Whiplash Read Online Free PDF Page B

to us, the summer harvest had to be eaten.  I dipped myself a cup full of lukewarm water from a barrel and fell back in line.
    Once I placed my plate on the tabletop and sat down, I was absolutely ravenous.  Truth be told, I’d never cared much for tomatoes, but I’d eaten all four of those I had on my plate before some of the other girls had finished one.  I ate up the berries and corn with the same zeal and then gulped down my water in mere seconds.  Because it’d been several days since I’d eaten, the influx of nourishment made me feel a little bit ill.  I pushed back from the table, folded my arms on the edge of it, and rested my head on top of them. 
    I was staring at the ground, watching the movement of the shadows being cast by my swinging legs when another moving shadow blocked out all of the sunlight I’d been using to entertain myself.  Warily, I raised my head and peered over my shoulder to see a broad, sweaty, wall of muscle fast approaching me.
    I felt my body temperature shoot up to a blistering level.  It was hot outside that morning, but by that time my body had already become adjusted to the day’s weather.  That man seared me with one glance, and the mere sight of him made me squirm in my chair.  His butterscotch complexion and honeyed eyes made my mouth water, and I wondered if he was as sweet as he looked.
    I had to look away before I leapt right up out of my seat and into his sculpted arms.  I snuck a peek at his backside when he turned right.  I could see the rippling musculature contract and flex under the cloth of his trousers.  I think I licked my lips before turning my head back around to face Vivian and the girls.  Everyone had stopped eating - some in mid-bite - and was looking down the table at me, sitting there all glassy eyed and practically panting.
    Vivian was staring at me with one eyebrow raised.  Her hands were clasped together, with her forefingers steepled and propped up in the hollow under her chin.  She seemed to be waiting for me to explain myself, but I waited for her to speak first.  After a few tense moments, she did. 
    “Number 10, you’ll do well to mind your own affairs.  The field hands’ comings and goings are not any of your concern.   
    “I- I’m sorry, Miss Vivian. I wasn-“
    “Mis TRESS Vivian.”
    “Ma’am?”
    “I said it’s Mis TRESS Vivian, to you.  As your overseer, I demand that you give me the utmost respect.  Call me Mistress, and don’t force me to correct you on that point ever again.” 
    Her voice was raised now, and everyone under the pavilion stopped talking amongst themselves and turned to observe the activity at our table. 
    It incensed me - Vivian sitting at the head of the table as if she were actually somebody, talking to me as if I were not.  Hell, she was nothing more than a nigger gal herself.  Underneath all her silky clothes and sparkling jewels was just another piece of Master’s property.  Yet, there she was, talking down to me like I was actually beneath her; and right in front of everybody. 
    “ Mistress? ”  I retorted.  “I thought that title was reserved for a Master’s wife; maybe even just an intimate partner.  But you ?  Aren’t you just the help?”  
    With a satisfied sigh, I sat back in my chair and waited for her to respond.  Daintily, she folded a napkin she’d been using and laid it on the table beside her half-empty plate.  She stood, smoothed out the wrinkles of her skirt, and came to stand at my shoulder.  When I looked up at her, she backhanded me across the right side of my face, sending my head spinning to the left.  The metallic taste of blood splashed across my tongue, and I used my hand to wipe away some that had made it to the corner of my mouth.
    I shot up out of my seat like a cannon, and whirled around to face her.  She stood just as tall as I did, but I knew that her fancy shoes had boosted her up three or four inches.  My eyes shot fire straight into