Uniform Party

Memorial Day hit and the house filled with uniforms—army, navy, even a black habit. The guests didn’t stay dressed for long. We lined the slaves up and worked them over with leather, each slap echoing off the walls until their asses glowed. When the welts settled, the order came: make Mr. Pierce feel every tongue and every inch of worship he was owed. He took them one after the other, pounding until their knees shook and the floor was slick. By the time the sun came up, every uniform lay crumpled, and every slave looked like they’d been used to the limit.