The steamboat was making the usual background noises, the 'woosh-woosh--woosh' sounds of the engines, the 'pata-pata-pata' sound of the paddle wheels, the occasional shrill call of the whistle. Somewhere, in the background the piano was playing in the parlor. I had excused myself from the card table after I had made up the $50 I had lost earlier in the game and, after a smoke watching the bank of the Mississippi go by in the moonlight, I went forward and into my cabin.

The shutters were closed but a little light filtered through the slats, enough to see my way to light a lantern. Dolly was laying on the divan sleeping-how I had ended up owning a mulatto slave girl is a long story but, she'd be free when we reached our destination. I figured she could live with me for five or so years, until she was old enough to work in the mills, then she'd be able to make her own way in the world. Not the best life but surly better than her future as a slave in Louisiana. I'd make sure she learned to read and write, give her what I could.

Colonel Abbot and I were passing near the docks when we happened to come across a gentleman on horseback leading a consignment of more than a dozen slaves, all tied together with a long rope from their ankles to the next.

"Ah, another group of niggers sent down from the plantations. Since the bull weevil got into the crop there've been hundreds brought to market. Good freeze this winter aught to salve that problem."

"For my sake, I hope you are correct, Colonel," I said.

There was, near the end of the line, a girl, looking down, her continence broken. She was, however, unique among the group for her lighter skin.

"Tell me, Colonial. I've seen the fliers and know the value of a good field hand but, look at yonder girl, what sort of return would one such as her bring?"

"She is but a waif. Not much good in the field and little use in the kitchen for another few years. She might bring $50. It's a risk, chances she'll die before she's any use. She'll just cost her owner 'til she's older. She'll be sold with a lot, no one will buy just her."

"Such a value for a human being," I said under my breath and we passed on.

She was still wearing the dark blue dress, cotton with a pattern of small flowers and white lace collar and cuffs. She was on her back, one leg up on the divan, the other foot on the floor. The hem of the dress was pulled up so her calves between her knees and the top of her stockings shown. She had not removed her shoes.

After I had lit the kerosene lamp and turned back towards her I saw her eyes flutter closed. She was pretending to sleep. I was still amazed at how she had changed from the first time I'd seen her...

The bile still rose in my throat as I thought about her, sitting in the dirt at the slave auction, waiting to be sold with a group of a dozen other slaves. Obviously, from her resemblance to her owner, her father was getting rid of her before his wife took too close a notice. I almost spit in the mans face as I counted out the $60 dollars for the child.

I turned to the wash basin.

I could feel her eyes on my back as I poured water out of a pitcher into the basin. I removed my vest, then pulled my tie off from around my neck, laying them both over the back of a cane chair that stood against the wall. Then I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped it off.

Again, when I glanced her way I saw her eyes close.

I stood at the basin and washed, cleaning my face, arms, and chest. Then I sat down on the bed and pulled off my boots. They made hollow 'clump' sounds as they hit the wooden deck.

A preacher and his wife had been good enough to look after her for the six weeks I needed to travel around Louisiana and Mississippi, securing contracts for cotton for the next summer. Then, I had collected a different child. In those few weeks she had gone from an undernourished, forlorn, filthy, and half naked urchin to a truly strikingly beautiful child. Her light brown skin held a wonderful luster, her light brown, almost golden, eyes sparkled and her long black hair fell in tight curls down over her shoulders to the middle of her back. Before I hadn't noticed the darker freckles on her walnut colored cheeks that crowded around her upturned nose. She owned three dresses now, blue, gray and green, with lace collars and cuffs, and a fine pair of shoes, certainly the only shoes she'd ever worn. She also spoke clearly, Mrs. Collins said she was working hard to drop many of the inflections and the slang of the slaves.

I stood again and loosened my britches. These joined the rest of my clothes and I continued washing, knowing I was being watched and actually kind of enjoying the idea. It was cool in the cabin, and the water was cold, so I took a bit of a chill as I washed, drops of water collecting into small pools at my feet. I dried with a towel and then turned to the bed. Again her eyes shut.

I sat up in the bed, pulling the covers up to my waist.

"Dolly, I know you're awake. Would you take the basin and dump it over the side?"

She got up silently.

"Be careful, don't spill it on yourself," I said.

"Yes sir."

She opened the door, then went out with the large bowl, there was a distant splash, then she returned and put it on the stand.

