The Masters of Willowhurst - Part I

by Gideon Rathbone

  The Masters of Willowhurst - Part I

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  The

  Masters

  of

  Willowhurst

  PART I

  Gideon Rathbone

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events

  portrayed in this novel are products of the author's imagination or are used

  fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Masters of Willowhurst

  Copyright © 2017 Gideon Rathbone

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Photo ©mimagephotography

  Cover Photo ©stryjek

  Chapter One

  Ascension Parish, Louisiana, 1857

  It was my grandfather that built Willowhurst. He was just a poor but ambitious Frenchman that came to the new world to seek his fortune and he did. Cotton is the biggest commodity in these parts and we are one of the few that reign supreme. My father expects me to take over our empire, seeing that I'm the eldest and the only boy he had. Despite being born and raised in our family home, I had never taken much to the family business. I've always had my own hopes and dreams but that doesn't matter to my father. He would always tell me that cotton is in our blood. I've always thought that it skipped me altogether. I wanted to be a painter but as time went on it began to dawn on me that was something that wasn't going to happen. After returning from college, I discovered that my father had other plans for me.

  "You're engaged," Papa said in his typical way. He didn't ease me into it. There wasn't any beating around the bush and breaking it to me gently. He just blurted it out as if were a command.

  "To what?"

  His eyes narrowed. The fact that I had said "what" and not "who" irritated him. "She's a nice, well-bred girl. You've heard me talk about the O'Rourkes."

  I had. My whole family had. My father had made it well known that he hated that family, possibly because they rivaled us in land, money, and cotton. So it was a surprise that he had gone out of his way and promised me to one of their daughters.

  "Both of our families will benefit from this, Talbot," he explained as if he had read my mind. "With the O'Rourkes and the Moreaus united, we will be a force to be reckoned with in Louisiana."

  I looked down at the floor. There were only three things that my father cared about when I was growing up: money, power, and women. The Lord knows he has had an abundance of all three. When I turned sixteen, he had bought a slave girl proven to be a virgin for me to go to bed with. I didn't have any desire to lie down with the wench but to satisfy him I went along with it. What nobody knew was that I was more into the bucks. Have you ever seen a black man stripped down? I get hard just thinking about it. Their powerful builds, statuesque frames, and massive manhoods drove me up the wall. Many a night I had thought about what it would be like to go to bed with one of them. I wanted to be overpowered, dominated, and devoured by them.

  Last year, I discovered that the reality of it more than met my fantasies. During harvest time my father would send me out to the fields to talk to the overseers, making sure that work was being done as quickly as possible. I noticed a large hulking buck while out there. Papa had bought Cassius not long before from some down on his luck tobacco planter up in Virginia. His chest was massive. His stomach, a mirage of abs, glistened in the hot sun by the sweat that was pouring out of him.

  Feeling my eyes examining his body, he stood and looked at me and our eyes as well as our minds connected. He knew what I wanted and I knew that he wasn't above denying me it. That night I made my way out into the horse barn where I found him waiting, still shirtless and still sweaty. He stood up from where he was sitting and I walked over to him. I could smell his scent and feel the power radiating off of him. I ran my hands down his chest and I could feel my cock begin to stir. His body was so hard, so sweaty, so smooth.

  "Have you ever thought of being with a man the way you would a woman, Cassius?" I asked.

  "No," he said. "Can't say that I have."

  "I hear that it is a marvelous sensation. We should all try new things at some point in our lives."

  He looked down at me with those hypnotic brown eyes of his. He didn't say anything to that but for a moment I was lost in his gaze.

  "Such an arrangement would make things easier for you," I told him. "I could tell Mr. Gordon to overlook any shortcomings you may have out in the fields."

  His stare continued. His face was stone, unflinching. I had to do better than that.

  "I could have my father make you overseer of the north pasture." It hadn't been unheard of, making a slave an overseer. I had seen it done before and really nothing bad had come out of it.

  It was then when I saw the corners of Cassius' mouth curve and quickly mature into a smile. Not taking his eyes away from mine, he slowly undid his trousers and unleashed the monster that lay within. My body tingled at the sight of his cock. It was enormous. We spent the rest of that night fucking, allowing him to do whatever he wanted to me. After every round I found myself hungry for more dick, more muscle, more cum. I returned to the house early the following morning exhausted and elated. That afternoon I suggested to Papa that we should make Cassius an overseer, an idea that he at first flatly rejected. Once I told him that the O'Rourkes had a slave overseer he quickly reneged.

  "This is how it goes," my father said, again reading my mind. "Your granddaddy had me marry your momma and we had a successful marriage."

  Only financially. My parents hadn't been cordial with each other in years, well before my youngest sister was born. Papa spent all of his time engrossed in business and women and that didn't change after my mother died. He had a plethora of wenches he'd take to bed and once he grew tired of them he went to one of his white mistresses, who he carried on with indiscreetly. Personally, I have no desire for a wife or children. I would gladly put my own dreams away to take over the business if it meant not having to marry. I told Papa this and he just snorted.

