3 comments/  12003 views/  13 favorites

Ecstasy in the Castle Of Death

By: Calandria2



This is intended to be a long story, so don't expect fun and games right from the start - I try to build an atmosphere of erotic tension, and impending... well, you'll see...  

***** 

I STEPPED OFF THE SMELLY, OVERCROWDED BUS WITH A FEELING OF RELIEF, SOON REPLACED BY AN AWARENESS OF BEING IN AN UTTERLY STRANGE PLACE. 

I was in Suceava, a bustling town in the remote north of Romania, not far from the Ukranian border. I looked around, as I hoisted my backpack into place, and realised that I wasn't the only person who looked out-of-place. A girl who may have been a touch younger than my twenty two years, as blonde as I was dark-haired, was looking about as lost as I was. 

Recognising her plight I spoke to her, tentatively in English. 

'Hi,' I said, 'I'm Julie. We both seem to be... er... lost?' 

'That could describe it,' she said, an Australian - or was it New Zealand? - accent coming through, 'I'm Jane.' 

'Let's find a café or something,' I suggested, 'And get the stink of that awful bus out of our hair.' 

My new friend was surprised when I ordered coffee and donuts in decent Romanian, her blue eyes widening in her pretty, oval face. I thought she would be a very attractive girl if she were not clad in long, shapeless tee-shirt, cargo pants and hiking boots, but then, she probably had a similar view of me. 

These factors didn't seem to put off the local stud, in the form of a tall young guy with greasy black hair and a seventies porn-star moustache, who instantly tried to hit on us. I rapidly repelled him with a few choice words of my best Bucarest dialect that I had picked up in University. Then Jane and I swapped tales. 

Hers was simple enough. A nineteen year-old waiting to go to University in the States, on an athletics/economics course, she had a 'gap-year' and had decided to travel around Europe. Transylvania had always interested her since she read Bram Stoker's 'Dracula.' 

Mine was a bit more complex, and sounded, frankly, a bit silly. I had, I told her, graduated in European history at Leeds University, and, in the process, discovered a previously unsuspected talent for languages, as well as a fascination for legend, in which Northern Romania abounded. A bequest from an aunt I had never known enabled me to travel for a year, and I had flown to Bucarest, where I had met up with Roman, briefly my boyfriend at Uni. I soon discovered why our liaison had been brief, and set out to look into one of the more intriguing legends, centred on a village not far from where we sat. 

Jane's interest pricked up. 'Legend?' she said, 'What's that all about?' 

'Oh, it's probably a load of old nonsense, but the villagers used to claim that all the young girls from the village were spirited away in the dead of night, and never seen again, on moonless nights.' 

'Not on nights of full moon, then, like most stories?' 

'No.' 

'So what do you hope to find out?' 

'I don't know, but there hve been reports in the Romanian papers in the last few years of recurrences - girls disappearing.' 

'But surely that has to do with all these Mafia forced prostitution cases we hear so much about?' 

'So I thought, until I got a friend of Roman's to map the disappearances, before I left England, and found a massively disproportionate number were from around here.' 

'Shit,' said Jane, 'So we might just be walking into danger.' 

'Not if I'm careful,' I said, 'And nobody said you had to get involved, Jane - you're just a tourist, right?' 

'I'm up for a bit of an adventure,' she said, 'Where do we start?' 

'We need to go to a village called Gorust, about twenty kilometres north of here - I believe it has a hostal, though it may be a bit so-so, I suppose.' 

'How do we get there?' 

'Taxi, I should think.' 

In a battered Dacia taxi, on the twisting road up through forest towards the village, I told Jane what I knew of the ancient legend. 

There had apparently been a Count Radiescu, whose infamy spread far and wide, and who was alleged to imprison young girls in his remote castle, after they were befriended or seduced by his beautiful young son or daughter. Several versions existed, and it seemed that the legend persisted for generations, but no one who was lured to the castle was ever seen again, and screams had been heard on still nights, echoing around the forests. 

Gorust was in a sort of hollow between high mountain walls, and, apart from a modern-looking timberyard, where a huge truck laden with sawn logs was about to turn out onto the road, the village looked as if it had been unchanged for centuries. The taxi-driver dropped us off at the hostal, though, and the proprietress wasn't at all the surly old bat I had been picturing, but a pleasant, smiling woman in her fifties, who showed us up two flights of stairs to two interconnecting single rooms. The Hilton it wasn't, but the sheets looked clean, and so did the washbasin and the shower we were to share. 

Alone in my room at last, I checked the shower was free, and smiled when I heard my new friend snoring gently next door. I stripped off my grimy, travel-weary clothes, and luxuriated in a hot shower, then took a critical look at myself in the long wardrobe-door mirror in my room. My long black hair had been tucked under a shower-cap I found, and now fell loose to the middle of my back. My breasts were small but firm, with nice, perky nipples, and I had long, shapely legs and a flat stomach. 'You're too good not to get fucked regularly,' I told myself, and a hand crept, seemingly of its own volition, to my nearly-clean-shaven pussy, where it found its way to my clit, and I watched my own face register the first signs of pleasure, then ecstasy, then the unbearable, inevitable throes of utter abandon as my legs virtually gave way and I came - right there, standing in front of the mirror. I couldn't be sure, but I felt as if Jane had been watching, through a chink between door and frame I could have sworn wasn't there before, when I had left the shower. Ah well... 

The cheerful owner, Ida, had told us we could have some dinner at eight - it turned out to be a wholesome goulash with greyish country bread and rough red wine. As we ate, she switched on the plasma TV screen, which was showing a Mel Gibson film dubbed into German, with Romanian subtitles. Jane's eyelids soon began to droop, as she was unable to follow the plot, so I suggested she went up to bed, and was sat nursing another glass of wine, when in walked the most handsome guy I'd ever seen - I kid you not. 

Something just over six feet tall, I guessed, he had thick black hair which fell to the collar of his leather bomber-jacket, and piercing blue eyes set under lashes which were so long as to be almost feminine. But there was nothing other than masculinity about his posture, the way his eyes - those eyes! - sought mine, and his long, athletic-looking limbs, his legs clad in tan chinos. 

'Hello,' he said, in English, immediately recognising me for a tourist, 'I am Goran.' 

I turned deliberately back to the film, and said, in Romanian, 'I was watching the film.' 

For answer, he came and sat down beside me, in the seat that Jane had vacated, and, as luck would have it, a publicity pause happened right then. He leapt right in, this time in Romanian. 

'Ah, a beautiful English girl who speaks my language. What in heaven's name would she be doing in a place like Gorust?' 