"Why don't you take the pitcher to the pump and fill it so we'll have water?"

"Yessa."

"You mean 'yes sir.'"

She stopped, "Yes sir," she carefully intoned.

"That's good honey. Where we're going you're going to grow up to be a free woman...you need to speak like one."

"Yes sir." She went out with the pitcher.

This was the first night we were together on the steamboat. She had been excited when we boarded and ran around the decks giggling at all she saw (this brought disapproving looks from many who didn't think that a slave girl should behave such). We got some even nastier looks, especially from a few of the white women, when we were seen putting our bags in the stateroom. Understanding the issue, I let it be known that the child was my daughter and free, not a slave. I left it up to others to consider who her mother might have been-frankly I didn't give a fuck what they thought.

The girl came back in, I looked her up and down, then, as she placed the pitcher back in the recess that held it securely in the stand, I imagined her in a different way. She picked the pitcher back up and poured water into a glass, using both hands to lift the large container. As she did this, her hips swayed in a way that accentuated her round behind. As I got myself another shot from the whiskey bottle on the table next to the bed, she poured another glass and drank it off. She turned around, wiping a drop of water off her chin. Her eyes were lost in the shadows made by her hair falling down on each side of her face. Looking at her, I admired the outlines beneath the blue dress. There was a tension in the room, for a moment I knew that she was wishing that she had a bed in the room-a luxury she had certainly not experienced until just a few weeks earlier.

The idea of a warm body against mine made my cock swell. I knocked off the last of my glass, then, as she watched, poured myself another.

"Come around her, into the light," I said, indicating the left side of the bed, next to the shutters.

She walked around the edge of the bed and stood quietly, looking at me with brooding eyes.

Her figure was slim under the dress, the bodus was tight around her chest and abdomen, then at the waist the dress flared out into folds of the long skirt. Buttons ran completely down the front, from the neck to the hem that hung to her ankles.

"Unbutton your dress," I said, then took another gulp of my whiskey.

Silently, she reached up and started undoing buttons. After three were loose, opening the neck and showing a bit of her white shift underneath, she dropped her hands.

"Keep going."

She hesitated, then reached back up and slowly undid more buttons. I nodded once or twice as the dress opened across her chest, then her upper stomach and then down to her waist. After she had loosened the ones that let the band at her waist free she stopped.

I looked at her for a few moments, my cock was swelling under the sheet. I reached across and took the bottle again, refilled my glass, then took a swig.

"Take the dress off."

Her expression was brooding, maybe a little scared, as she pulled first at her left shoulder, then her right. Next she worked the sleeves off, the top of the dress fell to her waist, uncovering her shoulders and arms.

"Go on," I said, nodding toward the half discarded garment.

She hooked her thumbs at her waist and pushed it free of her hips, the dress crumpled to the floor around her feet, leaving her standing in her muslin shift, stockings, and shoes.

My growing dick was making a lump in the covers, I saw her looking at it with a slight expression of fear.

"Take off your shoes and stockings."

She seemed relieved to bend down and work at the laces. She pulled each off, then pushed the shoes, stockings, and dress off to the side. When she stood back up she had a bit of a defiant expression, throwing her hair back. Again, she stood silently.

"Now the shift."

My cock started lifting the sheets as she pulled the muslin over her head, then dropped it on the growing pile of clothes.

Her skin was dark, especially dark in the low light of the single kerosene lantern. Her chest was completely flat as was her stomach. Her thighs were nicely rounded-in spite of her being a slave she had gotten enough to eat. Her shoulders and arms looked strong for a little girl, she was used to working and lifting.

Her face was now completely in shadow. I again nodded toward her. "The bloomers," I said.

She leaned forward and pushed them down over her knees, then dropped them to her feet. My heart constricted in my chest at the sight of her smooth sex, the small uncovered cleft that ran down between her legs. I pulled the sheet off my cock, it lifted up and slid over to the side, bended over my hip, bouncing slightly with my pulse.

"Here," I said, patting the bed next to me. "Kneel here."

The child climbed onto the mattress, kneeling with her knees against my hip.

"It's too big to get in me, sir," she said, looking down at my dick with an expression of fear.

"We'll see about that," I said. "But for now, just rub it." I took her hands and wrapped them around my shaft, then moved them up and down.

