Chapter 3

The buggy rattled down the cobblestone streets of Savannah, jostling John and Richard as they made their way towards the city’s slave auction house. John couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. Despite having lived on his plantation for almost a month now, he was still adapting to his new role as a slave owner. John had Westernized his attire since arriving in Georgia, trading his Pennsylvania frock coat for a cotton tunic and linen trousers, but Richard remained stubbornly draped in his heavy, woolen overcoat.

During the past month, John had purposely kept his distance from the field hands - not because of choice, but because of circumstance. Richard seemed quite adept at handling them, leaving little room for John’s intervention. He figured he couldn’t know the business of the plantation from top to bottom in a day, so he let Richard handle the field work as he got up to speed with the business side of the plantation. Richard was stern, with a toughened exterior that came from years of working on the plantation, but he had a sharp mind and John appreciated his guidance in this alien world.

So, trusting Richard’s judgement, John had acquiesced to accompany him to Savannah for the slave auction. The slave markets were a dark side of the Antebellum South, one that John had never experienced before in his Northeastern upbringing.

As they entered the auction house, the cacophony of voices, whips cracking, and chains rattling hit John like a wall. He swallowed hard, the reality of the situation becoming too real for him. John spotted other plantation owners parading their potential purchases, scrutinizing each one for signs of strength or disease. Richard gave John an encouraging nod before proceeding towards the line of naked bodies on display. Everything Richard had described failed to prepare John for the graphic reality of the scene. The slaves stood in a line completely naked, their bodies exposed for inspection by the potential buyers. One by one, the men scrutinized the slaves from head to toe, leaving no inch of skin unassessed. Their hands roamed over toned muscles and soft flesh with calculated purpose, testing for suppleness and strength. Richard, too, played his part in this macabre play, pinching, prodding, and poking at the slaves’ flesh as if evaluating a prime cut of meat. He explained the process to John, educating him on the subtleties of selecting the “strongest and most durable”. He reached out to touch the breast of a young woman, cupping her flesh in his hand. His fingers pressed and prodded her nipple, eliciting a small but visible wince of discomfort. Unperturbed, Richard moved on to the next. John watched, horrified yet captivated.

Richard sensed his discomfort and leaned in to whisper, “You should examine them too, Mr. Berrien. It’s important to ensure the health and strength of your investment.”

John hesitated, conflicted between his desire to fulfill his new role as plantation master and his puritan upbringing.

“First, test her muscles. See how well-defined they are by pressing into her arms and legs—this will tell you whether she has been well-fed and well-trained. A healthy slave is more productive and valuable.”

Following Richard’s instructions, John hesitantly ran his hands over the slave’s shoulder, feeling her toned muscle firm beneath his touch. Her eyes locked on his, a mix of fear and shame etched on her face, causing his stomach to churn. Satisfied with the muscles, Richard continued in a clinical tone. “Another essential aspect to consider is her teeth, use your fingers to pull her lips apart. A healthy slave needs to have strong, white teeth as poor oral hygiene can lead to other health issues,” Richard instructed.

John hesitated but reluctantly followed the directive. Gently pulling the slave girl’s lips apart, he inspected her teeth, a wave of guilt washing over him at the violation. Their eyes met again, and he quickly released her, taking a step back.

“Next, check her skin. Is it smooth and supple or rough and patchy? A slave with poor skin condition may be susceptible to diseases.”

Go on, Mr. Berrien. Check her skin,” Richard urged. “Is it smooth and supple or rough and patchy? A slave with poor skin condition may be susceptible to diseases.”

John steeled himself and reached out a hand to touch the woman’s shoulder. Running his fingers over her ebony skin, he felt the softness and smoothness underneath. Richard, sensing John’s hesitation, leaned in again and whispered, “Go ahead, don’t be shy. Touch her breasts and feel their weight. Squeeze them gently, but firmly enough to see how easily they yield. Check the nipples to ensure they’re healthy and sensitive. Pinch them lightly and watch for any reaction.”

