Letter Twenty: Homeward bound!

My Sweet, Sultry Love,

            Do forgive me for that evening. I had imbibed plenty amounts of whiskey and that tends to make my stiff rod rather limp and tired. But with these new opiates I cannot avoid being firm; I will be bringing them with me when I return to the manor. Speaking of, I finally heard from the general that I will be returning next week! They have already scheduled my carriage and signed my leave of absence. Darling my vivid dreams will become a reality when I reach you. I hope the arse-less chaps you knitted me are ready, I’ll be bringing the leather and pig fat. Slay the largest pig for me, have the freshest batch of tobacco picked by my return and send Benjamin to acquire the liquors for we will celebrate my arrival.

Sincerely, your stiff, homeward bound love,

Bentley

Letter Nineteen: A portrait of the two of us.

My Fearless Warrior,

            I have grown moist reading your last letter—such a man you are! I cannot wait for you to return home to me. After searching through the family albums I have found one photo of the two of us alone, you look handsome as usual but I seem to have an empty stare and I wondered why. Then I remembered. It was the daguerreotype that was taken after the night you fell asleep inside of me. Hopefully all the bloodshed has revived the passion within you since then…

Awaiting your invigorated return,

Muffy

Letter Eighteen: The pillage.

My Dove,

            I am not supposed to speak of my consultations with the General, but I will tell you if you reveal this to no one. We just raped and pillaged a town. It was the most exhilarating rush I have felt in ages! As my wooden foot pounded on the cobblestone I felt the blood coursing within me. All the illogical violence, the smashing of windows, the setting of fires, the stabbing of men and beheading of criminals made me feel alive again. I believe this sets us in the lead for this war, my darling; which means I will return home to you soon. By the way, that bearded woman you sent me is quite frightening. I had grown erect with your scent upon the parchment and by the end my member had retreated within me. Please do send me another portrait of your sweet face—perhaps one of the two of us together? I would enjoy that.

Love, your blood-shedding manly-king,

Bentley

Letter Seventeen: The bearded lady.

Dearest,

            You must feel so honored that the General called upon you for consultation! What did you both speak of and what’s the army’s next move? Seymour has been very good lately. Loretta, Benjamin and I brought him to the circus that came into town and he was so well behaved. He only shouted profanity at the filthy help that was mistreating the fragile creatures. Oh but love you should have seen the attractions! There was a woman with a beard longer than my father’s! I spoke to her after the performance because I was so impressed. She explained to me that she has sought out to blur the lines between male and female—she has a vagina but she urinates standing up! I almost asked her to teach me but Loretta, Benjamin and Seymour were awaiting me in the carriage. Well sweet dove, I am off to knit and read latin.

P.S. I've included a tin type of the bearded lady. Fascinating, isn't it?

With passion, your urinating, pardon, yearning love,

Muffy

Letter Sixteen: Consultation with the General.

My Love,

            Do not worry yourself with the business of the fields; Benjamin should be taking care of that. And I am appalled that you were dancing in the servant’s quarters barefoot. What do you believe the Russell’s will think of you and our family? Be sure not to imbibe anymore until my return. I also cannot believe that my young Seymour was smoking the family tobacco the other day. Why, I’m sure it was so poorly rolled that it was an offense to our fine product. I haven’t smoked decent tobacco since I’ve been here. Speaking of opiates, I have been regularly taking my medicine and I do say that my dreams have only gotten more vivid! I would go into detail of a few but it appears that the General needs to consult with me regarding our next move. I will write soon my love!

Fighting hard for my darling Muff,

Bentley

Letter Fifteen: The workers on the tobacco field.

My Darling,

                Reading about your explicit dreams takes me back to when you were here with me. It feels so long ago. I did get rather drunk on the imported “Green Fairy,” it made me rather loose and before the end of the evening I found myself dancing on the table of the cook’s quarters, showing off my barefooted fox trot. It was a rather embarrassing ordeal but wildly fun nonetheless! Sweetheart, we received a new shipment of servant criminals from the mother country today. It seems that this batch is quite brooding and will work quite well on our tobacco fields. There is one worker who stands out with his broad shoulders, deep voice and strong hands—he seems like he’ll be the most efficient. Speaking of, I found little Seymour picking tobacco and smoking it yesterday. I am not sure where he learned of the custom but I do think that this Loretta woman may be corrupting his impressionable mind. Why, after I caught Seymour he began pretending he was delusional as if he had smoked an opiate of some kind. I put him in time out and spanked him raw so I doubt he’ll be mischievous anymore. Well darling, I’m off to look over the field workers!

