As a breeding stud only

Dear Sir Williard,

Well, I have decided on my course of action with regards to Dr. Miller's clinic. Although not, as you know, what I had hoped for when I decided to journey to this planet I can see that serving as a breeding stud can actually serve the greater good of the Empire. I hope you will pardon my crude description of my role in Miller's practice, but I have decided to be as plain as possible; it would be too easy to rationalize my actions as part of my professional duties, or even romanticize any contact with with these women with words of love and longing. I expect that I will have to prevaricate with the entitled patients who come to Dr. Miller's for his cures, however it is my intention to be honest with you and more importantly with myself and never forget exactly what it is that I am bringing to this practice. I cannot however under any circumstances, join with him in his other practice, the abuse of the innocent daughters of the planet's finest families.

I will inform Dr. Miller of my decision in the morning and I expect he will put my services to use next week. I find that the idea of this service, once decided upon, is no longer as disquieting as it had first appeared. After all your Lordship, who am I really hurting by planting my life essence in the wombs of these Ladies; I know that my blood might not be quite as refined as that of their noble husbands, but those men have (at least according to Dr. Miller) failed in their duties to their families. Furthermore, my bloodline is not so common that it will greatly diminish these great families. As my mother still reminds me at every opportunity, her family was noble if poor and my father - although not a peer of the realm - can trace his ancestral roots all the way back to the Battle of Hastings. My blood is as British as any man's and these gentlewomen could do far worse than taking my seed and I could do far worse than taking my pleasure between the thighs of these fine ladies.

I find myself wondering once again about the identity of the woman who lay before me on the examination table earlier today. Was it the same aristocratic lady that had so blatantly assessed me that first day? The shapely calves and ankles I first saw encased in vibrant yellow stockings under swaying green skirts could well have belonged the lovely nude legs that had been spread for my examination. I wonder as well about the poor young lady who had been strapped to the stocks. I try not to Sir Williard, but I find I cannot erase the memory of that pale ass twisting and squirming as I fingered her rectum while Dr. Miller abused her mouth. I had hoped I could report that the sense of power and excitement I felt as I took part in the abuse of the young gentlewoman has diminished, sadly I cannot find any evidence to support this claim. On the contrary this evening I felt the familiar excitement again; I was particularly forceful with Hilda, my buxom blonde scullery maid as I took her on the rug of my library.

First, I used her mouth while she knelt at my feet much like our very first time. However unlike that first encounter, instead of letting her control the pace I held her head firmly and pushed deep into her throat until she gagged much like Miller's patient had. Not satisfied with ejaculating down her throat, I took her from behind, mounting her like a stallion covering a mare. As I thrust in and out of her dripping sex with more enthusiasm than usual, I found myself watching her puckered little rosebud with extra interest. Several times I even pressed my thumb against this small orifice, massaging the puckered skin of her anus with firm circular strokes as I pounded her from behind. I wonder if Hilda knew just how close she came to having her rectum invaded by my digit as I took her. I do know she was not pleased with my treatment of her this evening; she left the library without a word and although she didn't complain, I expect I will have to deal with her displeasure sooner or later. What concerns me more than the hurt feelings of my maid is my own reaction to the rough nature of the sex.

Instead of regretting my encounter with Hilda and finding myself dealing with my conscience, I find that I want more. I cannot forget the desire I felt in Dr.Miller's clinic while misusing the young woman strapped into the heavy stocks. The idea of having a woman tied down as I have my way with her will not let my mind rest. There is a coil of rough rope hanging on the side of the boathouse. I remember seeing it hanging there when I made my first tour of the grounds and I took the time to walk down to the river bank this afternoon to ensure that it was still hanging where I saw it. I find myself considering even as I write this, Sir Williard, how best to secure a naked woman to maximize her helplessness without restricting my access to her body. Even now, I find my manhood reacting to these dark thoughts that keep invading my mind. Is this too an effect of the Blush? Or is has this need been with me all my life and now that I find myself in the position to act on these urges with little or no consequences that I find myself hungering for this kind of control?

It is for this reason that I must serve Dr.Miller as a breeding stud for infertile matrons in his clinic, the alternative is too tempting. I must never allow any of the young unmarried British woman of this colony to be placed into my power. I fear, your Lordship, that I would be unable to keep these dark desires in check; it is my greatest fear that I would be responsible for debasing the sheltered daughters of the East Orion Trading Company.