Chapter 11

“What in the name of God is going on here?!”

John had always prided himself on being a rational man, in control of his emotions. An Enlightened man, his mind set on progress and fairness for all. But right there, at that moment, for the first time since his arrival in Georgia, or ever, he actually could envision himself whipping another human being, or worse. The shock felt like a punch to the gut, drawing the air from his lungs, leaving him dazed. Anger spread like wildfire through his veins, burning away all traces of reason instantly.

Only seconds before, he had opened the door to their bedroom. Now time seemed to stand still as John was standing in the doorway, frozen, unable to avert his eyes, unable not to take in the scene before him. Two black legs, pinned between two white legs wrapped around a black ass. A white breast, so familiar to him by now, being clutched by a large black hand. Her eyes closed, her mouth open in a silent moan. And what appeared to be a rather sizable black cock, thrusting, forcefully, into her. It would have been hot, had it not been his sweet Catherine cheating on him with a slave, in his bed, right in front of his eyes.

For a few seconds he had remained silent and motionless. The two people in his bed, yet unknowing of his entry, continued their passionate act. Then the sound of his exclamation reverberated through the room, causing the couple to startle.

“John!”

“Masta!”

A flurry of activity followed as Catherine and Eli, the slave John only now recognized through the haze of his emotions, hurried to disentangle themselves.

“You! Get out!” John almost growled at the black man trying to gather his clothes.

“Yes, masta,” Eli responded quickly, grabbing his pants from the floor before skipping out of the room, his now mostly flaccid cock flopping around between his legs. It could have been a comical sight, had John’s mental state allowed any room for humor.

When Eli had disappeared from sight, he turned to Catherine. She was finishing putting her chemise back on, an unreadable expression on her face. Not knowing what to say to her, John simply watched as she continued getting dressed. Finally she broke the silence between them.

“You had no right.”

“I had ... What?” John asked, perplexed by her words.

“You had no right,” Catherine repeated, this time with more conviction.

“You were...! With a slave! In our bed!” John finally managed to exclaim, his disbelief and anger still battling for dominance in his mind.

“Oh no! You are not in a position to get high and mighty with me! You did exactly the same!” she snapped.

There it was. The long expected argument about the mixed babies. But no matter how much he had prepared himself for that discussion, John had never envisaged it would happen in circumstances like these.

“Are you really comparing something that happened before our marriage with ... this?!”

“Before our marriage?” Catherine asked in a mocking tone.

“Yes, before our marriage!”

“Then how do you explain the two slave girls in your study last week? I did think we were married by then,” Catherine retorted. He had all but forgotten about that. Eliza and Betty. He felt as if all the air left his lungs. Again.

“I saw you, so don’t you try do deny what happened there,” she added.

John stood there, stunned, not knowing how to respond. Then, without another word, he left the room. Despite the onset of spring, for the next three days there was a definite chill in the atmosphere in the plantation house. John avoided Catherine whenever possible. They saw each other at the dinner table, but not much was said during those times.

Using his study as a refuge, John spent the evenings alone with a glass of bourbon. Catherine’s words echoed in his mind, “You had no right.” He had been quick to condemn her, but those words still stung. Could she have been right? He thought back to Eliza and Betty, the two slave girls he had taken right here, in this study. He had put it away as a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment. Despite their express invitation and the desires they stoked within him, he hadn’t taken them up on their offer for a repeat encounter. Shouldn’t that count for something?

It sure felt different to him. But every time he thought about it, he was unable to explain how it was different, even to himself. He knew that, as the husband, it was his duty to help his wife to keep her wants in check. But at the same time, as a man, he was supposed to possess the moral fibre to resist such temptations all by himself. Clearly he had failed at that second duty.

John leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He had always prided himself on being fair, on treating his slaves humanely. Yet, with the one person he was supposed to cherish, to love, to respect, to hold above anyone else, he had failed. He had been so focused on his enlightened views about slavery, about treating his slaves decently, that he had overlooked the unfairness in his own marriage.

