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- Herausgeber: PEAR Stories
- Kategorie: Erotik
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014
Samson is a slave to a brutal and unfaithful plantation owner. When he prevents his owner from slapping his beautiful white wife, he is punished badly. Susan, the owner's wife is compelled to help Samson while at the same time getting revenge on her cheating husband. She locks herself up in a barn with Samson and two black slaves as a way of showing gratitude. Can she handle 3 big black slaves?
Warning! This 11,130 word erotic story contains explicit scenes of three big black males and one white female and includes: double penetration, triple penetration, anal creampies, creampies and impregnation and more as Susan uses every part of her body to thank the big black slaves for their service.
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The Plantation
By Trevon Carter
Table of Contents
Title Page
The Plantation (Interracial Gangbang Erotica)
About the author:
Further Reading: African Lust (Interracial, Anal, Cheating Wife Erotica)
Also By Trevon Carter
A sharp, loud, crack filled the air; the taskmaster's whip slicing through the hot, dry air. Samson ducked and looked over at the old white man, high atop his white steed. It was a warning shot, aimed at one of the older slaves who had slowed down.
"Come on now nigger! I ain't seein' you pick! You best hurry yo damn nigger ass up before I beat you!" The taskmaster shouted with his overpowering, thick Southern accent.
The older black man nodded and began picking at the cotton in front of him faster. Samson wanted to jump on the white man and beat him to a pulp. It took everything he had not to.
Samson was a huge hulking figure of a man. Years of working on different plantations had sculpted his body into a mountain of muscle. Genetics had allowed him to be larger than most others, towering well over six feet. One swing with his powerful right arm would've sent the taskmaster flying.
"What you want nigger? You glarin' at me boy?" The taskmaster questioned as he stared at Samson.
"No sir, nothin' to it sir. I was just wonderin' if maybe you might wanna rest in that shade over yonder. It's mighty hot out here," Samson replied.
"Y'know what, you're right. Fuck this damn heat. I want you to keep this old nigger in line while I rest, ya hear?" The taskmaster ordered.
"Yes sir," Samson replied.
The white man cracked his whip in the air once more before heading towards the shade. Samson walked over to the older black man and shifted some of the cotton in his own bin over to the older man’s.
“Praise the Lord for your soul,” the old man said.
“Just stay quiet and stay low old man. You gotta watch your health,” Samson replied.
The old man nodded and shook Samson’s hand. Samson smiled and then headed back to his part of the field. The taskmaster was oblivious as he was too busy lying down on the ground, placing his hat over his face. Samson imagined himself sneaking up the smaller white man and crushing him with his bare hands.
“Massa John comin’ through!” A black man on a brown horse yelled.
Samson turned to see, in his eyes, a traitor. He was a black man, well liked by the master of the plantation. He had turned on his own men; ratting them out every chance that he had. Many men were whipped because of the traitor, while he himself became a nigger taskmaster.
“It’s that damn nigga Rufus,” Samson whispered.
“Motha fucka, if I was younger, I would’ve beat the shit outta that nigga,” the old man whispered back.
“He’ll get his,” Samson replied.
Behind him was an older white man wearing a large white hat. He had a large cigar in his mouth and he barely met eyes with any of the slaves. He was Master John Smith, the owner of this particular plantation. He was a cold, ruthless owner who wasn’t afraid to teach niggers a lesson and, at times, even put his fellow white men under his heel.
“Down boy. Let these niggers do their work,” John said.
Rufus nodded meekly and then looked back at the other slaves. He glared at Samson momentarily before looking over at the others. John glanced over at the slaves, his eyes glazing over the male slaves. Samson noticed John pause as he saw a younger black woman in the fields.
“Who’s that nigger over yonder?” John questioned.
“That bitch? That’s Latifa, she’s just recently celebrated her adulthood,” Rufus responded.
“Oh... my, my, my, I remember Latifa. She’s grown into quite the... lady. I’ll have to pay a little visit tonight,” John remarked with a sly grin.
Samson lightly shook his head and continued picking cotton. Master John was an extremely abusive man, having to remorse over beating his slaves. He was also quite the adulterer and enjoyed spending time with female slaves, especially the younger nubile ones. Even the woman they had given Samson as his so called ‘wife’ was once the plantation owner’s plaything when she was younger.
Samson looked over at the large house centered at the edge of plains to see John’s wife make her way out. She was a beautiful blonde Southern belle, wearing a light blue dress and a straw sun hat. Samson couldn’t believe that she was a mother of three children, but alas, she indeed was a mother of two sons and one daughter.
“John!” She called out.
John smiled and waved at her. He sped up slightly to reach her before hopping off of his horse. He gave her a big hug as his three children ran out of the house. Samson grunted and continued his work. The taskmaster snuck back into the fields on his horse and smacked Samson from behind.
“Damnit nigger! If John comes back, you’re supposed to wake me up!” He shouted angrily.
Samson turned and looked up at the older white man, his cowboy hat hiding his balding head. He wanted to grab his leg and pull him down, and then beat him to a bloody pulp. His blood boiled as he tried to calm himself.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to, sir,” Samson apologized while lowering himself.
“Fucking nigger, you better be lucky I don’t whip your damn skin off,” the taskmaster replied.
He cracked his whip at the air, causing Samson to tremble. The taskmaster grinned and rode off towards Rufus. He smacked him on the back of the head and headed towards the plantation owner.
“Fucker,” Samson whispered under his breath.
Samson continued picking at his section, grabbing as much cotton as he could. The sharp thorns constantly picked at the palms of his hands. The glaring sun beat down on his chiseled body, covering his muscles in glistening sweat.
For a brief moment, he met eyes with the owner’s wife. With his shirt off, even at the great distance, she could see his powerful body black body glisten. He grinned and continued picking cotton. There had been mom [...]
