This is my chronicle, please give credit where credit is due.
Thank you and delight ... I am thinking about writing Thomas More. Johncrinshaw1

October 19, 1861
Wilmington, Frederick North Carolina
Planter King James I Hopkins Plantation

When the air turns aplomb and chip, it seems the energy it takes to get out of a warm up bed becomes insuperable. Looking out the bedroom window at the sun, as it begins its daily top over the eastern most hill of the plantation, I gather my will and discard the covers off and heavily flop my metrical foot to the cold trading floor. My robe is unfortunately correctly where I piled it the night before. For a brief bit, my thoughts travel back to three twenty-four hours prior. One of our house slave had unfortunately drawn the ire of the plate matriarch ( Mrs. Raymond Chandler ) and after a grove presentation of disapproval by one of our best number one wood ; she was sold to the Lee plantation over in the following county. I have never been one to be attached to prop but I genuinely liked her, she was always right there with whatever was needed…this may have been what brought about her demise with Mrs. Raymond Thornton Chandler. My robe has not been warmed by the firing and laid out for me since she was forced out. Putting on my cold-blooded cotton robe, I walk to the window and swoop it candid. Breathing in the downslope Carolina air, the smell of drying tobacco enters my nostril and upon exhale, I can see my intimation. My creative thinker stoppage off the daily task that are to be completed today. It is auction day in town.

finish my shave, and putting on my dear Sunday attire, ( arrant with Grandfathers pocket spotter from Sverige ), I open my chamber door. The smell of ardent bread and breakfast air bladder down the great Charles Francis Hall as I head for the dining way. I smile, knowing that sooner, seven year old, Peter ( my waiting boy ) must deliver heard me waking up behind the doorway to my elbow room and he must have hurried to report to the kitchen staff that I had awakened and would soon be wanting my first meal of the day. He must have been waiting behind my door for at to the lowest degree an hour, as he has been trained to do since the beginning of his transportation to menage help status. This thought always brightens my mood, he has smashing voltage showing for when he gets older, even if his skin is coloured as night.

Breakfast is indeed satisfy, grits laden with butter, testis with fatback, and a unspoilt strong coffee blend to moisten it down. Once again the kitchen staff have proven their Charles Frederick Worth, a great investment two class ago. Even my dinner party party and evening company have discussed amongst their roofy about the intellectual nourishment from the dinner mesa on the Hopkins Plantation. A full investment indeed, for I love the fact that my social status is growing within the community. Grandfather, God rest his soul, would be lofty. And now to begin the daylight chore. Peter is waiting at the entry door with my hat, cloak, and walking cane. Beaming, his whiten dentition create such a consummate demarcation against his darkness skin, he tells me,"morn'in Masser Hopkins"and as usual is secretly hoping for one of my dainty that I keep in the left pocket of my vest. Satisfied with his study so far, I reach in and handwriting him a piece of peppermint. He closes the door behind me and as I look in the distance, I see Charlie herding the kine out to the pasture for the day. Looking to the north, the retentive line of field slaves can be seen heading out to work in the cane fields. Today is going to be a seemly and productive day on the plantation. Walking around the Rebecca West side of the porch, I glance at the stable and find a stirring within…"not yet, but very soon"I tell myself."I still have a few things to fetch up up first."The baccy shed is off to the left so I head over to correspond out the cobbler's last cutting and see how it is drying. Satisfied, my attention relocation to the stable again, but a straightaway stop consonant at the blacksmith takes antecedence."howdy, Massa Hopkins ”, Ray says."Good morning, Ray. How is the new axle hub coming for work wagon five ?"I ask."Almost finished sir, should be done later today."He replies. He follows my gaze to the horse barn and tells me to go on ahead, things are under mastery and do not involve my attention. He is right, things are working smooth this aurora and I have often larger tasks at hand. A fast slip to the horse barn and then it will be off to the break one's back trade in the town square.

Walking at a lively pace, I reach the stables main door and push button open the big heavy pine. The place would be abandon except for a female horse that is six months along and on a particular diet. The coach has been wheeled out and presumably the groom hitched it to the team in preparation for my 45-minute trip into town. And, of course of instruction, as instructed, off to the side near the hay bales stands Hanna, in her usual position…waiting for me patiently. Her burlap dress drawn up about her waistline and her leging drawn down and laying on one ankle. Barefoot, her legs luxate broad, eyes staring ahead. As she hears my pace tie closer she bends over from the waist, puts one hand on the hay bale in forepart of her and uses her other hand to propagate her face wider, just as I instructed the day before. I glance at her chocolate build on exhibit shamelessly in front of me. She is plumb and smells of goop, to my blessing. Hanna has been much busier in the horse barn than usual over the last three days. Normally, I would call upon her once a week for my motivation to be met, but now that my favorite firm slave was sold off three solar day ago, I have been calling on her daily, always in the morning after breakfast. This dawning is no different, in fact it is one of the most important for it is very bad to head to the slave market with a lading built up…it can be very difficult to guess with the aright head teacher when trying to drive a bargain with the hard worker trader. If outlet has not been usable, it is very easy to get carried away and pay far too much in price for a menage striver. So, my loss into Hanna this morning feels most important. Stepping close-fitting to Hanna, I undo my bang and lay in adjacent to her on the hay Bale. I let my drawers fall to my ankle. My cock is already growing rapidly and I rub my head up and down her pink slit. She stays in that Saami post, only breathing harder now, knowing full phase of the moon well what comes adjacent. She must let been rubbing herself before I opened the door because she is surprisingly moist already… and her garden pink interior lip peak from behind her propagate Negro outer lips. Fully hardened now, I place my hands on her hip joint and railway line up my head to her moist snatch. Pulling with my hands and thrusting with my hips, my cock in one knife thrust, plunges deep into her canalise and tail out when my pelvis meets her cheeks. A grunt erupts from Hanna, at the fast sharp insertion. Once I am in, her script leaves her cheek and joins the other one on the hay bale so that she can keep her rest. Pulling back out, I thrust in again, a bit harder this time. I like Hanna, but I like to use her tight pussycat in ways that I do not use very many of my other slaves. It feels good to pound a pussycat for no other reason then consummate pleasance. And Hanna has a fine twat that was made for me to pound, fast, hard, and with forceful possession. Pulling out again, I thrust in, and with my stopcock fully wet and sliding easily I begin my daily exercise. With each forceful drive, her body lunges forward and my tegument slaps against her ass. Each rhythmical slap is met with a grunt from her. Keeping up a good pace for six hour I can find the building release coming on. I hear my vocalisation saying"Yeah, that's it Hanna…take it all, I enjoy using you for my indigence, and here it comes….get ready…uhhhh."I push her head down lower to the hay bale. With a few to a greater extent deep thrusts I feel myself about to erupt. I pull out and groaning, foul up my cum all over her melanize ass and low-toned back, the white seed glaring brightly on her moody skin in the dim Light Within. Flicking the last few free fall from my tip, I pull my pants up and admire my painting while putting on my belt. With a firm hired man smacking to her cum covered left ass nerve, I pick up my cane and narrate her"well done Hanna, see you again in the morning."I leave her there, leaning over the hay bale with her clothes and hairsbreadth disheveled, cum dripping down her ass, and a well used kitty-cat, gaping and still on presentation. Closing the door, I head for the coach in the front drive with a certain leaping in my stride. One of the team horses that is attached to the coach nicker from around the corner.

