The Rape of Maisy

The Rape of Maisy

Deep South, 1855.

Lying half clad on the cold hard ground, Maisy wanted to disappear. She wished she could melt into the satiny blackness of the night sky. But, if she moved would he notice? She didn’t know. What remained of her pretty white cotton dress was now covered with blood, dirt and semen. Maisy’s entire body ached. With her face swollen and bruised Maisy could no longer be called the prettiest gal on ole master George’s plantation. Tom Collier had been cruel as he took what he felt was his by right.
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Tom a tall man with blonde hair, cold blue eyes and the temperament of a rattlesnake. He took a liking to the pretty seventeen-year-old slave girl. His eyes followed her every move. He dreamt of touching her smooth chocolate skin and found himself desperately longing to stroke her coarse nappy braids. Never had he burned like this before. No white woman had ever ignited this kind of passion in him. Maisy would be his.
“I sure do like that gal of yours, George.”
“Who you talking about, Tom?”
“Maisy, of course. If you want to part with her I’ll pay whatever you say.”
“Well, that one’s still a virgin. Her mammy is one of my best niggers, that’s the only reason I keep the girl in the big house.”
“Yes, yes I understand, you’re trying to keep the nigger happy. But let me speak frankly George. I want that gal and I’ll pay plenty to own her. Will five hundred make you change your mind?”
“Five hundred? Ah come on Tom, I can get plenty of nigglets out of her. Make it one thousand and she’s yours.”
“A thousand it is. I’ll drop by tomorrow ‘bout noon to collect her.”
Have you ever heard a death wail? If you had you’d never forget it. Mammy Jo screamed as if her soul was being ripped from her body at the news that Master George had sold her Maisy. All night long she begged and pleaded, to no avail.

*****************
Promptly at noon a smiling Tom Collier strutted up the stairs, money in hand and ready to take his prize. Mammy Jo struggled against the ropes Master George used to hold her as Maisy and her new master headed for the Collier Plantation.
Thirty miles out she stopped weeping and resigned herself to life away from her momma. Maisy had never been this far away from home. She was awestruck by the beauty of the countryside with its lush carpets of green grass and trees so tall she could barely see the tops. The Collier plantation, a big white house with large pillars on either side of the front door, was huge. Of course she thought there was no place as beautiful as Master George’s plantation, but she was wrong. Tom Collier’s place left her breathless.
“Come on gal,” Tom smiled extending his hand. “This is your new home.”
“Yesah.”
Black faces peered out at her from everywhere, they watched curiously as their Master doted over the pretty girl.
“Thomas,” he shouted.
An old slave with stooped shoulders and thinning white hair, scuttled through the front door, greeting them with a toothless grin.
“Thomas this is Maisy. She’s going to be staying in Betty’s old room.”
“Yessum.”
“Maisy, I brought you a few things. I hope you’ll find everything here satisfactory.”
“Yesah.”
A question formed in her mind. Why was he being so kind to her?
“This be your room,” Thomas mumbled sadly.
“Thank you Mister Thomas.”
The room was perfect. White walls with two large windows sporting a view of the plantation. Vaulted ceiling, a large brass bed covered with a pink, blue and white homemade spread. The shiny wooden floors were accented with handmade throw rugs and fresh cut flowers sat on the cherry oak nightstand next to the bed. Opening the large closet revealed an assortment of beautiful gowns.
“The Master will expect you for dinner. I’ll have Fanny draw you a bath and help you get ready. Now you listen gal don’t do nuthin’ to get him riled.”
She felt guilty browsing through the dresses. It didn’t seem right. How could a white man be so interested in her?
“You in there Missy?” A female voice called.
“Yes’um.”
“Well, can I come in?”
“Yes’um.”
“They call’s me Fanny. Whew, I’s can see why the Master’s all smiles. You’s a pretty little thang,” she laughed hold Maisy’s face in her hands. “I supposed you’s a virgin?”
“I ain’t never been with a man, if that what you askin’,” Maisy whispered.
“Gal that’s bout to change. Come on and let’s get you cleaned up.”
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Belle cried incessantly. She’d been Master Tom’s main gal since the age of fourteen. How could he throw her aside for that skinny little gal? Anyway hadn’t she given him a son, Tom-tom? But, cast away is what she was. No more special treatment. She would be sent back to the slave quarters, while Tom-tom stayed in the servants quarters of the big house. Master didn’t even have the decency to tell her himself.
“I won’t go!”
“Now Belle, you know’s what Master gonna do if he catch you here,” Thomas warned.
“I’d rather be dead than go back. You tell him, I’d rather die!”
“No you don’t Belle. You’s just mad cause he done throw’d you over for that new gal. You just wait her time’ll come too.”
“What I’s gonna do Thomas? He done took my Tom-tom, Lard only know’s if I’s gonna get to hold him again.”
“Gal you forgot who you is. We is slaves, you best remember that.”
Reluctantly Belle gathered everything Master Tom allowed her to keep and headed back to where he brought her from, hell.

