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

October 19, 1861
Wilmington, North Carolina
plantation owner James Hopkins grove

When the air turns cool and chip, it seems the energy it takes to get out of a warm bed becomes insuperable. Looking out the sleeping accommodation windowpane at the sun, as it begins its daily bill over the easterly most J. J. Hill of the plantation, I gather my will and toss away the concealment off and heavily flop my feet to the cold floor. My robe is unfortunately mighty where I piled it the night before. For a brief moment, my thoughts travel back to three days prior. One of our sign of the zodiac slaves had unfortunately drawn the ire of the base matriarch ( Mrs Chandler ) and after a plantation exhibit of disfavor by one of our best driver ; she was sold to the Lee Plantation over in the next county. I have never been one to be attached to property 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 flame and laid out for me since she was forced out. Putting on my cold cotton robe, I walk to the window and chute it outdoors. Breathing in the free fall Carolinas air, the olfaction of drying baccy enters my nostril and upon exhale, I can see my breath. My creative thinker bridle off the daily job that are to be completed today. It is auction bridge day in town.

finish my shave, and putting on my serious Sunday attire, ( complete with grandpa pocket watch from Kingdom of Sweden ), I open my chamber doorway. The odour of ardent wampum and breakfast swim bladder down the swell hall as I head for the dining room. I smile, knowing that early, seven year old, Peter ( my waiting boy ) must have heard me waking up behind the door to my room and he must suffer 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 door for at least an hr, as he has been trained to do since the commencement of his conveyance to house help position. This intellection always brightens my climate, he has great potential exhibit for when he gets older, even if his tegument is dark as night.

Breakfast is indeed carry through, grit laden with butter, ballock with fatback, and a good strong coffee blending to wash it down. Once again the kitchen staff have proven their worth, a keen investment two years ago. Even my dinner parties and evening society have discussed amongst their circles about the food for thought from the dinner party mesa on the Hopkins Plantation. A good investment indeed, for I love the fact that my social condition is growing within the residential area. Grandfather, God rest his individual, would be gallant. And now to go the Day undertaking. St. Peter the Apostle is waiting at the entry doorway with my hat, cloak, and walking cane. Beaming, his Edward D. White teeth create such a bare dividing line against his iniquity tegument, he tells me,"Morn'in Masser Hopkins"and as common is secretly hoping for one of my delicacy that I keep in the left air pocket of my waistcoat. Satisfied with his body of work so far, I reach in and hired hand him a musical composition of Mentha piperita. He closes the room access behind me and as I look in the distance, I see Charlie herding the cattle out to the ley for the day. Looking to the Union, the long line of field hard worker can be seen heading out to work in the cane fields. Today is going to be a comely and productive day on the grove. Walking around the westward slope of the porch, I glance at the stables and feel a stirring within…"not yet, but very soon"I tell myself."I still have a few things to finish up first."The tobacco shed is off to the left so I head over to check out the last slip and see how it is drying. Satisfied, my attention moves to the horse barn again, but a quick full stop at the blacksmith takes precedence."hullo, Massa Anthony Hopkins ”, Ray says."honorable 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 stables and William Tell me to go on ahead, things are under ascendence and do not require my attention. He is right, things are working smooth this break of the day and I have very much bigger tasks at manus. A quick stumble to the stables and then it will be off to the slave trade in the Ithiel Town square.

Walking at a spanking stride, I reach the stable main threshold and push open the big heavy pine. The place would be empty except for a female horse that is six months along and on a especial diet. The four-in-hand has been wheeled out and presumably the groom hitched it to the team in homework for my 45-minute tripper into townsfolk. And, of line, as instructed, off to the incline near the hay bales stands Hanna, in her usual position…waiting for me patiently. Her gunny clothes drawn up about her waistline and her leging drawn down and laying on one ankle. Barefoot, her legs dislocate wide, middle staring ahead. As she hears my footfall haulage closer she bends over from the waist, puts one hand on the hay Basle in front of her and uses her other hired hand to overspread her cheeks wider, just as I instructed the day before. I glance at her burnt umber sort on display shamelessly in front man of me. She is clean and smells of goop, to my approval. Hanna has been much busier in the stables than usual over the last three daylight. Normally, I would shout out upon her once a calendar week for my needs to be met, but now that my favorite house slave was sold off three Clarence Day ago, I have been calling on her daily, always in the dawning after breakfast. This morning is no dissimilar, in fact it is one of the most authoritative for it is very bad to head to the striver mart with a onus built up…it can be very hard to think with the right head when trying to drive a bargain with the slave traders. If release has not been available, it is very leisurely to get carried away and pay far too much in price for a house slave. So, my release into Hanna this morning time feels most important. Stepping unaired to Hanna, I undo my belt and lay in adjacent to her on the hay Basle. I let my shorts fall to my ankles. My cock is already growing rapidly and I rub my forefront up and down her pink incision. She stays in that same position, only breathing harder now, knowing full well what comes next. She must receive been rubbing herself before I opened the door because she is surprisingly moist already… and her pink inner back talk peak from behind her spread black outer lips. Fully hardened now, I place my bridge player on her hip and line up my header to her moist bitch. Pulling with my manpower and thrusting with my hips, my putz in one thrust, plunges deep into her duct and bottoms out when my pelvis meets her cheeks. A grunt erupts from Hanna, at the fast abrupt insertion. Once I am in, her hand leaves her cheek and joins the early one on the hay Basle so that she can keep her equipoise. Pulling back out, I thrust in again, a bit harder this time. I like Hanna, but I like to use her rigorous pussy in direction that I do not use very many of my former slaves. It feels expert to pound sign a pussy for no other intellect then pure pleasure. And Hanna has a fine puss that was made for me to pound, fast, difficult, and with forceful possession. Pulling out again, I thrust in, and with my cock fully wet and sliding easily I begin my day-by-day exercise. With each forceful drive, her body lunges forward and my skin slaps against her ass. Each rhythmical smacking is met with a grunt from her. Keeping up a good pace for six minutes I can find the building release coming on. I hear my articulation saying"Yeah, that's it Hanna…take it all, I enjoy using you for my needs, and here it comes….get ready…uhhhh."I push her head down lower to the hay bale. With a few More deep thrusts I feel myself about to erupt. I pull out and groaning, blow my cum all over her black ass and lower back, the tweed cum glaring brightly on her sour skin in the dim ignitor. Flicking the last few pearl from my tip, I pull my pants up and admire my painting while putting on my belt. With a firm hand slap to her cum covered allow for ass buttock, I pick up my cane and recount her"well done Hanna, see you again in the morning."I leave her there, leaning over the hay bale with her clothes and whisker disheveled, cum dripping down her ass, and a well utilize pussy, gaping and still on display. Closing the door, I head for the coach in the front drive with a sure leap in my tread. One of the team horses that is attached to the private instructor neigh from around the corner.

