What choice does she have?

Dear Diary, (Still May 22nd, now late in the evening)

I have decided that as shameful as my encounter with Mr. Kyleson might feel, that I must recount what happened before sleep and the passing hours allow my memory to soften and reshape the crude nature of our encounter into something more gentile and refined than the crude coupling that it truly was.

I remember staring at my plantation overseer in shock and alarm, until he pushed me firmly towards the rusted bed covered with a nasty old blanket stained and threadbare in two or three spots.

“I told you, Miss. Your secret is safe with me.” Mr. Kyleson's eyes never left mine as he removed his clothing. “I'm not going to cause trouble for you or and start telling you how you should act up in the plantation house.” I should have been relieved by this assurance, but by now it was clear that I had other concerns. "When you come to the barns though, you are stepping into my domain. I'm the master and you're just another nigger bitch,” he pointed to the narrow window looking into the adjoining room, “just like that light-skinned whore in there getting her nigger slit filled by that big black buck.”

I was embarrassed and uncertain, but I was aroused too. I had come to the barns to watch Angelica and her black lover go at it, but unexpectedly it was I that was going to get fucked. I should have put Mr. Kyleson back in his place, but he was so sure of himself, I couldn't find the strength required to fight with the man. Ever since my arrival at Havenhall I've known I needed to find myself a man; I just didn't think it would be this man or under these conditions. Instead of arguing, I meekly removed the last of my undergarments and was as naked as the light-skinned **** in the other room waiting on the bed as Kyleson kicked off the last of his clothes and looked me over with obvious delight.

__

I think I may have been as excited at that moment as I was back in Philadelphia the first time one of my mother's lovers decided he wanted to try out my nubile teen body instead of my mother's renown bed. I could feel my insides heating in anticipation, especially when I saw the erection jutting proudly from his loins.

The fact of the matter is that I wanted Mr. Kyleson as much as he wanted me. Even if he had not discovered my secret, I do not know if I could have refused this Irishman's coarse magnetism. Perhaps it is my mother's blood that makes me crave this kind of animalistic coupling, but from the moment I saw Kyleson's powerful hands I've wondered what they would feel like on my slender young body. When he ordered me to take off my dress, I could do nothing else. And then he joined me on the dirty bed of this small room looking down at me possessively like I was a female **** summoned for his entertainment. Those hands roamed over my body like he owned me. I should have hated it, but I could feel my sex dripping and the distinct tightening of my sensitive nipples as he climbed onto the bed above me.

“Spread those pretty legs, girl.” He growled coarsely, “unless you want me to strap you down on the pony.” I still don't know what the pony is, but it didn't matter. By that time, I could no longer deny what I was. I spread open my legs without a word of protest and let him position me, just like a good negro **** should.