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Fanny dressed Maisy in a white gown with blue lace and delicate flowers. She unbraided her long hair and pulled it up into a bun. Next she sprayed a fine mist all over Maisy. “This here’ll make you smell good. Came from Paris.”
“Why is he doing this,” Maisy asked innocently?
“Cause he can, sweetness. We be toys, white men play with us until they gets tired, then they’s off to find new toys. Understand?”
“Yes’um,” she lied.
“Good, then you won’t get hurt.” She sighed giving Maisy a motherly patting on the shoulder. “Its time gal. Listen child, don’t do nothin’ to rile him.”
“Whatcha mean?”
“Jus’ do what he say’s.”

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Tom sat expectantly. His sharp blue eyes were hungry. Two plates were set, the dainty floral centerpiece was illuminated by the golden glow of candlelight.
“Please, be seated.” He nodded toward the vacant chair across from him.
“Thank you Master Tom.”
“Don’t call me Master, just Tom.”
“Yes’um, Tom.”
“Maisy you look magnificent. Tonight will be grand.”
There was something in the way he stared into her eyes. It wasn’t a look of tenderness, although he spoke softly. It was something else.
Maisy felt sorry for him, maybe he wasn’t a bad man, just a sad man.
“Let’s eat,” he smiled.
“Dear Lard, bless this food-”
“What in blazes are you doin’?”
“I’s praying.”
“What for I’ve already blessed you, now eat.”
Prayer was apart of who she was. Her mammy taught her about Jesus and she believed. Nibbling at her food she prayed silently.
Don’t rile him, she thought to herself.

**********************

Supper ended they retired to the drawing room. A massive fireplace ran the length of the back wall. Beautiful black and white photographs graced the walls. It was elegant and overwhelming. Tom poured two glasses of Brandy from a crystal decanter.
“Here, sip it slowly,” he purred.
“Mmmm, its warm,” she giggled.
He laughed, not the phony one he gave to be polite at dinner parties, this was an honest to goodness laugh. He was surprised by the sheer beauty of the moment. After a few more sips, Maisy felt lightheaded. The smooth liquor gave her a restful cozy feeling.
“I can see you’re tired. I’ll walk you up to your bedroom.”
“Oh no sah I can find it muself.”
“Nonsense, gal. I don’t think you could make it up the stairs, let alone find your room, now come on.”
Of course he was right. As soon as she stood up the room began to spin.
“Steady, Brandy carries a kick if one’s not accustomed to it,” he said grabbing her arm.
The bed sheets had already been turned down. Fanny sat in a chair in a corner of the room, fast asleep.
“Fanny,” he barked. “Undress her and put her to bed.”
“Yes’um.”
“Goodnight, Miss Maisy.”
“Goodnight Tom,” she managed.

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Two weeks past. Maisy almost forgot that she was a slave. Tom lavished her with not only beautiful gifts but also words of affection.
“Don’t forget yo’self, gal,” Fanny warned as she combed Maisy’s hair.
“I won’t.”
“I sure hope so. Master Tom is a strange one. He likes our women and hate likin’em all at the same time. Belle was his gal before you come and-”
The sound of heavy familiar footsteps walking to down the hall stopped Fanny’s tongue from wagging.
“What happened to Belle,” Maisy asked?
“Hush! You trying to get me whipped?”
“Maisy.”
“Yes Tom?”
“Tonight is going to be real special, now hurry up.”
“I’s almost ready.”
A stray tear fell on Fanny’s big black cheek as she stared helplessly at Maisy’s reflection in the mirror.
“Me and Thomas was talking, he says Belle’s gonna run off.”
“But, they’ll kill her.”
”Yeah, but that ain’t nothin’, like livin’ without her boy Tom-tom.”
“Is the baby Tom’s?”
“Uhuh.”
“Maybe if I talk to him, he can do something‘.”
“Oh no you don’t gal, Fanny whispered grabbing Maisy hard by the shoulders. If the Master find out he kill her for sure. You keep your mouth shut. Maybe Belle can get away, but if Master knows she ain’t got no chance.”
“I won’t tell Fanny, I swear.”
“I believes you. Now listen gal, whatever happens with the Master tonight, you jus remember he cain’t touch yo soul.”

