1

The air smelled of blood and gunpowder.

For some couple of short minutes, the huge light house of a prosperous planter Reginald Morris piled up the bodies of coolly shot white people.

Clenching his still-smoking gun in his hand, Dantrell stepped over the bleeding bodies. The coal-black skin of the former slave shone with sweat, the tight rope of muscles was strained. There were jaws on his rough, broad face, and his large, angry eyes did not bode well. He threw indifferent glances at the dead, trying to figure out who else he might have missed.

His men roamed the house, catching women and tying up voluntarily surrendered servants. Those who perished in this slaughter could survive if they also acted wisely. They themselves were to blame for losing their lives. When Dantrell conceived this case, he knew perfectly well that he would not do without victims.

Among the dead here and there familiar faces flashed - Morris' henchmen. Here is the lamefoot Jacob, who loved to sow the black slaves of the planter, while Will Birch, who killed Dantrell's brother last summer. Next to him lay the freckled Roger, who also liked to mock at the defenseless slaves. They were all scum during life and deserved death.

Dantrell was preparing the uprising for a very long time, planned it in and out. Now the worst was over. He ordered his men not to touch women and those who surrendered to their court without resistance. The men were stripped and thrown into the cells in which Reginald Morris usually locked the guilty slaves. Dantrell himself took the planter alive. This fat lame bastard could not repel him and only wheezed, splashing saliva when he was shoved behind bars to the others. Now everything will be different, the man decided for himself. Slaves and gentlemen exchanged places.

By evening, the corpses were carried out of the house and thrown into the river.

Former slaves celebrated their victory by drinking wine from the stocks of the host. Dantrell sat among them, looking at the estate that now belonged to him and the rest of the free niggers. He was the biggest and most powerful of them, the real leader. Years of humiliation, torture and loss hardened Dantrell. Will, intelligence and incredible strength gave him the respect of the rest of the slaves. When he voiced their plan for liberation, many doubted, but still followed him. Now they are all free people.

“What are we going to do next, Dantrell?” - Noah asked him, the youngest of his brothers and the last of his surviving relatives.

“Now this land belongs to us,” the man calmly replied. - The manor and the whole plantation are now in our hands. We have wheat and corn, which will soon be sown.

- So we have to work in the field again? - asked his one-eyed Tyrone in surprise.

- We'll have to, but now we will do it only for ourselves, and not for the white gentlemen. The Lord gave us a chance to gain freedom. We should be grateful for that too.

- And if other whites come here?

“Not soon,” said Dantrell confidently. - The war is still going on. The confederation army is still strong, but soon it will fall and then slavery in these places will become a relic of times. And before this time we will have to stick together and defend the estate, if one of the whites still encroaches on our freedom. We have plenty of weapons. There is cattle in the barn, which means there will be milk and meat. We will grow the rest ourselves on these fertile fields. ”He moved his hand, showing his people the vast territory that formerly belonged to the cruel planter. - All this is now ours.

- And women? - asked Jeremiah, who bore the name Dog.

- Yes! We have no women at all! - the Dog supported the rest. - Only the Latonia cook and her two daughters - Chalis and Ashandra.

“You forgot about white women,” Dantrell reminded them.“There are eight young maids from the servants on the top floor of the manor: laundresses, maids, the woman who taught Morris's daughters to singing.” The young sweethearts themselves are there, as are the wife, and numerous aunts and sisters.

“So they belong to us now too?” - licking his lips, gently asked Jeremiah.

- Like everything here. Do whatever you want with them, but don't kill.

Congratulations were heard among the men.

- How long have I dreamed about this, - the Dog clapped his hands.

“Oh yes, nice white meat.” - Tyrone broke into a chipped smile. “I bet I'll be the first to strip one of these seductive females?”

“Take them all anytime,” said Dantrell. “Fuck, stuff their white bellies with little black babes, you can even marry, but leave me Morris's wife.” This woman is now mine.

No one dared to argue with him. Dantrell gave them freedom, and he was entitled to demand everything he wanted.

2

With the onset of darkness, the manor was again filled with shouts. It was crying and moaning white women, whose bellies this night were torn apart from the inside by black members of former slaves. They have not yet come to terms with their lot. Most of them kicking and resisted, but some behave with restraint, obediently opening your legs before flushed with excitement niggers.

Dantrell sprawled on the huge bed of the master bedroom, smoking a cigar from Reginald Morris's stocks, and with a smirk looked at the huge portrait of the planter and his family hanging on the wall opposite.

I thirst for the blood that flashed in him this morning, he quenched in full. Now, the body required a completely different thing - to relieve the stress of the passing day.

The door creaked open and Noah appeared on the threshold. The young man pushed the woman inside and looked at his older brother.

- Leave us, Noah. “Even when Dantrell spoke softly, his voice sounded rolling and imperious.

The guy nodded and jumped out.

The planter’s wife was a truly beautiful lady, the hottest and smartest white female from all that the former slave had met. Samantha Morris зап red-eyed eyes looked scared, with a barely readable reproach and at the same time a prayer. The luxurious delicate blue dress of the woman, covering her gorgeous mature body, was torn to shreds and ragged rags hanging down, revealing almost no hidden lush charms for viewing. She tried desperately to cover herself with her hands, but she could not hide herself from Dantrell, eagerly devouring her gaze. Chestnut-colored hair, usually collected in an exquisite hairstyle, was now dismissed and fell like a waterfall. On the cheeks red spots stained traces of heavy slaps.

“Come closer,” Dantrell ordered her, releasing rings of gray smoke from his mouth.

Samantha timidly approached on legs trembling with fear. Looking at her from head to toe, he would occasionally stop his eyes, then on an excessively large chest bristling under a torn fabric, then on the sharp bends of widely distributed thighs. And how could such a beauty go to such an ugly bastard like Reginald Morris? What could such a disgusting zhirtrest with a small process between the legs give this delightful woman?

Dantrell stood up and Samantha suddenly dropped to his knees in front of him.

“Please,” she begged. “For God's sake, stop this madness.” My daughters! My dear young daughters ... Why did you give them to be torn apart by these animals?

- These animals - my friends and brothers - coldly replied nigga. - Talk respectfully about them, for now they are gentlemen here, and you and your daughters are slaves.

Tears spilled from her eyes.

“They will kill my girls.”

- Do not be killed. Only a little fun with them.

- I heard their sobs! I saw their tender tummies straining and swelling from the huge processes of these scum ... I beg you, Dantrell, let my daughters be left alone. I am ready to take their place if I have to.

He just grinned at it.

“You have always been a kind and sensitive woman, Samantha, and it’s not your fault that your husband is a monster and her daughters are spoiled arrogant bitches.”But despite this, I ...