'I'm Julie,' I said, holding out my hand for him to shake. To my intense surprise and embarrassment, he took it and kissed it. 

When I'd recovered, I said, 'I am researching old legends in this region, and, well, doing a little sightseeing.' 

'Ah,' he said, and was silent for a short time. 

Then, moving into my line of sight, he said slowly, 'I have something to show you which will help you. Would you step out with me? It isn't far.' 

I must have looked dubious, because he smiled, showing perfect white teeth. 'You will be perfectly safe, I do not bite.' 

I somehow wanted to believe him. It was, in any case, a very long time since I had been with a man - and never one as gorgeous as this. I nodded, slipped on my jacket, and let him guide me out into the star-spangled darkness of the village night. As we walked along the narrow sidewalk, his nearness was far from unwelcome. Almost too soon we arrived at an iron gate, which he opened without needing a key, then led me up a short pathway to a short flight of stairs and a big, ornate, oak door. This he opened with a modern key, and I found myself in a different world. It was not at all what one would expect in a remote Romanian village, but beautifully decorated, with minimalist furnishings and modern art. 

Goran motioned me to sit on a comfortable sofa. 

'Coffee?' he asked. 

'Black,' I replied, and relaxed a little. He must have had a coffee pot on the hob already, because he was back in no time, bearing a silver tray, with a pot and two small cups, sugar and a plate of tempting-looking chocolates. 

'Surprised?' he asked, waving his arm around expansively. 

'Frankly, yes,' I said, 'But I thought you brought me here to show me something in particular.' 

'I did indeed,' he said, and fetched a heavy-looking leather-bound tome from a built-in shelf. 

'Enjoy your coffee first, then I'll show you this.' He sat on the sofa and put it down between us, carefully, as if it were precious. I kept glancing at it as I sipped the coffee, which was excellent, then eventually, he picked it up, and placed it across his lap, carefully opening it. I saw straight away something I thought I recognised. 

'The coat of arms - isn't it...?' 

'Radiescu, yes, you know it?' 

'I know something of the legend surrounding the family.' 

'My family,' 

'Say again?' 

'My name is Goran Radiescu. I am a direct descendant, and heir. When my father dies, I shall become, for what it is worth, Count Radiescu.' 

Whilst I was digesting this information, he showed me the family tree, which was enormous, and obviously went back centuries, concentrating on the direct line of descent. This was folded into the first page of the great book, then there was page upon page of written history. The book must have been worth a fortune, and would need months to study. 

But I had a question: 'If you are a direct descendant, and heir, why do you live here, and not at the castle?' 

'I am twenty eight years old,' he said, 'I don't always agree with my father. And I like to live a modern life. That would be quite impossible in a remote medieval castle, don't you think?' As he spoke, he was taking my empty cup from me, and mesmerising me with his amazing eyes. I don't know how it happened, but I was in his arms, and he ws kissing me fervently in no time at all. And I responded. Boy, did I respond! I thrust my tongue into his mouth and pulled him towards me, then his hands were tugging my tee-shirt out of my jeans. I groaned with pleasure as he kneaded my breasts, my nipples growing hard and taut under his expert fingers. Meanwhile, I unfastened his belt, fumbled with the button at the top of his chinos, then pulled down his zipper. In no time I had his rigid shaft in my hand, and pulled away from him so that I could kneel on the floor, and get both hands around his cock, then lick the tiny droplets of pre-cum from the very tip of his crown. I looked up into his eyes and saw desire there, as I took first the circumcised tip of his rod into my lips, stroking the length with my hands, while his hands were carressing my hair, then I quickly took his whole length deep into my throat, practically gagging as I loved the feel of controlling his throbbing member. I knew I could make him cum very soon, but wanted him inside me, so I gripped the base of his cock tightly, and smiled up at him. 

'Not yet,' I said, and let him pull off my jeans and panties, then stood before him, opening my legs wide, and spread my pussy with the fingers of both hands, showing him the wet pinkness of my eager cunt. 

'Oh Christ,' he said, 'I want you, you bitch!' 

I slowly impaled myself on his cock then, not letting his whole length into me until I was ready, and he was panting. Then, when I lowered myself completely, taking his whole considerable length inside me, I flicked my clitoris between thumb and forefinger of one hand, and cupped a breast in the other, as I rode him. But he was only human, and was not to be long delayed, suddenly thrusting his hips upwards, and giving out a sharp cry in some sort of dialect I didn't understand - or maybe it had no meaning. What I really did understand was the beautiful hot, gushing, spurting cum with which he seemed to be filling my whole body, so that I could release my own, pent-up, impatient climax, and let myself cum in a great, screaming flood, as I raked his back with my nails. 

'And they say English girls are cool and reserved,' he said, as I rolled off him, exhausted, and he lit up a joint to share with me. 

'Do they?' I said, 'Well, I suppose some are.Christ, Goran, I needed that.' 

He pulled on his spliff, and lay back, saying, 'Well, I think I'd like some more of that.' 

'Not right now,' I replied, dragging my jeans on, 'I'd better get back and get some sleep. If Jane wakes up, and decides to look in on me, I'd better be there.' 

'Jane?' he asked, 'Is she beautiful too?' 

'She's Australian,' I said, 'And yes, she's quite pretty - and blonde.' 

'Mmm, I like blondes,' he said, and I threw a cushion at him. 

He insisted on driving me back to the hostal, even though it was only a few hundred yards, and waited until I was safely inside before he drove off. 

Next morning, I didn't surface until the sun was shining through the thin curtains, and grunted when I saw that it was almost nine o'clock. Jane was in the shower, singing tunelessly - I imagine that was what had awoken me from my dreamless sleep. 

She knocked twice and poked her head around my door, shaking her long blond hair free of the shower-cap. 

'Christ, you slept well, didn't you?' she said, 'Get to bed late?' She grinned. 

I smiled back, and eased myself out of bed to take her place in the steaming shower-cubicle. It didn't take long to throw on our inevitable summer 'uniform' of jeans and tee shirt, then we went down to try for some breakfast. The owner, whose name, I learned without surprise, was Maria, soon provided hot coffee and gogosi, which were some sort of donuts, and welcome, too. 

Just as we were finishing them off, who should walk through the door but Goran, looking very dishy, I thought, in jeans and a denim jacket. 

'So this is the lovely Australian blonde?' he said, speaking Romanian to me. 

'Let me introduce Jane,' I said. 

'He's just fucking gorgeous,' said Jane, in English, after they had shaken hands, and Goran laughed uproariously. 

