"The Trading Block"

The terrified, damned near stark naked woman took two steps forward as her name was called. She watched the other twenty women before her receive lashes to their backsides for not knowing the involuntary pseudonyms given them once they entered port. A man of a little over six-feet tall steps upon the makeshift wooden stage, and walks directly in front of the young woman and stops. “This nigger’s a fine breed. Look at her—from her locks, down to her big eyes, her strong nose and chin.” He took a breast in each hand, and rubbed her nipples with his thumbs, as the terrified woman shook, afraid to move, and repulsed by staying still. “How many kids you got, bitch?” “Fi…five, sir.” “Mmm…and you have titties like this?” he said as he continued to caress her cleavage. “How old are you?” “Twenty-six, sir.” The woman perked up a bit, feeling suddenly invigorated by the grubby pawing that took place just seconds before. “How would you like to come and work for me? I’ll treat you real nice. Of course you can’t eat at the table with my family, but you get to have myself and my son. I think we can squeeze five more boys outta you,” he said while patting her thick hips. “No. I think you’re gonna beat me. I don’t want a master who’s going to beat me—sir.” “Bitch, I’ll only beat you when you get out of line. You know, for not doing your duties, like serving my son with fellatio every morning before breakfast. All I want you for is to get you pregnant, so my children can have some of those features, mixed with my own beautiful black skin. Sound likes something you can handle, white girl?” “Next up for bid…, the auctioneer called…