  "You're marrying that O'Rourke girl," he said, shooting me a serious look to illustrate that I didn't have a choice in the matter, "and you will give that girl children. How would it look upon the family if you didn't continue the line?"

  Loretta O'Rourke wasn't what one would call a classic beauty. Many of the men in the county hardly noticed her from outside the fact that she was the eldest daughter of one of the richest families in the state. She was a rather tall, skinny woman with simple brown eyes and simple brown hair whose only interest was needle point. Throughout our engagement, I tried my best to stomach her bland disposition and her boring ways but it soon became too much. I complained to Papa about this and, as expected, didn't receive any sympathy.

  "Think about the money," he said, coldly. "Think about all the power you will wield."

  Money and power were not much of an incentive for me but I soon found new motivation. An afternoon at the O'Rourke estate revealed an allure that would have made me go rushing to the altar with Loretta had I known about it before. Having tea with my fiancée and her parents, the most gorgeous and handsome face walked in the room. Six foot with a regal demeanor and a posture that exuded confidence, one of their house slaves entered the parlor. He placed the tray containing the tea service onto the table and made his way silently out. I was immediately taken with him.

  "Talbot? Talbot?"

  I snapped out of my lust-filled haze and returned to the present plane.

  "Talbot, Papa asked you a question
," Loretta said.

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  Mr. O'Rourke smiled patronizingly. "I asked if you think it is right for the government to even be thinking of putting a cap on the price of cotton?"

  "No," I said, "of course not. Who was that?"

  "Who was who, dear?" Mrs. O'Rourke asked.

  "That darkie that just came in here?"

  "Oh," she laughed. "That's Isaac, one of our house niggers."

  I balked a little at the sound of that word. Though my father had no qualms about throwing it around, my mother had instilled in me and my sisters not to use it. "Just because they're inferior, children, doesn't mean you demean them," she'd say.

  "He sure is quiet," I assessed.

  "Well, what else is he suppose to be?" Mrs. O'Rourke inquired, somewhat surprised. "He is a shockingly genteel nigger. He was out in the fields but our majordomo, Scotty, begged us to take him on in the house. He has proven himself worthy to work around decent white folks and with Scotty getting into his elder years somebody is going to have to take over around here.

  "It's a shame," I said. "We could use a whip smart boy like that at Willowhurst."

  My soon-to-be in-laws exchanged glances. "Well, how about this," Mr. O'Rourke began, "for a wedding present, I'll give you and Loretta sixty of our finest field niggers and I'll throw Isaac in to sweeten the pot."

  A smile immediately spread across my face and I leaned back in my chair. "What do y'all think about a June wedding?"

  Chapter Two

  Loretta and I were married that summer. For a torturous week, we honeymooned in New Orleans. When her boring interests no longer kept her occupied, my new wife found it necessary to talk to me. I did my best to hide my distaste for her. I fulfilled my obligation of consummating our marriage even though it brought me no satisfaction. At times, I'd find myself wondering the streets to get away from my new bride. All I could think about was Isaac. I dreamt about him. I breathed him. My flesh craved for his to be on mine. My mouth longed to taste his. My thighs yearned to feel his cock brush against them. It wasn't until then that I had known it was possible to hunger so greatly for somebody. Returning to Willowhurst, I would make my move but what if he denied me? What if he was disgusted by me? I could always make him. After all, I now owned him. No, I wouldn't do that. I couldn't do that. All I could do was try to convince him and pray to whatever god out there that he'd see things my way.

  I couldn't be happier when we returned home. With my mother long dead and my sisters married off, Loretta was now the undisputed mistress of the house. I hoped that her new position would keep her busy and away from me. Going by the way I've complained, you probably think that I hated her. I didn't. I truly didn't. At least, not then. We were just two different people forced into something that I believe only one of us really wanted. My father, now riddled with rheumatism, hardly ever left his room. All he could do now was bark orders and complain from the comfort of his four poster. The stage was set. There was nothing standing in my way. I gave it a week before I even bothered to talk to Isaac directly. I allowed him to settle in and get use to his new surroundings.

  "Miss Loretta says you're doing a mighty fine job around here," I told him. He was in the parlor silently dusting the furniture when I confronted him. I had never met a slave that was so stoic.

  "Thank you, master."

  "You catch on quick, I've noticed. Perhaps one day you could become the first majordomo of Willowhurst. What do you think about that?"

  "I think that would be mighty fine."

  I was a bit disappointed. His face didn't light up like I had expected it to. There were hundreds of slaves on the plantation that would've gladly accepted the position. Instead, he appeared to write me off like I wasn't important. Like somebody that was just carrying on a conversation simply out of courtesy. I could feel the anger building in my stomach but subdued it. Becoming enraged wouldn't get me anywhere. Not with him.

  "I like you, Isaac," I said.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "I like you very much. There are a lot of things I could do for you if you only meet me halfway."

  I placed a hand on his and he stopped dusting. Shockingly, he didn't draw back in disgust but looked at me with curious eyes. Was there hope?

