SOUTHERN SUBMISSIVE (AUTHORITARIAN, HUMIL: T/T, M/T) BY: MOORE
Part 3
Chapter VI
Lila Carver, the eldest of six children, was born in Mississippi. Still bitter, she never forgot how difficult it was growing up in the segregated deep south. Her daddy was a sharecropper, working sun up to sun down on land owned by a rich white man; who also owned the shanty house they lived in. No electricity. No running water. No bathroom. Her momma worked as a maid in the big house on top of the hill and spoke about all the fine food and clothes and cars..., all the wonderful things the rich white folks and their children had. A fantasy world to a child wearing rags and eating corn meal mush and sweat potato pie.
She remembered listening to her great grandad, Cletus, talk about his childhood before the Civil War, before Lincoln freed the slaves.
We coloreds were all slaves when I was a boy, she remembered him saying. I worked like an animal all day in the cotton fields, naked like an animal, cause I had no clothes to wear. And not just me, mind you. All the coloreds on my plantation went about naked all the time because the old master wouldn't give us any clothes, or even let us wear clothes if we managed to come by an old shirt or a pair of ripped pants. Master said we best be naked cause the good lord made it so only people wore clothes. Master said we coloreds wasn't people, we was just nigger slaves.
Lila could almost see Cletus' tear streaked face as he struggled to tell her, reminding her over and over not to forget, what her people had been subjected to.
Wasn't right, Cletus would sob. White boys on the plantation, the master's sons and their friends from town, staring at the young girls while they was bent over, working in the garden or doing the wash. Coming up behind with their pants all open, displaying themselves like randy stallions, and using these girls for breeding mares. Take turns all these white boys would, I seen it for myself, trying out different girls to see how many they could mount before spilling their seed. Nobody could say or do a thing for fear of being punished. Not even when they took the prettiest young thing and put her on her back atop fresh washed linens. Her quivering black flesh all naked, shiny with sweat, against snowy white sheets set these white boys to a frenzy. White bodies easing between her wide open, near to breaking, black legs, and settling on her face, and mouth so her cries were muffled. When these white boys were satisfied, done with their fun, her shiny black body and tear streaked black face was slick with the fruits of their labors.
Lila shuddered to think of the men and women, boys and girls, all living together naked, like animals. And the young girls, young boys too as Lila found out later, used like whores by any white man or boy to satisfy his sexual, sometimes sadistic, desires.
Years later, after Cletus was long dead and Lila was living in Chicago, Lila's grandma told her the story of how ten year old Cletus was given to the masters' teenage son as a personal slave boy . Cletus was ashamed to talk about this part of his life, grandma told her, and Lila was savvy enough to understand why. Her poor great grandad, the man who wanted her to remember the awful things that had been done to the young black girls on the plantation, had been turned into a fag by his young master. A cocksucker, a pussy boy and a prostitute.
Grandma didn't use those words of course, she was much too refined, but as she told the story about Cletus, Lila knew the truth.
Personal slave boys like Cletus took care of all the young master's needs, including the, ah, mature needs of every teenage boy. There were female slaves to take care of such matters, but Cletus' master fancied boys rather than girls. Don't know about today, but in those days I'm told, a lot of southern white boys, men too, had a likin' for black boys. Three, four times a day, right out in the open for all to see, I hear tell, Cletus was put on his knees or bent over a tree stump, and not just for his master. Why, that white boy used to invite his friends over, and strangers too, to use his personal slave boy. Got so that Cletus was takin' care of so many white boys he could hardly walk and you remember child, how his teeth was all crooked.
When the young master went off to war, the old master took Cletus into the big house until the war was over and all the slaves were set free. Like so many former slaves, Cletus didn't know how to be free. He continued to live in the big house, only now he was takin' care of a white general from the Union army and his staff. I daresay his life was much the same as before. Cletus was still behavin' like a slave and he was still bein' used to service white men. We black folks is still bein' used, we still like slaves, but times are changing and one day soon we gonna take our rightful place.
Grandma was right, that day had come, Lila thought as she looked at her black son standing tall and proud over a naked white man who was sucking his cock. Oliver was in his rightful place.