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Throughout dinner Maisy wondered what Fanny meant, ‘he cain’t touch yo soul.’ Tom was exceptionally charming, he gave her a beautiful bracelet and a large bouquet of flowers and Maisy felt special.
‘This must be how white women feels,’ she told herself.
Tom’s eyes never left her, he relished her every move. He had his mother’s best crystal wine glasses brought out. Maisy sipped
carefully.
“My, you are beautiful. It brings me so much pleasure just watching you.”
“Thank you Tom.”
“Let’s go for a stroll before turning in.”
A cool breeze moved through the trees. Maisy looked up at the stars, wondering if these were the same ones she so often enjoyed gazing at on Master George’s place.
“What are you thinking about, gal?”
“Nothin’,” she lied.
Tom told her never to mention Master George, Mammy Jo or anything else having to do with her past.
“Maisy, I was wondering do you feel free?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Snatching her arm, he spun her around to face him.
“Do- you-feel- free” He growled?
“I don’t rightly know what free feels like,” she moaned.
“You know how it feels to be a slave, right?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel that way right now?” His eyes boring into hers.
“No, I don’t feel that way,” she whispered.
A devilish grin crept across his face. Sliding his arm around Maisy’s waist he pulled her to him.
“Well, well, well,” he chuckled. “Ain’t that something, I
got myself a free nigga.”
Maisy was stunned, he’d never called her a nigga before.
“Please Tom.”
“I’m gonna please Tom.” He groaned loudly grabbing her buttocks.
“No, don’t -”
Before she could finish, a cold white hand slapped her hard across the face.
“Don’t ever tell me no,” he spat.
Tom threw her violently to the ground. Straddling her he tore at her clothes. He enjoyed listening to her pleas, it moved him. Looking at her bare black breast he smiled. Maisy screamed in pain, as he bit down her nipples. Fanny’s warning became as clear as the crystal she’d drank from earlier.
His hands no longer cold traveled over her body. She felt sick to the stomach as he forced his long wet tongue down her throat.
“Call me master,” he demanded.
She couldn’t speak. Taking her silence as defiance, he slammed his fist into her nose. Blood ran down the sides of her face.
“I said call me master,” he demanded again. His hands continued their lustful journey over the curves of her taunt young body.
“Master,” she whimper.
“I bet you felt white, didn’t you?” He laughed spreading her legs apart.
“Well you ain’t nothing, but a stinkin’ nigger and I own you.”
“Why’d you treat me so good?”
Maisy didn’t know where it came from, but as soon as she said it she knew she shouldn’t have.
“Why you uppity piece of trash. Do you think I could ever love something like you? I treat all my animals good.”
She struggled beneath him as he fumbled with his trousers.
“Hold still,” he grunted as Maisy tried to break free. When she continued to struggle he slapped and punched her into submission.
She lay there bloodied and bruised as he took her. Searing pain coursed through her body while Tom grunted and sweated on top of her.
“Oh Lard, help me.”
After one last violent thrust Tom Collier rolled over and fell asleep. She could still feel the weight of him and shuttered at the sound of his slow rhythmic breathing.
“Lard, I wish I could disappear.”
One of his arms lay carelessly across her exposed stomach. If she moved would he notice? But, she had to take a chance. A sleepy moan escaped his lips as she slowly lifted his arm.
Gently she laid it on the ground. Quickly and quietly she got up and fled, leaving behind a tail of blood mingled with semen. Where would she go? If she went to Old George’s plantation he’d find her. So Maisy just kept running, her pretty white cotton dress now soiled with blood, dirt, grass and bodily fluid. She wanted to be clean.
“He cain’t touch yo soul,” she laughed running into the river. The cooling waters soothed her pains, it felt so good. Farther and farther she waded out, until she disappeared from view.

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When they pulled her body from the river, Maisy was no longer the prettiest gal on ole Master George’s plantation.