She can't help herself.

Dear Diary, (May 24th, morning)

The bed in this little room wasn't big enough for me to slide away from my new master, not that it would have mattered, but all I could do was let him position me how he wanted.

I felt degraded, an object ... a toy for his pleasure ... a woman whose only purpose in life now is to serve a man with her body.

“Damn, you are one fine nigger ****.” In spite of my earlier resolve to lay inert so as not to provide my cousin with any added pleasure, I found myself objecting to this crude assessment.

“I'm not a ****.” This was an absurd objection after the way I twisted and jerked on the pony alongside Angelica. At the time though, I didn't care. Miles Manton might have a legal claim to my body, but I was determined to never let him break me. In hindsight, that determination seems pathetic, but at the time I thought I could deny my cousin the pleasure he sought.

“Be sure to write about this then.” Miles laughed wickedly, "and draw one of your sexy sketches too.” With another sadistic chuckle he positioned the head of his cock between the petals of my flower and got a good grip of my hair.

“I don't mind fucking me a free-woman either.” The way his smile broadened made me wonder if he had experience treating one or more of the fine ladies of Charleston this shamefully. He did nothing to assuage this notion as he leaned over me pressing slowly into me. “Why don't you squeal and kick like one of those papist belladonnas you and your mammy pretend to be. I'd like that.”

“Go to Hell, Mr. Manton.” I scowled at him again, as I realized that he had almost tricked me into giving him what he wanted. With that last word I rested my head against the pillow and closed my eyes. It was just sex, I did not have to give him anything to fuel his ego.

I had hoped that my disinterest might dampen my cousin's carnal fire, but if anything, it only spurred him on. Thankfully, as I said before my cousin's penis is undersized (take that you pervert!) so there was no discomfort, but it did not take long before my body started to respond to his steady pace. I considered not disclosing this where Manton would surely be reading it, but the truth of the matter is that he knew better about the effect his manhood was having on my own weak feminine body.

“You're going to climax, soon, whore.” His pace picked up and in spite of myself I realized my hips were hunching, rocking in this faster rhythm, “You're going to be a fine riding filly once I get you good and broken in.”

“Stop it you bastard,” I gasped, “You have to stop!” I knew even then though that Manton was not going to stop, and that I did not have the moral strength to stop the tide that was rising up between my legs.

“Not so high and mighty now are you, Miss DiFlorentini?” His words came out as a needy grunt and I could sense the excitement he was feeling. Unfortunately, he timed his pounding well, because even though I knew it was what he wanted, I let my moment come arching my back and screaming silently as pleasure swept from my toes to the tips of my ears.

I hated it! I hated him, but there is no point in denying it, the pleasure was too intense to deny. Damn you, Mr. Manton - I know you are reading this, cousin - Damn you to Hell and back!