'And he understands English,' I informed her. She turned bright red. 

He duly changed to English. 'I think you would both be interested to know more of the legends surrounding my Radiescu family. I have just spoken with my mother on the telephone, and my parents are expecting you at the castle. Rooms are being prepared for you as we speak, so perhaps you would like to collect your belongings. I have paid Maria for your rooms. 

'B... but, you had no need... ' I began, but he cut me short. 'It was nothing.' 

Half an hour later, we were sat in his Mercedes, me in front with Goran, Jane on the back seat with our rucksacks, winding our way up narrow mountain roads, through looming pinewoods. We stopped for a snack lunch at a roadside bar, then after what seemed an interminable drive, we rounded a bend and a great grey pile of a castle, complete with ramparts, came into view. 

'Castle Radiescu,' announced Goran, and a few more twists and turns took us to a long straight cobbled driveway, leading to what was an impressive gateway. He drove right through, into a big courtyard, and parked beside another, bigger, Mercedes. The perfect gentleman, he ran around and opened the doors for us, and hefted out both our heaavy rucksacks, then motioned us towards a doorway. 

As we approached, the door was opened, not by the deformed hunchback of horror films, but by a darkly pretty girl in maid's uniform, a shortish black silk dress and little apron over black seamed hose and high-heeled sandals. To add to the image, she actually curtsied to Goran, and her heels clicked on polished granite as she led us into the castle's interior. I exchanged glances with Jane, knowing she felt as out of place as I did, in our ratty travelling gear. And this feeling was more than doubled a minute later, when a vision of elegance stepped out from a room in front of us. 

'Meet my mother,' said Goran, 'Countess Radiescu.' 

'Oh, please, Irina will suffice,' said the Countess, in a silky, deep voice. She dismissed the maid, with a 'Thank you, Katya, take their luggage to their rooms, please,' in Romanian, and the girl again curtsied prettily. I looked at the Countess. She had stepped out of a fashion magazine, wearing an ivory shot-silk suit with a pencil skirt which emphasised perfect slender legs, in silky hose, perched on gold-coloured heels, matching her silk blouse. She wore several gold bracelets and gold pendant ear-rings, her black hair tinted with a streak of pure white, and swirled up into a sophisticated style. Her make-up was perfect, too. It made me feel like an ugly duckling. 

'Anca!' she called over her shoulder, and a girl about my age, with short dark hair, wearing a blue pleated miniskirt and white blouse, emerged from a door over to one side. 

'Yes, Countess,' she said, formally. 

The Countess introduced us and told us that Anca was her secretary. 'Katya has taken their luggage to their rooms,' she told the girl, in English, which she appeared to understand perfectly. Now please show them around, and explain what we do here. You can help them get ready for dinner at the usual time.' Then she turned to Jane and myself, 'You must make yourselves very comfortable here. I hope you will enjoy a long stay, and learn much here.' 

Before I had a chance to ask her anything, she had swept off, leaving us with the secretary. Neither was Goran anywhere to be seen. We seemed to have no choice but to trot along behind Anca, her heels ringing on the polished granite - everybody except us seemed to be in high heels. 

Anca spoke perfect English, and explained that the living quarters of the thirteenth century castle consisted of a great dining hall, which she showed us, several other rooms, and some twelve bedrooms, two of which would be allotted to us. It was all very grand and awesome, but then she unlocked a door to what she described as the North Wing, and we were in another world. 

A vast hall was full of filming equipment, and filming appeared to actually be taking place in two different places, with girls posing in front of cameras, one in period costume of some sort, the other wearing nothing but a filmy negligee, as she was apparently being threatened by a huge bull of a guy, naked from the waist up, and carrying a nasty-looking whip. 

I looked a question at our guide, and she smiled. 'Quite a surprise, isn't it?' Then she explained: 'What you see here is our main business at the castle - our acting school. There is, as you may be aware, a huge market for vampire films, especially erotic ones, and other... shall we say... specialist videos. Here we train actors, and particularly actresses, to take part - and we also make films here.' 

'But all these people - you told me there were twelve bedrooms?' I could see at least a couple of dozen people in the hall. 

'Oh, they have their own quarters here in the North Wing,' she said. 

The scenes I could see unfolding before my eyes were fascinating, and I heard Jane gulp beside me, so I knew she felt the same, but Anca was leading us back into the main body of the castle. 


Ecstasy in the Castle Of Death



'I must take you to your rooms now, it is almost six, and I have to help you prepare for dinner. The Count and Countess are very formal, you know.' 

'But we have only jeans and... ' 

'Do not worry, Katya will have provided all the clothes you need.' 

I looked at Jane, whose mouth was wide open, but neither of us spoke, and allowed ourselves to be led along well-lit corridors and shown into bedrooms, one at each side of a passageway. 

Mine was incredibly spacious, with a four-poster bed, and a window overlooking vast pine forests. Anca showed me a door beside the bed which led by way of a closet to an en-suite bathroom. The closet was lined with mirrored wardrobes. She slid open a door and I saw a rack of clothes that took my breath away. There were long gowns in silk and velvet, cocktail dresses - just about everything I had never had the money to buy. 

'There is underwear in the drawers over there, and shoes underneath,' she said, pointing to the other side, 'And costume jewellery in your bedside cabinet.' I looked at the 'other side' and found a rail with skirts and blouses above the drawers she had mentioned. 

Before I could say anything, Anca was repeating her demonstration across the passageway for Jane, then she said, for both of our benefits, 'You will be expected to wear long dresses for dinner, of course.' 

'Of course,' I replied, sardonically, raising a giggle from Jane, as Anca's heels clicked off down the corridor. 

Glancing at my watch, I saw that I still had almost two hours to go before dinnertime, so I took a long soak in the shower, and washed and dried my hair, then slipped on a towelling robe I found behind the bathroom door. I decided to choose a gown, and immediately had a shock. Every one I took off the rack, apart from looking to be approximately my size, was incredibly revealing. They either had deep plunging necklines, were backless, or had some sort of cut-out or transparent panel. Another I found might have doubled as a nightie, being of a thin, pink, silky material, with spaghetti straps. I padded across the corridor and knocked on Jane's door. 

'Are the gowns in your closet like the ones in mine?' I wanted to know. 

'If you mean tarty, yes,' she said, 'I don't think there's anything I can wear there.' 

'Well,' I said, 'I suppose we've got to go along with them - we're their guests, after all.' 

