First Letter, dated 12 February 18–
From Emily M——-d
To Lady Cassandra B———n My dearest Cassandra, I fear it is over a week since I last put pen to paper, and indeed I cannot tell when you will receive this letter, if it reaches you at all (given the unreliable nature of the post in this benighted corner of Europe). However, I know you will wish to hear of the events of this particular evening. I arrived earlier today at the remote and simple inn from which I now write. Situated deep in the forest, midway between the towns of W—–burg and B—-garten, only travellers between the two will be likely to require its hospitality, and on this cold winter’s night my coachman and I are the only guests. He, of course, retired to the servants’ quarters to make up his bed, while the innkeeper, a rough-spoken but affable man in his mid-forties, showed me to my room. It was plain but clean and furnished with many old-fashioned but well-made items. Feeling the need for privacy, I asked for my dinner to be brought to my room. I was sitting at the primitive table that passed for a desk, brushing my hair, when I heard a soft knock at the door. I had been expecting the serving boy but when the door opened it was a girl who I recalled having seen when I arrived, cleaning the tables downstairs. She was a pretty maiden; surprisingly so, when compared to most of the lumpish peasant girls I have grown accustomed to seeing around here. She smiled sweetly at me when I asked her to place my dinner on the table, and I felt moved to ask her name. She simpered sweetly and told me it was Abigail, and I felt that familiar urge surge through my loins. I complemented her on her face and she, encouraged by my kind words, told me how well my hair looked. I told her that her hair too was attractive; as indeed it was, for those attracted by the unkempt gypsy style. I saw her casting envious glances at my hairbrush; it was probably far finer than any she had seen before, except in the valises of travellers like myself. You know how generous I am, my dearest Cassie, and I offered to brush her hair myself. I sat her down at the table and arranged several guttering candles to illuminate my work. Soon she was squirming with pleasure in her seat, and her sun-browned bosom heaved in her dress as I brushed her tangled locks. Observing that she appeared warm, I suggested that she might like to loosen her clothing a little. She looked shocked at first, and stammered that she was quite comfortable, but did nothing to prevent me when I leant over and unlaced the front of her blouse. I could see she was wearing no supportive undergarment, and her large bosoms hung attractively loose. I continued to brush with one hand, while the other stroked her cheek, and whispered sweet words in her ear. I complemented her on the size and firmness of her bosoms and suggested that her young man must like to play with them. She affected embarrassment at my teasing, and insisted that she had no boyfriend, as her master, the inn-keeper, refused to allow such distractions. I whispered that this was a great pity, since they looked so soft and smooth. Then I slowly slid my hand down inside her blouse and cupped one warm heaving mound in my hand. I felt the nipple harden at my touch, and I took it between two of my fingers and pulled at it gently. She mumbled words to the effect that I shouldn’t, but made no attempt to stop me, the wicked girl. I rolled and fondled her firm bosom, pulling it free of her blouse while I kissed her on her plump red lips. She closed her eyes, as if by so doing she could pretend that nothing was amiss, and I took the opportunity to pull up her rough woollen skirt, exposing her fat peasant legs and firm thighs. I insinuated my hand up further and was not surprised to discover that she wore no lower undergarments either. I could feel that her plump mound of Venus was covered in a mat of rough hairs, but it was easy for me to burrow my fingers into the undergrowth and find her wet c–t. I lost no time in putting one of my fingers inside, which made the girl squeal with pretended alarm, but which I knew was in truth a feeling of pleasure. From the way she relaxed to let my probing digit enter, I did not think my fingers were the first to explore her warm secret place. She was happy to admit a second finger, and I moved them inside her, pressing them up against her soft sensitive spot. By this time, she had abandoned all pretence of reluctance, and played with her own breasts while I explored her warm c–t. Once my fingers were fully coated in her juices, I moved them to the little bud, still hidden in its folds of flesh. As I began to rub it, she squealed again, pressing herself against me like the slut she was. Using the skills that you and I have practised so often together, I brought her quickly to the point of ecstasy, and she threw back her head as she surrendered to her basest animal passions, exposing her white neck to me. How could I resist, sweet Cassandra? I bent over and sank my teeth deep into her throat, piercing the blood vessels and allowing her life-blood to gush without hinderance into my mouth and down my throat. So distracted was she by the ministrations of my fingers that she barely had time to realise what was going on before her fate was sealed. She kicked her legs briefly and tried to cry out but could only gurgle feebly as the blood dribbled out of her mouth and down her chin. As you will have guessed, it was not my plan to drain her fully. Once I had sated my immediate thirst, I allowed some of my own saliva to enter her bloodstream. She grew pale at first, but then as the infected serum spread through her body her eyes opened and she stared at me in terror and amazement. I remember the words she spoke, and the fear with which she uttered them. “Oh G-d,” she whimpered, “What have you done to me?” I laughed at her words, infused as they were with unconscious irony. “Speak not that name again,” I instructed her. “You are now the servant of a different Master.” Her eyes gazed blankly at me, her mouth hanging open like a bedlam lunatic, but she nodded her head, and I knew she was mine. It was time for the second half of my plan. I ordered her to undress and lie on the bed, which she did without demur, fully exposing her plump peasant body. I then went to the door and called for the inn-keeper, before quickly removing my own clothing, save my loose silken under-shift. I heard the man’s knock at the door and bade him enter. He seemed shocked to see me in my shift, but this was nothing to his amazement when he saw Abigail’s unclothed body on the bed, lying on her back with all the private regions openly displayed. He swore, and ordered her to cover herself, but I went to him and put my hand on his arm. “You want her, don’t you?” I whispered. “You’ve always wanted her. So why not take her?” At first, he seemed reluctant, but I led him to the bed, and Abigail held out her arms and implored him to take her, saying how much she wanted him. He needed no more encouragement, and quickly divested himself of his rough garments. As he removed his drawers, his p—k sprang out, already engorged with blood and standing firmly aloft, exposing his base lust for the girl. Abigail too seemed pleased to see it and took it in both hands to stroke and fondle it. A small spurt of liquid erupted from the tip, and you would have smiled, Cassandra, to see how eagerly the girl bent down to lick the fluid from his tumescent member.
