Chapter 12

"What is you doin' in here, girl?" Mercy asked me in her lyrical voice, frowning as I picked up a peeler and started skinning potatoes.

"Cooking." I smiled at her. She was preparing some stuffing for the chicken sitting near a big roasting pan.

"No, you aint. Put them taters down and gone take a bath." She leaned close, wrinkling her nose at me. "You smell like finger puddin'."

"I do not!" I laughed at her. "I'll take a bath later. I've got time."

"Hmph." She shook her head. "You think cause I'm old I ain't got no sense? I forget what it smells like? You best put them clothes in the wash too."

"Just let me do something, okay? I'm bored," I said, and I wasn't putting the potato down.

"You's bored?" She chuckled at that. "I told Suh, he oughta put you to working way back when, but now he's gone and spoilt you good."

"Working?" I made a little face. "I do work. I clean. I dusted the upstairs the other day, or maybe you didn't notice that."

"Is that what you was doin' up there?" Mercy pushed stuffing into the chicken. "You doan know the first thing bout bein' a house negra."

"That's cause every time I want to learn something, you kick me out," I told her, and that was true. She wouldn't even teach me to cook.

"Now you ain't never gone be a kitchie coo, child!" Mercy laughed and shook her head. "You's just a bedroom negra and bedroom negras get bored if they ain't a hard man around, that's a fact."

"It's not my fault," I pouted.

"And that's why you's come round here smellin' like negra pie." She started suturing the chicken closed, quickly and without hardly even looking at her fingers. "You's gone and got yourself a girl, huh?"

"Negra pie?" I giggled.

"Bound to happen, I spose," Mercy shrugged. "Suh ain't gone like it none, but that be your business anyway."

"You think he'd be mad if he knew?" I bit my lip because I hadn't thought about it.

"Is you blind, or just stupid?" The old woman looked at me as she put the bird in a pan. "That man ain't never had no use for catnip 'cept it was like yours."

"Catnip?" I gasped and giggled, and I wondered just how many different ways Mercy could refer to sex and not say it.

She took the peeler away from me, shouldering me aside.

"And you's come home smellin' like you's livin' in it now." She peeled quickly, paying more attention to me than her hands. "Talkin' bout bein' bored and cryin' for somethin' to do like you's on holiday."

"What?" I had to listen carefully as Mercy's accent grew seriously thick when she got excited.

"All you's gone do is look pretty, smile pretty, an saddle up pretty." Mercy peeled three potatoes in the time it took me to do one. "And that done mean stickin' ya lil thingy in no field ginga neither. Oughta lick yer black behine with a strap fer comin' home stinkin' like that."

"Okay ... Okay." I rolled my eyes. "I'll take a bath. God!"

"And doan you blaspheme in this house!" She frowned at me, pointing that peeler at my nose.

So much for learning how to cook, I thought. I tried though, once in awhile, and had been trying for a year, but Mercy always kicked me out. The kitchen was definitely her place and she guarded it jealously. The master bedroom upstairs was mine and I was the same way, I suppose. Mercy didn't step a foot in it anymore, except to clean while I was at school. When I was home, she'd stand at the door, but never come inside. It was our bedroom, mine and Mr. Reiser's, and any pretense that I was anything but his mistress had long been over and done with.

It did get boring though, to tell the truth. I went to school, but there was never any homework, not like my previous school, the catholic one. That had been hard and I'd had to do a lot of studying to keep up, but the segregated school was easier, or maybe I was smarter, but I doubted it. After school, I came home and made myself pretty for my Master, and just waited for him. I read magazines, watched television, and even used the internet sometimes. Slaves weren't supposed to use the internet and even freeborn blacks didn't have unlimited access, but Mr. Reiser never bothered to turn the black filter on. When the weather was warm, I'd sit outside by the pool. I did some exercise everyday, some dance aerobics mostly, but diet and hormones were giving me a real body and the exercise was just for fun really.

I had changed a lot over the previous year. Besides having real breasts now, tits that were about as perfect as you can imagine, I had slightly wider hips and my ass was a little bigger, not a lot, but enough to be better. Round and firm and nice. My waist was still small, so I had a pleasing figure and nobody could tell I wasn't a real girl, not unless they saw my penis, and I'd gotten very good at hiding that. I could wear a two piece bikini and walk around the beach and men, straight men, would stare at my body happily. Mr. Reiser had taken me down to the Gulf Coast for a few weekends the previous summer and so I knew it for a fact -- I was beautiful.