I went back and finally settled on a backless, white silk halter-neck creation, very long, so that it trailed on the floor, even after I had slipped on a pair of excruciatingly high stilettos. When I looked over my shoulder into the mirror, I could just see the waistband of my panties, so I thought they rather spoiled the picture, and slipped them off, so that I was quite naked under the soft silk - a not altogether unpleasant sensation. I found a gold plated amulet for an upper arm, and a collection of matching bangles for the other wrist, and stuck in some long gold pendant ear-rings before I applied a little light make-up, and brushed out my long hair. Not half bad, Julie, I thought, then went to see how my Aussie friend was doing. 

I was amazed. She was transformed. Clad in black velvet with long sleeves, she looked quite demure, until she turned side-on to me, and I saw that the gown had a gap from armpit to floor about two inches wide, crossed by a narrow strap just below her armpit, another at her waist, and another at knee-level. She too was clearly unable to wear anything under the gown. With her long blond hair brushed into a heavy mane, she was quite stunning. 

By now it was time to go down and brave the dining room. Unaccustomed to our heels, and trying hard not to trip over our gowns, we made our way to the great hall, where quite a gathering awaited us, to my further surprise. 

The Countess was stood at one end of the table, in a shimmering gold gown, showing ample cleavage, adorned with a necklace of rubies that, if real, must have been worth tens of thousands. She was talking with Goran, dressed in an immaculate tux. At the opposite end of the huge table was the imposing figure of a man in his fifties, with greying, wavy hair, tall, with very broad shoulders, talking to Anca, dressed in a black fishnet sheath, under which she wore only a pair of scarlet panties and a matching platform bra, her nipples perched just on top of its black lace fringe. Beside the table were two more guys in evening dress, and four girls, all gorgeous, in revealing dresses. One girl's blue gown had a completely transparent bodice, revealing small, pert breasts, while another wore a grey silk backless gown with a top so loose that any movement revealed her well-formed breasts completely. 

We were introduced, first of all to Count Radiescu, who bowed gravely and kissed our hands, then to the two guys, one who was in charge of the acting school, and who was called Grigor, and the other, whose job wasn't really clear to me, and I thought his name was Ivan. The girls all seemed to be students, and we were told that they were invited to dine on a rota system. But then another woman entered, and the Countess introduced her as Danica, another assistant. Another dark beauty, she was clad in a skin-tight peach-coloured translucent sheath, which gave tantalising glimpses of apparent nakedness, and was, in fact, so tight that she could scarcely walk. 

We were directed to a prearranged seating plan, and sat down to eat. I found myself between Grigor and Danica, whilst Jane was between Goran and one of the young actresses. As the meal progressed, sexual tension seemed to rise, and while I watched Jane blushing as she was obviously being caressed by Goran under the table, I felt a hand on my knee, though not that of Grigor on my right, but the smooth touch of Danica's hand, sliding ever so gently up my thigh, through the silk of my gown. When I turned to look at her, she pushed her tongue out between rows of white teeth, just a fraction, in an unmistakeable gesture of desire. I had experimented with a room-mate at college, but never felt this kind of need. Christ! What was it about the atmosphere of this place? The deliberately provocative gowns we were all wearing got me wondering what was going on. I was soon to find out more. 

Eventually, the table was cleared, and we all stood up to take coffee from a side table. 

The Count came towards me, and swept Jane and myself to one side imperiously. 

'I believe you want to learn about the ancient legends surrounding my family?' he said in a resonant, deep voice. Without waiting for a reply, he went on, 'I have just the person to help you.' He turned away. 'Danica, come here!' 

The brunette minced over in her tight sheath. 'Yes, sir!' 

'Please spend the next couple of days with our two guests, and tell them all they want to know. You may show them the dungeons, too.' Then, as an afterthought, he said, in Romanian, 'They are very attractive girls. Maybe they can be persuaded to stay. They could well plug some of the gaps created by our wastage, no?' 

She did an awkward curtsy in her ultra-tight skirt, and turning to me, said, 'It will be a pleasure.' The Count moved away to talk to someone else. 

Danica took my hand in hers and said very quietly, in Romanian, 'As it happens, my room is two doors down from yours - the one with a butterfly picture.' 

'What did she say?' demanded Jane. 

'Oh, nothing important,' I told her, but she gave me a knowing look. 

When people started drifting off, I picked up my skirt and made for my room. Jane followed suit. I sat on my bed for a few moments to collect my thoughts. It was obvious that Danica wanted to have sex with me. Was that what I wanted? I thought so, yes - she was amazingly sexy, and more than anything, I wanted to know what the Count had meant by us 'plugging gaps created by wastage.' What wastage? What was going on? Most of all, was I really a Lesbian? Well, no, not really. So why did she attract me so much? With a sigh, I stopped thinking, and left my room. As I did so, I felt sure I saw a dark shadow slipping into Jane's room across the corridor. I grinned, and walked down the corridor to the door with the butterfly painted on it. 

Danica had been waiting for my knock. She had changed out of the skin-tight sheath, and now wore a long peach silk negligee, casually fastened with a ribbon, so that it fell open as she kissed me on each cheek, and I had a clear view of tiny breasts, hardly more than mounds, but surmounted by impressive aureola, nipples poking out at the silk of her negligee. She took my hand, without a word, and led me to her bed, identical to my own, and covered with a satin bedspread. Danica flipped open the bow that tied the ribbon, and her negligee fell open as she lay back on the bed, revealing a body so slim that her ribs were clearly visible, her skin almost translucent. Her pubes were completely clean-shaven, so that her body was almost that of an adolescent, but the knowing look on her face belied that, as she pulled me towards her, still wearing my silk gown. 

Before I could say anything, her lips were clamped upon mine, her tongue driven hard into my mouth, and I thought she tasted wonderful, hardly noticing as she released the knot of my halter-neck and had me naked down to the waist. Her attention transferred to my breasts and she actually bit my nipples - a new sensation which sent a message rippling though to my very core. Eagerly then, she pushed my gown down over my hips, so that she could trace my belly with her teasing tongue, which found its way to my clit. I could tell she had done this sort of thing before. Soon, she was parting my pussy-lips with delicate fingers, and lapping the whole length of my wet slit with that lovely tongue - and it was only then that I realised that she wore a tiny diamond stud near its tip, which was surely designed to heighten the pleasure of the receiver. 

But I have never been selfish in matters sexual, and breathed, 'Wait!' Then moved around so that I could gain access to Danica's own pussy. Apart from a brief and unsatisfactory effort in a college dormitory, I had never before touched another girl, but the Romanian girl's cunt was sopping wet, fragrant and musky, and I plunged my tongue deep within her, causing her to moan with pleasure, and do something for which I was quite unprepared. She rammed a long forefinger hard up my virgin arsehole. Without delay, I simply came! I screamed her name and she said, 'Shush, you'll wake the whole castle, darling - but I know, I know - I came too.' 

