Emily takes a Slave

A cotton plantation owners young white wife demands BBC.

The sun beat down mercilessly on Briggs Plantation in the red clay hills of central Georgia, in the year 1805. Elias Briggs, a stern widower of forty-two, had taken a young bride the previous spring to warm his bed and secure an heir for his sprawling cotton empire.

Emily Briggs was only twenty-two, with porcelain skin, golden curls pinned beneath a lace cap, and a slender yet curvaceous figure that filled her muslin gowns with an allure she knew men noticed. Her husband’s wealth had bought her fine silks and a grand white-columned house, but it had not bought her passion.

Elias was cold and dutiful in their marital relations, leaving her nights restless and her body aching for something more. Among the two hundred souls who laboured in the endless fields of white bolls was a man named Samuel. He stood a full head taller than most, broad-shouldered and powerfully built from years of swinging axes and hauling bales.

His dark skin gleamed with honest sweat under the Georgia sun, and his movements carried a quiet strength that made the other hands defer to him. Emily had first noticed him months earlier, watching from the shaded veranda as he worked shirtless, the hard planes of his chest and the corded muscles of his arms rippling with each motion.

She told herself it was unseemly, sinful even, for a lady of her station to harbour such thoughts about one of her husband’s enslaved men. Yet the heat between her thighs whenever his eyes briefly met hers could not be denied.

One sweltering afternoon in late July, fortune aligned. Elias had ridden out at dawn with the overseer to inspect distant fields and would not return until nightfall. The house servants were occupied with laundry and preserving peaches in the kitchen wing.

Emily’s heart pounded as she descended the back stairs and crossed the yard to the tool shed behind the smokehouse, where Samuel had been sent to repair harnesses. She stepped inside, closing the heavy door behind her. The air was thick with the scent of leather, oil, and warm wood.

Samuel looked up from his work, surprise flickering across his strong features. “Miz Briggs?” His voice was deep, measured, the careful cadence of a man who had learned long ago to speak little and listen much. “Somethin’ wrong, ma’am?”

Emily’s breath came quick and shallow. She twisted her hands in her skirts, cheeks flushed. “No, Samuel. Nothing is wrong. I… I wished to speak with you. Alone.”

He set down the awl and stood, towering over her in the dim light filtering through a single grimy window. Up close, he was even more imposing: the breadth of his chest, the powerful column of his neck, the way his worn trousers clung to thick thighs. Emily’s gaze dropped despite herself.

“I have seen you,” she whispered, stepping closer. “In the fields. You are… strong. Different from the others.” Her voice trembled with forbidden desire. “Show me, Samuel. Show me what a man like you carries between his legs. I must see it.”

Samuel’s eyes widened, but he did not move away. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Ma’am… that ain’t wise. Your husband—”

“Is not here,” she interrupted, her voice gaining strength. “And I command it of you.”

After a long, tense moment, his large hands moved to the buttons of his trousers. He freed himself, and Emily’s lips parted in a soft gasp. His cock hung heavy and thick even while only half-hard, the dark shaft veined and substantial, the broad head already glistening at the tip. It was larger than anything she had imagined, far thicker than her husband’s, with a weight and presence that made her mouth water and her young, married cunt clench with sudden, shameful need.

“Lord above,” she breathed, mesmerised. She sank to her knees on the rough wooden floor without thinking, her fine skirts pooling around her. “It is beautiful.”

Her small white hand reached out, fingers barely closing around the thickening girth. Samuel groaned low in his throat as she stroked him slowly, feeling the heat and the velvet skin sliding over rigid steel. The cock swelled fully in her grasp, rising proud and enormous, the head now flushed and leaking copiously.

Emily leaned forward, pressing soft kisses along the thick shaft before her pink tongue darted out to trace a slow, wet line from the base all the way to the tip. She swirled her tongue around the broad head, savouring the salty taste of his pre-cum, then parted her lips and sucked just the head into her warm mouth.

She nursed on it greedily, hollowing her cheeks while her hand pumped the thick base with long, twisting strokes. Samuel’s hips twitched, and she took more, bobbing her head deeper, the fat cock stretching her jaw wide. Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth as she worked him, gagging softly when the head nudged the back of her throat but refusing to pull away.

