Graveston’s torso surged into her crotch, his legs and arms flexing like steel springs as blazing lust rioted with torches through his veins. The feeble glimmer from the lantern dangling above them glowed against their perspiration, transmuting their naked flesh into gold. Gasps, moans and panting hung in the air like ornaments on a Yuletide tree.
“N-N-Y-E-AUGH! ARG-G-GUAH!” his head snapped back, his roar almost pried his tongue from his mouth. “YA-A-AUGH!” The sweat flung from his raging torso and showered down on Yeva’s chained and helpless body, mixing with her dewy perspiration. The droplets danced and jittered on her naked flesh as her glowing belly spasmed in orgasmic shudders.
A third voice joined the chorus of savage, primate consummation. From the dim, fetid lair of the farthest cell, the ponderous hairy body rocked on its haunches and wailed. The misshapen head flung back, its tear-flooded eyes narrowed as it gazed into the darkness of the ceiling. The stubby grasp of its massive, misshapen paws cradled the coarse weapon of violation protruding from his crotch, its throbbing, distended veins burning with fevered lust. Caged, imprisoned, forlorn, its hopes shattered, the broad, extended gland of penetration was denied its prey. The grotesque body’s massive head drooped forward. Splattering, bitter tears mired the bulbous purple tip of its genitals while a dim, brutish hunger threaded through its patchwork brain. When? When?
***
“We will camp here, by the stream,” Karel said. He vaulted from the wagon seat and paced out the area, pointing out the grassy expanse of the meadow where each Gypsy wagon would stay.
“Milos! It’s too close to the forest,” Hedy said.
“Stop scowling!” Milos replied. “Why do you choose to disagree with everything we say?”
“What a fine husband you are!” She spat out. “Look at the trouble we are in.” She jabbed her finger to the northwest. “There’s that hideous castle just two miles away, roosting on that bleak cliff by the sea like a hunchback. You heard what the villagers called it when we went into town to buy food, ‘Darklair’! And you say nothing to that arrogant Prince of Gypsies.”
“Karel? Of all the council of princes, he’s the best man to lead us. It was not his fault the circus ran away.”
“Ach! You’re not a man. Why do I let you into my bed?”
“Our bed.”
“Just wait until that evil Baron Reznik comes creeping out of the forest at midnight. You will find me in the morning, my neck bitten and my body as cold as your heart.”
“Hedy!” Karel strode toward their wagon. “Shut up! Your shrill voice will carry to the far end of this land. We must not reveal any secrets until we are sure who lives in that castle.”
“Must I die because you are too cowardly to warn the people?”
“Milos,” Karel said, “put your wife back in your wagon and then help us set up our camp.”
“Milos! Get your hands off me,” she shrieked. “I’m going inside. I wouldn’t stay out here another minute to lift a finger of help for Karel. We’ll all die! You’ll see. When we’re all dead, then you’ll be sorry!”
Karel watched her clamber up the wagon steps and slam the painted door. “You should have married Varina, friend. She’s warm and loving; not like your wife.”
“Yes, I wish I had.” He sighed. “I wish Hedy would choke to death on her nauseous cooking.”
“You will always find a sympathetic bed waiting for you in Varina’s wagon.”
“How can you be so certain?”
Karel gave him a sly smile in reply. “Let’s get to work.”
***
Two hours after midnight the sliver-thin crescent moon lifted in the east, its lower horn snagging in the scrub trees on the eastern hills. In a few days it would vanish from the night sky and be reborn as the new moon in the evening twilight. Its feeble glow could not illuminate the walls and towers of Darklair castle. Only a hint and suggestion of its frowning bulk could have been seen, but there was no one foolish enough to be outside at this hour of darkness.
The small oaken doorway swung open in the hollow cut into the rock and a figure emerged from the cellar. The crouched figure swung right and left, its gleaming eyes searching. Lifting the head, the figure tested the wind for scent of life, then trotted down the narrow twisting trail towards the stream, and the Gypsy camp.
Stasio bolted upright in bed.
“What is wrong, darling?” Varina mumbled. One of her eyes pried half-way open.
“I heard something, or thought I did.”
She yawned. “I don’t hear anything.”
“It’s gone now. But I did hear it.”
“It was a dream, my love.” She slithered her hand under the covers and caressed his cock. “Stasio, as long as we are awake, we should make good use of this opportunity.” She tugged his body on top of her, spreading her legs into their most beautiful position. Her breasts lifted their quivering twin cones up to the perfection of their dark ruby nipples; as magnificent, colossal, and breathtaking as the Egyptian pyramids. Varina arched her back, pressing them against Stasio’s barrel-huge chest.