Danica lay back and smoked a cigarette, and I asked her about the 'wastage' thing. 

'Oh,' she said, 'The sort of films they make here, it's ineviatable that a few fall by the wayside.' 

I tried to quiz her further, but she wasn't going to say any more, so eventually I went back to my own room and slept for a solid nine hours. I must have been exhausted. 

Next morning, after a fairly late breakfast, we took notebooks to the library and sat with Danica, who made no reference to the night before, but started to tell us all about the centuries-old legend of the Radiescus, and how young virgins were spirited away from the villages and never seen nor heard of again. All fascinating stuff. She also told us about the demand for films that their teams were trying to meet. 

'Nobody has ever made a truly erotic film since "O" and "The Image",' she said, 'And they were tame stuff really, back then, so our teams, under the Count's management, are looking to produce something different, more realistic. 

Over lunch, when Danica had gone to attend to some other business, I asked Jane how her night had gone. She lowered her lashes, 'Okay,' she said. 

'Is that all? Just okay?' 

In a very little voice, she said, 'You'll be mad at me.' 

'Why? Because you spent the night with Goran?' 

'How did you know?' 

'I guessed, after seeing what he was up to under the table. And I've nothing to be mad about. I had a great time too!' 

With... with... ' 

'With Danica, yes,' I said, 'And don't look so shocked.' 

'I... I don't know if I'm shocked or envious.' 

At that moment Danica returned. I was still looking quizzically at Jane, when Danica said, 'The Count wants me to show you around the dungeons.' 

I took in what she had said. 'The Count wants us to see the dungeons?' 

'Yes - he was impressed by the two of you last night, and thinks you may well be what he is looking for. He needs new girls for films that are planned.' 

I began to catch on. 'And you and Goran...?' 

She had the good grace to look sheepish, but didn't reply. I knew they had been testing us out for roles. But she made no reply, simply saying, with a disparaging glance at the jeans and tees we had automatically put on, 'You really ought to dress a bit better, if you don't mind me saying so - there are lots of clothes in your rooms.' 

Before I had chance to reply she had summoned Katya and asked her, in Romanian, to go and prepare some clothes for us, while we had coffee. 

'What did she say?' asked Jane, and when I told her, she looked about to make some comment, but thought better of it. 

When I got to my room, I found a white belted broderie anglaise dress laid there for me, together with a white satin suspender belt and white lace-top stockings, and white silk panties. A pair of strappy stiletto sandals was beside the bed. When I put the dress on I had to admit it looked good, mid-thigh-length, the top dipping low at the back so I could have worn no bra even had I needed one. 

Jane came in and gave me a twirl in a navy pleated miniskirt and cream silk blouse. She too had on some very high heels, and I told her she looked great. We went to meet Danica for our tour. 

She had changed too, from the morning's severe skirt-suit, she was now wearing a very tight knitted green minidress. I sneaked a look at her as she told us about the dungeons, and would have sworn I could see her dark nipples poking out through the weave of her dress. I wondered briefly if and when I should get to have sex with her again. She caught my look, and I think I blushed. 

Danica led us down interminable corridors, down stone staircases that were tough going in our heels, and out into a cold stone-walled space, lit by torches held in sconces at intervals. 

'The first of the dungeons,' she announced, 'This is where prisoners were assembled.' 

She used a huge key to open a door. It was, I was grateful to discover, warmer beyond. But the warmth was an illusion. Again, torches lit the dungeon, but it was furnished with all kinds of instruments of torture I recognised from my medieval studies. Rings were set into the walls and ceiling, with chains hanging from them, manacles at their extemities. There was a huge wooden rack, with great rachet-wheels and pulleys to stretch the poor victim and pull him - or her - apart, there was a bed, which on closer inspection, was covered with sharp spikes, about half an inch long. I could scarcely imagine the agony that would give, but nothing compared to the 'iron maiden,' which stood in one corner, a terrible device, into which a victim was placed, and, when closed, steel spikes were driven straight into the body at various points, which could be adjusted to suit the torturer's whim. There was also a big iron brazier, with irons propped up in it, obviously once used to brand a victim. 

Racks on the walls held a fiendish variety of whips, floggers, canes and other such instruments. I looked about me with wonder. 

'Feel free to have a good look around,' said Danica. 

'There's ash in the brazier,' said Jane, 'Hasn't anybody ever cleaned it out in all these years?' 

But I was intrigued with the spike-table. It had a metallic smell which alerted my keen senses. Could that be blood? After centuries? Surely it was my overwrought imagination. I turned around to see Danica watching me, a slightly odd expression on her face. 

'Wastage?' I asked her, in Romanian, 'Is there more I should know?' 

At that moment, the door opened with a great creaking noise, and in walked none other than Count Radiescu himself. He had an impressive presence, dressed formally in a beautifully-tailored suit with a sombre tie. His shoes were polished to a glittering shine. 

'You ask about wastage,' he said, in English, with only a slight accent, and a fine, deep baritone voice, 'Yes, there are young ladies who do not come up to our standards, and must be dismissed, as you ask.' He looked at us with a penetrating gaze, first at Jane, then at myself. After what seemed like a long pause, he went on, 'We have a training regime which is extremely strict - sometimes painful - because of the type of films we make, and some... fall by the wayside. I see before me two young ladies who have the physical attributes we seek. Please let Danica know if you are prepared to undergo the training, when she has explained a little to you.' With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the door open behind him. 

We both pestered Danica for some idea of what this 'training' would consist of, as we walked back along the dim corridors. 

When she sat us down with a glass of local plum brandy, which burnt the back of my throat, she said, as if she were describing a driving lesson, 'The films we make are for a special audience - people with... er... different tastes. And realism is everything. You will therefore need to be able to satisfy us that you can withstand pain.' 

'Pain?' I asked, 'What kind of pain?' 

'Severe pain, darling,' she said, 'If you agree to stay, you will be whipped, punished to the limit of endurance. Many find they are unable to remain, and, if they have contracted to do so, this presents us with a problem... ' 

'Wastage?' I said quietly. Danica's eyelids were cast down, but she made no comment. 

After a while she said, 'Go and rest, then prepare yourselves for dinner. The Count would like to hear whether or not you will consent to be trained this evening. Now go.' 