Catherine was right. No matter how much it pained him to admit it, he had set a double standard. A double standard she wouldn’t tolerate, and rightly so. Maybe it was true. Maybe, as a woman, her constitution was fundamentally weak, rendering her unable to resist the temptations of the flesh, of the strong, masculine bodies of his slaves. But what did that say about him, the man who had done exactly the same, actually even worse?

The only thing he could reasonably object to, was the way in which she had dealt with finding him with two slaves. Then again, if she had confronted him about it, without transgressing herself, her message might not have had the same impact. He’d probably have promised her that he wouldn’t do it again. But hadn’t he already promised fidelity when they got married? He realized that while he could make that same promise again, there was just as little guarantee he’d be able to keep it as the first time.

It dawned on him that in the way Catherine had handled his indiscretion, she had actually made a different point. Whether she intended for him to find out or not, her actions and words seemed to indicate that she didn’t object so much to his infidelity, but more to his hypocrisy. She wanted the same liberties he had taken for himself. Could he really object to that? John pondered the question, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. Could he forego the temptations of the plantation? Or should he accept who he was, who they both seemed to be?

Just like the last few nights, he went to bed alone, in the guest room. He didn’t know yet how he wanted their marriage to progress, but he knew that tomorrow he had to discuss it with Catherine. There was no more postponing it, lest the cold war between them would do irreparable damage to their relation. Now feeling clearly that he had been on the wrong side of the argument, he knew it was up to him to take the first step and bridge the divide. Only, how should he go about it? It was difficult enough to admit being in the wrong. But how could he convey to Catherine that he understood her point of view, without making it sound like he was a pervert for considering it, making her sound like a pervert for dealing with his mistake the way she had?

John fell asleep before he had resolved his internal debate. It was a restless sleep, but when he woke up at the first light of dawn, a decision had come to him. He dressed quickly and made his way to the slave quarters. Long shadows still stretched across the path as he walked, the sun still low in the sky. Already he found the temperatures quiet agreeable. Despite the early hour, a few slaves were out and about, tending to their cabins, before heading to the fields later in the morning. He quickly found Eli’s cabin. In front of the cabin, Eli and the elder Virgil were standing half bare next to a bucket of water for a quick morning wash. It was the first time he had seen Eli since his escape out of the master bedroom a few days ago. Their eyes met for a brief second, before Eli quickly averted his gaze, afraid of what might be coming next.

“Morning, masta. Can we do something for you?” Virgil asked, unaware of the events of a few days ago or the resulting tension between Eli and their master.

“Morning, Virgil. That’s ok, carry on. I just need Eli here to come with me,” John replied in a friendly tone.

“Please, masta! I’m sorry, I...” Eli began, his eyes wide with fear. He had been agonizing for the past four days about how his master would punish him.

Raising his hand to stop him, John interrupted his plea. “Just put on some clothes and follow me,” he said in an even tone. Despite his decision on the course to take, John couldn’t help but leave Eli in fear just a little longer. Besides, if that was going to be the only punishment his slave got for fucking his wife, Eli was still coming off a lot more easy than he’d expect.

With Eli in tow, John headed back towards the house. First checking that Eli wasn’t wearing any shoes, he motioned for him to follow him inside. It was becoming clear to Eli that apparently, he wasn’t getting punished. Still, it was only wearily that he climbed the stairs behind his master. He had no idea about his master’s intentions. John was leading him right back to the room he had fled from a few days ago.

“Wait here,” John ordered him, before softly opening the door to the master bedroom and closing it again behind him.

The curtains closed, the room was still dark. John waited a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light before he walked over to the bed and sat down next to the still sleeping Catherine. Watching his wife for a moment, he realized how much he had missed her, sleeping next to her. Well, unless he had got her message totally wrong, their fight was coming to an end that day.

Gently, he ran his hand over her back. In response, Catherine stirred, but didn’t quiet wake up. She did let out a contented hum in response to John’s caress and moved slightly closer to the hand that was lovingly stroking her. He kept this up for a few moments, enjoying the familiar tenderness between them.

“Catherine?” John whispered. Another long, drawn out hummed response, a sleepy protest at being awakened, as she stirred again.

“Catherine?” he tried again. This time, her eyelids fluttered open to reveal her sleepy blue eyes and she turned to lay on her side, facing him.