There was no question that she knew exactly what she was doing, after all, she had lived in the slave quarters were adults and children all sleep where they fall on the floor. I had myself witnessed slaves sneaking off into the woods together while I had been traveling around Alabama and Louisiana.

I leaned back and watched as she gave me a hand job, sliding her fingers up and down my shaft. She seemed to know to concentrate on the head, shifting from long strokes of my shaft to two or three short moves on the bulb. I was quickly building.

I reached over and pulled on her arms. "Here, climb on top, rub it against your belly."

She crawled over me, like getting on a horse. For an instant, I got a glimpse of her little girl sex, the lips pulled apart showing the softer folds between, before she settled across my hips and started rocking up and down, holding my cock against the soft skin of her stomach.

As she lifted, then fell, she watched me, her expression still a had a calm intensity as her eyes fixed on mine. She seemed to be able to read me, moving faster as I built, pulling harder, increasing the pressure and keeping time with my thrusts. Also, a couple of times, she closed her eyes with a calm expression, and, as we went on, she started to push her hips foreword while she lifted up some-the result was that the bottom of my cock slid along her hairless little slit. Just before I lost control I noticed that her nipples were pushed out in little cones.

I erupted into her hands and smeared my seed against her stomach. I shoved upwards several times, each time pumping more white goo into her hands. She held on to my dick as I moved up and down, the sliding now lubricated with my sperm. Finally, after six or eight gushes of goo, I relaxed down, panting. Dolly pulled her cum covered hands away, looking down at them, wondering what to do with the slime I had just unloaded onto her hands and belly. There were strings between her fingers and a drop was working its way down her belly to the top of her pussy slit.

"Oh, that was nice," I groaned. "Just wipe your hands on the blanket."

She leaned to the side and did this, then brought a fold of the edge up and cleaned off her belly.

"Lay down here," I said as I pushed her to my right; she fell onto her back next to me, I rolled onto my side.

Now the light from the lantern shown directly across her, allowing me to truly see the soft and flat plane of her torso, from her throat to her thighs her soft amber skin stretched flawlessly, only broken by the darker nubs of her nipples, the ridge made by the ending of her rib cage, the oval indentation of her navel, and the rise of her sex. I ran my hand up her thigh to her unadorned pussy and felt a small quake shiver through her when my finger ran along the slit. It was slightly slick, whether with her own moisture or the remainder of my sperm I don't know. She spread her legs slightly for me.

I ran my finger down, then pushed at the opening, expecting to find a soft entrance but then a fleshy barrier. I was really surprised when my finger easily slid inside her to the second knuckle.

"You've done this before," I said.

"Yez sa. Masta O'Realey's boy, Masta Antony usz ta have his way wit all da girls."

My cock swelled against her hip. I ran my finger in and out a couple of times and watched as she moved with it. "He wazn't nice, likes you," she said.

Now my cock was again at full hardness, I wanted desperately to fuck her. I lifted her leg and slid down, her still on her back and me on my side, then pushed my head against the opening. To my delight, Dolly reached down with both hands and pulled her pussy lips apart and, with gentle pressure, I slid up inside her.

Her snatch was tight and incredibly hot, it was so easy to slide in and out of her hairless cunt. She writhed with my advances. I propped my head up on my elbow and watched as I fucked this little girl. For I moment I speculated as to her age, concluding that she was between eight and ten, by far the youngest I had ever fucked.

Still, she was by far the best, her light frame and smooth skin was a wonder as I could move her around easily and everywhere I touched her she was soft and supple. I quickly built, more so because of her obvious pleasure too. Her eyes got darker and she was breathing with our movements, a slight sheen of sweat was covering her and there was a flush of red in her throat and chest.

Finally, I just couldn't hold out any longer and I jammed my dick inside her. As I emptied my slime deep inside her little girl sex she whined and writhed. I felt a shiver in her pussy as she also caught her breath while my seed filled her immature womb.

We both relaxed, panting, and after a few minutes I noticed the cold air on my back. I pulled the covers over us, then, being careful not to let my cock slip out of her, I reached up and turned the lamp down until the wick lost its flame. Then I held her to me, still inside her and we went to sleep.

Later that night I got up and pissed in the chamber pot. In the dim light filtering through the shutters I looked at her sleeping. I guess I could really get used to having my own little slave girl.