The tart needs to be punished first.

Dear Sir Williard,

It is somewhere around 2:00 in the morning local time and I find myself in an excellent mood as I drink some very fine brandy and browse on a cheese plate loaded with local cheeses and fruits. Still tied spread-eagle face down on my bed is Saminya; you can be sure that the young men who brought me my late-night snack took in the sight of her bright red ass, lifted high in the air by several pillows as she lay stretched out on the sheets. I imagine she is still sore from our carnal activities; I know I am a little worn out myself.

I pray your Lordship, that you do not think too poorly of me. It really had been my intention last evening to take the woman down to the main desk and procure for her a place to stay but I am not the first man to succumb to the temptation of exotic flesh, and the tempting succubus needed to taught a lesson about toying with a British Citizen’s emotions. I have never before treated a woman (even native girls) so harshly, but then again I have never felt so wronged by the fairer sex. I just reread Dr. Miller’s warning about repressing the urges and the explosive consequences of doing so for too long, but believe that my actions were well within the customary and legal limits of this planet. Understand, I am detailing this encounter not as a plea for leniency on my part but rather as a scientific inquiry to collect data regarding ‘The Blush’ as the local colonials have named their affliction.

It occurs to me as I write this that if I were able to identify the cause of this planetwide epidemic, perhaps something as ubiquitous as the ergot that contaminates the rye in the Russo-Polish Provence, I would be well on my way to finding a cure. Certainly an accomplishment of that scale would be recognized by the crown with a knighthood and most likely a title as well, then I would truly find my place on this fine planet. In any event, having finished writing last night I turned to Saminya and bid her accompany me down to the hotel office. Once again the dark-haired beauty threw herself at my feet pressing her tear-stained face against my thighs as she clung to my knees begging me to forgive her, in hindsight I believe she may have misunderstood my intention thinking that I planned to have her removed from the establishment.

“Please Doctor,” she cried “I’ll do anything!” I cannot say with absolute certainty that what I felt was ‘The Blush’ but the desire I felt for this lithesome young seductress was strong and growing with every moment. Seeing the girl trembling at my feet further weakened my resolve; I lifted her easily to her feet (the gravitational difference between Rajah-4 and Earth in effect making me that much stronger) and pulled the silk wrap off of her so she was wearing only the white uniform I remembered her in.

“Is it true?” I asked her “Do you let the gentlemen who call on Dr. Miller do as they wish with your pretty little body?”

“Y-y-yes.” She stammered and although one might expect to hear her admit to being a whore would extinguish my desire for her instead it had the opposite effect, making me want her even more.

“And that you were deliberately teasing me yesterday in the library?” I asked holding her by her thick braid just inches from my face. I knew already I was going to have her that night, but I wanted Saminya to have no doubt about why she was being used so harshly. “yes” her response was so soft that I barely heard it, but that was enough for me.

I could hold back no longer, kissing her with a fierce possessiveness I must admit I cannot recall ever having on Earth. Her mouth opened obediently to my tongue and she made no attempt to resist my most improper treatment of her. I feasted on her mouth, tasting the blood on her from the bruising she must have experienced as I crushed her full lips against her perfect white teeth. When I was satisfied that I had asserted myself sufficiently, I pulled back, still burning with the Blush, but no longer controlled by it. She looked even better at that moment that I remembered from the morning shaking with a combination of fear and arousal.

“Take off your clothes.” I told her and watched as she balanced gracefully on one foot while she pulled off her white shoes and socks that covered her ankles. She hesitated only slightly before unbuttoning the bodice of her dress and taking off the white belt that held the uniform smartly to her slender waist. She turned away slightly as she pulled the dress over her head in an absurd show of modesty for someone who was, if you think about it, little more than a whore for Dr. Miller to pimp out as he saw fit. She neatly folded the dress and placed it on her shoes standing to face me so that I could see for the first time her lovely golden breasts with their dark areolae the size of a full silver pound.

I motioned for her to turn in a slow pirouette, admiring the fullness of her peach-sized breasts, the slenderness of her waist and the flare of her womanly hips. Her last remaining article of clothing was a set of bloomers, but this undergarment was as brazenly sexual as the rest of her uniform. The white silk garment hugged her hips and the curve of her buttocks like a finely made kid’s glove, I could even see the ‘camel toe’ of her sex and the garment even had panels of lace through which I could see the golden colour of her smooth skin.

“Those too.” I ordered, drunk with the power I had over her, savoring the sight of her hands sliding the scrap of silk down her smooth legs before stepping out of her last article of clothing.”

“Better.” I told her as I took the scrap of lace from her hand and touched the moist cotton panel. “If you are going to dress like a whore you may as well be completely naked.” Unable to meet my gaze she lowered her head to stare modestly at my feet. “Now,” I said as I sat upon one of the comfortable chairs of the Royal Edwardian “Come lay across my lap and we will see how sorry you really are.” I could tell she wanted to do anything but that, but she had made abundantly clear, she had no acceptable alternatives.

She felt light as a feather draped over me and I took the time to explore her soft flesh before starting her punishment. The taught skin of her buttocks had a lovely elasticity to it and although her thighs were firm with text-book quality muscle tone the skin was a soft as a baby’s. Most of my experience with spanking was on the receiving end of a rod, but I knew enough to be about it. The teasing bitch must not have been expecting the intensity of her punishment because in less than thirty seconds she was begging me to stop. I did stop, but not until her ass was as red as an Cortland apple and I could feel the juices from her sex dripping onto my lap.

“Go bend over the bed-rail!” I told her as I pushed her off my lap and you should have seen how quickly she got into position. The railing was just the right height for what I had in mind and as she leaned over the round wooden top her feet lifted off the carpet until only the balls of her feet were resting on the floor. I took the time to completely undress as she squirmed with undisguised need. By the time I finally placed the head of my manhood against the slick entrance of her sex she was actually begging me to ravage her.

That’s how I fucked her, Sir Williard. I plunged into her tight young pussy again and again as she screamed out in her native tongue. Most of my sexual experience with women as an impoverished medical student has been with matrons nearly twice my age who found my good looks and family name intriguing, even if I had few connections and no money. For me to have someone as young and sweet as Saminya tightly impaled on my rod as I rode from behind like a stallion mounting a mare was divine and I will not apologize for my actions. The Hindi slut knew what she had coming, and believe me Sir Williard, the tart got off on being dominated like that. I came like fire hose pumping several loads of my seed into the bitch's not so tight pussy before pulling out and depositing the last two strings across her back.

Lacking your experience with these matters Sir Williard, I’m not exactly sure what to do with Saminya; sending her out onto the streets after how meekly she took her punishment seemed downright ungentlemanly so for now I have tied Saminya to the bed (a magnificent King sized four poster that seems built for this purpose) using the drapery pulls from the windows. The late night snack I ordered from the hotel’s kitchen is exactly what I needed, and as I am enjoying the feast I can report that my recently spent and flaccid member is now growing stiff again as all sorts of wicked ideas are flooding by brain seeing my captive struggling on the bed.