Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
Only a few pictures, Andy. Not the entire story.The final, perfect touch to a marvellous story - Reportor illustrating it
I'm working with limited resourses.
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Plantation Plight By Barbaria And Windar
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
I'm working with limited resourses.
windar
Teller of Tales
2. Sarah
Some people might think it’s easy being Mistress of a plantation-after all the slaves do all the work. Well, I’m here to tell you it isn’t. Slaves are by nature recalcitrant and lazy. They will take every advantage to do the least possible work in the most possible time. You have to watch them like a hawk.
When I married Charles and moved from my father’s house to his plantation, we had an understanding-he would manage the field workers, around 100 of them, and I would manage the domestic staff, around 20, mostly women. Cooking, cleaning, tending the garden, working in the stables.
So, when Charles saw the advertisement for the slave auction and decided to buy some new slaves so he could clear some of the surrounding forest and plant more crops to increase our income, I wasn’t totally pleased. I knew some of them would end up in the house, needing my supervision.
But Charles does what he wants, so I wasn’t surprised to see the procession coming down the road, walking slowly, chained together at the ankles, led by him on his horse, with his two assistants trailing the procession. About a dozen men and eight or so women, all barefoot, wearing hats against the pitiless sun, the men dressed in trousers and shirts, the women in blouses and skirts.
Charles led them into the open space in front of our elegant plantation house, where I stood on the porch. He took a key from his pocket and handed it to one of the assistants, who began unlocking the ankle cuffs. I went down to inspect the new additions to our household.
The men had clearly been chosen for strength; most were large and well-muscled. I had little doubt Charles would find good uses for them. Maybe I would too. The women were a mixed lot, some looked like they might be field hands, others looked like they were used to domestic work.
I was particularly struck by two of the women. One bore a distinct resemblance to myself, slim, well proportioned, with medium length brown hair. She looked a bit rebellious. I would have to watch her carefully, both to make sure she worked and to make sure Charles stayed away from her, as she was surely the type he was attracted to. You know men, always thinking with the little head.
The other one, next in the coffle, was older, but looked enough like the younger one that she might be her mother. It wasn’t at all uncommon for mothers and daughters to be sold together. I walked over to them. “What’s your name?” I asked the younger one.
“Barbara,” she replied, her eyes flashing with annoyance, though her voice managed to hold a neutral tone. I could easily imagine this one causing trouble.
“And you?” I asked the older one.
“Patricia,” she replied, a bit more warily.
“Are you her mother?” I asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” she replied, “I am.”
I guess I’m pretty good at sizing things up. “Well, I don’t know how things worked where you were before, but I run a tight ship here. Work hard and obey and everything will go smoothly. Step an inch out of line and you will regret it deeply. You can go with the others to find your quarters, but when you are settled I will have you working splitting firewood for cooking.”
Pat looked down as she mumbled, “Yes, Mistress,” but Barb looked me right in the eye as she said it, as if she was challenging me. Well, we’ll soon see about that, I thought.
Now you don’t run a plantation this size by yourself. In my case, I leaned on my trusty #2, Amy. She was a slave, to be sure, but smart and very loyal to me. I summoned her over. “Amy, I want you to take these two sluts under your charge. Start them splitting firewood. Keep close tabs on them and I want to hear right away if they step out of line, this one especially,” I said, pointing at Barb.
“Absolutely, Mistress, you know they won’t put anything over on me,” she replied. “Right, you two, get a move on,” she said, shoving Barb none too gently in the direction of the slave quarters. Barb turned around, about to say something, then thought the better of it.
Some people might think it’s easy being Mistress of a plantation-after all the slaves do all the work. Well, I’m here to tell you it isn’t. Slaves are by nature recalcitrant and lazy. They will take every advantage to do the least possible work in the most possible time. You have to watch them like a hawk.
When I married Charles and moved from my father’s house to his plantation, we had an understanding-he would manage the field workers, around 100 of them, and I would manage the domestic staff, around 20, mostly women. Cooking, cleaning, tending the garden, working in the stables.
