"Just a soldier," I said."A rebel, you mean," she said. "Well, I want you to know that we are loyal, despite this vile outrage, we are loyal, king loy...l." She fell into my arms, sobbing, and I held her until she took a deep breath and pushed herself free. Her body felt very good, strong and firm. The slaves behind her looked away.The big black man returned my bayonet, hilt first and wiped clean, nodded to me, and he and his cohort sat in the shade beside the road. The young ensign struggled in. My slave Taylor loved to be humiliated and beaten. I would spit on him, and whip him until he was bruised and almost bleeding. Crush his cock with my foot, and kick him in the balls. I would lock him outside naked, even in the cold New York winter. When I opened the door, he was dutifully waiting for me ready to lick my pussy and be whipped again. He was married and could only come by twice a month, but they were always fun. My slave Don was also married, but his wife was aware of me, she just. When I finished I let you by and when you were rinsing I came behind you started holding you and running my hands down the front of your body while I was pressed up behind you with my dick resting on your ass. You bent over like you were gonna turn the water off but you put your hands on the wall and started grinding your ass up against me. I ran my hands down your back scratching you all the way down to your ass and squeezed. You reached down and grabbed my dick and slid it to your clit and. I was the son of privilege, growing up in New Jersey to Harold and Virginia Scoville. My father was a printer and publisher, and more importantly at the time, an influential man in the politics of the area. He had come to America from England with his father at an early age. He had been academically brilliant and his father's skills with the typesetting equipment of the day made the family prosperous. By the time he was in college, his father owned his own business, and while he had no interest.