Dream hard and lucidly, my spry prince,

Muffy

Letter Fourteen: A new medicine.

My Flame,

Greetings from the infirmary! It appears my foot has become infected and I have been placed under strict doctor’s care. I hope you did not get too belligerent from the imported liquors—my brother tends to drink heavily and irresponsibly. On medical news, it appears leeches cannot suck out everything although they make one quite giddy when placed upon the taint. The doctor has been giving me an experimental medicine—it causes me to have the most vivid and damp dreams.
Why just the other night I dreamt that I was back in your loving arms. We were in Patterson's field where we first consummated our love. It was twilight. We lay on a blanket, your back was arched and the morning dew settled on your muff.
Upon climax you burst into flame and rose to the heavens; all the while the grasses grew at hellish speed and a baby's cry sounded as the earth split open and in I fell. I awoke on the floor, covered in…well.
I can only hope I get through this. Send Seymour, that talented little rascal my love. I hope to dream of you yet again.

Your moist, clammy warrior,
Bentley

Letter Thirteen: What's under Seymour's bed?

My Love,

            I have just received your letter on my way out to the Barrister’s ball. Your brother has agreed to escort me this evening in your absence—such a sweetheart. Dearest I am wholly sure that you and I would have been the sweetest young lovers if we had crossed paths early on. I would have stunned you with my impressive patchwork, keen ear for cello and liquor tolerance. Oh, Ambrosia found a drawing of a nude woman under little Seymour’s mattress when she was tending the beds today. I spoke to Seymour and he apologized for illustrating such indecency (although it was rather skillfully done and strikingly resembled Loretta.) I am glad that he is pursuing his talents but I do wish he would take more interest in croquet and hunting. Well darling, I must go—Benjamin acquired some France imported Absinthe to commence the evening with! Play as rough on the field as you do in our bed.

P.S. I've included the indecent drawing your son illustrated. It's very well done, don't you think?

Your giddy darling,

Muffy

Letter Twelve: A young swordsman in the basement.

Darling,

            I have fantasized about your upbringing many a time. I too was a little lad in British boarding school; we would steal swords from our headmaster and play knights in the basement. I do believe that if our tiny hearts had crossed each other’s path at that point in time, we would be inseparable little ones. I, tying bows in your dewy curls while you mend my sword's sheath…the two of us passing swigs of stealthily smuggled gin. Back then we would have never fathomed the intimate life we lead today, or rather, months ago when I was still in your arms. My wooden leg is doing well. The leeches have grown plump. I still fight like an ox. Well dearest, back to the trenches I go. I will be dreaming of your warm baths and sweet hole.

Your sword-slinging champion,

Bentley

Letter Eleven: The beligerent days of my youth.

My Love,

            It is quite alright that your mind wanders in your ill state.  I do hope they bring you back to me soon! It has been a month since Magdalena has left and I do miss her terribly—I had not drunk that much since I was a little girl in boarding school. I remember it fondly; bows clutching our curls together, feathers floating from a rough pillow fight, stealing romance novels from the dean, and of course Sister Marguerite’s secret stash of gin. Ah, those are the days of my youth I pine for. Now here I am, 20 years of age and nearing the end of my life. But at least I have my darling children, and you, my sweet quick footed prince. Someday soon you’ll be back in my pale arms and sweet hole.‘Til then I’ll simply have to take warm baths and dream of you.

Your pale princess,

Muffy

Letter Ten: Ah yes, that foul scented sister of yours.

Darling,

            I am so thrilled to hear that you found a wet nurse. Ah little Seymour, growing into a man while I am at war. And your sister Magdalena is in town, what great news. The last time I saw her she was barely clothed by the river where all the lads and I were fishing…a free spirited lady she is. That was before she met that trout brewer in Ireland. He was a strong sore of a man. She met him traveling, did she not? Yes, she would ride horses and trains in next to nothing at all; she played fiddle and would write stories on parchment. Yes and her scent is rather foul. Like burnt wood, mossy fir trees and spices—it sticks to ones skin if too close. Ah but yes, erm that terrible foul mind of hers is wretched. Promise me that you will not let her gypsy ways influence you—she is a sore. Beauty. I mean sore. Darling I fear that I am slightly delusional from the amputee medication. Forgive my wandering mind. Take care of little Seymour for me.

