Chapter 7

The early morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of John’s study, casting a warm glow across the room. The scent of beeswax and old paper hung heavily in the air. John sat at his desk, staring blankly at the ledger before him. His thoughts kept drifting back to William, pushing aside any hope of focusing on the plantation’s accounts. It wasn’t just the desire for the young slave that unnerved him; it was the realizations he had come to during the night. He couldn’t ignore the fact that William had stirred emotions in him that Sarah never could.

Part of him wished to explore these feelings further, but another part remained cautious—what he felt went against everything he had ever known.

He was a gentleman of Philadelphia, a man of refinement and intellect. Yet, here he was, feeling such attraction to a man, a slave no less. The utter irony weighed heavy on him.

As he sat in his plush leather chair, fingers drumming impatiently against the rich mahogany desk, doubt began to creep in. Could he ever truly embrace such a forbidden desire?

In the midst of his internal conflict, he couldn’t help but wonder how William felt about their encounter. Was it merely a transaction for a slave, devoid of any emotional connection?

Or was it something more? William had given no indication beyond the initial surprise and hesitation. He had even returned John’s favor without any apparent discomfort—no, not discomfort, something else. Had William wanted it too?

He couldn’t help but imagine what more they might explore together, his inexperience causing a harsh dichotomy to his intellect and refinement. With a sigh, he closed the ledger before him, knowing it would require far more focus than his turbulent thoughts would allow.

His gaze drifted to the fields, where William was working, the tall, brawny figure moving with ease through the crops. He was a striking figure, his ebony skin gleaming in the sunlight, his muscles rippling with each movement.

There was a quiet dignity in the way he worked, his head held high, his eyes focused on the task at hand.

John watched him for a while, unable to tear his gaze away from the young slave. William was barely eighteen, yet he possessed an innate grace and strength that belied his age. The memory of their encounter still lingered in John’s mind, adding a layer of complexity to his observations. Unable to shake off these conflicting emotions, he finally decided to confront William.

As the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the plantation, John set out towards the fields, searching for William. The crunch of gravel beneath his boots and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze served as his soundtrack.

The air was thick with humidity, the moisture clinging to his skin and weighing down his shirt. John couldn’t help but notice how the fertile soil and lush vegetation of Georgia differed drastically from the stone and cobblestone streets of Philadelphia. He took a deep breath, inhaling the earthy aroma that was foreign yet enticing.

He spotted William on the outskirts of the fields, diligently tending to a small group of workers.

The young slave’s brow was furrowed in concentration, and his muscular arms glistened with sweat.

Feeling a sudden twinge of anxiety, John paused for a moment, watching William from afar. He wondered how the young slave would react to his advances. It wasn’t just the fact that William was a man—19th-century America was not the most accepting place for those who engaged in such relations. But John knew that there was something raw and genuine between them, something that couldn’t be ignored.

As he approached William, the young slave looked up, his dark eyes meeting John’s. The two men stood there for a moment, exchanging silent glances. But then William looked away, his gaze returning to the field.

“William,” John began tentatively, causing the young slave to turn back to him.

“Masta?” William responded, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and caution.

John could see the questions in his eyes, but the young slave didn’t say anything more. He waited for John to continue, his expression calm and collected, yet his eyes betrayed a flicker of apprehension.

John took a deep breath, steadying himself. He couldn’t afford to be hesitant or uncertain. He had to be clear and direct, lest he give William the wrong idea. “William, I’ve been thinking a lot about our encounter the other night,” John said, his voice level and steady.

William looked at him, his dark eyes betraying a hint of surprise, but his expression remained guarded. “I see, Masta,” he replied quietly.

John took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I want to know how you feel about it,” he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop himself.

William hesitated for a moment, his eyes scrutinizing John’s face as if trying to gauge his sincerity. Then, with a slow nod, he spoke.

“I’ve never done anything like that before, Masta,” he admitted, his voice low and hesitant.

William’s words hung heavy between them, a reminder of the enormous chasm that lay between their social standings, their lives, and their desires. And yet, despite it all, there was an undeniable chemistry between them that could not be ignored.

William hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground before meeting John’s again. “It was ... different, Masta. Something new. And I ain’t gonna lie, it felt good,” William admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The admission hung in the air, and John felt a shiver run down his spine. He had suspected as much but hearing it confirmed was something entirely different. It gave him a sense of validation, but also a hint of fear. What did this mean for their relationship, and for the dynamics of the plantation?

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, William,” John said, his voice gentle and sincere.

“But I must confess, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

William’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t interrupt.

John took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Our arrangement, it was not just a transaction. At least, not for me. I have feelings for you, William. Feelings I don’t quite understand myself. I don’t expect you to feel the same way, and I won’t hold it against you if you don’t. I simply wanted to be honest with you, to clear the air between us and give you the choice to decide what happens next.”

John watched as the weight of his words sank in. William’s expression remained stoic, but his eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly. After what felt like an eternity, William finally spoke.

“I ain’t never been given a choice ‘bout much, Masta,” he began, his voice still low. “But you ... you’re different. You treat me better dan most, and you ain’t never laid a hand on me, except in kindness. In dat moment, when you asked me to do that ... it was like you saw me. Not just as a slave, but as a man. It means a lot to me that you’re asking,” he said, his voice soft.

