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.

Once it was in her mouth, she seemed reluctant to let it go. She continued sucking at the swollen purple head while her hand rubbed up and down the firm shaft, before inch-by-inch taking it completely into her mouth. Soon I could see it bulging in her throat, while his loose hairy sack bobbed against her chin. He was blaspheming under his breath as she swallowed every inch. Clearly, she was not as innocent as she made out, and I was sure that his was not the first p---k she had enjoyed in this way. I whispered to Abigail that she should let him f---k her now. Eagerly, she let his p---k slip out of her mouth, and laid down on bed, spreading her legs lewdly and exposing her c—t, still wet from my fingering. He was panting with excitement, the filthy animal, as he crouched between her thighs, his hard p---k swinging. He took it in his hand and placed the purple head against her thick c—t lips, rubbing it up and down her moist folds to prepare her for its entry. Then with a groan he lunged forward, and in one thrust was deep inside her. It would have made you quite moist, Cassandra, to watch him have his wicked way with her. She squealed and moaned, telling him to “f—k her harder”, as he roughly ravaged her. Even I could not resist pulling up my gown and rubbing at myself. I could hear the lewd wet sound as his p---k went in and out, and see her juices foaming along its shaft. It was not long before his groans and accelerated motions showed that he was close to his climax. With one almighty thrust, he achieved his desire, and filled the girl with his manly ejaculate. I could see the sweat running from his hairy back as he collapsed onto the girl, panting like an animal, and pressing her into the bed. Now was the time. I knelt beside them, took his head in my hands and kissed him on the lips, distracting him while Abigail sank her white teeth into his neck. Inexperienced as she was, she was unable to swallow all the gushing gore, some of which ran down his neck and onto the bed. At first, he must have thought it was simply a loving kiss, but soon he realised his error and squirmed and tried to pull away. To preventing him from crying out, I took his tongue between my teeth and bit it in two. Thus deprived of the means of speech, he could only gurgle and moan as his blood gushed into my mouth and down my throat. Poor man, he soon lost consciousness as we drained his fresh warm lifeblood, sating our relentless thirst. Ah, Cassandra, if only you could have been there. When we had finished, we pushed his lifeless corpse onto the floor and lay down together on the bed, our naked bodies streaked with bright red gore. Abigail kissed my little bare breasts, and nibbled playfully at my hard pink nipples, while I slipped my fingers inside her sticky passage, which was now full of his thick ejaculate.  She was clearly eager to play further with me, but I wished to write to you first, so gave her a candle with which to pleasure herself instead. I left her thrusting it in and out of her c--t, moaning and squealing with delight, while I penned this letter which you have just read. However, I must confess that using the peasant trollop to satisfy my own urgent needs may be a useful way to pass an idle hour or two. I shall therefore leave you, my dearest Cassie, and will (I hope) have other pleasant news to report shortly. Your affectionate friend and passionate lover, Emily   Second letter, dated 13 February 18-- From Professor Abraham van H-----g To Lord Arthur H------d Arthur I am sending you this short note to advise you that the intelligence received from our friends in W----burg about the whereabouts of our quarry proved to be all too accurate. I arrived at the inn to which they had directed me at around midnight and was admitted after much difficulty by the terrified pot-boy, who informed me that he had heard strange and disturbing noises from one of the upstairs bedrooms, and neither his master the innkeeper nor the kitchen-maid could be found. He and the innkeeper’s wife had been preparing to flee when forestalled by my arrival. I advised them to lock themselves in the cellar, and (having prepared myself with the necessary equipment) ascended the staircase. Entering the room described to me by the lad, I immediately espied the desiccated corpse of the unfortunate innkeeper. On the bed lay not one but two vile and unclothed harpies, besmeared with fresh gore. I deduced that one of them must be the kitchen-maid, who had been infected by the other, and they had between them done away with “mine host”. One of the creatures rose from the bed, hissing and baring both her foul body and her fangs at me, but I pitched a portion of holy water over her, immediately causing her bare flesh to burn and sizzle. While she was thus distracted, I drew a sharpened stake from my belt and thrust it deep into the heart of the other vixen. Having dealt her this fatal blow, I successfully despatched the first hag in similar fashion while she was still screaming and tearing at her burning flesh with her fingernails. To ensure that the creatures could not be reanimated, I decapitated them both with my surgeon’s knife and carried the severed and bleeding heads downstairs, before securing them in the lead box which I had left in the coach. I then found the lady of the house and the potboy cowering in the cellar and advised them to lock the bedroom and wait until I could send men from W----burg to remove all three corpses and burn them. While searching the room for other evidence of our she-devil’s activities, I found a letter which I felt it advisable to remove, owing to its foul and depraved contents. I have made a copy word-for-word (though it pained me to transcribe some of the obscene detail) and enclose it for your information. Read it in private, for I know it will disgust you, but it offers a sobering insight into the vileness and debauchery of the dark, depraved forces against which we fight. I will leave instructions that the original letter should be held at the Post Office until next Friday, while I set off to return to London immediately. This should provide a false reassurance that its writer is still alive, giving us a valuable tactical advantage. You will I am sure recognise the name of distinguished individual to whom the letter is addressed. I fear we will need to deal with her next. Your friend, Abraham