As John followed Richard’s instructions, he was curious about the goal of pinching her nipples. But, given the circumstances, he complied. John carefully grazed the sides of the woman’s breasts with his fingertips, taking note of their size and shape, squeezing the firm mounds with a measure of trepidation and tenderness. The slave girl tensed under his touch, trying to hide her discomfort.

Her breasts were firm and full, with coffee-colored nipples that stood erect against John’s gentle strokes. His hands kneaded and massaged the soft flesh, feeling her heartbeat thrumming through her body. His thumb flicked over her nipples, eliciting a gasp from the nervous woman. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement as he touched her, feeling the power and control he had over her.

However, that twinge of excitement was quickly replaced with panic as he realized they were in a public place. John’s heart skipped a beat as he looked around the crowded auction house, but no one seemed to be paying them any mind.

Richard laughed, taking note of John’s squeamishness around women’s bodies. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the inspection a little, Mr. Berrien!” He whispered. “It is, after all, the means of selecting the perfect specimen to meet your needs. We must know everything about them — from endurance to pleasure.” His last statement hung heavily in the room.

But Richard wasn’t done. “Lastly, you might want to check her sex for any signs of disease or infection. Wedge your fingers inside, move them around a bit. Feel for any abnormalities or pain.”

Under Richard’s watchful eye, John hesitantly obeyed. He slowly inserted a finger into the slave girl’s vagina. She winced again, but this time it seemed mixed with a familiar acceptance of an inevitable violation. Her internal muscles clenched as his finger moved in and out, searching. The sensation stirred something dark in John, illicit and primal. He tried to tamp it down, but couldn’t deny the intense physical reaction he felt towards this beautiful stranger, nor his growing arousal. John slowly withdrew his finger, the slave girl’s eyes fluttering shut in relief. His gaze dropped downwards, noticing with a start the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. He gritted his teeth, silently cursing himself for letting such lustful thoughts take root in his mind. Perhaps Richard was right, and this was an essential part of the inspection process he must embrace wholeheartedly as a new plantation owner. He glanced around nervously, praying that no one had noticed his growing excitement.

John struggled to reconcile the disparity between the nudity of the slaves, which made him uncomfortable, and Richard’s mostly objective, businesslike calculation. It was uncharted territory for John, but he continued to follow Richard’s lead.

Richard pulled him towards a tall black man in his early thirties. “See how strong he is? Look at the size of that cock—now that’s a real bull.” John stiffened at the word “bull,” a faint blush of uneasiness staining his cheeks, but he couldn’t help but steal a glance, sizing up the black man’s body. Indeed, he was a powerful specimen, his muscles rippling under golden skin, carved from years of backbreaking labor under the sun. His chest was broad and his waist slender, ending with a firm, round ass that bore the scars of countless lashes from the overseers’ whips.

But it was the thick, veiny cock hanging between his legs that held John’s attention. It was indeed impressive, almost intimidating in its girth, and John couldn’t help but notice how this black cock was larger than his own even when he was hard. He wondered how Isaac managed to keep such a substantial organ confined within his loincloth.

Richard, however, didn’t share his reservations, and as if on cue, took the initiative to inspect the slave further. With a firm grip, Richard lifted the slave’s cock to get a better look at his balls.

“Just look at the size of these,” he exclaimed, with admiration in his voice. “Big balls often mean a big load, and that’s exactly what we need. This one right here, Mr. Berrien, this is the one you should be buying. He won’t disappoint you as a field hand, and with those genitals, he’s definitely the strong bull we need.”

Richard handled the man’s genitals with such familiarity that it made John uneasy, as if he were assessing a prize stallion rather than a human being. John’s mouth felt dry and he swallowed hard, his gaze returning to the ebony giant before him.

