I need answers

I closed the leather cover of the book with shaking hands. Was this real? The sketch of the woman screaming in orgasmic pleasure along with the very personal account that accompanied that drawing made my mouth water. Already, from just the first few pages of reading I was beginning to identify with this Bianca.

I have not forgotten the sketch I saw earlier of this same young woman kneeling naked in what must be a moment of deep submission. Could it be that her mixed blood was discovered while she was alone in South Carolina? In an undergraduate Black Studies class years ago, I remember reading about the 'one drop' policy used in the southern states. If Bianca's true heritage is discovered, that could explain how she ended up in that dire predicament.

It is a horrific fate. To spend most of your life as a free woman only enslaved and demeaned like that ... to be stripped and sold perhaps even to the very same men she met at Havenhall ...

As much as I despised my nature, I feared that I'd be using my dildo later tonight as I pictured myself on my knees in front of a throng of bidding white men. I was more curious than ever about how (if at all) I was related to the fearless writer of this diary. I knew from the letter that accompanied the old journal that I was the closest living relative to whoever owned this leatherbound book last. Was it safe to assume that that person was related to Bianca?

Less than a minute later I was on the internet doing a search for Holland, Scharz and Jacobs attorneys at law. I found an actual firm based in Savannah, whose logo matched the watermark on the paper. The Holland family had been practicing law in Georgia for almost ninety years now, perhaps even longer. The company webpage was as elegant and professional as it was discrete and uninformative. I got the impression that much of their work was done on retainer and that they did not engage in anything as tawdry as auto accidents or divorce.

One search led to another and before long I was reading a long dissertation about the Fancy Trade, written by a professor in South Carolina probably not far from where Bianca penned her own firsthand experiences. The methodical, scholarly wording of the paper complete with footnotes and references did little to mask the licentious nature of the subject matter.

Light-skinned slaves were bred and trained before being sold for the specific purpose of sexual servitude. These Fancy Maids (or girls) were purchased for three or four times as much as their darker-skinned peers and there were whole networks of dealers who specialized in this particularly heinous trade. Once again, I could feel my panties getting wet and the smell of sex filled my small kitchen. It was late, I was confused, frustrated and tired, but I knew that I wasn't going to be able to sleep.

It was no use even trying anymore. It took less than a minute before I was on my back on top of the covers with a large dildo sliding into my very ready sex. My treacherous imagination flitted from Bianca's bold fantasy of riding Mr. Thornton to her description of the same gentleman leading the unnamed fancy maid to his room and even the scene with the black stableboys **** Bianca on the front lawn, but mostly I focused on the picture of Bianca naked and on her knees before a roomful of white buyers.

I came three times that night before I finally dragged myself to the shower to clean the sweat and juices off my body and the large dildo fashioned to look as realistic as possible. I realized, perhaps for the first time, that even though my lovers had always been black, this sex toy like others I had bought before was definitely the penis of a white man ...

My sleep that night was troubled, and when my alarm went off the next morning, I decided that there was nothing so important at work that I could not call in sick.