Not exactly

Dear Diary, (May 23rd, I think in the afternoon)

Even now, when I've finally been left to myself in this small windowless room, I am filled with shame and confusion. I fully expected Manton to lash my stretched out body like Kyleson had whipped Angelica's; I readied myself for the sharp pain landing on my bare flesh determined to endure every blow. What my cousin did instead was so much worse.

“Look at this ****'s coloring, Sean.” Manton was standing behind me so I could only imagine the look of triumph on his face. “She's even lighter skinned than your bitch.” Instead of striking me with the whip, Manton dragged the leather ties across my shoulders and then down my bare back like a lover's caress. “If I didn't know better, I might be fooled into believing she was a white woman from the Mediterranean.” Again, the involuntary movement of my hips pressed my sex forward and a jolt of unwanted pleasure made me gasp out loud. “There is however, one clear difference between our Miss DiFlorentini and the true, white-skinned noble she passed herself off as.”

“Sir?” The plantation overseer seemed genuinely curious.

__

“Breeding.” Manton declared with absolute confidence. “Were a white woman of high standing be put in this position she would tremble with fear, but because this **** is the third or even forth generation of pleasure slaves, her body responds with primitive lusts.” The training whip returned again to my body this time slowly dragging across my breasts and again I could not contain the moan of pleasure that escaped my lips. “Just like a good bird dog instinctively knows how to point out a grouse, this bitch's body is the product of her breeding.” I twisted angrily at Manton's words, but this only had the effect of making me ache even more.

“Please, Sir, don't do this to me.” By turning my head as much as possible I could see my cousin standing behind me with a grin on his face and an unmistakable bulge in his fine linen trousers. To his ears my words may as well have been the bleating of a lamb.

“Do you see how she squirms, Sean?” As he spoke Manton continued to drag the leather strips over my thighs, hips and then back to my breasts and as much as I hated it, I could feel my body respond. “Suppose a goose egg were placed into a swan's nest, the chick might grow to adulthood thinking it was an elegant white swan, but no matter how much it might try it will never be anything more than a lowly grey goose.”

Manton then handed the whip back to Kyleson and mounted the 'pony' behind me like we were intimate lovers sharing a horse. I could feel the thick bulge of his manhood pressing against the small of my back and the extra pressure from behind ground me mercilessly against the smooth wood from the front.

“Don't get me wrong, Kyleson.” Manton chuckled as his hands started exploring where the leather lashes had previously touched. “I prefer a good fat goose to a gamy swan, a fancy maid like this is going to be a far better fuck than even the finest of Charleston's young debutants.” With his hands having unrestricted access to my naked body, it took less than a minute of stroking to bring me to the edge of a climax. I did everything in my power not to fuel this bastard's assessment of my true nature, but even now as I ink these words onto the page I wonder if is correct about my true nature.

“Are you ready to accept your true nature?” Manton murmured into my ear as he stroked the pearl hidden within the wet petals of my sex with one hand and teased my throbbing nipples with his other. “Show me how a whore submits to her master.”

“No!” I remember at the time thinking that I might somehow refute his assertion that my parentage determined my nature, but it was hopeless. In spite of everything I found myself jerking in Manton's arms as multiples waves of pleasure washed over me.

“Get her cleaned up and put her in the back room.” Manton told Kyleson as he stepped back wiping his hands on my back. “I've got things to do, but I'll want her close for later.”

I hate Manton. I really do, but I cannot help wonder about his claims. Why did I respond like that to his ****? Is it my mother's **** blood that makes me so needy for the touch of a man? Am I truly nothing more than over-sexed Jezabel bred by white masters to serve them between the sheets.

I have not forgotten my cousin's last words. There is little doubt in my mind what Manton will want from me. The only question remaining is will my tainted blood once again betray me and my base sexual nature.