Talisyn’s eyes followed the men who appeared to be walking directly toward her. As she watched them come closer, she was reminded of her childhood. She will never forget that day when, at eleven years old, the men came to Ireland. The look of panic on her mother’s face as they ripped the young girl from her arms was branded in her memory. She felt sick as one of the men grabbed her by her hair and pulled her away from the clotheslines.
“What are ye doing?” She clawed at the hand in her thick amber hair. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”
The men dragged her, kicking and fighting, all the way to the barn. Once inside she saw Master and Zxander. Zxander kept his eyes to the ground, as if he were ashamed. There was an old, half-rotten wooden table in the middle of the barn. She could hear the rain start to hit the roof.
“Tis raining,” she said. “I need to get the sheets off the lines.”
The master said nothing. He just pointed his cane towards the table and the men seemed to know what to do.
The four of them lifted Talisyn and slammed her down on the table. They pinned her down, one man at each limb. She watched in disbelief.
“What is going on? What are ye doing?” She kept her fearful gaze on the master’s.
“You have been here nine years, almost ten. That is the end of your indentured servitude. Normally I would just kill you about now. But I figure I could make more money if I breed you and keep your child. That child will be my property and I figure if I breed you and Zxander, that child will be self-branded, easy to prove as my property. I am curious to see if I am correct, mixing an Irish slave with a negro one.”
“No!” she raged.
The master looked at Zxander and pointed at Talisyn with his cane. Zxander walked over to Talisyn and lifted her dress.
“Please, Zxander. Don’t do this to me.”
Zxander said nothing. He simply climbed up on the table and eased his hard flesh against her untouched opening. He gently pressed inside her and stared at the ground. She flinched and whispered, “Zxander, look at me.”
He could not. He shook his head and continued, trying to be gentle.
“Zxander, please . . .”
He still could not look into her eyes.
“Zxander, please, look at me. It will be more humane. Am I not your friend?”
He looked at her. Tears welled up in his eyes. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just keep your eyes on mine. Zxander, look at me.”
She felt his body tense up and relax. The men let go of her and grabbed Zxander. The man with the whip beat his back. But Master spoke up.
“Stop! These two are not to be touched. They are like my prized bull and my strongest heifer. They will be fed and cared for. Take them to the house.”
Talisyn sat up and watched three of the men drag Zxander out.
“Why be kind for one child? You know I am leaving soon,” she reasoned.
“Really?” Master said. “You would willingly leave your child with me?” He laughed.
“My ten years will be up while I am pregnant,” she argued.
“I know. And you will have two choices. I can cut your child out of you and let you die, or you can stay, have your offspring and raise it. But you have to give me more children.”
“No, my Irish whore. The bastards are the babies you will be providing me with.” He laughed again.