“Sweet Jesus, Miz Briggs,” Samuel rasped, his big hand gently cradling the back of her golden head.

She pulled off with a wet pop, gasping for air, strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to his glistening, throbbing cock. “I want all of it,” she whispered hoarsely, then dove back down, relaxing her throat and forcing more of his massive length inside, taking two-thirds as her eyes watered.

Her free hand slipped between his legs to cup and gently massage his heavy balls, rolling them in her palm while she sucked and slurped noisily. She worshipped him—licking, sucking, stroking, and deep-throating as best she could—until his shaft was slick and shining with her spit and the shed echoed with her eager, muffled moans.

Finally she pulled off, breathing hard. “I need you inside me,” she pleaded.

Rising on shaky legs, Emily turned and bent over the sturdy workbench, yanking her skirts up to her waist. She wore no drawers beneath, and her bare bottom and slick, pink cunt were presented to him shamelessly. The lips of her sex swollen and shining with arousal, her tight hole twitching with anticipation.

Samuel moved behind her. His large hands reached around and tugged down the low neckline of her gown, freeing her ample, pale breasts. They spilled out heavily, nipples stiff and pink. He palmed them roughly, pinching the sensitive peaks as he rubbed the fat head of his black cock up and down her dripping pink slit.

“Fuck me, Samuel,” she demanded, voice husky and breathless. “Put that big black cock inside me right now.”

He gripped her waist with one powerful hand and thrust forward. The thick head spread her open, and Emily cried out as inch after thick inch sank into her tight channel. The stretch burned deliciously; she had never felt so full. Samuel didn’t stop until his heavy balls pressed against her and every last inch was buried inside her clenching heat.

Then he fucked her—hard. Long, powerful strokes that slammed into her, the heavy workbench creaking beneath them. His hips slapped loudly against her ass with every thrust, driving his massive cock deep into her womb. Emily’s big tits swung and bounced freely, nipples brushing the rough wood as he pounded her.

“Harder!” she moaned, pushing back to meet him. “Fuck me like you mean it—yes, right there!”

Samuel growled and obliged, gripping her hips tighter and railing her with brutal force. The wet, obscene sounds of his thick cock plunging into her soaked cunt filled the shed. He reached forward and grabbed a handful of her golden curls, pulling her head back as he slammed into her, his other hand mauling her swinging breasts, twisting her nipples until she sobbed with pleasure.

Emily came first, violently. Her cunt spasmed and gushed around his pistoning shaft, juices squirting down her thighs as she wailed. Samuel didn’t slow. He kept fucking her through the orgasm, even harder, his balls slapping her clit with every punishing thrust.

“You squeezin’ me so tight, ma’am,” he growled. “This white pussy grippin’ my cock like it never wanna let go.”

She was still trembling when he pulled out, spun her around, and lifted her onto the workbench. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he drove back inside her in one brutal stroke. Face to face now, he fucked her with deep, grinding thrusts, his mouth on her tits—sucking hard on her nipples while his cock rearranged her insides.

Emily clung to his broad shoulders, nails digging into his dark skin, another climax building fast. “Come inside me,” she gasped. “Fill me up, Samuel—give me every drop!”

With a deep groan, Samuel buried himself to the hilt and erupted. Thick, hot ropes of seed pulsed deep into her womb, spurt after powerful spurt until her belly felt full and his cum overflowed, leaking out around his still-thrusting cock. He kept moving m, grinding against her clit until she shattered again, milking every last drop from his heavy black balls.

They stayed locked together, panting while his cum dripped down her thighs onto the floor. Emily’s breasts were flushed and marked from his hands, her golden hair disheveled, and a secret, satisfied smile played at the corners of her mouth.

Samuel finally pulled out, his spent but still-impressive cock glistening with their combined juices. He helped tuck her breasts back into her gown with surprising gentleness.

“This changes nothing out there,” she said with a wry smile. “But we will do this again, very soon. Now get back to your work, Samuel. And don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.”

Emily slipped out of the shed on unsteady legs, leaving him to the quiet heat and the memory of her eager, dripping cunt stretched wide around him. Outside, the cotton fields stretched white and endless under the Georgia sun, but for Emily Briggs, the world had suddenly grown much more vivid.