Hello. Who am I? Well, my name is Jodie. Let me tell you, if you are not a woman of color, then I can't tell you what it's like. You know what's even worse than the out right bigots? The people who try too hard to prove they're not prejudiced. Y' gotta wonder what they feel so guilty about. Can you say hypocrite, children? I knew you could.
Still, in a lot of ways, things aren't all that different on the "wrong side of the tracks." My mother was terrible about sex. She must have thought that all sex was all bad, all the time. She nearly had me believing it. Do you have any idea how hard that is on a young girl just noticing boys? I mean, I felt guilty wanting sex, and I did want it. So, like any other kid, I resorted to fantasies in the privacy of the bathroom. But then, how could I enjoy a fantasy if I was supposed to feel guilty, right? Well, the fantasy had to take some of the control of the situation out of my hands to absolve the guilt. And where in history does a black girl have sex that is not in her control? Uh,huh. And if my friends knew I had sex fantasies about being a slave, I would be ostracized, let me tell you.
Until recently, I was a student at a large northwestern college with a real good communications program. Hey, my alma mater was going to the Rose Bowl that year, so NYAHHH! Still, it was tough, since there were not many of my "coloring" there. Lot of Native Americans, some Latin types, and a bunch of Asians. Sometimes it seemed the only black guys were on the football team. On the other hand, that could mean opportunity if a woman was sharp and lucky. I was.
It started when I was approached by a grad student. He was of the "prove-I'm-not-predjudiced" type, but at least in his case, I later realized it was mostly a mix of sincerity and uncertainty. Anyway, he was doing a film for his graduate thesis, and needed players. The thing was, he wanted to do a film about an old time southern family entering the American Civil War. By the way, don't let anyone feed you a bunch of noise about the Civil War being a states rights thing; it was always about slavery. Period. So, for his film , he needed a couple of black players, and he was having trouble getting any. He couldn't pay me or anything; but his committee chair would give me a point of 499 independent study credit. And what part would I play? Well, in his story, the son of the plantation owner had a slave lover, but daddy disapproved.
So, I said yes. We filmed mostly on weekends, and after classes. We used mostly local sites that could be dressed to fake the old south somehow, and sometimes the dressing was pretty flimsy. But we had one big problem. You see, my character was supposed to be murdered by the daddy character. The problem was, we had no period guns to use, and anything like an axe or anything would require too much special effects stuff.
When the filmmaker and I were talking about it, I got a real funny feeling in my belly. My girlish fantasy of a slave forced into a relationship with a white master, y' know. Want to guess how they ended? My mouth went dry, as I tried to work up the nerve to speak. Somehow I forced out the idea that, to be historically accurate, I should be hanged. He said he could not afford the harnesses and stuff to make that work. I forced myself to say that it would only take a rope if I let him really hang me. He was stunned. I explained that I had read up on it for some class, which was only half true. A person hanged with no drop will choke for about two minutes before losing consciousness. Brain damage will begin about then, due to loss of oxygen; and death usually occurs in four or five minutes. But, I could hold my breath for about a minute and a half without too much danger. He could have somebody standing by with, like a stopwatch and a sharp knife. Let me hang really gently, and I would kick and squirm for ninety seconds. Then cut me down. Later we could pad the scene with shots of my dangling feet, and reaction shots of the guys hanging me. I will say, he didn't really want to, but I did, and I talked him into it.
During spring break, we went out to a park in the county, where they had a bunch of trees by a stream. There was, fortunately, nobody around. Like, anybody would approve of this! You know, we didn't tell his advisor in advance. We did some establishing shots, of the daddy player, and the son player, and me, and the foreman player. I got to do a love scene with the son player. That sure as hell turned me on, knowing what I was going to do later. The film maker kept coming up with new angles and shots he wanted to do, and I finally realized that he was scared to get down and do it. I marched up to him, and demanded that we do it before either we lost the light or I lost my nerve.
We set up the equipment, and established the shot. We had to know what the camera could see, you understand, 'cause this all had to go right in the first take; there would be no second.
Then the time came. Just inside the shot, the daddy player and the foreman player grabbed me. Daddy held me, while the foreman tossed a rope around my wrists, tying them behind my back. The extra rope went around my waist and tied back to my hands. I began to feel a very real fear, because I was really helpless. They dragged me to the tree they'd picked. I screamed, and stumbled , and resisted. A long rope with a noose in one end was tossed over a branch. The other end was tied around the trunk. The foreman grabbed me around the waist, and lifted me up. Daddy roughly shoved the noose around my neck. I kicked the foremen in the leg, and he slowly let me slide down to the end of the rope. Then he let go.
I hanged!
Oh, God! How can I tell you what it was like? The rope slipped tight as it took my weight, and I felt it burn past my skin. Quickly, too quickly, it grabbed tight at my wind pipe and I could not breathe. I could feel the harsh cord as it dug into the flesh of my neck. It hurt like hell! For a moment, I did not move, as I tried to absorb this incredible sensation. But then, without any real effort on my part, I began to kick and struggle. It wasn't so much that I really wanted to be free, as much as I felt strange and wrong, and wanted to find someplace to put my feet. I don't remember seeing anything. Maybe I closed my eyes and just forgot to look. But soon enough, my lungs ached as I wanted to take a breath; but I couldn't. I felt my chest muscles heave, but it did not help. I felt fuzzy headed. I heard a ringing in my ears. It was really strange and painful and not anything like what I had imagined.
I vaguely recall them cutting me down. I had not lost consciousness yet, but by that time it all had a feeling of, oh, unreality. I remember that my first few breaths were deep, and almost as painful as not getting any. Y'know those little things they pop under the nose of people who have fainted? Crap, but that was terrible. No wonder it wakes people up; those things would almost wake the dead. Everybody was crowded around, anxious for me. I had to reassure them that I was alright. Then I felt like I really had to get up and move around. To clear my head. At any rate, I was okay, and I was able to get that idea across. Finally, everybody calmed down. I excused myself, and went off to the public ladies room.
I heaved up my long period skirt, and sat on the john. I wasn't wearing any underwear, so I guess it's a good thing I didn't pee like in some of the stories I've seen. I sat there for a minute, and just tried to sort through what had happened. My neck was still sore, inside and out. And I was really turned on! Well, why not? I'd done the love scene, and paid for it with my neck, just like my little girl fantasies. And here I was sitting on the pot, just like when I played with myself as a girl. So, of course, my hand slid between my legs. I touched myself, and I was wet with eagerness. I began to rub, and it felt good. I imagined myself swinging and kicking, as I briskly stroked my sensitive places. In only a few minutes, I felt the orgasm swell up in my belly, and roll over my mind. It was great.
And I hadn't even seen the rushes yet. I wondered if I could get a taped copy of the whole scene?
Take me to the Information Booth