“You wicked little seductress,” he whispered in her ear. “Didn’t your mother warn you that the Baron punishes naughty little Gypsies like you. He’d find a toothsome delight in your neck.” His lips sucked in a fold of skin on her neck. His teeth trapped it and slowly increased their pressure, savoring the tenderness. Stasio wiggled his jaw, rolling her skin as he bit.
“Ow! That hurts,” she cried. “Maybe I’ll just nibble on your naughty cock, then we’ll be even.” Her hands captured his manhood, guiding it toward her nook of Venus. “...After you exercise it, of course,” she said in a throaty whisper. Her head tilted back. Her exquisite mouth sucked in a long, transcendent breath as he entered her. “Oh, Stasio, your big cock feels so wonderful. Hug me, Stasio. Crush me in your strong arms until I can’t breathe. UNGH! AH!”
“She’s at it again,” Katarina hissed in Karel’s ear.
“Um? What?”
“Listen! Can’t you hear? That shameless creature!”
Between the monotonous chirps of crickets, fainter than the burbling stream, on the edge of hearing, the rhythmic song of Varina’s wagon springs whispered their lascivious gossip:
Creak-squeak! Creak-squeak! creak squeak...!
A hundred paces away, just inside the edge of the forest, a hunched figure peered out from behind a twisted oak. The eyes gleamed with anticipation. He licked his dry, hungry lips and waited for the creaking wagon to become quiet—for the lovers to fall asleep in each other’s arms.
Then...Then my hunger will be glutted. The long wait is over...!
“What’s wrong with Tabor?” Stasio asked, shading his eyes from the brilliant sunrise. He watched the horse stagger as it cropped the lush grass in the pasture.
“I don’t know,” Karel said, “but I don’t like it.”
The two men strode through the dew-spangled meadow grass to the horse.
“My God! Look at this!” Stasio gazed wide-eyed at the Tabor’s neck. “A wound, still oozing blood.”
Karel bent and squinted at the injury. “No, two wounds—puncture wounds, a little more than an inch apart. Something was in our camp last night.”
Stasio blanched, his white face staring at the twin punctures. “No, Karel, not something—someONE!”
Chapter Three
From Soup To Sex
“Look, there’s the Gypsies, over there.” Addy leaned out through the window of the carriage, pointing at the brightly painted wagons clustered at the edge of the stream. “Halloo!” she cried, waving her arm at the figures around the supper campfire.
The dark-haired woman next to her frowned, her brown eyes gleaming at her niece. “Addy, please sit down and act like a lady.”
“Oh, Aunt Caroline, I’m sure that man waving back is Stasio. Isn’t he handsome!”
“Auntie is right,” Lissa said. “Gypsies don’t like pushy women. They prefer girls who are submissive as well as sexy.”
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“I wonder how big his cock is,” Addy continued, her eyes sparkling.
“Are you going to write his measurements in your diary, too?” The mustached, middle-aged man asked.
“Why, Uncle Garrick, whatever do you mean?” Addy feigned innocence under her long, lush eyelashes.
“I’ve seen your diary, my dear. You are very careless about leaving it lying around where anyone can read it.”
“It’s never been out of my bedroom. Have you been trespassing and going through my lacy under things?”
“You should see the pictures she draws in it,” he said to the others. “Her lovers’ favorite fucking positions, sketches and measurements of their cocks...”
“Uncle!”
“Really quite good artwork, dear. You have been granted two talents. Maybe you could do some paintings of me fucking all the new girls. I’d love to hang them in my bedroom.”
“There’s the castle,” Lamont said as they rounded the northeast edge of the forest. He pointed at the rocky promontory rising at the edge of the sea off to their left. “Look at that glowering stack of stones. Built hundreds of years ago, and still standing.”
“Yes, cousin,” Richard replied. “I think we all see it as well as you do.”
“Wonder how many rooms it has,” Lamont mumbled.
“I’m sure you will be counting the bedrooms first,” Caroline said.
“Are there really jail cells in the cellar?” Lissa asked.
“Ask the Baron for a guided tour,” Lamont replied with a laugh. “You’ll be hinting to spend the night in one.”
“But not alone,” Garrick added with a chuckle.
“I wonder how many pretty girls were imprisoned there and force-fucked by the guards,” she murmured.
“Maybe there’s a guidebook listing their names and how many times they were abused,” Garrick said.
“I wish the lot of you would stop chattering on so,” Caroline snapped.
“Making you horny?” Garrick replied with a smirk.
“Shut up, brother!” Caroline scowled and slipped her hand between her thighs when Garrick looked away.
Blandford, their carriage driver, guided the horses up the half-circle drive to the front entrance of the Baron’s castle. Graveston, the baron’s butler, hurried down the dark gray stone steps and opened the carriage door. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Castle Machival, the home of Baron Vartan Reznik.” He smiled and bowed, leering at the ladies’ low-cut gowns.