And bored, like I say, waiting for my Master to come home from work. Most often we'd have sex right away, just quick fun sex, and then we'd have dinner. Mr. Reiser would do some work in his study then and later we might go to the Owner's Club, or maybe just go upstairs and make love until we fell asleep. Once in awhile he'd take me someplace else, someplace more public, since I was now completely passable, but being gay was illegal. Even though me being his slave gave Mr. Reiser a loophole, if he was found out publicly it could be very embarrassing for him. Privately, all of his friends knew, of course, but so long as it stayed an open secret nobody cared.

It was much like having a black mistress, which most white owners had. They were a public secret. The men would never admit it and nobody would bring the subject up socially, but privately, everyone knew and approved, or at least tolerated the practice. The whole affair seemed frustrating and hypocritical, I thought, but it had been that way forever and it wasn't going to change anytime soon. I just wished there was more for a bedroom negra like me to do than fuck all the time, or sit around waiting to be fucked, which was my real complaint. I liked the sex just fine, it was the in betweens I didn't like so much.

The only things I had to do were things that had to do with being Mr. Reiser's mistress. Like doing my vocal exercises, which I hated, but that's what I was doing after my bath. I'd had surgery to shorten my vocal cords, and that had been a little frightening because the doctors had told my Master that I could lose my voice completely, or come out of it sounding like a frog or something. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing that they did to a lot of girls and so it was experimental, you might say.

Mr. Reiser had it done though, and while my voice had been reasonably girlish before, especially if I tried to sound like a girl, now I didn't have to try at all. I had a soft, high-pitched voice, kind of breathless actually, but my Master thought that sounded sexy, so it was okay. I couldn't yell or anything, however, because if I did, I'd lose my voice for two or three days just that quick. I had to exercise my vocal cords, or so the doctor had said, and he'd given me a little CD with exercises on it, sounds to imitate and words and phrases and just musical notes to hum along with.

So I was humming and sort of dancing around naked because I'd gotten tired of sitting and then laying down, and I'd brushed my hair already and made up my face and painted my toes red and my fingernails, too. I was dark and pretty and feeling like a prisoner just because there was nothing else to do.

"Well now, this is different." Mr. Reiser startled me. I was jumping on the bed, pretty high too, and almost hitting my head on the ceiling.

"Oh!" I stopped, falling on my bare brown butt and giggling. "Hi!"

"Hi!" He grinned at me and started taking off his suit.

"I was, um, exercising." I stuck out my tongue a little and I was always happy when my Master came home.

"I see that." He nodded. "You break the bed and we'll have to sleep in your room."

"I won't break it," I promised. "Not by myself anyway."

"Is that right?" Mr. Reiser had loosened his tie and he reached for the little stereo we had in there, turning it off.

"Do you think I'm getting bigger?" I asked him, thinking about what Sarah had said.

"Bigger?" he asked. I got off the bed, standing there naked as I grabbed the head of my penis, the loose wrinkled foreskin covering the tip like a tiny elephant nose, and pulled my cock up for him.

"Or is it getting smaller?" I wondered.

"I think it's about the same, Dani." Mr. Reiser chuckled. "Still perfect."

"You think those shots are going to make it so I don't get hard anymore?" I sighed. "I hope not."

"No. Your cock is going to work just fine. The doctors know what they're doing," he assured me, undressing slowly while I played with myself.

"I hope so." I felt a little grumpy. "I feel like a guinea pig."

"Heh!" Mr. Reiser laughed. "You're the sexiest guinea pig I ever saw then. What's wrong?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Mercy wouldn't let me help her cook."

"You're not supposed to cook."

"I know." I played with my penis for him, pulling the dark foreskin back and forth. "I'm just ... Bored."

"Bored, huh?" He nodded. "It's kind of hard being the only teenager around here, isn't it?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. "Maybe."

"Maybe I should find a boy," Mr. Reiser said, kind of throwing it out there like it didn't mean anything, but I knew him too well.

"You want another slave?" I frowned at that. "Why?"

"Just a houseboy, someone to help take care of the place," he said, but my Master was lying.

"You don't like me anymore?" I blinked at him, being childish, I knew.

"What? Dani, you know better than that," he said. "You'd have a friend, someone your own age to keep you company."

