My duties begin

Dear Diary, (May 22nd)

It has begun. Last night, I was escorted to Mr. Manton's rooms by Will, my father's old doorman. When the grey-haired **** unlocked my door with a small candle in his hand for just a second, I thought he was there to set me free. It was a stupid hope, I knew exactly why Will was there when I saw the skimpy gown he brought for me to wear.

“I'm sorry, Miss Bianca.” It was nice to hear Will use my name, after having to answer to 'Dolly' when Manton came to mock me. “The new Master wants you in his room.” He laid the white dress on my bed and unlocked the chain from my ankle before backing out.

“You change quick, Miss.” Will shut the door until it was open only a crack, “I'll wait out here.”

Judging by the skimpy silk nightgown with the little bow in front, Manton was expecting something special tonight. It looked like something a virginal bride might wear on her wedding night.

As I write this now, I wonder if my cousin thought he was going to claim my maidenhead. If the situation wasn't so terrible, it might even be funny. The only thing I could be thankful for was that it was late enough at night that there was no one to see me being led to his rooms at our new master's command.

“Oh good,” Manton was waiting for me when I arrived at his room. “Get your pretty brown ass in here, girl.” I stepped forward obediently. I knew better than to say anything. Manton is a disgusting sadist, and I had to be careful not to anger him, so I stood motionless as he pulled out the white silk ribbon that held the gown together above my breasts.

“Good girl.” His voice was unusually gentle, but it was better than the derisive mocking of earlier and at least he wasn't beating me. “I believe you may find that this life suits you.” I didn't protest when Manton pushed the gown from my shoulders and down my arms. When he pinched my nipple between his thumb and finger and twisted it hard enough to make me wince, I still held my tongue. I hate myself - in particular I hate the way my teat throbbed into an erect button between his fingers.

“I have a task for you, Dolly.” Manton's voice was a cross between a pant and a wheeze, “If you do it well, I will see to it that you keep getting pretty dresses to wear” his fingers stroked me gently just above my breast “and everything you need to keep your skin soft and smooth.” He paused for a second before offering an even more enticing carrot, “I'll even let you keep your diary to write in as you wish.”