Not like I expected.

Dear Diary, (early in the morning May 23rd)

I thought I knew Mr. Thornton's character quite well. I certainly didn't expect the very proper Mr. Thornton to be so bitter or cruel in his treatment of me. Once again it seems, I underestimated just how much the small amount of negroid blood in my veins would affect a gentleman from this Southern state.

“I fear you think me a fool, Miss DiFlorentini.” With his trousers kicked off Mr. Thornton finished removing his shirt and just like that he was as naked as I. “Did you and your mother giggle behind my back when I naïvely agreed to escort you to Havenhall and protect your honor?” His wiry arms were surprisingly strong as he pulled me into yet another embrace, this one more forceful than the tentative kiss we shared downstairs. “It seems now that you are not as chaste and pure as I first assumed.” Mr. Thornton's kiss left me gasping for breath and lightheaded. He seemed angry with me.

“Was Mr. Stanton correct after all? Are you just another colored whore who uses her charms to entice and influence men?” His hands moved boldly over my curves. Under other circumstance I might have appreciated the assertiveness of his touch, but his words stung like the lash of a whip.

“No, Mr. Thornton!” This is not at all how I expected this encounter to unfold. “You are a kind and decent man and certainly no fool.” I had hoped to placate the young lawyer, but by now he had other things on his mind. With one hand around my waist keeping me still, his other hand cupped my breast and squeezed it until my soft flesh ballooned from between his ink-stained fingers.

“How many men have fondled these pretty brown tits of yours, Bianca?” I arched my back upwards as he groped me caught between the pleasure and pain of his rough caress. “How many lovers have spread your legs and rutted on you back in Philadelphia?”

“Only a few, Mr. Thornton. I'm not a slut - I promise.” Even one lover it seems might have been too many for this chivalrous gentleman.

“And I believed you to be chaste and virginal.” His snort was a mixture of derision and hurt. “I had started to think I might deflower you on our wedding bed.” My heart jumped in my chest at hearing how strong Mr. Thornton's feeling for me ran until it was made clear though that this could no longer be an option. “Now, it turns out you are the daughter of a common negro house ****, and like your fancy-girl mother, no stranger to pleasing men with your sweet charms.” What I thought would be a caring and loving coupling, had turned into something very different. I pushed against his chest trying to get away from Mr. Thornton before this encounter got any worse.

“I should leave.”

“We're not done here, Bianca.” Instead of breaking free of his grip I ended up on my hands and knees with Mr. Thornton behind me holding my hair like the reigns of a horse. This rough treatment was disturbingly close to my earlier nightmare with Miles, but not quite the same. Unlike when I was being assaulted by my cousin, I felt an undeniable raw sexual excitement; when I felt Mr. Thornton placing his manhood between my netherlips, I mewed with need. Taking that as an invitation, I felt his long, curved member push in deeper and deeper.

“You like this, Miss DiFlorentini, don't you?” I wanted to deny it. I swear, I wanted to kick that brash young lawyer right in the balls, but I didn't. The feeling of Mr. Thornton ramming into me from behind sent waves of pleasure throughout my body. I should have told that young man to stop, but instead, I told him what he wanted to hear.

“Oh God!” And then as I wiggled and squirmed under him as he thrust into my deepest parts again and again I started begging for him to use me. “Yes! Uughh, Ma-Mister Thornton ... Oohh ...Take me! Make me - ooughh!”

I almost cannot bear to write this, but as no-one but me will ever read these pages I guess I might as well honestly record my shameful thoughts. I believe I have recorded with fidelity the actual words that cried out, but that was not what I wanted to scream. At that moment, with my face pressed into the bedding and Mr. Thornton using me for his pleasure, what I wanted to say was more along the lines of: “Yes, Master! Take me! Make me your brown-skinned whore ... your Fancy girl ****!” Thankfully I was able to hold those disturbing words in check, but what I did say was more than enough for the young lawyer.

With a fierce grunt I feel Mr. Thornton squirt his hot seed into me. In the past, with all my other lovers, I insisted they pull out before they reached their climax, but this was different. On my knees like this, with Mr. Thornton mounting me like a stallion covering a mare in heat, I could no more insist that my lover pull out than any other negro **** on my plantation.

As I read the words penned on this page, I'm so mortified. My emotions threaten to overwhelm me, my palms are sweating, and my fingers shake ... I must stop writing ... Dear Lord, I still haven't even gotten to Mr. Thornton's reaction to my shameful submission.