Chapter 1

My name is Jacob Stellinski, and I am a Jew. That accounts for part of my problem with the CSA. My grandparents immigrated from Germany in 1827 and settled in a small town in South Alabama. Every thing went well for them, as my grandfather was a highly skilled gunsmith. My father learned the trade from him, and was just as good at the craft. Likewise, I learned the trade from my father, and I am one of the most skilled gunsmiths for a 300-mile radius.

When the War started in 1861, I was conscripted into the CSA army, but I was not sent to be a combat soldier. Instead, I was sent to Atlanta to supervise in a factory to manufacture gun barrels. I spent the entire war at that job, and I did my usual good job, if I do say so myself. We made the finest gun barrels in the CSA!

When the war ended with the armistice of 1864, after Gen. Lee had captured Washington, DC, I was mustered out of government service and sent home. My skill as a gunsmith was still well known among the rich people of the area, so I was able to resume my business without nearly the difficulties faced by most of the returning soldiers.

The problems really started in 1871 when Jonas Throckmorton was elected president of the CSA and an almost completely new Congress was elected with him. Needless to say, I had not voted for Throckmorton and his religious fanatics, but I had to live with the consequences.

One of the first bills passed by this government was one which stripped all non-Christians, Catholics, and Free Blacks of citizenship. Black was defined as having a dark skin color, but I managed to get past that requirement. Anyway, any non-citizen had one week to get out of the CSA or to be interned by the government in a concentration camp.

Travel that quickly from our current home to Mexico, Cuba, USA, or Canada was simply impossible, and I suspected that was the intent of the law. Many Jews and Catholics were interned, but the bastards charged us one dollar per day while they had us in captivity. At the end of one month, anyone who could not pay his bill had his services sold to the highest bidder. I fell into that category, and my family was included, so I owed CSA$90 to the government for their courtesy in taking us in and providing a place for us.

We actually received a piece of paper with that bullshit written on it as we were shipped off to the auction. Naturally, there were a lot of spectators there to see us being sold, though only members of the aristocracy had the money to bid on us. At least, I had some satisfaction in that I went for the highest amount paid that day for a serf family. I am sure it was because of my reputation as a gunsmith.

My services were bought by a plantation owner from near Albany, Georgia, a certain Master Amos Winthrop. This man was a pompous bully if there ever was one, and his son Eli and daughter Ella had taken lessons from him. All three were a constant pain in the ass, as well as other places. I really hated it that my wife, Martha, had to spend one night a month in Master Amos’ bed. That was not a legal requirement, but we had no recourse, so we had to put up with it.

Martha reported to me that Master Amos’ cock was so small that he could hardly maintain penetration, and she wondered how he could have two children. For that matter, I wondered if they were really his because his wife regularly traveled on overnight visits to other plantations.

One day, I was working in my workshop on a new fowling piece Master Amos wanted for a gift to the sheriff of the county. This was a fine example of brown-nosing at its best because the sheriff was the seat of legal power in the county. I was sweating over the stock to give it a perfect shine, and the weather was so hot that I had my shirt off.

I was concentrating heavily on my effort with getting a satisfactory shine on the wood that I hardly noticed it when Master Eli, Mistress Ella, and a girl friend of Mistress Ella’s from a neighboring plantation came in. I ignored the children as I worked, and Mistress Ella finally became impatient with me. “How dare you ignore your betters? Stand up, Jacob, and bow as you have been taught!”

Now, that was a silly sounding command coming from a 13-year-old girl, but I complied because I didn’t want to listen to a lot of shit from Master Amos when he heard of my “discourtesy.” Of course, if he was in an especially foul mood, he might have ordered me whipped. That had not happened yet, but it was common among his slaves and other serfs.

Well, I stood up and bowed. “I beg your pardon, Mistress Ella. I was working so hard on this gun I am making for your father that I did not notice that you three had entered my workshop. Please forgive me. What can I do for you, today?”

She said, “You can show us your tool!”

“What tool is that, Mistress Ella? I have many tools in my shop, and I do not know which one you are referring to.”

Master Eli said, “You fool, she means the one between your legs. Now, drop your pants and show it to us. We have never seen one cut like yours, and we want to see it.”

That was a direct order, and I dared not disobey it. Otherwise, I could expect a severe beating ordered by Master Amos. I was not especially enthusiastic to show off my circumcised penis, but I wanted a beating even less, so I moved to obey the command. I loosened my belt, opened my fly, and dropped my pants to the floor.

Mistress Ella said to her friend, “See, I told you he would drop his pants if he was ordered to!”

The other girl began to giggle as she stared at my cock. Mistress Ella also stared at my cock and asked, “Why is it cut like that?”

“That is a religious act that shows my eternal reverence for God. Jews have been cut like this as babies ever since the time of Moses.”

This really got her attention. She walked up to me and took my cock in her hand. When flaccid, I am about 4” long and 1½” in diameter. She lifted my cock and said, “Look, Eli, at how much bigger this is than yours. Why, it is even bigger than Pa’s”

Master Eli said, “I wonder how big it is when it gets hard. See if you can make it hard, Ella.”

“How do I do that?”

“Oh, hell! Martha, come in here. We have a task for you.”

My wife showed up a few seconds later. “Yes, Master Eli, what can I do for you?”

“You can make your husband’s cock hard so that we can see how big it gets.”

That was the first time my wife noticed that my pants were on the floor and that I was nude from my ankles to the top of my head. She gasped and almost fainted, but I said, “Martha, do what they commanded. Otherwise, it could mean trouble.”

Martha took my cock in her hand and began to jack me off. I got hard, then, and grew to 6½” long and 2¼” in diameter. The children gasped at the size, and the other girl asked, “Does it hurt for it to get big like that?”

“No, Ma’am, but it can be uncomfortable at times.”

That was when Mistress Ella got very bold and said, “Show us how you fuck Martha!”

“Mistress Ella, I can’t do that!”

“Yes, you can, or I will tell my father that you refused a direct order from me. You know what that will mean.”

Now I was caught in a quandary. Such a private thing should never be done in public, especially when children can see it. Nevertheless, there was no gainsaying that bully of a girl. She insisted, and Martha was frightened at the possible consequences if we did not obey her. Therefore, she lifted her dress off and was nude immediately: it was too hot to wear any more clothes than necessary.

She spread her dress on the floor and lay down upon her back on it. The dress was not much of a cushion, but it should protect her back from splinters. Master Eli ordered us to stop there while he examined Martha’s body from crotch to shoulders. Martha had no hair on her pussy at the command of Master Amos. I knew the reason because I was the one who shaved her every time before she went to his bed. Actually, I shaved her each week so that the stubble would not irritate her when she walked.