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It wasn't only Tracey living in turbulent times, she had read in the newspapers that trouble was brewing from the south of the country. Something to do with slavery, which was rife in the south and less common in the North. Tracey lived in a wealthy suburb of New York and the south and its troubles seemed so far away however that she did not waste much time on the matter, she had her own troubles to worry about! And then completely unexpectedly and much to her delight she received a hand written letter from her cousin Emily. She had not seen the girl for a few years, they were roughly the same age but Emily had made the journey to America a year earlier than Tracey had. Apparently Emily had done well for herself and married a wealthy plantation owner in Mississippi who from what Emily described was considerably better off then her own husband. The letter had finished with an invitation for Tracey to visit at any time, an idea that seemed very attractive to Tracey at that time. Of course raising the subject with her husband was problematic, he liked to keep her in the ass house and was rarely allowed out, she did however slowly but surely work on him and within two weeks she had his permission to visit Emily for an indeterminate length of time. In truth Tracey has never really liked Emily, she was an opinionated and headstrong girl jealous of Tracey's good looks but an excuse to get away from her overbearing husband was not to be overlooked and anyway the trip would be exciting, her life at the moment was so boring! Excited beyond belief Tracey had caught the train for Mississippi one fine morning waving goodbye to Martha on the platform. Martha was one of their servants who had driven the trap to the station, her beloved husband couldn't even be bothered to see her off. Martha was a comely woman who Tracey suspected had shared her husbands bed on many an occasion before she had arrived, probably in the vain hope that he would chose her for his wife. Of course Tracey had come along and ruined that little idea, something for which Martha seemed to hold a grudge against Tracey ever since. Martha knew of Tracey's past as a saloon girl, something Tracey would rather she didn't know , especially she did did hold the grudge but it was too late for that now. The girl had warned her of travelling to the deep south alone but Tracey had dismissed masturbation her warnings as scaremongering, after all she know about slavery but she was a free white woman, not a Negro like Martha, what could possibly happen to her. And besides she admitted to a certain curiosity about slavery. Yes they had servants in their own household but from what she understood slavery was different, you actually owned the slaves and could do whatever you wanted to them. They were little more than animals and frequently worth less. Indeed Tracey had read an article in a newspaper recently where an account of a white woman being sold as a slave was discussed. Apparently such woman were called fancy girls and were quite a common sight in the south. The idea that a white girl such as herself could be bought and sold as a common slave seemed preposterous to her but it seemed that it was a common enough occurrence. The story she read about concerned a young widow who was trying to earn webcam a living from the small farm her late husband her left her. Unbeknown to her the farm was mortgaged to the hilt and when she failed to make a payment the bank foreclosed on the loan and took the farm back. In the banks eyes they not only owned the land but anything on the land and this included the farmers wife. She was put up for sale at the next market and sold to the highest bidder who took her off somewhere never to be seen again. There was much more detail in the article Solo and the very idea shocked her but she had to admit it also excited her and the danger, however small, only added to the thrill of the journey. Martha had given her a letter of introduction when she'd said goodbye which was normal for a young lady travelling alone. Something she could show to anyone who asked to prove who she was and that she was of good standing etc. She wasn't supposed to read it but the train journey was a long one and she was babe quickly bored and so she couldn't resist. The letter started as she'd expected it too, telling any potential reader that she was an honest and polite English girl married to an important banker and she was to be treated with every respect and courtesy. So far the letter did what it was supposed too, explaining that she was a lady to be respected but it soon took a dark step. The letter went on to say that her husband had met her while she was working as a whore in a saloon servicing men of indian all creeds and colours! Although this was true it certainly was not the kind of thing you mentioned in polite society. All creeds and colour was also true but up in the north where she lived it did not carry the stigma that it so readily did down south. The letter went on in even more damning terms and said that should anything happen to her husband she would no doubt revert to being a whore and selling herself to any man regardless of his colour providing he had a penny in his pocket because that was what she was, a natural slut. Tracey was shocked, this was not a letter of introduction this was a letter which destroyed her character, thank God she had read it before showing it to anyone! Placing it carefully back in her bag she vowed to destroy it at the first opportunity and in the meantime she was certainly not going to be showing it to anyone! Before I start, let me tell you something about Kate. “Maa! "So I guess we're sticking with the status quo?" Fingernails are natural polished pale red, approx .6 to .8 inches masturbation in length. He shrugged and grabbed his bag. You are such a powerful speaker. He was right. Sooner or later we will ass need to run when guards appear. She had read an old article about an ancient runestone of the druids in the forest. babe “I am the same as you... for now,” answered cheryl, “and, yes, you may speak.” Her name called, Chloe poked her head up from behind Sonja. For the sake Solo of our daughter, of all your children I pray to the great Jinn you are indian correct." Who was going to use it other than me. But I had seen her trying. I got out of bed, crying, webcam and reached for my bra.