Dear Joanna

* * * *

15 July 1890

Heyward Farms, Cape Town

Dear Joanna:

Your letters have reached me at last. How relieved I am to know that your health is as normally and there are no immediate decisions to be made. I am particularly relieved that this is so, as fate has intervened to strike us a blow of untenable circumstance. I love and respect you too much to force on you the tragedy that has entered my life.

Three weeks prior to my writing this I was victim to a horrible accident while helping to inspect a sifting machine in the gold field. It is a heavy piece of equipment and—there is no easy way to tell you of this—it fell on me and crushed my legs. I am no longer a whole man, and certainly not a man worthy of you sharing your life with.

In some ways, we are lucky this has happened in time for our betrothal to be withdrawn—I’m sure your family will be relieved, especially your father, the vicar, and my family would not care. The Lord be praised that for you, at least, there is the chance to move on in life, now not encumbered in any way, especially with the news you passed on to me of your condition, and free to begin life with a man who is whole and not in perpetual pain, as I am.

Mr. Heyward, as always has been solicitous of my well-being and generous in his support. I have been permitted to keep my position here. An accountant does not need his legs, which is good, because, alas, mine now are no more. I know this will come as a shock to you, and I know that you, as I do, will be grateful that we have reached this circumstance before it became a matter of falling irrevocably over the brink of a tragic life together. I hope that we will remain friends, although if you do not wish to correspond further, I certainly will understand and not attempt to maintain a connection. I suggest that you not entertain any thoughts to come down to Cape Colony, as this is much too primitive a place for a delicate rose such as you are. Please pass on my . . .

* * * *

“Leave that and come to the bed.” The voice was gruff, not to be ignored.

“Very well,” I said. The roughest part was already written.

He was lying on his back on my bed, naked, and holding his massive erection in his hand. I had already serviced that with my mouth before rising and starting the letter that I could not get out of my head. But he was erect again. So virile. So arousing.

I rose from the desk, moved over to the bed, climbed to where I was on top of him, astride his slim hips. He held his cock in his hand, steady for me, while, with some effort, I impaled myself on him. When we were saddled, I rose a bit on my knees to give him room to work. Leaning over him I palmed his heavily tattooed pectorals, ready to melt at the way the black ink undulated as his muscles moved in the heat of a vigorous fuck. Thado liked to start the fuck. The Zulu warrior wanted to assert command before we went into other positions. I knew it wouldn’t be long, though, until I was hovering over him in the position of the crab, using my strong arm and leg muscles to rise and fall on his buried cock as my eyes searched the patterning in the ceiling and I reveled in how deeply and possessively the Zulu warrior could take me to heaven.

I whimpered as I saw him move a hand under his body and pull out two leather belts. He pushed me over on my stomach, and I moaned as Thado pulled my arms over my head and used one of the belts to tie my wrists off on the rungs of the brass headboard. He had my ankles trapped between his strong knees and I yelped at the first strike of the other belt on my buttocks. I hardened immediately, knowing that the beating would only last long enough to heighten his arousal and fill him out to the max.

Truth be told it had the same effect on me.