This is my story, please give way credit where credit is due.
Thank you and delight ... I am thinking about writing more. Johncrinshaw1

Oct 19, 1861
Wilmington, due north Carolinas
planter Saint James the Apostle Hopkins woodlet

When the air turns cool and potato chip, it seems the energy it takes to get out of a strong bed becomes insuperable. Looking out the bedroom window at the sun, as it begins its daily bloom over the eastern most Hill of the plantation, I gather my will and toss the covert off and heavily flop my feet to the cold floor. My robe is unfortunately right where I piled it the night before. For a brief moment, my thoughts travel back to three days prior. One of our firm slaves had unfortunately drawn the ire of the plate matriarch ( Mrs. Raymond Thornton Chandler ) and after a plantation display of dislike by one of our best number one wood ; she was sold to the Lee plantation over in the next county. I have never been one to be attached to belongings 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. Chandler. My robe has not been warmed by the fire and laid out for me since she was forced out. Putting on my frigid cotton robe, I walk to the window and sloping trough it open. Breathing in the downslope Carolina air, the olfactory perception of drying tobacco enters my anterior naris and upon exhale, I can see my breath. My mind checks off the daily labor that are to be completed today. It is auction day in town.

Finishing my shave, and putting on my considerably Billy Sunday attire, ( nail with Grandfathers pocket vigil from Sverige ), I open my sleeping room door. The smell of warm bread and breakfast ice-cream float down the outstanding hall as I head for the dining room. I smile, knowing that earlier, seven class old, prick ( my waiting boy ) must have heard me waking up behind the door to my room and he must stimulate hurried to describe 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 threshold for at to the lowest degree an minute, as he has been trained to do since the offset of his transfer to house assist status. This thought always brightens my humor, he has great potential difference showing for when he gets older, even if his peel is nighttime as night.

Breakfast is indeed fulfilling, grit laden with butter, eggs with fatback, and a good unassailable coffee berry blend to wash away it down. Once again the kitchen staff have proven their worth, a majuscule investing two years ago. Even my dinner parties and evening companionship have discussed amongst their forget me drug about the nutrient from the dinner table on the Hopkins Plantation. A just investiture indeed, for I love the fact that my social position is growing within the community. grandfather, God rest his soul, would be majestic. And now to depart the twenty-four hours chore. Saint Peter the Apostle is waiting at the entry doorway with my hat, cloak, and walking cane. Beaming, his livid teeth create such a perfect direct contrast against his dark tegument, he tells me,"Morn'in Masser Hopkins"and as common is secretly hoping for one of my kickshaw that I keep in the left air pocket of my vest. Satisfied with his piece of work so far, I reach in and bridge player him a piece of peppermint. He closes the room access behind me and as I look in the distance, I see Charlie herding the oxen out to the pasture for the day. Looking to the north, the long line of field striver can be seen heading out to work in the cane battleground. Today is going to be a decorous and productive day on the plantation. Walking around the Benjamin West side of meat of the porch, I glance at the stalls and feel a stirring within…"not yet, but very soon"I tell myself."I still have a few thing to finish up first."The tobacco shed is off to the left hand so I head over to check out the death cutting and see how it is drying. Satisfied, my attending moves to the stable again, but a fast period at the blacksmith takes precedence."hello, Massa Hopkins ”, Ray says."proficient morning, Ray. How is the new axle hub coming for piece of work wagon five ?"I ask."Almost finished sir, should be done later today."He replies. He follows my gaze to the horse barn and Tell me to go on ahead, affair are under mastery and do not need my attention. He is right, affair are working smooth this morning and I have often bragging job at paw. A fast trip to the stable and then it will be off to the slave trade in the town square.

walk at a brisk pace, I reach the horse barn chief room access and push open the big hard pine. The post would be empty-bellied except for a mare that is six months along and on a special diet. The bus has been wheeled out and presumably the groom hitched it to the team in grooming for my 45-minute trip into town. And, of grade, as instructed, off to the side near the hay bales stands Hanna, in her common position…waiting for me patiently. Her gunny dress drawn up about her waist and her leggings drawn down and laying on one ankle. Barefoot, her leg splayed wide-cut, optic staring ahead. As she hears my footsteps draw closer she bends over from the waist, puts one hand on the hay Basel in front line of her and uses her other hand to spread her brass wider, just as I instructed the day before. I glance at her chocolate form on display shamelessly in figurehead of me. She is clean and smells of Georgia home boy, to my approval. Hanna has been much busier in the horse barn than usual over the last three daylight. Normally, I would address upon her once a week for my demand to be met, but now that my favored house hard worker was sold off three 24-hour interval ago, I have been calling on her daily, always in the morning time after breakfast. This sunrise is no dissimilar, in fact it is one of the most important for it is very bad to manoeuvre to the slave market place with a shipment built up…it can be very hard to think with the right head when trying to drive a bargain with the slave bargainer. If release has not been available, it is very easy to get carried away and pay far too much in Price for a house slave. So, my firing into Hanna this morning feels most important. Stepping secretive to Hanna, I undo my belted ammunition and lay in next to her on the hay bale. I let my underdrawers fall to my ankles. My cock is already growing rapidly and I rub my straits up and down her pink incision. She stays in that Sami berth, only breathing harder now, knowing full well what comes side by side. She must have been rubbing herself before I opened the threshold because she is surprisingly dampish already… and her pink interior backtalk peak from behind her diffuse black outer brim. Fully hardened now, I place my hands on her hips and line up my head to her moist cunt. Pulling with my hand and thrusting with my hip joint, my cock in one thrust, plunges deep into her canalise and bottoms out when my pelvis meets her cheek. A grunt erupts from Hanna, at the immobile abrupt insertion. Once I am in, her hand leaves her cheek and joins the other one on the hay bale so that she can keep her Libra. Pulling back out, I thrust in again, a bit harder this time. I like Hanna, but I like to use her besotted pussy in manner that I do not use very many of my early striver. It feels salutary to pound a twat for no other intellect then pure pleasure. And Hanna has a ticket snatch that was made for me to pound, fast, hard, and with emphatic ownership. Pulling out again, I thrust in, and with my cock fully wet and sliding easily I begin my day-after-day practice session. With each emphatic push, her physical structure lunges forward and my peel smack against her ass. Each rhythmic smacking is met with a grunt from her. Keeping up a good pace for six transactions I can sense the building release coming on. I hear my voice saying"Yeah, that's it Hanna…take it all, I enjoy using you for my need, and here it comes….get ready…uhhhh."I push her head down frown to the hay bale. With a few more deep thrusts I feel myself about to conflagrate. I pull out and groaning, blow my cum all over her black ass and glower back, the white seed glaring brightly on her disconsolate skin in the dim brightness level. Flicking the last few drops from my tip, I pull my pants up and look up to my painting while putting on my belt. With a firm hand smacking to her cum covered odd ass cheek, I pick up my cane and tell her"well done Hanna, see you again in the morning."I leave her there, leaning over the hay Bale with her clothes and hair disheveled, cum dripping down her ass, and a well utilize pussy, gaping and still on display. Closing the doorway, I head for the coach in the front line drive with a certain bounce in my stride. One of the team horses that is attached to the carriage whinny from around the corner.

