She watches from a side room

Dear Diary, (still afternoon of May 22nd)

I wonder if my decision to see Angelica's fate at the hands of the brawny black bull was as fateful as it now feels or if things would have played out more or less the same regardless of that moment of weakness.

I followed discretely behind the two lovers, knowing that I was being watched by the same trio of teenaged negro girls that had been spying on Conrad as he worked. By nightfall every **** on the plantation would learn that their mistress had personally watched how Angelica was put in her place. I decided with a shrug that it was not a bad thing for these slaves to know that I was planning on taking on all the responsibilities of my late father. If he could watch as Angelica was punished by a black-skinned ****, then I could as well.

It was not hard to find the small chamber just to the side of the breeding room where I saw Conrad push Angelica to her knees. The spartan viewing room had a rough wooden bench positioned in front of a glass window that looked directly into the adjoining chamber and a narrow bed against the far wall.

“Please, Conrad.” Angelica's voice was a little muffled by the window between us, but I could hear her words clearly enough. “Not so rough. Be gentle with me.”

At the time I remember wishing I knew if she really was as frightened as she seemed, or if that was just for show. When I have Angelica do my hair tonight, I'll have to ask her. Conrad however, did not seem to care a bit what his lover wanted and did not even bother to answer her as he reached for her.

It is a wonder that the dress she was wearing did not tear as the muscular man jerked it up and over her head, leaving her kneeling naked before him. It was a sight that still burns in my mind, like something out of a history book. A muscular Nubian warrior standing over his naked prize. After watching Angelica this morning straddling Mr. Thornton's body and riding him to the finish line like a skilled jockey, I half expected to see something similar. It was clear that the dynamics at play here were quite different. I settled down on the wooden bench eager to see what it was about this negro **** that had Angelica so enthralled.

I got some of the answer when Conrad dropped his ragged britches and was as naked as her. It is true what they say about men of African ancestry; the rod that hung from between the ****'s legs was as thick and long as my arm - longer than Mr. Thornton's, but so much thicker - and black as coal. Conrad's member was even darker than the rest of his ebony skin and somehow that made it seem even more formidable. Even though I was safely separated from it, I could feel my insides heat in preparation to accept that monster.

I guess that these two lovers were used to this type of quick encounter, because there was no kissing or foreplay of any kind. As Conrad finished kicking off his shorts, Angelica positioned herself on her back on a crudely made bed of rough-hewn logs covered with a padding of dirty cotton. The suddenness of how Conrad climbed between her spread legs and pushed into her made me gasp. Luckily, the cry of pain/passion from the light-skinned **** beneath him masked any sound I may have made.

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The contrast between the negro's ebony skin and Angelica's caramel-shaded flesh was striking and I remember wondering what my even lighter coloring might look like as I lay beneath this black stud. I might seem as creamy white as any other Southern belle. In truth, were it not for the tangled mess of curls on Angelica's head, I could be watching myself taking that huge member between my soft thighs. The thought made my insides melt. It has been too long since I've been with a man and watching Angelica first with Mr. Thornton and now this dark-skinned bull is making it hard to think of anything else but sex.

The grunts of pleasure from the jerking pair were easy to hear. And although Conrad might be rough with his lover from the big house, there is no doubt about how much he is enjoying taking her like this. “Oh, yeah ... fuck yo tight. Dem white cocks you be bangin', dey can't fill yo nigga pussy lika me.” Instead of taking offense, Angelica urges him on.

“Yes! ... aiiigh ... you like ruttin on ... aiigh ... light-skin fancy ho like me, don chya?” Between the grunts and her thick vernacular, it is a little hard to make out what she's saying, “Might be yo tinkin 'bout da new Missum? 'Bout how good it feel to maka dat fine lady squeal?”

This is dangerous territory for any black ****, especially one as virile and well hung as this breeding bull. Even I know that. To even think about a southern mistress sexually would be more than enough to have the man castrated and then hung out as an example to others. Although he doesn't say anything, I see the ****'s eyes flicker towards the window where I am sitting. He must at least suspect that I followed him just like the old master must have done on numerous occasions.

I cannot say that it is Angelica's words that have him so eager to go, but the **** of his fucking makes the whole sturdy bed rock and I resolve right then to find a man to bed me. The sooner the better. Although as I watch Conrad's massive manhood splitting open my house **** I wonder if any man could possibly live up to what I was seeing now. Thankfully, Angelica was too far along to keep teasing Conrad with images of me spread open under him.

“Aiggh ... that's good ... so good!” By now, Angelica is focused on one thing and one thing only. He small fingers gripped handfuls of the dirty quilt even as her pelvis lifted invitingly between thrusts. “Do it, Conrad! Make me your breeding sow, put your black seed in my belly!”

When I heard my house ****'s cry of submission, one small rational part of my brain was wondering if I had made an error in judgement by allowing these two to meet like this. If this was indeed a fertile time for Angelica a virile bull like this would be sure to cover her. I suspect that Kyleson would prefer to cross her with another light-skinned man, possibly even himself or Mr. Thornton. A fancy maid I gathered was worth two or even three times as much as her dark field-hand sisters.

In the interest of complete fidelity though, I must confess that at the time, I was not thinking about the financial implications of the illicit mating. Mostly I was imagining what it might be like to be pinned down on that crude bed and to and have something as long and thick as Conrad's jet-black member brutally pushing into me as I mewed and whimpered.

By now I was so wet that I could feel the juices running down my legs under my leggings and without a second thought I pressed my fist into the hollow between my legs and humped it against the wall in time with the massive, black-skinned, bull's relentless thrusts.

It was a most unseemly position to be in, but it felt so good ...