Demanding ... but oh so good!

Dear Diary, (May 23rd, evening back in my chamber)

I am finally back in my room trying to put all that has happened down before I start amending events in my mind. Thankfully, my darker flesh does not bruise as easily as the pale white skin of other Charlston ladies. Otherwise, everyone would see where his fingers held my arms, hips and throat as he had his way with me. Kyleson's seed is still leaking from my sex and down my inner thigh and I am sore in places I never even knew I had. The things he did to me ... Oh, the things he made me do for him.

I am still not sure how Mr. Kyleson plans to use his newfound leverage over me other than the obvious. I am after all the legal owner of Havenhall and well within my rights to discharge my overseer. Without his help though, my position here could become untenable. Already, rumors of my negro blood will be enough to cause difficulties ... the way my cousin believed he could use me is just the beginning. I need Kyleson, but he is such a disgusting pig!

Kyleson didn't pretend what we were doing was anything other than him exerting his control over me and putting me in my place. He positioned me on my hands and knees on the narrow bed like an animal while he stood behind me and rammed his organ into me until I was gasping in pain ... and pleasure.

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“This is how we breed colored sows here at Havenhall.” He grunted even as his grip tightened, and he ploughed in even deeper. “When one of our breeding-aged slaves is in heat, she makes a trip to the Bullpen so our bucks can service her good.” It was almost like Mr. Kyleson knew of my unspoken fantasies. “Of course, if the **** is a pretty light-skinned filly like you or your Ma was, the master or I might have a go at her instead.”

Why did that damn Irishman have to bring up my mother as he was rutting on me? “A fancy girl like you will sell for three or four times as much as one of the broad-hipped darkie field slaves.” Kyleson's pace picked up even more as he started talking about fancy girls. “I can see why too.” He grunted in satisfaction, “Put a light-skinned girl like you in silks and lace ... it would be almost like fucking one of those stuck-up belles that look down their noses at the rest of us regular white folk.”

The second time he took me I was on my back with my legs lifted high in the air as the man rutted on me with as much energy as before. This time though Kyleson was in no hurry to finish, and I climaxed at least two times as he pounded away. I might have even welcomed the feeling of this man stretching me open like this if the Irishman could have just kept his mouth shut. He “Are you ripe, Miss DiFlorentini? Will my seed find a fertile womb to grow in?”

Mr. Kyleson went on like that for almost an hour. In my sore sex, between my breasts and even using my mouth until I was gagging on the taste of my own fluids, he pleasured himself like I was one of the trio of newly purchased slaves in the adjoining room. The worst part of it though was the way I climaxed while he rode me. Not just once either, I must have reached that elusive peak four or five times during the sordid encounter, more than with any other man I've ever had as a lover.

There is no way to hide this from the slaves in the barns. They may not know who it was crying out like that in the small viewing room, but there aren't that many women here in Havenhall so the rumors are going to be thick as flies on horse dung.