I was surprised to find that I was tired, and stripped, then slipped between the cool sheets, and fell immediately asleep, to be awoken a couple of hours later by a knock on the door. It was Katya. 

'I have come to help you dress for dinner,' she said, curtsying sweetly. I could get used to this, I thought. 

'Would you like me to help you shower?' she asked, as I slipped on a robe and made for the bathroom, which was steamy, so that I knew Jane had already used it. 

I slipped out of my robe while Katya adjusted the jets to a comfortable temperature, but when I stepped into the cubicle and looked for the gel, she was behind me, and I realised that she too was naked, with me in the cubicle, her hands full of soapy gel. For the first time since my mother had bathed me when I was a tiny tot, I was being soaped all over by a pair of knowing, caring hands. I surrendered to her ministrations, letting her hands play over my breasts, down across my flat stomach, and linger around my crack, drawing repeated gasps from me as she eased my pussy lips apart, and drew her long-nailed fingers the length of my slit, just easing ever so slightly into the very portals of my anus. I came, right there in the shower, my knees weakening with the force of my climax. 

'Do I please Mistress Julie?' asked Katya. She knew she had, and I wondered if she had done the same for Jane. Recovering a little, I let her soap me all over, rinse me off with delicious jets of hot water, and wrap me in a warm, fluffy towel. 

Whilst I dried my hair, Katya rattled around in my closet, sorting through gowns, and when I returned to my bedroom, she had laid out what she had selected. 

'I'll need bra and panties with that!' I said, as I picked up the whisper-thin, long white transparent gown. 

She handed me two tiny shreds of underwear. The bra was an exquisite white lace half-bra, which was obviously designed to leave my nipples free, whilst the tiny panties were almost as transparent as the gown, and had red ribbon bow-ties at each side. When I slipped the loose-fitting gown over my head, it fell with a silky swish to the floor. It had long, wide sleeves, was deeply cut at the back, but the plain front allowed my barely-covered breasts to be seen clearly. I found that the ribbon-ties on the panties coincided with lace-trimmed slits at my flanks, so that the bows could be flipped open without even lifting the skirt. 




Ecstasy in the Castle Of Death



'You look incredibly sexy, Mistress Julie,' said Katya, 'If you don't mind, I'll go and attend to Mistress Jane.' 

I sat and fiddled around with ear-rings and make-up, then heard Jane open my door. I turned to see her looking fantastic, in a shimmering silver backless gown. Sleeveless, its bodice was so loose that when she bent over to see my ear-rings, her lovely breasts were completely uncovered. 

'Oh, Julie, I feel so naked,' she said, unnecessarily. 

'I think it's intended that we both get fucked tonight, darling,' I said, 'And I'm sure you had a preliminary taste in the shower.' 

'And you didn't? Christ, I could hear you moaning.' 

'Touché!' I replied. 

We went down to the great dining hall, holding our skirts up so that we didn't trip and make an undignified entrance. 

As we entered, hand-in-hand, the Count turned to see us, elegant in tuxedo. 

'Ah, our lovely English-speaking guests! I trust we are treating you well, ladies?' 

'Yes, thank you, sir,' I said, doing my best to do a little curtsy. 

'I know you came to do a little research,' he said, 'But I think Danica has hinted at some possibilities we see for you both, and if you prove able to act in our films, your English would be a great asset.' 

'I wonder if they scream in English?' I heard someone mutter, and turned to see a raven-haired beauty dressed in a clinging black silk sheath, regarding me frankly. I smiled at her, but her expression was unchanged. Not for the first time, I wondered what we might be getting into. 

The Count clapped his hands and we all took our places for dinner. Again, I was placed next to Danica, and her hand was soon exploring my thigh. This time it had more success, finding the ribbon of my panties, and quickly flipping the bow undone. Almost without thinking, I responded by tugging open the ribbon at the other side, then slightly raised my buttocks so that Danica could pull the flimsy panties through the slit. Without so much as a glance at me, her fingers found their way through the lace-fringed slit in my dress where the bow had been, and I parted my legs just a little, trying hard not to gasp too obviously as her probing fingers found my growing, hardening clitoris. By then I was soaking wet, and she slid three expert fingers deep, deep into my cunt. 

I have to confess that there have been times when I have faked orgasms, but trying to conceal one was altogether more difficult - I somehow managed to feign a coughing-fit. 

When it was time to rise from the table, I realised to my acute embarrassment that my little trimmed sliver of pubic hair was clearly visible through my transparent gown, as, of course, were my nipples, perched on top of the platform-bra. Worse still, the Countess drew attention to the fact almost immediately, saying, 'Before we commence training, we shall need to get rid of that unsightly hair, my dear.' I thought half the world was listening, but nobody actually seemed to take much notice. 

We stood around with drinks for a short while, during which I fllt terribly self-conscious about my near-nakedness, but then Danica came and caught Jane and I together, saying, 'The Countess wishes to speak with you in her office. Please follow me.' We obeyed, like sheep, and found the Countess sitting in an armchair, long legs elegantly crossed under her Versacce gown, her hair dressed in an elaborate style, smoking a long thin cigarette in a gold holder. She didn't invite us to sit. 

'If you indeed wish to be trained, as Danica seems to think, you must sign the consent forms on the table over there,' - she nodded towards a gilt-trimmed table with papers on top - 'Then tomorrow you will be taken to the training centre, where you will remain until you are deemed to be prepared to act in our films - is that clear?' 

'Yes, Madam,' I answered, and Jane mumbled her assent too. 

'Good, then sign, and go and have a good night's sleep.' She smiled briefly then, as we both signed the forms without really knowing what we were letting ourselves in for. I reasoned that anywhere so obviously oppulent couldn't be all bad. 

Next morning, at what seemed a very early hour, Katya knocked and came in with coffee and rolls. Fifteen minutes later she was back, and Jane and I were told to follow her, wearing nothing more than our bathrobes and mules, down the long, stone corridors to what we now knew were the film studios. But she led us past the entrance we had used before, to big, rather forbidding doorway, where she rang a bell. The door was opened by a woman we had never seen before, tall and slim, with short black hair, wearing a blue corset which looked cruelly tight, and a matching knee-length satin skirt, also extremely tight. Her needle heels rang on the stone floor as she led us into a big room. Katya had disappeared, obviously having carried out her duty. I found that I was shivering, but it wasn't cold. 

I took in the surroundings. On my left the whole wall was lined with mirrors, against which were chairs which looked like hairdressers,' and behind them were two more chairs with stirrups like those in an obstetrician's. Over on the right a big walk-in bath steamed pleasantly, then there were more mirrors, drawers and cupboards. 

