She doesn't say 'yes' but she doesn't stop them either.

Dear Diary, (May 24th after returning from the assessor's office)

It is late in the evening, and I am safely back in my rooms, but I am still trembling with shame and excitement as I attempt to put my thoughts on paper.

As I stood there, naked as the day God brought me into this world, before the three men I could not bring myself to tell them to continue, but even though Mr. Roberts raised his eyebrows in a silent question I dared not ruin this opportunity by refusing to continue.

Mr. Pennies took my silence as consent and quickly moved behind me where he could explain the intricacies of his trade to Judge Roberts and Mr. Thornton.

"It is not hard to spot the differences with 'Bimba' here." Pennies began as though lecturing to a class of medical students in a laboratory. "Notice the dark tone of her skin, not just on her face, but here on her tits where no sun has kissed the skin." As he spoke his hands cupped the undersides of my breasts lifting the mounds as casually as a chef measuring out a pair of plums for a tart. I had to stifle a moan as I felt his rough hands on my body, and I dared not look Thornton in the eye. What must he think of me now that he sees me as the negress 'Bimba' and not the wealthy heiress, Bianca DiFlorentini, who he first met?

"Look at the pigmentation of her nips, gentlemen." Pennies' thumb brushed the rough brown skin that formed the base of my aureolae, "a proper white woman will be pink like a rose petal in this area, but no matter how much 'white' there is in a **** like Bimba, even just a little bit of black blood will show here." I tried to remember what the breasts of my friends in Boston looked like when we bathed together or showed each other our growing breasts as schoolgirls. Some of them had pink tips, but many of even the most purebred elite had dark rings around their peaks. Is this really the evidence that the Judge might use to make his findings ... I was at the same time horrified and excited.

"Notice also the roundness of 'Bimba's' hips and backside," the **** dealer continued as his hands drifted lower, "clear evidence of degenerate blood in this one's breeding." He gave my ass a sharp slap and laughed at my little yelp. "Did you hear that, Your Honor?" The loathsome man asked the judge as he rubbed the red spot he created, "sounds like a nigga yelp to me." He paused briefly before his hand circled to my mons. With a sharp tug he pulled out a couple of my pubic hairs and again I 'yelped' in pain, looking at Thornton in the hope that he would call a stop to this humiliation. To my dismay, my lover and trusted confidant was rubbing the bulge in his trousers.

"This is as sure evidence as any you will find." Mr. Pennies chuckled as he held the curly dark pubic hairs up for Judge Roberts to inspect. "Coarse, dark and curly. Again, white blood might lighten the skin color and even the hair of a mixed blood, but not the hairs down here." I could imagine Judge Roberts 'inspecting' the innocent daughters of Boston's elite, perhaps even plucking out their short hairs like Pennies took mine. In spite of my best efforts, I could feel the moisture flooding into my sex, and no amount of effort on my part could keep the juices from dripping onto my thigh.

(I have added to this journal a sketch I've made of my private parts. I must say, objectively, that this is indeed the cooch of a mixed blood ****, and any white man who knew what to look for could see it as nothing else. It is a wonder that Mr. Thornton has not discovered my secret ... or perhaps he knows and is willing to overlook it in light of the arrangement we have.)

"This, Your Honor, is the final piece of evidence that our 'Bimba' here is contaminated with nigga seed." His hand splayed over my vagina, and I felt his fingers delving up into me. "A proper white girl would never become sexually excited by this kind of rough handling by a man. A bitch might protest and wiggle a bit at first, Sir, but you pay that no mind. If she's dripping like this one you can be sure as sugar that with just the right touch, she'll be climaxing like a jungle monkey all over your hand."

I still don't know as I write this if it was Mr. Pennies' skillful fingers, or the thought that all those lily-white girls that used to make fun of me up North being **** to endure this same humiliating treatment that made me so excited. I at least had a little experience with men. Most of the girls I hoped to lure down here to the plantation were likely saving themselves for their future husbands ... I screamed out like a dockside whore and even more of my juices squirted out onto Pennies' hand.

"See Your Honor?" The disgusting slaver licked his fingers with a grin. "A girl that cries out like that must be a nigga bitch, no matter how white her skin be. It's the only reasonable explanation. It is just as Miss DiFlorentini said earlier. A girl who climaxes like that is surely '**** hot' and ready to be fucked."