Yes, but only after I press her

Dear Diary, (May 22nd, before bed)

So much has happened today that I do not know if I'll be able to record it all before I retire, but I well at least make a start.

After experiencing Mr. Kyleson's insatiable appetite all last night I shouldn't be surprised by the fact that people are motivated by primal lusts. Perhaps it is because Angelica is so similar to me both in age and appearance that I found her bold request so shocking. In spite of the fact that I've had and enjoyed multiple lovers, the idea of a young woman seeking out and initiating a casual fling is not an idea I had ever entertained. Now that I've seen the bold way the pretty house **** sought out what she wanted instead of playing the role of the chaste maiden reluctantly submitting to the demands of her suitors I wonder if I could ever be that bold.

“No, Ma'am.” Was Angelica's immediate answer to my query. In spite of her reflexive denial, I sensed that Angelica was more than a little surprised by my offer as she gathered together the soiled bedding.

“Are you sure?” I pressed her, “Nothing at all?” Again, her hesitation before answering made me doubt the truthfulness of her rejection.

“Oh no, Ma'am. I have everything I need.” Instead of arguing with the pretty house **** I sat quietly at my seat running a comb through my hair in my daily fight to keep the kinks from forming. She pauses with the bedsheets in her arms.

“There is something, Ma'am.” I smile to myself before turning back to the pretty ****.

“Of course, Angelica. What can I do for you?” It turns out that this fancy maid had her own ideal lover. It was not my father, nor Mr. Thornton or any of the other white men at Havenhall. Angelica had her eyes on one of the negro slaves that I now owned. It took a few minutes to get out of her what it was that she really wanted.

“You want me to let this **** use you?”

“Yes Ma'am. The old Master did this when he wanted to punish me for getting too sassy.” Angelica's cheeks turned a shade just a little darker. “He like to watch from the side room while that young bull be ruttin' on me like I was just one of the fat-titted breeders in the pens.” I admit, the idea of my father watching his lover be mounted by a viril young negro **** did not sit well with my storybook image of him.

At the time I found it difficult to believe that Angelica wanted me to give her to this negro like that. Now that I've seen this ebony stud in action I am starting to understand. The **** in question worked in the farrier's pen and the hours spent at the anvil has given the man an impressive physique - with his bare chest and the hammer in his hand, he looked like the African version of the Norse god Thor.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

I broke my fast with Mr. Thornton sitting outside on the East-facing patio and watched as his eyes followed Angelica as she brought us coffee and juice. The house **** moved with a dancer's grace, and even fully clothed I could see how she might attract any man's attention. I could not help teasing the young man as I nibbled on my toast.

“She's a pretty ****, don't you think?” With his fair skin it is easy to see the color in the young man's cheeks as he turned his attention back to me. “Now that my father is gone, we'll have to find some other way to keep her busy...” I let the words fade into the morning air like it meant nothing to me. Mr. Thornton glanced at the subject of the conversation and shrugged his shoulders noncommittally before reminding me that in my father's will, my father expressly asked that the **** be kept working in the plantation house. I wondered at the time if the young lawyer planned on using the pretty **** himself. It was then that I realized I was actually jealous of my negro ****.

When Mr. Thornton told me that he had business to attend to in Charlston, and asked if he might remain here in Havenhall for another week or so until his affairs were in order, I agreed quite happily. Placing my hand on his long, delicate fingers I assured the earnest young lawyer that he was always welcome in Havenhall and that I might need to engage his services and put him on a retainer. The kind words and offer of a job seemed to fluster the young man even more than my comment about Angelica. It was with genuine fondness that I saw him off on one of the plantation's finest riding horses a little later in the morning.

I saw Conrad in the stables, mucking out one of the stalls and recognized him as the same negro boy who had first met my coach upon my arrival in my new home. I was not the only one who had taken an interest in the man as he worked; a pair of teenaged colored girls were watching the handsome man working with undisguised interest through one of the many barn windows.

_

The slaves looked a little too young to be childbearing, but they were certainly old enough to appreciate the man's good looks. I wondered if they knew that there was a good chance that this coal-black bull would be the stud that would be standing behind them within a year or two and planting his seed in their bellies. I watched Conrad for almost a minute to see if he would return the young doe's attention, but he seemed to know I was there and went about his work diligently. During my first tour of the property, Mr. Kyleson had told me that there were three or four bucks in particular that my father used as studs, and I had no doubt that this man was one of the favorites.

I am not a man myself, but I could only assume that all these bulls must check out the plantation girls as they grew older. Each of the bucks anticipating the moment when he was summoned to break in the young does and fill their wombs with his seed.

I was more excited than I expected to be when I found Angelica and all but dragged her back to the stables. As part of our plan, Angelica protested and pleaded for forgiveness, like when my father did this, I wanted it to look like a punishment, not something she had requested of me. By this point I didn't even care. After my conversation this morning with Mr. Thornton, I wanted to see her put in her place and after what I experienced last night with Mr. Kyleson I wanted that sexy Jezabel to used good and hard. Now that I knew who it was that was going to fuck her, I was even more eager to establish myself as the rightful Mistress of Havenhall.

“Conrad!” I barked as forcefully as I could when I led Angelica into the barnyard. Because I was looking for it, I could see the surprise and interest beneath his passive demeanor. “This little strumpet has been flirting with my guests. I think she needs a lesson in a **** girl's place here in Havenhall.” The negro's eyes flickered briefly to Angelica where she waited silently with her mop of hair hiding her face and I saw a flash of his white teeth before the smile disappeared and his attention snapped back to me.

“Yes, Mistress. Yo' wan' I should whup her ass first, or jus do my thing wit her?”

“Whatever Master Heyward wanted will be fine.” I replied, trying not to think about what Angelica's slender body would look like as a heavy whip wrapped around her figure. “Just make sure that by the time you are done with her that she knows she's just a nigger **** and nothing more.”

“Yes, ma'am.” I pushed the girl forward and pretended not to watch as Conrad grabbed her by her arm and led the pretty **** further into the darkness. As I stood there in the barn I remembered how Angelica said that my father liked to watch, and I wondered if I dared follow. I knew that in a place like Havenhall every move I made would be noted and shared in both the **** pens and main house.