She will not hide the truth

Dear Diary,

Perhaps, I might have kept my mouth shut and let Mr. Thornton believe that he had indeed been my first, but I will hide who I am no longer.

“Oh, Robert,” I reached out to touch his bare chest tenderly, “do not chide yourself on that account.” When he cocks his head to the side like a curious puppy, I have to smile. “You weren't my first; it was not you who took my maidenhead.”

“What?” I could see that my lover truly had believed he was my only lover. I was not expecting just how upset he would be. “How many others, Bianca?” His softly spoken words took on a darker tone as he interrogated me. “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.” In hindsight, I now understand that even one prior lover would have been too many for this Southern gentleman with his chivalrous understanding of how a woman should behave.

“Was Mr. Stanton correct after all then?” Mr. Thornton taunted me with the reference to my bastard of a cousin. “Are you just another colored whore who uses her charms to entice and influence men?” Mr. Thornton's hands pushed mine aside and this time when he touched me his hands moved possessively over my curves. These were not the gentle caresses of our first union, this time he groped me like I was a piece of meat. Under other circumstance I might have appreciated the assertiveness of his touch, but his words stung like the lash of a whip.

“What a fool you must think me!”

“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.

“And I believed you to be chaste and virginal.” His snort was a mixture of derision and hurt. “Now, it turns out you are not only the daughter of a common negro house ****. I learn that like your fancy-girl mother, you are no stranger to pleasing men with your sweet charms.” What had been 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 with Mr. Thornton behind me, holding my arm so tightly that I can still see the bruises his fingers left on my upper arm. 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 return his revived manhood to probe between my netherlips, I whimpered with need.

\__

This time, from his position behind me his long, curved member pushes in even deeper and in spite of the shameful nature of my position my loins exploded with heat and juices. It is just as well, because there was none of his earlier gentleness. Each violent thrust lifted me to my toes and made me cry out in a mixture of discomfort and primal desire.

“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 begged 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 even more of his seed into me.

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.