Climbing aboard, my driver ( Ed ) shakes the reins and with a lurch the 45-minute journey begins. The route is mostly smooth, except for the watercourse crossway at the border of my place. A constant reminder that I need to get the two carpenter hard worker out here to rebuild the bridge that washed out during the bounce torrent. 30 arcminute later, as Charles River and I pull up to the townsfolk foursquare, I step off and he heads the team off to the horse barn to wait for my Call. Glancing at my air hole watch, I whistle and think that I cut it a fiddling close this time…only 10 minutes to give up before the auction begins. Not practically metre to peruse the stock. I head over to the cells and hitching place where the striver are kept cumber. 9 hitching posts in the priming coat with five striver tethered to each one. These are separated into male and female office in club to keep the bulls separated due to their instinct to bend a female over and breed her then and there. A nimble manner of walking through of the male and only one has my sake. His mark alerts me of his pedigree. He is up for cut-rate sale from the Roswell farm, and looks to be used to some hard British Labour Party in the saccharide kettle. I write down his number"41"and the maximum cost that I am bequeath to bid for him. Over at the female Wiley Post my base on balls through leaves me empty. None there are worthy of the Hopkins plantation. Either too Pres Young or too old. Entering the prison cell section of the food market, the roof over bent cutting the sluttish down to a dim gleaming. The jail cell are where the new striver are kept, after spending some time in recovery due to the long trip in the paunch of a boat in terrible stipulation and intellectual nourishment rations ; they are auctioned off to the high bidder once they regain strength and color. Not needing any male person, I move toward the female cells. I find there are three electric cell with 10 in each one. Used to being looked over they pay no posting to the emptor as we walk by. Some in rags, some naked…I find two that I would want to deliberate purchasing as my new house striver. Both are lightsome skinned and both are of age so it comes down to the final price. A doorbell in the square alerts me to the fact that my ten minutes are up and the result is starting.

I quickly leave the cells and drumhead for the square in order to obtain a becoming place in the crowd. In blocks of ten the slave are led up onto the platform and presented. Any remaining wearable is removed briskly and the vendue starts. My male comes up and the bidding quickly rises to above my accord amount of money and another valet purchases him, I believe it was Don the feed storehouse owner, but it doesn't really matter. The credit line moves quickly and another ten, then another…until finally one of my brightness skinned household slaves is on the program with ten others. The clenched fist two on her right hand are naked and sold quickly to another plantation owner. The auctioneer footstep over and grabs the arm of my choice slave and pulls her to the edge of the platform and rips off her sparse rags. Her arms stay limply at her position as the dictation starts. My optic travel up her strong shapely legs, over her duncish black pubic agglomerate, up her shank to her impertinent nipples standing at attention in the cool morning air. Her center are staring at nothing, maybe a fleck on the point at her feet. I find her skin color to be perfect, she appears healthy and sporting from disease. Realizing the command has already started, I raise my bridge player and am recognized. This apparent movement happens another six clock time before I decide the price is to heights and I wait for the other to be brought out. Choice issue one is purchased and escorted off the stage to the staging area where she will be paid for, papered, and shown to her new master.

Two groups of ten later and my other pickax is front and mall. Being naked already she is not stripped, and her hands rest gently at her sides. She is staring straight person ahead into the crowded second power accepting her future. My eyes travel over her light dead body, she is quite a bit darker than the beginning girl, but would still map a Hopkins household well. Smiling, I raise my hand to bid. The bidding price rises quickly. I run a immediate figuring in my head and take into effect the difference in not buying the carbohydrate steam boiler from the Lee farm."Going once, twice…."I raise my helping hand again and take the Mary Leontyne Price up another 10 dollar mark. After a pause,"Sold"is echoed across the flat coat and she is escorted over to the stairs to await my claim in the staging area. Stepping purposefully, I make my way over there.

I hand the money to the shop clerk. He writes my information on the transferral of holding ownership records. He also writes a ledger in his criminal record book. While my new household slave looks on, I place my signature on the paperwork. Once the transaction is complete, I call for Ed to bring the coach. Turning to my newly acquired property, I let her know my epithet is Master Hopkins .