Miss Monroe slips into his arms

Dear Sir Williard,

As I sit at my desk and put ink to paper I am filled with self-loathing and despair, but in the dimly lit projector room of the public library I felt none of the restrictions of honour and good breeding that should have tempered my response to Miss Monroe's sudden change in behavior. In hindsight, as a man of medicine, I should have anticipated how the reading about the capture and rapine of innocent women might have affected the otherwise prim librarian. Sadly, I was more interested in putting together the pieces of the puzzle to notice that Evelyn's elevated heart-rate, flushed skin and rapid breathing until she all but launched herself onto my lap.

"Dr. Baxter!" Miss Monroe moaned into my ear as she pressed her plump breasts into my face, "Dr. Baxter, can you imagine what those men might do to my slender struggling form?" Even with her tightly buttoned and starched chemise and whatever undergarments ladies of her station wear, I could feel the softness and heat of her breasts as she all but smothered me with her bosom. It is hard, Sir Williard, to think clearly under circumstances such as these and I found myself pulling the elegant librarian even closer as she spilled her flights of terror-filled fancies into my ears.

"Two or three of the brutes would hold me down, Dr. Baxter." She pulled away enough to work the buttons of her blouse, but her detailed narration didn't falter. "Others would tear off my clothes and run their filthy hands over my exposed flesh." I found the combination of her fanciful descriptions and proximity of her body writhing on my lap to be too much to resist and I pulled at her long skirts, lifting them high on her hips until only her ruffled delicates covered the long legs that were wrapping around my waist.

"What could a unmarried woman like me do?" She panted as she began grinding her pelvis against the hard bulge in my lap. "Without a man to protect me, I couldn't stop them from doing every vile thing those pirates could imagine..." I remember My Lord, pushing aside Miss Monroe's hands and tearing at the remaining buttons until her top was pushed back off her slender shoulders exposing her pale skin and the tightly laced corset beneath. With my full attention on stripping away her clothes, Miss Monroe's eagerness suddenly evaporated into panicked fear. The same hands that had been loosening the buttons of her blouse began slapping at my face and shoulders "...No! Stop it you animal, I won't let you do this!"

My first impulse was to stop in confusion, but even as I began to push the pretty spinster from my lap I came to the realization that Miss Monroe didn't want me to stop. Rather, this squirming woman was hoping that I would treat her with the same ruthless brutality that she was describing in her narrative. A better man than I might have risen above the base temptation offered by this librarian who was living out her troubling visions of licentious abuse, it is with great humility that I confess I am not such a man. I believe, Sir Williard, that I have mentioned the dark fantasies I have been fighting as a result of the Blush, reveries of using my strength and size to impose my rapaciousness needs on the tender bodies of a decorous British maiden. The coarse urges I felt to subjugate this pristine citizen of our great Interstellar Empire was as great as the need I found to mistreat my unfortunate house-servants; I wanted nothing more than to bind this prim librarian like a virgin sacrifice upon an altar to so ancient unnamed god and then defile her as she struggled and pleaded for mercy.