Richard was still handling the man’s genitals, seemingly oblivious to John’s discomfort. “Come on, Mr. Berrien, don’t be shy. You should feel the weight of his cock for yourself,” he encouraged, as he passed the slave’s cock to John’s trembling hand.

Richard’s tone was insistent, “Go on, feel it. It’s why we’re here, why you need to buy him. This will be your money-maker.”

John hesitated for another moment, and then drew in a sharp breath and wrapped his fingers around the thick, heavy length of the slave’s cock. The contact was electrifying for John, sending jolts of energy from his hand to the pit of his stomach.

Indeed, the cock in his hand throbbed ever so slightly, a real-time testament to its owner’s masculinity. Curiosity piqued, John allowed his grip to tighten and he gave it a gentle tug, pulling a gasp from the slave. Following this, a spark of audacity flared in his heart, liberating him from his earlier apprehensions. John examined every aspect of the magnificently built organ before him, stopping briefly at the contour of its crowning, velvet-covered glans.

Letting go of the impressively oversized phallus, John took a cautious step backwards. It was unmistakable; the already impressive appendage now extended farther below the slave’s muscular thighs.

“We will begin the bidding for this fine female slave,” the auctioneer announced, holding up a young woman by her bound wrists. Richard and John exchanged a glance before resting their gazes on the frightened figure for sale.

“Watch and learn, Mr. Berrien,” Richard advised. The auctioneer was a fast-talking man with shrewd eyes that never missed a detail. He pointed out the slave’s assets and skills, making her more appealing to the spectators. The intensity of the room was palpable as other men shouted out increasingly high offers for the young woman.

Eventually, the final gavel slammed down, her fate sealed.” Sold! To the gentleman in the back! Thank you, sir!” With those words, the woman, trembling, was hastily escorted back to the penn, where her new master would collect her after the auction. John and Richard watched in silence as the bidding battle ceased and the next female slave was hurriedly put on display amidst the callous noise and ogling of the crowd. Richard’s keen eyes darted around, surveying who amongst these men may compete for the black bull they wanted to buy. After what felt like ages, a murmur rose amongst the patrons. Richard squeezed John’s arm, drawing his attention to the stage. The tall, muscular black man was ushered onto the platform. The slave auctioneer eloquently showcased the man’s impressive qualities: exceptional strength, resilience to hard labor, a reliable pair of hands—the ideal workhorse.

Richard firmly nudged John’s side. “Now, Mr. Berrien, if you’ll allow me, I would recommend starting the bidding on this remarkable specimen at three hundred and fifty dollars. Trust me; you won’t regret it.”

And just like that, the bidding war began. The price kept escalating with each new offer, and John found himself getting caught up in the competition.

Richard continued to provoke him, “Hold on, Mr. Berrien, I think you can go a bit higher than that. Remember, he’s not just bound to be a good field hand. He’ll breed strong, ablefield workers for you for generations to come. I assure you, Mr. Berrien, this is an investment worth pursuing,” Richard pleaded with a conviction that struck a chord in John.

Suddenly, without warning, all rival bidders yielded. Richard’s eyes lit up with triumph, locking gazes with John. And in that instant, the gavel came crashing down, finalizing the sale.

“Sold to John Berrien for six hundred and twenty dollars.”

As the echoes of the auctioneer’s triumphant cry dissipated, John suddenly found himself overwhelmed by the weight of his decision. Richard grinned broadly, patting John on the shoulder. “Well done, Mr. Berrien! A wise investment indeed,” Richard affirmed, radiating gratification at their success.

“Allow me to lead you to the foreman; he’ll assist us in retrieving our recent acquisition.”

John nodded in agreement, collecting himself. As the next slave was led on the stage, the two men made their way out of the room.

Approaching the foreman, Richard extended his hand in a cordial greeting to initiate the proceedings.

I assume you’ll be taking possession of that fine specimen?” the foreman greeted Richard.

“Indeed, we shall,” Richard replied, his voice taking on a tone of casual authority. “Fetch him for us, if you would.”