Anonymous - The memoirs of Dolly Morton

Rosa had not struggled or uttered a word while she was being taken up and prepared for the switch. But now she turned her head, looking at Randolph with a dog-like expression of appeal in her great, brown eyes, and said beseechingly, while the tears ran down her cheeks: Oh, Massa, don’t whip poor Rosa hard.

He began to whip her, laying on the strokes smartly and as calmly as if he were merely beating a dog. The girl winced, drawing the cheeks of her bottom with a jerk each time the switch fell. Long, red weals rose on her skin. Her plump flesh quivered and she kicked up her feet, squealing shrilly and exclaiming in gasps:

Oh, Massa! — Oh, Massa! — Don’t whip — me — so — hard-! Oh! Massa! Oh! — Good Massa, please-don’t whip — me — so — hard! Oh! Oh! Stop Massa! Oh! Please-please-

stop. My bottom-is-so-sore-I Oh! Oh!

The switch continued to stripe her writhing bottom, extracting loud cries from her, making her struggle and plunge violently. But Dinah, slightly separating her legs and bending well forward, easily held the shrieking girl in position while Randolph whipped away steadily.

Jane held up the girl’s petticoats and Dinah gripped her wrists tightly while Rosa, squealing and twisting herself about, drew up her legs one after the other, then kicked them out in all directions, and, in her contortions opened her thighs so that I could see the curly dark brown hair shading the spot-and every now and then I caught a glimpse of the bright pink orifice.

Rosa’s skin was rather fine, and she appeared to feel the pain acutely, begging piteously for mercy. But Randolph, utterly regardless of her cries and entreaties, went on whipping till the surface of her bottom, from the loins to the thighs, was covered with red weals. Then, throwing down the switch, he said: Let her go.

Jane let the sufferer’s petticoats fall and Dinah released her wrists. Then Rosa stood on her feet, twisting her lips and wailing with pain while she wiped the fast-flowing tears from her eyes with her apron.

There, Rosa, said Randolph, I have let you off rather easily this time, but if I ever again hear that you have been saucy to your mistress, I will whip you till the blood runs down your thighs. Now you can all go back to your work.

Rosa, still wailing, slunk out of the room with her hand pressed to her smarting bottom; the other two women followed, and Randolph and I were left alone. He put away the switch, then, turning to me, said: I don’t think she’ll give you any more trouble, but if she does let me know.

Oh, George! I said. How could you bring yourself to whip the girl so severely. She is a pretty creature and I know you often have had her.

He laughed. Yes. I have often had her and will have her again if ever I feel inclined to. But I will also whip her again whenever she requires punishment. She is only a nigger, though she is so light in color. You are a Northern girl, so you don’t understand how we Southerners look upon our slave women. When they take our fancy we amuse ourselves with them, but we feel no compunction in whipping them whenever they misbehave. Their bodies belong to us, so we can use them in any way we please. Personally, I have no more regard for my slaves than for my dogs and horses.

Though I had got to know Randolph pretty well by that time, I felt rather shocked by his unfeeling sentiments. However, I made no remark. He was standing in front of me, and I noticed that there was a protuberance in a certain part of his trousers. I guessed what was coming.

He went on: You know, Dolly, whipping a girl always excites me, so I am going to have you.

Then, laying me on the couch, he pulled up my petticoats, took down my drawers and entered me with more than usual vigor. Whipping Rosa’s bottom certainly had acted on him as a powerful aphrodisiac!

When all was over and I had fastened my drawers, we went to our respective rooms and made ourselves tidy. Then he ordered the buggy and we went for a long drive in the country, lunching at a farm house and not returning home until it was time to dress for dinner.

When I got to my room I found Rosa there, as usual, waiting to assist me in making my toilet.

She was looking very subdued and her manner was humble and submissive. She had received a severe whipping, and her bottom must have been very sore. I felt for her, knowing as I did how dreadfully the switch could sting. I am sorry for you Rosa, I said. Did the whipping hurt you very much?

Oh! Yes Missis, she answered, giving a little shudder at the remembrance, it did hurt me most drefful. De Massa never give me such a hard whippin before. Dinah has rubbed my bottom with possum fat, an’ dat has taken de sting out of de weals som, but I’se very sore an’ I can’t sit down easy.

She helped me to dress, seeming very anxious to please me in every way, and always speaking most respectfully. From that day she was a changed girl so far as regarded her behavior to me. I never had occasion to find fault with her again during the rest of my stay at Woodlands.

Three months passed, during which period I went through some varied experiences and saw some curious sights. If I were to relate everything that occurred, my story would be too long.

However, I will describe one or two of the incidents just to give you an idea of what sort of man Randolph was.

I have already mentioned the dinner parties he frequently gave for his male friends, and I have told you that these gatherings were always of a very free and easy sort. At one of these dinners the proceedings were of a more licentious character than usual. Randolph had invited ten guests, which was the usual number.

He was very particular on these occasions that all the girls should be nicely dressed, so Dinah used to parade them for my inspection just before the guests arrived. I merely had to see that the girls should be nicely attired outwardly, but Dinah, before bringing them to me, had to see that each girl was clean in person and that she had on clean underlinen.

On the day of which I am speaking, after my own toilet had been made, I went down to the hall and inspected the girls, finding them all looking clean and smart. Then I went into the drawing room where Randolph was lounging on a chair, turning over the leaves of a large, illustrated book of Rabelais, an author whose works he was very fond of reading.

I told him that I had seen the girls and that they all were looking very nice in their black frocks. To my astonishment, he burst out laughing and said: Oh, they won’t wear frocks this evening. I have got such a splendid idea from a picture in this old book. It’s a wonder it never struck me before.

What is it? I asked.

I have just been reading the chapter which tells how Pantagruel and his companions were entertained at a banquet by the Papimaniacs and were waited on by a bevy of nude damsels.

The dinner tonight shall be a reproduction of the scene described. There are ten men coming and each man shall be waited on by a naked girl. It will be great fun and also quite a novel entertainment for my guests.

Although I was accustomed to his vagaries, this new freak horrified me. I should have to sit at the table with ten men, while the same number of women displayed their naked bodies!

The idea was most repugnant to me, and I blushed, a thing I had not done for many a day.

Oh George! I exclaimed. Don’t do such a thing! It is too shameful.

Yes I will, he said, laughing heartily, Why Dolly, you are actually blushing! I thought you had got over all your squeamishness by this time.