The picture prompt is a poster of a 1933 movie about a tryst between the wife of a plantation owner and his overseer.

He was even more cruel, cold, sadistic and condescending than the night club owner back home I was in so much hurry to escape, and I hadn’t noticed until it was too late, thousands of miles from home. He fucked me raw every night, unkempt, sweaty, uncaring, taking what he wanted, then turning away and falling asleep within seconds. And left me feeling used, hot and needy, his seed dripping down my legs, and no satisfaction in sight. That night I stumbled out of the house into an equally hot and sticky night, feeling no relief. All I wore was a short shift, my arms, legs and feet bare. Mindlessly, I wandered on, my body smelling of his juices mixed with my own.

“Hey, miss!” A loud voice startled me. A man emerged from the dark, looking me over. I recognized him, he was the one running the estate. From the first day I saw him, giving clear and sharp instructions, naturally commanding obedience of everyone around him, I felt the tingling sensation every time I heard another sharp order from his lips, or saw his hands holding the daily reports. My heart skipped a beat as he approached.

He also recognized me and his tone changed to concern. “It’s not safe to be alone out of the house at night, best go in.”

“Go in? To what? My husband snoring? No thanks!” I was peeved. He finally noticed my attire, and, judging by his nostrils, my smell. I blushed.

“I’ll take you back.” That commanding voice again, not tolerating any objections. I automatically turn around, but stumbled over something on a dimly lit trail, and almost fell. He caught me. His hands rough and warm around my waist. He had no shirt on. That was too much to bear. I leaned into him, inhaling his bare skin for the first time. Apparently he was not immune to me, either, I felt a bulge brushing against my thigh. I moaned.

“Miss?” He looked into my eyes. “Are you OK?” “Am now!” My hand found his belt, and now I was in a more familiar territory. Back home I knew what men wanted and how to get what I want from them. My hand slid deeper inside his trousers, few men could resist the sensation.

But he could. Sort of. He ripped my shift off in one fluid motion, threw me on the ground face down and slid inside me, before I realized what was going on. He was rough, relentless and insatiable, my body quivering in ecstasy again and again. And when he was finally done, I realized in amazement that, for the first time in forever, my need was quenched. He gestured for me to go back and disappeared into the dark. If this night was any indication, life was finally beginning to look up.

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