John smiled, relieved that William seemed to understand where he was coming from. He had given the young slave a choice, and now, William was sharing his feelings candidly. This was uncharted territory for both of them, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead was palpable.

“Well, I want you to have the freedom to choose for yourself. You deserve that much, at the very least,” John replied, his voice earnest and heartfelt.

He reached out, tentatively placing his hand on William’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips. He felt William cramp up, but he didn’t pull away. And after just a few seconds, he could feel the slave boy relax.

“Thank you, Masta,” William murmured, his eyes downcast.

His voice was laced with gratitude, and perhaps a hint of relief. It was clear that this decision, whatever it may be, was a significant one for him.

John’s hand remained on William’s shoulder, a silent show of support and understanding. He could feel the slave boy’s breath coming in shallow bursts, and he wondered what was going on in his mind.

“Take your time, William,” John said gently. “There’s no rush. I want you to be sure about your decision. For now, let’s go back inside and discuss our new agreement in private. Follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, John turned and began walking back towards the main house. His heart pounded in his chest as he wondered what William’s answer would be. He couldn’t shake off the feeling of excitement that was building in his stomach. He was taking a big risk, venturing into unknown territory, but the possibility of exploring his desires with William was too thrilling to ignore.

John walked briskly towards the main house, his long strides eating up the distance. He was acutely aware of William following behind him, the sound of his footsteps a gentle reminder of the momentous decision that was awaiting them.

As they entered the house, John led William into his study, closing the door behind him. The room was dimly lit, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the walls.

The sound of their footsteps echoed off the polished wooden floor as John led William to the large leather armchair positioned in front of the desk.

John gestured for William to take a seat, and the young slave complied, sinking into the soft leather with a sigh.

John took a deep breath and began to pace back and forth across the room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He knew that what he was about to propose would be unconventional, to say the least, but he couldn’t deny the intense attraction he felt towards William.

The young slave was incredibly handsome, with his toned body and beautiful, chiseled features.

But with William, he felt a deep connection that went beyond just physical attraction. John wanted to explore this connection, to see where it could lead. He was determined to make William a part of his life, one way or another.

As he paced back and forth, John finally stopped in front of William and looked him directly in the eyes.

“William, I have a proposal for you,” John began, searching for the right words. “I want to offer you a choice, a way for you to gain more autonomy and a better life here on the plantation.”

William’s eyes narrowed, a look of suspicion passing over his face. John quickly continued, “I know that life as a slave is difficult, and I want to make things better for you.

I have a proposition that I believe will be mutually beneficial for both of us.”

William looked up at John, his expression wary but curious. “What kinda proposition, Masta?” William asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

John steeled himself, knowing that this would be a difficult conversation to have.

“I propose that, in return for certain ... favors, I will grant you the freedom to choose which slave woman you want to breed with.” The words hung in the air, a heavy silence settling over the room. William’s eyes widened in disbelief, and John could see him trying to process the enormity of the offer.

“You want me to ... breed with one of the slave women?” William asked slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.

John nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I understand that this is a very unconventional arrangement, but I want to offer you something in return for your ... services,” John explained, feeling a twinge of guilt at the impersonal way he was describing their connection. But he knew that he had to be upfront and honest with William about what he was proposing.

William looked at John, his eyes searching for the truth behind his words. “And what exactly would this arrangement entail, Masta?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

John swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in his throat. He had not anticipated the depth of William’s reaction.

“Well,” John began, choosing his words carefully, “it would mean that you would ... well, perform certain acts on me, in exchange for the freedom to choose your own breeding partner. I want to be clear, William. This arrangement would be entirely consensual and would only go as far as you feel comfortable with.”

John paused for a moment, feeling the weight of the words he had just spoken.

He could tell that William was taken aback by the suggestion, but he hoped that the young slave would see the merit in his proposition.

William sat silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. John felt a knot form in his stomach as he waited for the young slave’s response.

Finally, William spoke up. “I ain’t never heard of such a thing, Masta, but I appreciate your honesty.”

The relief that washed over John in that moment was palpable, but he knew that he had to tread carefully. William was a slave, after all, and he didn’t want to pressure him into anything.

He still remembered the wide-eyed look of shock on William’s face when he ordered him to strip naked the first time. It weighed heavily on his conscience, but he couldn’t ignore the longing he felt for the young slave.

John looked at William, trying to gauge his true thoughts, but the young man’s face was inscrutable. He wondered if William was thinking about what he had said or if he was too stunned to process it. John couldn’t blame him; it wasn’t every day that a slave was offered such a deal.

He reassured himself that he wasn’t exploiting William, but rather, offering him a chance to gain autonomy. He wasn’t a cruel man, and he didn’t want William to feel used.

William looked down and fidgeted with his hands, seemingly lost in thought.

After what felt like an eternity, William looked back up at John, his eyes narrowed in contemplation. “I reckon I ain’t never had much choice in my life, Masta, but this ... it’s different.

It’s somethin’ I ain’t never thought about before, but I reckon I’m willin’ to try,” William said, his voice barely above a whisper.