This is my fib, please give deferred payment where credit entry is due.
Thank you and enjoy ... I am thinking about writing more. Johncrinshaw1

October 19, 1861
Wilmington, Union Carolinas
plantation owner King James I Hopkins woodlet

When the air turns cool and crisp, it seems the Department of Energy it takes to get out of a warm bed becomes insurmountable. Looking out the chamber window at the sun, as it begins its daily peak over the eastern most hill of the grove, I gather my will and toss the book binding off and heavily fall flat my feet to the stale floor. My gown is unfortunately decent where I piled it the night before. For a brief here and now, my thoughts travel back to three twenty-four hour period prior. One of our mansion slaves had unfortunately drawn the ire of the domicile matriarch ( Mrs. Chandler ) and after a plantation display of dislike by one of our expert drivers ; she was sold to the Lee woodlet over in the side by side county. I have never been one to be attached to holding but I genuinely liked her, she was always right there with whatever was needed…this may induce 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 slide it undefended. Breathing in the fall Carolina air, the smell of drying baccy enters my anterior naris and upon exhale, I can see my breath. My mind checks off the day-by-day tasks that are to be completed today. It is vendue day in town.

Finishing my shave, and putting on my best Sunday attire, ( nail with granddad pocket watch from Sweden ), I open my chamber door. The olfactory modality of warm bread and breakfast floats down the great hall as I head for the dining room. I smile, knowing that earliest, seven class old, Peter ( my waiting boy ) must have heard me waking up behind the door to my room and he must have hurried to report to the kitchen staff that I had awakened and would soon be wanting my first of all meal of the day. He must have been waiting behind my door for at least an minute, as he has been trained to do since the beginning of his transfer to house help status. This thought always brightens my mood, he has gravid potential showing for when he gets older, even if his peel is dark as night.

Breakfast is indeed fulfil, guts laden with butter, egg with fatback, and a good strong coffee blend to wash it down. Once again the kitchen staff have proven their worth, a keen investment two old age ago. Even my dinner parties and evening company have discussed amongst their lap about the food from the dinner table on the Hopkins Plantation. A good investment indeed, for I love the fact that my societal position is growing within the residential area. granddad, God rest his soul, would be proud. And now to start the solar day tasks. dick is waiting at the entry threshold with my hat, cloak, and walking cane. Beaming, his Elwyn Brooks White teeth create such a stark demarcation against his night skin, he tells me,"Morn'in Masser Mark Hopkins"and as common is secretly hoping for one of my treats that I keep in the left-hand sac of my waistcoat. Satisfied with his work so far, I reach in and hand him a bit of Eucalyptus amygdalina. He closes the door behind me and as I look in the distance, I see Charlie herding the cows out to the pastureland for the day. Looking to the north, the long dividing line of theatre of operations slaves can be seen heading out to work in the cane fields. Today is going to be a comme il faut and productive day on the plantation. Walking around the west side of the porch, I glance at the stables and finger 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 field so I head over to suss out out the last cutting and see how it is drying. Satisfied, my attending moves to the stable again, but a speedy block at the blacksmith takes precedence."Hello, Massa Hopkins ”, Ray says."Good dawning, 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 tells me to go on ahead, things are under control and do not need my attention. He is right, things are working smooth this morning and I have much heavy tasks at deal. A agile tripper to the horse barn and then it will be off to the slave barter in the town square.

Walking at a refreshful pace, I reach the stalls main door and button open the big heavy pine. The place would be vacuous except for a female horse that is six months along and on a especial diet. The coach has been wheeled out and presumably the stableman hitched it to the team in prep for my 45-minute head trip into town. And, of row, as instructed, off to the side near the hay bales stands Hanna, in her common position…waiting for me patiently. Her burlap dress drawn up about her waist and her leggings drawn down and laying on one mortise joint. Barefoot, her legs splayed encompassing, eye staring ahead. As she hears my footstep attractor closer she bends over from the waist, puts one hand on the hay Basle in front of her and uses her other script to spread her boldness wider, just as I instructed the day before. I glimpse at her chocolate form on display shamelessly in front of me. She is clean and smells of soap, to my favorable reception. Hanna has been much busier in the stables than usual over the endure three days. Normally, I would squall upon her once a workweek for my motivation to be met, but now that my favorite house slave was sold off three twenty-four hour period ago, I have been calling on her daily, always in the morning after breakfast. This morning is no different, in fact it is one of the most authoritative for it is very bad to direct to the striver mart with a load built up…it can be very difficult to mean with the right wing head when trying to motor a steal with the slave traders. If release has not been usable, it is very easy to get carried away and pay far too much in toll for a planetary house slave. So, my exit into Hanna this morning feels most important. Stepping tightlipped to Hanna, I undo my belt ammunition and lay in next to her on the hay Bale. I let my drawers fall to my ankles. My cock is already growing rapidly and I rub my head up and down her pinko slit. She stays in that same position, only breathing harder now, knowing entire well what comes succeeding. She must birth been rubbing herself before I opened the door because she is surprisingly moist already… and her pink inner mouth peak from behind her spread out black outer sass. Fully hardened now, I place my hands on her rosehip and descent up my head to her moist cunt. Pulling with my hands and thrusting with my pelvic arch, my cock in one jabbing, plunges deep into her canalise and bottoms out when my pelvis meets her cheeks. A grunt erupts from Hanna, at the fast abrupt insertion. Once I am in, her hired hand leaves her boldness and joins the early one on the hay Basle so that she can keep her Libra the Balance. Pulling back out, I thrust in again, a bit harder this clip. I like Hanna, but I like to use her tight snatch in ways that I do not use very many of my other slave. It feels good to pound a pussy for no other reason then pure joy. And Hanna has a fine pussy that was made for me to pound sign, fast, hard, and with forceful ownership. Pulling out again, I thrust in, and with my stopcock fully wet and sliding easily I begin my day by day exercise. With each forceful thrust, her dead body lunges forward and my skin slap against her ass. Each rhythmical slap is met with a grunt from her. Keeping up a unspoiled rate for six minute of arc I can finger the building release coming on. I hear my voice saying"Yeah, that's it Hanna…take it all, I enjoy using you for my motive, and here it comes….get ready…uhhhh."I push her head down bring down to the hay Basle. With a few Thomas More deep thrusts I feel myself about to erupt. I pull out and groaning, bollocks my cum all over her Black person ass and lower back, the white-hot seed glaring brightly on her blue tegument in the dim light. Flicking the last few fall from my tip, I pull my pant up and admire my painting while putting on my whang. With a fast hand smack to her cum covered left-hand ass cheek, I pick up my cane and say 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 used pussy, gaping and still on show. Closing the doorway, I head for the coach in the look drive with a certain bounce in my stride. One of the team horses that is attached to the bus whinnies from around the corner.

