Mr. Thornton pulls me away

Dear Diary, (May 23rd, late evening)

I have finally found the peace and time to write about the events of the day. It has been at the same time one of the most trying days of my life and also a day of growth. I will do my best to record all that transpired and my thoughts as I endured that awful ordeal.

I will begin where the last entry left off, where I (still in the role of Bimba, the mixed blood ****) had just been brought to a powerful climax by the skilled hands of Jacob Pennies the **** trader. I remember thinking at the time that those three men were sure to put me to use right then and there in the assessor's office. I know for a fact that that despicable cretin, Pennies, would most surely have bent me over his desk and mounted me like a dog covering a bitch in heat. I fear that Judge Roberts might have been eager to sample my throbbing body as well. To be honest, I do not know even now if I had the will to stop them.

It was Robert Thornton who stepped in and pulled me from the arms of Pennies; guiding me back to the closet where I had left my clothes and helping me dress and regain my composure. He was oddly silent as I thanked him. I the time I thought that perhaps Mr. Thornton was not used to seeing the raw emotion from a young woman. He tried several times to wipe away my tears, although he did not attempt to apologize for his part in my ordeal. Now, several hours later and what occurred when we returned to Havenhall, I wonder if what he was feeling at the time was a less noble sentiment.

Regardless, by the time I was fully dressed and composed, I was able to return to the waiting gentlemen, once again in the more comfortable role of Miss DiFlorentini.

_Wearing my modest dress, I could meet the gazes of the three assembled men, but I wonder if they were, in their mind's eyes, stripping away the outerwear of a successful heiress and seeing only the naked, mixed-race ****, Bimba.___

In spite of this, I could see that my ordeal was not in vain, both men were eager to join forces with me in my new-found endeavor to make Havenhall once again as profitable as in past generations. After a few attempts to cut more of the potential gains from this venture were met with polite but firm rejections, both Judge Roberts and Mr. Pennies became silent partners in my plans.

The contracts that Mr. Thornton had carefully crafted were signed, and I left the assessor's office knowing the first step of my plan to become a breeder of pale-skinned fancy slaves was locked in, and that I could proceed with step two. As we rode home in the carriage, Mr. Thornton and I started forming a list of the most likely candidates to lure down to South Carolina from their Boston homes. As I wracked my memory for the names and addresses of the prettiest, (and to my mind) most deserving of the fine gentlewomen of the Boston families, Mr. Thornton took careful notes.

It was a surreal experience to list and evaluate the most suitable candidates for enslavement, defilement and of course breeding. All my life I was taught to believe that human slavery was a heinous and abhorrent blight upon humanity but here I was jumping into the cesspool with both feet. Part of my willingness, I confess, is the sexual thrill I felt each time I imagined one of those Boston Brahmans squirming and pleading in the arms of Pennies as Judge Roberts sealed their fate with a stroke of his pen. Even as the carriage jostled and bumped along the rough roads from Charleston, the heat between my thighs grew harder and harder to ignore.

What I was not ready for, were the events that took place once Mr. Thornton and I were once again alone in my father's office.