  "What exactly could you do for me?" he asked, his gaze boring into me. It wasn't a gaze of hope but rather skepticism. Again, I felt the anger build within me.

  "Whatever you desire," I said. "Name it."

  He looked me right in the eye. "I want my freedom."

  I should've known that would be it. Cassius hadn't asked for such a thing. Perhaps he was smart enough to know that such a thing would be impossible or maybe Isaac was smart enough to play on my obvious desire for him. Why was he doing this to me? Why did he have to ask for the one thing he knew I couldn't give him?

  "Don't ask me for that."

  "Master, you said you would give me whatever I wanted." His voice didn't have an iota of disappointment or resentment in it. It was as calm and tranquil as it had always been. The fact that he was completely unperturbed by my staunch denial of his request perturbed me.

  "I know what I said!"

  Isaac then went back to dusting as if nothing had transpired. I suppose he figured that there was nothing more to say, that the conversation was finished but it wasn't. It wasn't going to be until I said it was.

  "Look," I said, trying my best to keep my temper in check, "you can have anything you want. Just not that."

  "I don't want for anything, master." His tone was still irritatingly placid.

  That's when I lost some of my temper. "I could have you horsewhipped!" I hissed. I had never before whipped a slave nor approved of it. Unlike Papa, I didn't see what it accomplished.

  Isaac calmly put down the duster he was using and made his way towards the door. Was he trying to get away from me?!

  "Don't you walk away from me when I'm talking to you, boy! Where do you think you're going?!"

  "To the barn, master, to prepare for my whipping."

  Never before had I seen a slave take the prospect of whipping so nonchalantly. Usually, when I threatened such a thing, they would beg and plead to be spared and then do what I wanted once I showed mercy. This, however, didn't intimidate Isaac in the least. How dare he call my bluff! I shouldn't have said such a thing, but it was out of anger and frustration. At that moment, I felt that he had disarmed me. I regretted my words and I hated myself for allowing my temper to get the best of me. I was quite sure that now he would hate me forever.

  "Isaac," there was a great amount of remorse in my tone, "just go about your work. I'm not going to whip you."

  Embarrassed and annoyed with myself, I made my way out of the room as fast as I could. I wanted to forget that the whole exchange ever happened. I was a fool. Isaac was smarter than I had given him credit for.

  I was glad that Loretta and I had separate bedrooms. I wouldn't have to worry about disturbing her whenever I got out of bed in the middle of the night. I had gone a whole week without a man and I was dying for one. After making an idiot of myself with Isaac, I just wanted to feel better and sex was really the only thing that did. I tiptoed out of the house in just my nightshirt and ran across the dark pasture towards the barn. The glow of a lantern could be seen from a couple yards away. Cassius was inside waiting. I found him sitting on a stool whittling away at a block of timber. He always did this in his spare time. He liked carving little animals out of wood and was pretty good at it.

  As I entered, his warm eyes looked up at me and a small smile grew across his face. Together, we headed up into the hayloft like two mischievous sweethearts in excitement. I removed my nightshirt, revealing my nakedness underneath. I tore off his shirt and greedily unbuttoned his pants, hungrily taking his thick pulsating manhood in my mouth. He groaned as I ran my tongue about the head and then achingly up and down his shaft. He had a sweaty, masculine taste about him that I couldn't get enough of. I trembled as I felt one of his large hands strok
e my body, running his fingers down my back and grabbing my pert little ass. I relinquished his cock and kissed him deeply. He put his massive arms around me and held me close. A whimper escaped me as he teased my hole with a finger. I couldn't get enough of his taste and scent.

  "Fuck me," I begged him. "Fuck me like there's no tomorrow."

  I needed him to be in me at that very moment. I wanted him to make me forget. I wanted to forget who I was, what I had done to my life, and how I had behaved towards Isaac. The last of the three was the most important. I didn't know how I would be able to face him again.

  Cassius shoved me onto my back and draping my legs over his shoulders, delved down between my thighs. I quivered as his tongue taunted my opening. I stifled a scream but was only partially successful. Though it was the dead of night, there wasn't any need to draw attention. The massive hulk held my hips firmly as he slowly pushed himself inside. It didn't matter how many times I had had his cock. Every time he would enter me for that moment, I didn't have an identity. I was no longer Talbot Moreau. I was just a hungry, writhing, pile of flesh starved for sexual gratification.

  He thrust into me with a hard unapologetic force that took my breath away. There was pain, but I didn't care. Hurt me. Destroy me! I deserved it after the way I acted. I had no control whatsoever. Within the confines of the loft, Cassius owned me. I was completely at his mercy and this exhilarated me. I didn't have to think. I didn't have to care. I watched as his expression stiffened and his mouth open as if he were going to speak but words were hard to come by. I could tell he was about to shoot and I wanted him to spew all that he had inside me. He roared loudly as I felt his juices fill my hole. Cassius shuttered as he carefully pulled out of me, trying his best not to lose himself even more than he already had. He looked down at me with that familiar smile of his and kissed me.