Dream of shaking hands with my genital, pardon, general,

Bentley

Letter Nine: Wet nurse found!

My Love,

            I found us a wet nurse! Her name is Loretta Thornhound and she is in good health. We had her moved in yesterday and little Seymour has grown quite a liking to her. I caught him smelling her drawers when he thought no one was looking—he takes after his father. Speaking of scents, my foul smelling sister came to visit last week. Not only was she reeking of her usual bodily odors, but also of stale whiskey and pipe tobacco this time. She also has the foulest mind this side of the confederacy. She kept telling me about how she was going to break a man’s legs to get him to stay with her. She also got me drunk last eve with the whiskey she brews herself—apparently a man she slept with in Ireland taught her. I know, it is unconventional for a woman to be brewing her own whiskey but I cannot help but be mesmerized by the free spirit she is. Naturally I have tried to convince her to find some old money to betroth but she simply will not have it. Well darling, I hope the wooden foot has proved sturdy. 

P.S. I've included a portrait of Loretta and Penny. Isn't little Penny simply darling?

Ponder about my bosom as you fight,

Muffy 

Letter Eight: Yes, find that wet nurse.

Darling,

I cannot wait to set my eyes on our newborn little girl. I am in a trench, single-footed and fighting right now. Tell Benjamin to refrain from cleaning his metal rod in your presence, I do not approve of it. Fondle as many breasts as possible and make sure you choose wisely. Write me about each. I must go. I run faint. Colonel just got shot. I will write at a better time.

Your quick footed strong man,

Bentley

Letter Seven: little Penny is born.

Darling,
            Really, you have lost a foot? Well, I am sure the children will be able to adjust. And a foot is not required for our nights alone together—though there was that one position. Anyway, little Penny was born yesterday! I have already put an Ad in the gazette for a wet nurse. “Wanted: A good, healthy breast.” I have already received one woman today. She had a fine breast but I fondled for inconsistencies and there were a few.  She also smoked too much and had a poor diet. So the search for a wet nurse continues.  On other news, Benjamin has built a log play house for the children. He is quite great with his hands. The way he cleans his guns and smooths oil before he cocks them is quite thorough and impressive. Well love, I hope the leeches have yet to suck you dry. Pretend the little creatures are my lips upon you. 

P.S I've included a portrait of your brother Benjamin that was taken after he returned from the hunt. Quite dashing, is he not?

Love your little succubus,

Muffy

Letter Six: No, one-footed and hard, rather.

Darling Muffy,

I have only lost but a foot. My left foot to be precise. The general is looking into a new revolutionary prosthetic foot for me. It will be wooden and lifelike. Darling there is also this new treatment they’ve started giving us for pain and in this instance, limb loss— leeches. These little creatures suck on the skin and remove the bad blood of sickness and infection. Wonderful is it not? Despite the loss of blood, I still grow erect with thoughts of you…you have that affect on me, my round siren. I have begun to feel quite lightheaded and ill now; the doctor says it’s normal for the first few days. I will write you again soon, love.

Your pale faced devil,

Bentley

Letter Five: One-legged and brooding.

My Love,

            Naturally Benjamin could never take your place in the household—although he has been an immense help. He even taught little Seymour how to hunt. How is the war going? I hope all your appendages remain intact, seeing as how I have dreamed of your member every night this week (perhaps it’s the hormones.) Mrs. Goodwell next door just received word that her husband lost his left leg in a trench. She went on and on at tea today about how she could never imagine making love to him again. I told her she was being cruel. I suppose if you ever lost yours I would be aright with it. I have always wondered what it would be like mounting a one-legged torso. It would be wildly exciting and new. And let us be honest, if you lost your left leg, your right one would not be lonely. My belly has grown significantly in the past month! I have had to move on to a larger corset that only Ambrosia can manage to fit on me. And I only fainted once today! Well darling, I cannot dream more fondly of the day that I will finally get to caress your sweet rouged face. ‘Til then!

Your bulbous darling,

Muffy

Letter Four: New man of the house.

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