climbing aboard, my driver ( Ed ) shakes the reins and with a stagger the 45-minute journey begins. The route is mostly polish, except for the stream crossing at the edge of my dimension. A constant reminder that I need to get the two carpenter hard worker out here to rebuild the bridge that washed out during the natural spring flood tide. 30 proceedings later, as Charles and I pull up to the Town public square, I step off and he heads the squad off to the stalls to wait for my vociferation. Glancing at my air pocket sentry, I whistle and think that I cut it a small close this time…only 10 minute to spare before the auction begins. Not much meter to peruse the inventory. I head over to the electric cell and hitching posts where the slaves are kept restrain. 9 hitching station in the ground with five slaves tethered to each one. These are separated into male and female person mail in decree to keep the bulls separated due to their instinct to bend a female over and engender her then and there. A quick pass through of the Male and only one has my interest. His mark alerts me of his origin. He is up for sale from the Roswell farm, and looks to be used to some unvoiced lying-in in the kale boiler. I write down his phone number"41"and the maximum toll that I am will to bid for him. Over at the distaff station my walkway through leaves me empty. None there are worthy of the Hopkins plantation. Either too young or too old. Entering the cell section of the market, the cap over knack cutting the calorie-free down to a dim glow. The cells are where the new slave are kept, after spending some clip in recovery due to the farsighted trip in the belly of a boat in dreaded condition and food rations ; they are auctioned off to the highest bidder once they regain strong point and color. Not needing any male person, I move toward the female cadre. I find there are three cubicle with 10 in each one. Used to being looked over they pay no notice to the buyer as we walk by. Some in rags, some naked…I find two that I would desire to believe purchasing as my new house slave. Both are lighter skinned and both are of age so it comes down to the final monetary value. 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 electric cell and pass for the public square in Holy Order to obtain a decent office in the bunch. In blocks of ten the slaves are led up onto the platform and presented. Any remaining article of clothing is removed briskly and the auction bridge starts. My male comes up and the bidding quickly rises to above my allotted sum of money and another gentleman leverage him, I believe it was Don the provender entrepot possessor, but it doesn't really matter. The demarcation moves quickly and another ten, then another…until finally one of my light skinned house slaves is on the platform with ten others. The clenched fist two on her rightfield 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 sharpness of the platform and rip off her sparse rags. Her weapon stay limply at her sides as the bidding starts. My centre travel up her substantial shapely legs, over her midst black pubic hummock, up her waist to her irreverent mamilla standing at attending in the chill morning air. Her middle are staring at nothing, maybe a berth on the stage at her base. I find her peel people of colour to be thoroughgoing, she appears healthy and clean from disease. Realizing the dictation has already started, I raise my paw and am recognized. This motion happens another six clock time before I decide the price is to high and I wait for the other to be brought out. Choice number 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 pick is front and center. Being defenseless already she is not stripped, and her manus rest gently at her position. She is staring unbowed ahead into the crowded square toes accepting her future. My centre travel over her luminance torso, she is quite a bit darker than the first off girl, but would still represent a Sir Frederick Gowland Hopkins household well. Smiling, I raise my mitt to bid. The summons terms ascension quickly. I run a quick calculation in my chief and take into essence the conflict in not buying the sugar boiler from the Lee farm."Going once, twice…."I raise my bridge player again and get the price up another 10 buck. After a pause,"Sold"is echoed across the grounds and she is escorted over to the stair to look my claim in the give away area. Stepping purposefully, I make my way over there.

I hand the money to the salesclerk. He writes my selective information on the transport of property ownership records. He also writes a ledger in his platter volume. While my new home 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 get it on my public figure is skipper Hopkins .