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The role of race in US slavery
Gender differences in slavery
The role of race in US slavery
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I guess you want to know all the sordid details huh ? Hmmm. Well. Let me start with an introduction to the scenario. I'd already had a slave before but she wasn't behaving so I had to cut the bitch loose. It was a real shame. She was a real looker too. But oh well. I was cruising the bar circuit as is my usual. I went to the downtown core to scope out my next target but from what I saw there was nothing interesting around until the wee hours of the night when I was getting in my car and this young lady asked me for a light for her cigarette. Oh she was a looker, just like the one before. Long blonde hair that cascaded to the middle of her back, a generous pair of tits and wow, what a pair of legs. I was so stunned by her I almost forgot why I went out that night. I remember giving her a light so I'd have an excuse to strike up conversation. Just enough to stall her from leaving. She'd agreed to gab a bit so we both had a cigarette and talked in my car. The night air was a little cool so I turned on the car to keep us …show more content…
I got home with her still very out of it. I carried her inside and brought her to the basement. She wasn't heavy to carry so I did quick work of that and once in the basement I began stripping her of her clothing. But only a few articles. I left her bra and nylon stockings. Her panties I stuffed into her mouth and sealed in with duct tape. From there I cuffed her hands at her back and then her ankles and locked it all together so she was cuffed in a hogtie fashion. I pressed a strip of duct tape over her eyes as well and then taking a thick chain I locked it around her neck, pulling that long hair of hers free from under it. Sitting her up against the brick wall I attached the other end of the chain to a wall mounted steel ring and locked it in place as well so there was no way she'd ever get
basement where she would not be noticed right away. He then tied her up to make it look
It had been 5 years since the death of Johnny and Dally and everyday I miss them more and more. I am 18 now and about to leave to start my first year of college. I have still been living with my brothers Darry and Sodapop. Darry is now 25 and Soda is now 22. Things have been a little different ever since we won the rumble that night. I remember it like it was yesterday. But the difference is now the greasers and Socs are not really a thing anymore. Darry, Soda and I have kinda lose touch with Two-Bit, Steve and Cherry. But we all still think and talk about them everyday.(I mostly talk about Cherry.) When we see the Socs wondering the streets we don't go over and try to pick a fight anymore. We either smile and wave, it's like we're all one big friendly neighborhood.
It has been too long since I last wrote to you, so I thought I would inform you on momentous events that happened in my life in the last little while. The previous time I heard from you was when Gabriel turned three. I can’t believe he is about to become a teenager now. My goodness, time flies by so fast. I was so ecstatic when I saw your prior letter arrive in my mail.
the woods and forced her to undress. Then he smashed her head against a tree. She
At the same time: Snap-Whoosh-Growl-Snap-Whoosh-Growl! Return with a fierceness, causing the rest of the men to separate into two groups with some moving to the left in search of the origin of the beastly sounds and the others moving to the right, combining their numbers with those searching for their missing brethren, while Gottlieb stays behind.
They made her cook and clean. If she messed up the food or missed a spot when cleaning up, her foster parents would hit her with these thick leather belts. It would leave welps on her arm, back, and leg. As a matter of fact, they had a small wood shed full with leather belts and weapons they used just on her. Not to mention, her foster parents made her sleep on a cold, wooden floor with rats crawling from corner to corner along with spider webs on every part of the wall. When she bathed, she had to go outside and use an water hose. So every now and then she would sneak to her boyfriend house for a nice cleaning and something comfty to wear. Since he had a sister her age, she wore his sister extra clothing she had. He knew all about her situation at home and he tried to help by telling her to tell someone. However, she was afraid to even tell anybody because if she told they would actually kill her. So she kept her mouth shut. Then one day everyone was gone to the store except her and her foster dad. She was in the living room watching tv, he came and told her to come here. She obviously followed him because she was highly afraid of him. They went to his room and he told her that he needed her to pick up something. He then raped her. She felt so ashamed of herself. She couldnt run away because they always locked her in
I’m Freda Josephine Baker born to Carrie McDonald and Eddie Carson on June 3rd, 1906, in St. Louis, Missouri, but most of you may know me as Josephine Baker. At the age of 12 I dropped out of school to become an entertainer, yes yes, I remember it like it was yesterday, I was young and ready to become a star. I grew up cleaning houses and babysitting for white families, and they always reminded me “be sure not to kiss the baby”. When I was 13, I got a waitressing job at the Chauffeur’s Club, which was where I met my first husband, our marriage was very brief; I had never hesitated to leave anyone, never depended on any man for anything, that’s for sure.