So, when Charles saw the advertisement for the slave auction and decided to buy some new slaves so he could clear some of the surrounding forest and plant more crops to increase our income, I wasn’t totally pleased. I knew some of them would end up in the house, needing my supervision.
But Charles does what he wants, so I wasn’t surprised to see the procession coming down the road, walking slowly, chained together at the ankles, led by him on his horse, with his two assistants trailing the procession. About a dozen men and eight or so women, all barefoot, wearing hats against the pitiless sun, the men dressed in trousers and shirts, the women in blouses and skirts.
Charles led them into the open space in front of our elegant plantation house, where I stood on the porch. He took a key from his pocket and handed it to one of the assistants, who began unlocking the ankle cuffs. I went down to inspect the new additions to our household.
The men had clearly been chosen for strength; most were large and well-muscled. I had little doubt Charles would find good uses for them. Maybe I would too. The women were a mixed lot, some looked like they might be field hands, others looked like they were used to domestic work.
I was particularly struck by two of the women. One bore a distinct resemblance to myself, slim, well proportioned, with medium length brown hair. She looked a bit rebellious. I would have to watch her carefully, both to make sure she worked and to make sure Charles stayed away from her, as she was surely the type he was attracted to. You know men, always thinking with the little head.
The other one, next in the coffle, was older, but looked enough like the younger one that she might be her mother. It wasn’t at all uncommon for mothers and daughters to be sold together. I walked over to them. “What’s your name?” I asked the younger one.
“Barbara,” she replied, her eyes flashing with annoyance, though her voice managed to hold a neutral tone. I could easily imagine this one causing trouble.
“And you?” I asked the older one.
“Patricia,” she replied, a bit more warily.
“Are you her mother?” I asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” she replied, “I am.”
I guess I’m pretty good at sizing things up. “Well, I don’t know how things worked where you were before, but I run a tight ship here. Work hard and obey and everything will go smoothly. Step an inch out of line and you will regret it deeply. You can go with the others to find your quarters, but when you are settled I will have you working splitting firewood for cooking.”
Pat looked down as she mumbled, “Yes, Mistress,” but Barb looked me right in the eye as she said it, as if she was challenging me. Well, we’ll soon see about that, I thought.
Now you don’t run a plantation this size by yourself. In my case, I leaned on my trusty #2, Amy. She was a slave, to be sure, but smart and very loyal to me. I summoned her over. “Amy, I want you to take these two sluts under your charge. Start them splitting firewood. Keep close tabs on them and I want to hear right away if they step out of line, this one especially,” I said, pointing at Barb.
“Absolutely, Mistress, you know they won’t put anything over on me,” she replied. “Right, you two, get a move on,” she said, shoving Barb none too gently in the direction of the slave quarters. Barb turned around, about to say something, then thought the better of it.
Only a few pictures, Andy. Not the entire story.
I'm working with limited resourses.
Windar is right, you have already managed to capture the look of the two Moore women perfectly. Any illustrations you have the time and resources to produce, Repertory, will be deeply appreciated by everyone following this thread.
windar
Teller of Tales
And of course by the authors.
Something tells me this doesn't work out well for Barbara... she is not well behaved...
That I may...
No. Not very well behaved at all. I fear for her safety.Stop imagining ahead
Nice gif Tree!
Where did their clothes go?
You will see again on another thread!!!Stop imagining ahead
Nice gif Tree!
Just read the story... I'm sure it happens...No. Not very well behaved at all. I fear for her safety.
Where did their clothes go?
windar
Teller of Tales
We would never have nudity in our story, right Barb?
Repertor
Artifex Imaginum
I shall blurr my pictures, like Madiosi does.
The rendering of my third pic has failed.
It's not the resourses. There is something wrong with the file. I have to find out what.
quite bitching and write!!!
windar
Teller of Tales
View attachment 414724 Stop pressuring me. I am working on it!
I will share a little secret. It's almost totally done. Barb and I are just arguing over the ending. You know my record on those (nice) and hers (not so nice) so you can imagine the arguments
Note: When I say nice and not nice I am referring only to the fate of the characters, not to the writing or the authors, who are both extremely nice
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