Yes, to my shame

Dear Diary, (Morning of the 22nd)

He is finally gone, but his essence remains. His scent hangs in the air like the stench from tannery row, his seed stains the bedding and I am sore in places I never even knew I had. The things he did to me ... Oh, the things I did ...

I'm not sure what Mr. Kyleson has planned for me. I am after all the legal owner of Havenhall and well within my rights to sack the man. It is clear however that if word of my true heritage got out, it could make my position here untenable. Even just rumors of my negro blood would be enough to cause difficulties ... but Kyleson is such a disgusting pig!

The second time he took me, he didn't even pretend the act was anything other than him exerting his control over me. He positioned me on my hands and knees on the bed while he stood behind me and rammed his organ into me until I was gasping in pain ... and pleasure.

“This is how a colored bitch gets hers down South.” He grunted even as his grip tightened, and he ploughed in even deeper. “We monitor all the breeding aged stock in the **** houses; when a breeding-aged **** is in heat, she makes a trip to the Bullpen so our bucks can service her good.” It was almost like Mr. Kyleson knew of my unspoken fantasies. “Of course, if the **** is a pretty light-skinned filly like you or your Ma was, the master or I might have a go at her instead.”

Why did that damn Irishman have to bring up my mother as he was rutting on me? “A fancy girl like you will sell for three or four times as much as one of the broad-hipped darkie field slaves.” Kyleson's pace picked up even more as he started talking about fancy girls. “I can see why too.” He grunted in satisfaction, “A girl like you in your silks and lace ... it would be almost like fucking one of those stuck-up belles that look down their noses at the rest of us regular white folk.”

He went on like that for most of the night, even using my mouth until I was gagging on the taste of my own fluids as he pleasured himself like I was one of the slaves in the barn. The worst part of it though was I climaxed while he rode me. Not just once either, I must have reached that elusive peak four or five times during the night and now my bed is covered with our fluids.

There is no way to hide this from the slaves who tend to my room. They may not know who it was who spent the night in my room, but there aren't that many men here in Havenhall so the rumors are going to be thick as flies on horse dung.