I push myself off of the wall when the agony in my leg slaps me across the cheek with the force of a runaway freight train. Looking down, I realize that the handsome man’s blade still cheerfully roosts just millimeters to the right of my sternum. Silly collector, I think to myself as I carelessly draw out the flayed cobalt sheet from my torso, spewing clot and gore onto my hands. The heart is on the LEFT side. I giggle blissfully as I lick my viscera off of the blade. I turn towards my front door and see the other collector staring at me in lamented horror, unsure of whether to finish me off with the assault rifle she held in her shaking hands or to simply run away. “Oh, sorry, did you want some?” I inquire as I hold out the blade towards her. She fixes her gaze on the blade, then back to my face. “N-N…” she attempts, but resorts to just shaking her head. “More for me, then!” I state as I feebly limp past her and out of my destroyed room. I head for the elevator and bulldoze the “up” button with my fist. When the corrugated iron doors lazily shriek apart, an elderly woman and her husband look up at my face, then down to my wounds as I board the trembling
As I handed a blanket to a patient, the doors outside the room burst open. While this was a common occurrence in the emergency room, something felt extremely different this time. As the emergency medical technicians wheeled a patient in, she screamed in pain. Peering out of the room, I witnessed massive bruises and blood dripping down her face. Her clothes, tattered and torn apart, looked as if she was attacked by a beast. My heart broke for this woman, as the next phrase she screamed sent chills through my body. “My husband did this to me! Keep him away from me!” After checking in with the nursing station, I learned that this woman had been abused for the past five years, but never was able to tell anyone. She never visited a doctor, and
At 19, I thought I knew it all. Admitting I was confused, nervous and fearful didn't cross my mind, nor did confirming inabilities. Just like a vintage bottle of wine, I have greatly improved with age! Gone is the over-confidence and ridiculous sense of entitlement that defined my youth. Somewhere on the journey from bright-eyed to now, I realized learning is a process and involves small steps.
Friday evening’s consist of crowded bars, restaurants and bistros lining the sidewalks in big cities like New York, Chicago and Atlanta. Nashville's Music City was no different. People milling around, moving in and out of shops, up and down the busy Broadway ironically named in a country music town that dominated the city's night air with shrill controlled pitches of love songs, break your heart songs, and cheating heart songs moving like thick molasses on a cold blustery night for this southern city. Cell phones were blowing up in the pockets of passerby’s as news feeds auto updated events around the world taking place.
Alone Together I don't know where you're going, But do you got room for one more troubled soul I don't know where I'm going, But I don't think I'm coming home And I said, I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead
My roommate threw the worst cook out possible and invited people I wanted no parts of. I ate horrible Jerk Chicken, Drank cheap beer and smoked the best weed ever. I exited through the front door on that Sunny day and drove to Culver City. I called her before and she said come over. I had ever intention of making my girl at the time orgasm. We went to her room and I gave it the old sportsman try. She was 5’3 and I am 6’2. I gave it everything I had but still could not bring her to her knees. I had the bed hitting the wall like a mini earth quake. It was my last try. My ego was shattered! I had to ease out slowly. It was confirmed when I talked to her as the female profile. Again she liked me but the sexy was not what she had been used to. Slowly we stopped communicating. She had gone back to the Bay Area to visit her family. A small argument ensured. The world were getting crossed. The female and male persona become one. My trick had backfired and but me in a worse place. I had too much information. All the stuff woman hide to protect the male ego I knew and it
She let my mom and I stay there until the police arrived. The police told us we should move into "Woman Space" and stay there until we had enough money up to move away from the crazy lunatic. Woman Space is where abused women go to seek help and shelter for themselves and their children. As we were packing our things all I could think have been, "This is God telling us this is the perfect way out of this
They grabbed her and threatened to kill her if I didn't give myself up. I grabbed my sword throwing it to the ground, and I got on my knees putting my hands up. A guard came up behind me grabbing my hands forcing me to stand. The Knight that was holding her slashed her throat, and through her to the ground in front of me. She said goodbye with her last breath.