The tall woman turned to face us, and I saw that she was older than I had thought - maybe in her early forties - but very sexy. 

'My name is Nadya, but you will address me, during your training, as "Mistress Nadya," and obey my instructions,' she looked hard at us, 'Do you have questions?' 

We both shook our heads. She clicked her fingers and two very attractive girls appeared, both wearing only stockings, heels and garter-belts. 

'Ilinca and Sorina,' Nadya addressed them, in rapid Romanian, 'You will prepare Jane and Julie, please, they are to be trained.' She switched to English, 'The girls are also in training, as you may see.' She took the taller, darker-haired of the two, Ilinca, by the hand, and spun her around so that we could see her back, which was a mass of red welts - she had obviously been flogged cruelly in the recent past. 

Before we had time to give this any thought, however, we had been divested of our robes, and led one by each girl, to the bath, where we were soaped and washed gently from head to foot in water at perfect temperature. 

'I do so like to be pampered,' I whispered to Jane. But her eyes were wide when she turned to look at me. 'But do you like the idea of being whipped like... like... her?' She pointed at Ilinca. 

'I really don't know,' I replied. Call me weird if you will, but I'd long had fantasies about being tied to a stake and whipped. Now I'd seen the results at first hand, it was true, I wasn't sure. 

After we had been towelled off we were led not to the hairdressing chairs, but the chairs with stirrups, where the first stirrings of fear came to me when my ankles were strapped into the stirrups. The two girls, giggling, then produced foam and razors, and we were systematically depilated, every vestige of hair removed from our pussies, right up into the cracks of our bottoms. After smoothing cream into the newly-shaved area, and Sorina seemed to enjoy working her fingers around my pussy and anus, both girls left, and we waited a few minutes. 

'What now?' said Jane, but before I had time to answer, a white-coated plump woman of around fifty came in carrying a case, which she put on a table between us, and opened, showing a display of gleaming stainless steel instruments. She said not a word, but turned straight to me, and stepped between my legs, then bent to study my newly-shaven crack. As she did so, she was slipping on surgical gloves. I looked down apprehensively as she felt around the top end of my slit, and located my clitoris, which seemed to be shrivelled with fear. 

'Relax,' she said in Romanian, and I felt the expertise of her fingers working some kind of magic as my clit actually atarted to respond to her touch. 

'I find this helps,' she said, and produced a slim vibrator, which she slid gently into my cunt, and turned the knurled knob to set it buzzing. It helped, a lot! 

In no time at all, she had my clit between thumb and forefinger and I felt a sudden sharp, agonising pain as her piercing tool penetrated my most sensitive organ. I think I came, there and then, and practically blacked out with the pain - or was it pleasure? But when she showed me her handiwork with a hand-mirror, my clitoris was decorated with a silver ring just less than an inch in diameter. 

Jane was trembling like a leaf before the woman approached her, but, like me, she was soon set at rest. Unlike me, though, her clit wasn't big enough to take a piercing and it was her protective hood that bore the ring. 

After this, the woman left, and we were alone for a while, until Ilinca and Sorina came and led us, still naked, to the hairdressing chairs, where we were further pampered, our hair groomed, make-up expertly done, and long false nails fitted. Truth to tell, it wasn't an unpleasant sensation at all, being tended like this - the temperature was pleasant, and the girls' hands felt knowing and smooth, at least on my skin. 

When they had finished, Nadya reappeared, with small piles which she set beside each of us. They consisted of a pair of long white stockings, a minimal white satin garter belt, and a pair of shoes. The shoes were strappy stilettos, with very high metal heels. The girls helped us on with them, and Nadya came and stood between us, speaking careful, accented English. 

'You will wear these clothes and nothing else all day while you are in the training centre, except for the collar and bracelets I am going to put on you. At night, you will sleep naked, but your wrists will be chained to the bed. Do you understand?' 

'Yes, but why?' I said. 

'First, you will address me as Miss Nadya. Second, you will not question the rules, but as you do, it is to prevent you from pleasuring yourself at night. That, you will only do when we wish.' She paused, then clicked her fingers, so that one of the girls handed her two bejewelled silver collars, which she clipped around our necks. I noticed that each seemed to fit perfectly, and had a thick metal ring set into it, at the front. Again Nadya held out her hand and was passed matching bracelets, wide, but quite pretty, with some sort of gems set into their surfaces, and again with stout rings projecting from them. 

'Good,' she said, as if satisfied with what had been done to us, 'You may stand up now.' 

When we were on our feet, Nadya clipped a chain leash onto each of our collars, and handed the other ends to Ilinca and Sorina. She then led them out, her paces restricted by the tightness of her skirt, and we were obliged to follow. No word was spoken, as we left by a door opposite to the one we had entered by. Glancing at my friend being led out by Sorina, I couldn't help finding the sight incredibly erotic - she looked beautiful, her small, firm breasts jutting proudly, naked, as she walked, the sheer height of her heels making her sway provocatively. 

Fascinated, though, I watched Ilinca's back, as she led me, the livid red wheals standing out against her pale flesh. That should have made me scared, but, for some reason I didn't want to think about, I found the whole scenario exciting beyond belief, and felt a wetness between my legs as I followed the Romanian girl along another stone corridor. We emerged into what looked like a facsimile of the dungeon we had been shown in the main body of the castle, except that there was a good deal of filming equipment, with gantry and microphones, and some sophisticated-looking lighting apparatus. 

Nadya turned to face us, 'You will have noted that, although Ilinca has been whipped, Sorina has as yet not had that pleasure.' She smiled nastily. 'The first part of your training, my dear Jane, will be to rectify that omission.' Jane looked quite horrified as she took in what Nadya was saying. 'You mean... I have to... whip her? But I couldn't do that, I just couldn't!' 

'You can, and you will, or your own fate will be very much more harsh, I can promise you.' Nadya turned to me, 'Come, Julie, I will show you how she is to be chained.' She unclipped the leash Ilinca had held from me, and I followed her across to a corner of the studio/dungeon. 

A thick metal chain hung from a beam, with a snap-link at its end. 

'Now,' she said, Take Sorina's wrist-cuffs, and clip them to the link. You will have to reach high.' I did, indeed have to stand on tip-toe to accomplish the feat, even though Sorina was slightly shorter than I was. When I had finished, she was only just able to touch the floor with her feet, and then only because of her high heeled platform shoes. 

I felt Nadya's musky, perfumed presence, close beside me, when she had handed a slender, long-handled, braided leather whip to Jane, who looked aghast. 

