Manton Makes His Mark

Dear Diary,

I remember staring up at my cousin in shock, unable to believe my ears. I think that if I had been given just a few seconds more, I would have agreed even to that filthy demand. However, before I could bring myself to this abject moment of humiliation, the ebony-skinned **** stuffed a rounded stick roughly in my mouth. The gag was carved from a dark wood about the width of a broom handle, but much shorter. On one end of the stick was knotted a piece of coarse, twisted rope. The brawny negro smith deftly looped the rope around my head and threaded it through a matching hole in the other end.

Pulling on the rope **** my gums back and caused my mouth to open wide. Quickly, he tied the stick off, gagging me quickly and efficiently. I chewed angrily at the wooden gag as Kyleson and Manton watched the way I was efficiently manhandled by this negro ****.

“That's good,” Manton said approvingly. “We'll have no more babble from you, Miss DiFlorentini. I don't want to hear any more of your caterwallin', when we put the iron on that sweet black ass of yours.”

I did my best to object, but my protests were unintelligible as the strong blacksmith lifted me from the dirt and bent me over a padded sawhorse, my bottom raised high. With the three men working together, it took them less than a minute for them to lash my arms and legs to the sturdy legs of the contraption.

I gurgled in protest as Manton himself took the iron out of the fire and blew on the white-hot tip, making sure that no embers were still sticking to the brand that might ruin the delicate esthetic.

“It's not that I enjoy this sort of thing, you understand,” he said somberly as he used a damp rag to clean the area where the brand was to go, “but you made it necessary, by getting uppity and trying to pass yourself off as white.” Any protest I may have tried to make was completely muffled by the length of hard wood between my teeth, but it would not have mattered in any event. “Showing up at my front door, as if you were expecting to own Havenhall. After we get you marked, we'll be done with that foolishness, once and for all. You ever try to go to court, all we'll have to do is pull down your britches to show everyone it's Havenhall that owns you.”

With that, Manton pressed down the red-hot iron onto the outer half of my left bottom cheek. The pain was indescribable. I wished I lost consciousness, but I did not. Instead, I screamed, and bit down on the stick, as Manton slow counted my branding.

One, Havenhall

Two, Havenhall

Three, Havenhall

Manton's earlier claim not to enjoy his task was belied by the huge bulge in his pants, and the evil grin on his face when he pulled the brand away. The smell of my burning flesh filled my nostrils as I bore the brand that I knew would change my life forever. Kyleson was ready once again with the wet rag and just for a moment the cool cotton relieved some of the pain. It was not an act of kindness on his part as he explained to Manton what he was doing.

“You gave her a clean mark, Sir.” Already the temporary relief was fading, “but this will keep the lines nice and tidy. It also improves recovery time and reduces the chances of the area becoming enflamed.” My cousin nodded just once before bending down low so his face was almost as low as mine. His large hand slipped under my chin and lifted my head so he could study my face. With his thumb he wiped the tears from my left eye almost gently before turning to Kyleson with a question that revealed his true character.

“How long will it take before she's healed enough to fuck?” By this time Kyleson was applying some kind of salve to the fresh mark, but he did not seem at all surprised by the question.

“I always wait about a week, Mister Manton, to be safe.” The plantation overseer stood behind me apparently satisfied with his crude doctoring of the brand sight. He wiped his fingers on the small of my back before cupping the right buttock and squeezed it approvingly. “This is one fine piece of nigger ass you've acquired, Sir. I wonder how many other light-skinned bitches like her there are up North just waiting to be recaptured and brought back South where they belong.”