Something different

Dear Diary, (May 25th)

It has been five days since that fateful day when my life was turned upside down. My nightly visits to my new master's chambers are starting to become routine and even Miles has finally seemed to tire of having my young body to toy with.

Last night Manton sent me away after only the second time, perhaps irritated that I was no longer fighting him when he spread my legs and **** his way into me. Don't get me wrong, if I had any chance of stopping the inevitable, I would fight until my very last breath. After three awful nights it is clear to me that I am outmatched by the man twice my weight and who seems to take great delight in using his superior strength and size to overpower me. Instead of twisting and struggling I have let what must occur take place and turned my mind to any distraction that I might to keep from breaking completely.

Miles is, in spite of what he might think, an adequate lover at best. His member is a little longer than some other men I've known but thin, and he lacks the stamina of other men his age. I do not know if I am grateful or disappointed that since I have been taken to Manton's rooms I have not once found the release that I am used to when I am with a man. I haven't even had the luxury of being able to please myself in my own rooms because after the second night in Manton's room I have been put to work in the kitchens and cleaning rooms like any other house ****. My hands that used to be soft as butter are starting to develop callouses and the nails now have chips and cracks that I never had when I lived in Philadelphia.

I have been excused from my afternoon duties by Manton and am now waiting in my locked cell for a visitor. Manton would not say who would be calling on me, but I was given a clean nightshirt to wear and was told that if I 'pulled the same shit as last night' I'd feel the paddle on my ass as I hung naked from the flowering magnolia tree in Havenhall's main courtyard.

“Have you ever been whupped, Dolly?” I shook my head silently, not daring to even open my mouth for fear of betraying my trepidation.

Other than some playful spanking, I've never experienced any kind of corporal punishment. I have seen however, the old welts on other slaves and have no desire to feel either a whip or paddle on my delicate flesh. Judging by the way Manton smiled as his fat fingers traced lines along my bare back and across my buttocks I have no doubt that he's just looking for a chance to make an example of me before the other slaves of his new household.

So, as I wait on my bed for whoever it is that Manton has picked to use me, it is impossible to ignore the detailed description of how slaves are disciplined in the South.

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“What you gotta understand, Bianca,” apparently now that he's explaining his intentions I am no longer 'Dolly.' In a way it's worse when he reminds me of how far I've fallen in less than one week. “It's about setting a clear example for the others. Whippings and pony rides are handled in barn, but the paddlings will be done publicly out in front of all the other niggers.”

"You see, my dear, when a girl like you's got too much white in her, she starts thinking of herself as white, and acting white, and getting all uppity.” All my life my mother has insisted that I act as pure and white as any other debutant in the city, it is all I knew. “That can't be allowed. It undermines the whole damn system. So, I'll need to make an example pretty soon, for everyone to see. You understand, don't you?” It was monstrous, but by now I've come to expect anything from this place.

Manton smiled back at me, seemingly relishing the suspense for a moment before continuing.

"That big magnolia in front of the house is perfect, with that branch that hangs out over the courtyard. I'll hang you up by your wrists, just like this." He took my slender wrists in his meaty hands and lifted them over my head stretching me until I was up on my toes.

I could feel my confidence waning, but I knew Manton noticed, I was going to give him even more satisfaction.

“I might put a noose around this pretty little neck first, and let you sweat there for a bit before I get started.” Manton paused letting me sweat a little before pushing me back on the bed. “I like to let the nigga-girl wait there on her tip toes, all the while thinking maybe this is how she dies.” I still remember the way my cousin laughed at the image of some poor **** hanging from a noose like that. The man was as evil, there is no other way to explain his glee.

“With a pretty girl like you, hanging would be a waste. So, after letting you sweat it out in front of the others, and maybe giving you a little dance, and a little neck stretch, we'd switch the noose to around your wrists, and drag you up so you're hanging like a side of beef." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I'd tear off your muslin dress, so you'd be hanging there naked as the day your mamma pushed you out of her black belly. He moved over to his desk and picked up a polished paddle with a leather-wrapped handle.

“Old Hickory here is a real beauty. See these fancy H's carved into the business end?” He pressed the wooden paddle into my hands so I could get a good look at the air holes carved in the same script as the Havenhall logo. It's light enough that I can swing it all day but sturdy enough to make your pretty little body swing forward when it cracks against your butt, and those H's end up imprinted on your smooth little backside.”

My legs could barely support me as Ol' Tom led me back to my cell, and as I'm waiting for my unknown visitor, I know that I can't let myself be beaten like that. I just can't ...