"I have you," I said, and I was shaking a little, fighting with my feelings. "Mercy's here too. Why can't it be just us?"

"He isn't going to come between us." Mr. Reiser pulled off his pants, standing there in his black socks and white underwear now, loose boxers and a ribbed sleeveless t-shirt.

"You already got him," I said, hearing what he wasn't saying.

"He'll be here tomorrow."

"I hate you." I swallowed hard and started crying. I couldn't help it.

"Dani..." My Master frowned.

"I don't hate you. I love you!" I sobbed, moving to embrace him, wrapping my arms around the man and pressing a wet cheek to his chest. "Don't do it, please? Don't do it."

"I already did it," Mr. Reiser said softly. He hugged me as we stood there. "I had my lawyer file the papers today. He's slaveborn. He's just a house nigger, that's all. He isn't like you, Dani. Nobody is."

"You're going to love him." I shook my head, wiping my face on his t-shirt.

"I'm not going to love him," he said, chuckling. "Fuck him, yeah, but you're the one I love. Believe that."

"Sarah's master got a new slave and now she sleeps on the floor."

"What?" Mr. Reiser hardly knew Sarah, except as a girl I went to school with. "Stop crying. You know I don't like it."

"I'm sorry, Master." I sniffled and tried to stop, but it was hard.

"Look at me." He took me by the shoulders, pushing me back a step and I turned my eyes up, blinking rapidly. "I don't treat you like a slave, you know that. But that's what you are. It isn't up to you if I buy a new nigger or not."

"Yes sir." I nodded, wiping at my eyes.

"This boy's going to be here and he's going to stay. I won't have you misbehaving," he told me seriously. "I haven't whipped you yet, but I will. I swear to God. If you disobey me, I'll take you for a whipping."

"Yes sir." I swallowed hard and I believed him.

"If you keep acting up. I'll take you down to Orleans and put you on the market, understand me?"

"Y-You'll whore me out?" I almost sobbed, but held it in somehow.

"You'll spend the next nineteen years working a cat house on Bourbon Street, I promise." My Master stared into my eyes and I was afraid to turn away.

"I'm sorry." I took a ragged breath and nodded quickly. "Master, I'm sorry."

"After dinner you'll tell Mercy I want you strapped, a dozen licks," he said. "You get me before she does it."

"M-Master?"

"I want to watch," he told me, and I looked down at that.

He'd had me strapped before from time to time, if I'd been foolish, or most often Mercy would decide when I needed it. Mr. Reiser had never watched though, so far as I knew. It made me both frightened and excited because I did like the razor strop, odd as that may sound. I liked the way Mercy spanked me with it and I especially liked the way she eased my pain afterwards. It was both a punishment and a reward that filled me with confused and conflicting emotions and I wondered if my Master understood that.

"Yes sir," I agreed.

Mr. Reiser let me embrace him then, pressing my body once more to his, and I kissed him through his t-shirt, stained now with my tears and saliva. I kissed him anyway and moved my mouth towards his bare skin, the side of it where there were no sleeves but large ovals exposing the top of his ribs and armpits. I moved my mouth there, sniffing hard as my nose was a little runny from crying, but I could still smell him. Mr. Reiser's sweaty skin was all male and I licked at his salty flesh and dragged my tongue upward, finding the musky damp of his hairy pit. I buried my face there, breathing him in and kissing him, losing myself in his manliness. I wallowed in that rich presence, my heart beating faster and my body growing even warmer than I already was.

My nipples stiffened with arousal, like my small penis as I rubbed it against my Master's through his thin cotton boxers. He was hard as well, Mr. Reiser's large cock straining as I slid my body against his. I reached down, feeling playful after my silly outburst, and guided my penis through the opening of his underwear. Rather than pulling my Master's cock free, I pushed my penis inside and found his, rubbing my girl cock against his manhood. He liked that and murmured his approval while stroking my hair and back, holding my mouth to his armpit and savoring the pleasures I could bring him there.

After a minute or so of that, Mr. Reiser reached for my ass. I moved my mouth to his chest, kissing his nipple through his t-shirt and biting at it. He held my ass with both hands and finally he lifted me off my feet, making me giggle and gasp with surprise. My cock slipped free of his boxers and he carried me to his dresser, putting me on it and pushing me back, keeping my ass on the edge as I leaned against the large mirror mounted against the wall behind it.