Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)David Merlyn
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 3, 2015
April 1 1845
The stone walls are cold. Soon I with those that survived will hang for our actions. In some ways I regret it. In other ways how can I? We were allowed to see the blackest desires and most profound warping of
the human body. All in the name of our most basic instinct. Sex. If I close my eyes I can still hear their screams and it still excites me. I was not always this way, and I have skipped ahead of my own tale. Old and near death it is easy to forget that life was not always so open. And so I include my old journal entries to fill in the blanks for who may ever ready this tale of lust and perversion. Or perhaps it is to revealing of what we are capable of and shall be set to the flame.
June 5 1842
My name is Arthur Connor. When I was young my mother was beaten to death by my father, in return one night I killed him for it in his sleep. It appeared as if he simply slipped away. Because there was no suspicion I inherited a vast sum of money and land.
I never trusted women, I never had a mother to teach me to. The little amount of times I had relationships of flings with them it went bad. They have never been able to satisfy me and I grow bored after the first conquest of their body and then even their heart. I realize now the only way to find out what it takes to keep me interested is to not hold back. But how far can I go? This must be done in secret.
I have sent letters to my closest friends who have had similar experience's, detailing how we should gather all the young servant girls and boys all over the age of 16 and as old as 45 and see where things take us. I now eagerly await their responses.
The stone walls are cold. Soon I with those that survived will hang for our actions. In some ways I regret it. In other ways how can I? We were allowed to see the blackest desires and most profound warping of
the human body. All in the name of our most basic instinct. Sex. If I close my eyes I can still hear their screams and it still excites me. I was not always this way, and I have skipped ahead of my own tale. Old and near death it is easy to forget that life was not always so open. And so I include my old journal entries to fill in the blanks for who may ever ready this tale of lust and perversion. Or perhaps it is to revealing of what we are capable of and shall be set to the flame.
June 5 1842
My name is Arthur Connor. When I was young my mother was beaten to death by my father, in return one night I killed him for it in his sleep. It appeared as if he simply slipped away. Because there was no suspicion I inherited a vast sum of money and land.
I never trusted women, I never had a mother to teach me to. The little amount of times I had relationships of flings with them it went bad. They have never been able to satisfy me and I grow bored after the first conquest of their body and then even their heart. I realize now the only way to find out what it takes to keep me interested is to not hold back. But how far can I go? This must be done in secret.
I have sent letters to my closest friends who have had similar experience's, detailing how we should gather all the young servant girls and boys all over the age of 16 and as old as 45 and see where things take us. I now eagerly await their responses.