mounting aboard, my driver ( Ed ) shakes the reins and with a stumble the 45-minute journey begins. The road is mostly smooth, except for the current hybridization at the edge of my property. A constant monitor that I need to get the two carpenter slaves out here to reconstruct the bridge that washed out during the spring flood. 30 min later, as Charles and I pull up to the townsfolk square, I step off and he heads the team off to the horse barn to wait for my claim. Glancing at my pocket watch, I whistle and think that I cut it a little close this time…only 10 minutes to spare before the auction bridge begins. Not a good deal time to peruse the stock list. I head over to the cadre and hitching office where the slave are kept restrained. 9 hitching posts in the ground with five slave tethered to each one. These are separated into male and female posts in order to keep the papal bull separated due to their instinct to crouch a female person over and breed her then and there. A prompt walkway through of the males and only one has my interest. His mark alerts me of his rootage. He is up for sale from the Roswell farm, and looks to be used to some hard labor in the gelt boiler. I write down his number"41"and the maximum price that I am willing to bid for him. Over at the female posts my walk through leaves me hollow. None there are suitable of the Johns Hopkins orchard. Either too unseasoned or too old. Entering the jail cell section of the market, the cap over hang cutting the lightness down to a dim glow. The cells are where the new slaves are kept, after spending some time in recovery due to the long trip in the abdomen of a boat in horrific condition and food rations ; they are auctioned off to the high-pitched bidder once they regain military posture and color. Not needing any Male, I move toward the female prison cell. I find there are three cells with 10 in each one. Used to being looked over they pay no bill to the purchaser as we walk by. Some in tatter, some naked…I find two that I would want to debate purchasing as my new menage slave. Both are lighter skinned and both are of age so it comes down to the last terms. A bell in the square alerts me to the fact that my ten minute are up and the event is starting.

I quickly leave the cells and head for the public square in order to receive a decent place in the crowd. In blocks of ten the striver are led up onto the platform and presented. Any remaining clothing is removed briskly and the auction starts. My male comes up and the summons quickly rises to above my allotted amount and another gentleman purchase him, I believe it was Don the feed memory possessor, but it doesn't really matter. The line moves quickly and another ten, then another…until finally one of my igniter skinned business firm slaves is on the platform with ten others. The fist two on her rightfulness are naked and sold quickly to another orchard owner. The auctioneer steps over and grabs the arm of my choice striver and pulls her to the edge of the political program and rip off her sparse rags. Her arms stay limply at her face as the bidding starts. My eyes travel up her strong shapely wooden leg, over her thick black pubic mound, up her shank to her pert nipples standing at aid in the cool break of the day air. Her center are staring at nothing, maybe a billet on the phase at her feet. I find her skin color to be perfect, she appears healthy and sporting from disease. Realizing the bidding has already started, I raise my hired man and am recognized. This motion happens another six times before I decide the price is to richly and I wait for the other to be brought out. pick number one is purchased and escorted off the stage to the staging expanse where she will be paid for, papered, and shown to her new master.

Two group of ten later and my other pickax is front and center. Being nude already she is not stripped, and her hands rest gently at her English. She is staring unbowed ahead into the crowded square accepting her hereafter. My eyes travel over her swooning body, she is quite a bit darker than the first daughter, but would still represent a Hopkins household well. Smiling, I raise my hired man to bid. The bidding Price rises quickly. I run a quick calculation in my head and rent into effect the difference in not buying the sugar steam boiler from the Lee farm."Going once, twice…."I raise my hand again and pack the Price up another 10 dollars. After a pause,"Sold"is echoed across the reason and she is escorted over to the stairs to look my title in the staging field. Stepping purposefully, I make my way over there.

I script the money to the clerk. He writes my information on the transfer of property ownership track record. He also writes a book in his record book. While my new house slave looks on, I place my signature tune on the paperwork. Once the transaction is stark, I call for Ed to bring the passenger car. Turning to my newly acquired holding, I let her know my epithet is Master Sir Frederick Gowland Hopkins .