem if I spank over that?” Ellen asked with just a hint of pleasure, which made me doubt that she was sincere.

Both Mrs. Conner and my Step-mom came over and examined my scar rubbing their fingers all over it before Mrs. Conner announced, “No, I think it would be fine. It is remarkably well-healed.”

“Besides,” Susan added, “What do I care if it causes her problems. It is her fault. Her rude conduct brought this all upon herself. Continue, Ellen, and make this good. I’m starving.”

Ellen slapped my butt right cheek rather tentatively. I had prepared for the worse but she seemed to be wanting to take it easy on me for which I was grateful.

That wasn’t the case with the second. It was unmercifully hard! So was the third . . . and the fourth! In fact, with each succeeding slap her blows seemed to grow harder and much worse like she was energized by the whole thing. By the 20th slap I was openly crying; tears running down my face like a 6-year old.

What made it worse was that everyone was laughing or smiling at me! Ellen stopped at 41, looked at up Susan and asked. “Would it be okay if my friends here each gave her 3 slaps?”

“Absolutely”

“Get up and go lay over Clyde’s lap for your next spanking.” Ellen instructed.

Clyde had the biggest Cheshire cat grin on his face which scared me. Once positioned he let go with three incredibly hard strikes that actually took my breath away.

Frank was next. He wasn’t as severe as Clyde had been but so far, he was the most revolting as he had a very prominent erection that was easily felt when I laid down on his lap. When his turn was over, I didn’t really want to get up as I really liked the way that felt on my naked belly.

Riley, well, I enjoyed hers the most out of all of them. She started by feeling my branding scar and commented on how nice it looked then she softly rubbed both of my butt cheeks before slapping the crap out of me then resumed her erotic rubbing. It was a shame she only had three slaps to give.

When it was over I was instructed to get up and go to the kitchen to be sure everything was ready then come back to announce to everyone that breakfast was served.

As I left I her Mrs. Conner was giggling as her husband said, “See, my dear, I told you that you would have fun.”


Chapter 6 – Breakfast Humiliation and Back to School




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[Legoman2]

Oooo cant wait to see what happens at school so excited keep up the good work hook

[Skylar21]

So, Honey is enjoying her humiliation, more or less. This slave thing may not be so bad after all.

Looking forward to her going back to school, and how her classmates relate to her. But first, breakfast.

[Legoman2]

I wonder if they build her a slave bathroom ( hole in ground) since she wont be aloud to use the normal one