climb aboard, my driver ( Ed ) shakes the reins and with a stumble the 45-minute journeying begins. The route is mostly fluent, except for the flow crossing at the edge of my holding. 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 hour later, as Charles Stuart and I pull up to the town square, I step off and he heads the squad off to the stables to look for my song. Glancing at my sack spotter, I whistle and think that I cut it a little close this time…only 10 transactions to spare before the auction begins. Not often time to peruse the stock. I head over to the cell and hitching posts where the slaves are kept restrained. 9 hitching post in the ground with five slave tethered to each one. These are separated into male and female posts in order to hold the bulls separated due to their instinct to bend a female over and breed her then and there. A quick walk through of the Male and only one has my pastime. His mark alerts me of his origin. He is up for sale from the Roswell farm, and looks to be used to some hard project in the saccharide boiler. I write down his numeral"41"and the maximum price that I am willing to bid for him. Over at the female spot my walkway through leaves me abandon. None there are worthy of the Hopkins plantation. Either too young or too old. Entering the cell section of the food market, the roof over hang cutting the light down to a dim glow. The cells are where the new slaves are kept, after spending some sentence in recovery due to the long misstep in the venter of a boat in atrocious stipulation and food rations ; they are auctioned off to the highest bidder once they regain strength and semblance. Not needing any males, I move toward the female cells. I find there are three jail cell with 10 in each one. Used to being looked over they pay no observation to the emptor as we walk by. Some in tatter, some naked…I find two that I would want to turn over buying as my new house striver. Both are lighter skinned and both are of age so it comes down to the final toll. A bell in the square alerts me to the fact that my ten minutes are up and the event is starting.

I quickly leave the cells and head for the foursquare in lodge to obtain a decent plaza in the crowd. In blocks of ten the slaves are led up onto the political platform and presented. Any remaining clothing is removed briskly and the auction bridge starts. My male person comes up and the bidding quickly rises to above my allotted amount and another gentleman purchase him, I believe it was Don the provender storage proprietor, but it doesn't really matter. The job moves quickly and another ten, then another…until finally one of my light source skinned house slaves is on the platform with ten others. The fist two on her right wing are naked and sold quickly to another grove owner. The auctioneer steps over and snaffle the arm of my choice slave and pulls her to the border of the platform and pull off her sparse tag end. Her arm stay limply at her incline as the bidding starts. My eyes travel up her potent shapely legs, over her thick black pubic cumulation, up her shank to her pert nipples standing at attention in the cool first light air. Her eyes are staring at cypher, maybe a place on the stage at her invertebrate foot. I find her skin gloss to be perfect, she appears healthy and blank from disease. Realizing the bidding has already started, I raise my deal and am recognized. This motion happens another six clip before I decide the price is to mellow and I wait for the other to be brought out. choice number one is purchased and escorted off the stagecoach to the staging area where she will be paid for, papered, and shown to her new master.

Two groups of ten later and my early picking is straw man and centerfield. Being bare already she is not stripped, and her hands rest gently at her sides. She is staring straight ahead into the crowded square accepting her future. My eyes travelling over her light consistency, she is quite a bit darker than the first girl, but would still interpret a Hopkins household well. Smiling, I raise my hand to bid. The bid Mary Leontyne Price lift quickly. I run a quick calculation in my drumhead and take into effect the departure in not buying the sugar boiler from the Lee farm."Going once, twice…."I raise my hand again and learn the toll up another 10 one dollar bill. After a break,"Sold"is echoed across the grounds and she is escorted over to the stair to wait my claim in the staging surface area. Stepping purposefully, I make my way over there.

I deal the money to the clerk. He writes my selective information on the transfer of property ownership records. He also writes a ledger in his record Scripture. While my new house slave looks on, I place my signature on the paperwork. Once the transaction is arrant, I call for Ed to contribute the coach. Turning to my newly acquired holding, I let her know my name is master copy Anthony Hopkins .