Sorina, on the other hand looked quite serene, almost contemptuous, as she looked at Jane, as if daring her to use the instrument. 

'Sometimes we have the victim's legs separated with what we call a spreader-bar, but I want you to concentrate on her back, my dear. Maybe a few strokes on her buttocks and upper thighs, but mainly her back, do you understand?' 

Jane nodded dumbly. 

'Then you may begin,' said Nadya, and Jane gave a feeble waft of the whip, just kissing the girl's soft back. 

'And just what do you call that?' said Nadya, 'I want her whipped, do you hear!' 

Jane drew back her arm and her next stroke was more positive, making an audible 'crack' as it struck Sorina just below the shoulder blades, but Nadya was not satisfied, and, stepping forward, struck Jane a hard, stinging slap across the face with the flat of her hand, shouting, 'Now whip her, you cunt. I want to see red welts from each stroke. If not, your own first whipping will be so much the worse, I promise you!' 

Jane now knowing she had no option, lashed Sorina viciously, the snaking thong curling around the girl's narrow waist, and drawing a gasp from her as it drew a vivid red line on her pale flesh. 

I sensed that, as the lash fell ever more cruelly on Sorina's naked back, Nadya had moved around behind me, and suddenly her hands were cupping my breasts, the blood-red nails scratching at sensitive flesh, her thumb and forefinger tugging at my hardening nipples. A gasp escaped my lips and I heard a low chuckle behind me, as her body pressed against mine, her satin skirt an erotic touch against my naked buttocks. As Jane warmed to her task, and seemed to be taking pleasure from inflicting pain on Sorina, whose back was quickly becoming liberally striped, I felt Nadya's hand trace down, down over my belly, and tug at the ring in my clit, still very sore so soon after the piercing. I let out an involuntary little scream, but the fingers were already spreading my pussy apart, and I parted my legs in response, feeling the welcome invasion into my hot,wet cunt. My eyes were rivetted on the punishment being meted out before me, and I really think at that moment I envied Sorina, and knew that I should not rest until it was my own turn to be whipped. My orgasm came almost instantly, my legs turning to jelly, then Nadya pushed me away disdainfully. 

'You are a real slut,' she said, then turned to Jane and told her to desist and told Ilinca to take down her friend, and tend her wounds. When I looked at Jane's face, I saw that it bore an expression of shame, mixed with something else I couldn't interpret. I went and took her hand. It was shaking. 

'I actually enjoyed that,' she said in a tiny voice, looking down at her feet, 'I wanted to hurt her!' I didn't know what to say - I doubted I'd enjoy doing the whipping, but I knew that I was looking forward to the moment when I was writhing under the lash myself. 

Leashes were again clipped to our collars and Jane and I were both led from the room by Nadya, and into some sort of a dining room, where I smelt food, and realised I was hungry, it had been a long time since breakfast. 

There was a long table, and sat at it already were three extremely attractive girls, all dressed as we were, and I saw immediately that the two whose backs were towards me had been flogged, red stripes showing against their pale skin. All the girls stopped eating and turned to greet us, but I didn't recognise the language they spoke. 

'These are our Czech and Hungarian girls,' Nadya told me, and they are about to complete their training.' She made no effort to introduce them by name, but clicked her fingers, and they all left the table, seeming to have difficulty getting up from their chairs, but leaving their plates still with food on them, and scurried off out. 

I saw why they had found it awkward to get up. Each chair was equipped with a long, polished wooden dildo, projecting at an angle from the junction of the seat and the back of the chair. There was no doubt, from its angle, that it was an anal device, and I shuddered to think how such a large object would penetrate my anus, as Nadya signalled that we were to take our places on two of the chairs, and a little Asian-looking girl came in and replaced the plates of food with new ones. 

Starting well forward, I eased my way ever so gently onto the dildo, letting it penetrate me slowly and smoothly, distending my anus and causing me to moan and squirm as the unyielding instrument forged past my delicate sphincter. Once I was fully impaled I didn't know how I could possibly concern myself with food, but I was hungry, nonetheless, and had to eat something, even though every slight movement to reach for a utensil or whatever brought a new, erotic sensation. Across the table, I saw Jane's face, distorted in something that may have been pain, or ecstasy? 

I stopped eating for a moment, and almost immediately felt a stinging pain between my shoulder blades. Glancing around, I saw that Nadya was wielding a loop of what looked like electrical flex. 

'You must eat!' she said. I did as she told me. When our plates were clean, we were permitted to leave the table. As I pulled off the dildo, I left it behind with an audible 'plop.' I felt as if I had been severed in two. 

Nadya signalld for Ilinca and the freshly-wounded Sorina to clip our leashes in place and lead us back out to the 'hairdressing salon' where we had been pierced and made up such a short while ago. Once again placed in chairs, stripped of our stockings, our ankles in stirrups, I wondered what they had in store for us. I didn't have long to think, as the two girls produced long plastic tubes, which they connected to fawcets placed above each chair, which I hadn't previously noticed. Then Ilinca shoved the nozzle at the other end of my tube unceremoniously up my arsehole. I was to have my very first enema! 

The sensation was like nothing I had ever known, as my whole body seemed to be filled with warm soapy fluid, and when Ilinca, giggling, pulled out the tube, and held a bowl between my legs, I felt as if I was having an all-time record shit, with all the pleasure that goes with that. I glanced at Jane, and her pretty face registered pure ecstasy. I could scarcely believe the feeling of well-being that came afterwards, as the girls led us once again to the bath and bathed us, then laid us on tables and massaged us both with scented oils. 

Nadya then appeared and told us to put on our 'uniforms' of suspender-belts, stockings and heels, then we had our leashes clipped on, and were led to a corner of the studio, where two padded 'horses' awaited us. They were roughly trianglar, but with flattened tops, body-width, with big steel rings set near their bases at each end. Before I had the chance to take in any detail, a black blindfold was tied around my head. I could see absolutely nothing, as I was manoeuvred into place, my ankles clipped to the rings at one side of the 'horse' then I felt myself shoved over the top, so that the blood rushed to my head, and my outstretched arms were secured by the wrists to the rings below. It was designed so that my buttocks were presented at the highest point. Then I felt something unexpected. My knees were forced apart by two brackets I hadn't seen, at the sides of the 'horse,' accompanied by a rachet-like sound. As my knees were parted, my slit widened, and became really exposed. I felt hands, then, gently stroking my arse-crack, feeling my pussy too, and bringing the familiar feeling of arousal, despite the fear of the unknown.