Letters from an Imaginary Countess 10

Most Ravishing Rapistess,

I fear the entire world hath gone Plague-mad!

Such visions I have seen outside of febrility in the last few turns Helios and Selene have taken about our increasingly Strange muncipalities!

The Dwarrows showed up last night at my Hebdomadaire Momie Orgie...the one where where my companions and I snort insane amounts of Momie Dust and then haunt the lowest Tavernes looking for the Most Depraved Whore of Our Age. You surely remember this game. You always suss the winning Cum-Drab out with such sportive astuteness that my Fellows now refuse to wager money if you are to be their competition in this Pussy Pool of ours.

Anyway, since you could not Grace us with your unrivaled Hermaphroditism, when the diminutive Duo showed I wondered if the Minikins had become Aficionados of that trouser-Adder which properly belongs only to you (and those to whom you choose to delegate fucks through your most Loyal Vessel). Why other had they come to see me?

But the creatures were acting most vile. One hissed at my companions like a Madagascar Cockroach (I believe that was Maritera but I can't tell the Doppels apart!) whilst the other rifled my Vestments and squawked at me in that inhospitable Barbaric native tongue of theirs. (What are those creatures anyway? Swinish Swabians? Some blood of that mercurial ilk?)

Did you know they ride Dodoes through the streets now? Those Moppets have even had Accoutrements fashioned for the strange Creatures...They have riding crops they use mercilessly on the Monstrous-Billed avians. I'm told the Dwarrows race one another down all the Publick Thoroughfares. They killed a visiting Vice-Suzerain yestreen. Who knew the Monstrosities could gain such speed? I mean those Horrible Birds of Afric...not the Monstrosities ensconced atop them...

She kept screaming about that Unicorn charm you referenced in your last Epistle.

I told her I hadn't seen the damned Chimera, but she searched every part of my anatomy for the bauble. She clambered all over my Physiognomie like one of those furry Spiders that so fascinated my Father when he visited the southern parts of That Horrible Continent.

Lizabeta (I believe it was she) drank all my Slut-Mates' liqueurs to the lees and burped in their faces and then they both mounted the Dodoes they had harnessed to the poles outside the Taverne and were off in minikin bird-whipping fury.

The oddest thing is that one of my Abettors said he had actually come upon a Unicorne, in the very middle of the Maze of Penniless Nymphomaniacs whilst he was in there of Late searching for destitute Gash.

He said the Creature spooked him mightily, as it had just slain a member of the minor aristocracy and its horn was dripping the largely worthless peer's Blood.

Isn't the Department of Chimeras doing any work this Season at all? It seems they just let these creatures run rampant now. And yet Taxes wax every year like Sodomie at Sea.

It's been too long that I have been without feeling the heat of your brow against my loins, slutty Lioness.

I miss your Counsel and your Cunt Sill.

I apologize beforehand for the mundanity of this Letter, as I am in my cups and my concupiscence both. I came thrice and remain Unsated. That ephebe I purchased just now didn't satisfy me one bit. I'm experiencing the most disgusting eructations right now. I think the waif was bad. Plague is everywhere this year. Pox is the complexion of all the most desirable fruits.

I can only hope my Divine Dribbler is wandering through the same marshy Miasma of Regrets that I am right now, and dying in the same empurpled prose. Prose like a happily bruised cock. I hope my Mistress's balls are blue only for me.

A Confession: Sometimes I rub your correspondence on my cock, then enjoy the scent by rolling backwards in my bed like a self-fellating Hedgehog. I love that I can nibble the tip this way and taste your Essence.

Your Uni-Horn,


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