“Thank you, Graveston,” Richard replied.
The butler led the way up the steps, across the oak-planked drawbridge and into the forecourt.
Off to the left in the darkness, a short, stocky muscular man turned the vertical wheel winding up the chain that lifted the drawbridge. Perspiration beaded on his bald head. He did not turn to look at the guests.
“The Baron values his privacy,” Graveston said as they glanced back at the closing arch.
A short distance ahead a wide flight of flagstone steps led up to a huge wooden door, studded with close-set, pointed iron spikes. “The Baron also respects the heritage of this castle, and is taking pains to restore it to its fullest medieval glory.”
“Indeed,” Garrick said. He winced as his fingertip tested the sharpness of one spike’s outward-jutting point.
“Do be careful, please,” Graveston said, lifting an admonishing finger. “This castle has many devices that protect its occupants from the inquisitive. Some of them are lethal, and invisible until it is too late.”
The door swung open and revealed Baron Vartan Reznik standing in the center of the foyer, smiling and nodding. His guests’ eyes were drawn immediately to the two lovely young girls standing on each side of him. They wore nothing much more than a lacy white maid’s cap and a topless black leather corset, laced excruciatingly tight. The pressure lifted and exaggerated the lush swell of their naked breasts. Both wore gleaming patent-leather collars sporting a large silver ring dangling between the petite protuberances of their collarbones. A short, black satin skirt completed their uniform. Their bare feet shifted nervously on the cool marble of the floor as they dipped their heads, blushing at the lewd exposure of their twin charms.
“How delightful, Baron Reznik,” Garrick said with his expansive grin.
“Thank you, Sir Garrick,” the Baron said. But, please—call me Vartan. We are to be neighbors, and I covet the friendship of your family.”
“Thank you, indeed, Vartan,” Caroline added. “I see we enjoy the same things and value the incomparable beauty of exposed flesh.”
“I have my own sources of information,” Vartan said, shaking Richard’s hand, “and I knew what would please you.”
“I’m sure we will get along splendidly,” Richard replied.
“Are these our guests, darling?” A tall, lean woman skimmed into the room, her feet concealed by the long, black gown dragging its hem on the polished floor. The gown’s collar opening plunged to her navel, suggesting easy access to her cone-shaped breasts.
His eyes glowed as he looked at her “Yes, my dear.” He turned back to the Caileans. “My personal secretary, and the love of my life, Yeva.”
“Well,” she cooed, shaking each hand in turn, “do let us retire to the dining room. I’m sure our guests are as famished as I am.” She turned and led the way through the door and down the stone-arched hallway to the candle-lit room. A huge dining table was centered under the wood-beamed ceiling arching high overhead. A seething fire crackled in the maw of a majestic fireplace, driving the chill from the room. Gothic-arched, stained glass windows repelled the deepening darkness outside, reflecting the cheering candlelight and dancing flames.
“You’ve done wonders with this place,” Caroline said. “I was here a few years ago, and this room was a ruin. However did you restore it in one short week?”
“The restoration began a year ago,” Vartan replied. “The workmen and materials came by sea, and they were ordered not to reveal themselves.”
“But still,” she continued, “to accomplish all this,” she gestured at the splendor around them, “is wonderful.”
“Thank you, Caroline—may I call you that?”
She nodded and he continued, “All it took was money, and magic—lots of both, and heavy on the magic.” He beamed, recklessly revealing his pointed canine teeth. Addy gasped, then hid her mouth behind her hand.
“I must apologize if I have startled any of you,” he said quickly. “A family oddity, our sharp incisors. Only a genetic feature, like the ‘Hohenzeren lip’ sported by the ruling family of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire.”
“Of course,” Richard said with a smile. “None of us are superstitious.”
A third maid entered the dining room through a different door. She wore only a cap and white bib apron that did little to hide her abundant breasts. The bottom lace hem reached only a few inches lower than her pubic hair and exposed the sides of her thighs and silken perfection of her rounded buttocks. A loosely tied ribbon of the apron strings fell along their crack. Her pale blue eyes kept their gaze fastened on her wringing hands. “Dinner is served, Sir,” she said in a blushing whisper.
Graveston entered behind her and stood against the wall opposite the fireplace, silently watching her every move.
The guests sat down in the dark wooden chairs. “Your maids are exquisite!” Garrick gasped. Where did you find them?”
“These you have seen, we brought with us,” Yeva answered as she and the Baron sat down at each end of the table. “It takes months to train a maid properly,” she continued. “We have taken on three local girls, but they serve only in the morning and afternoon. They have left to go to their homes for the night.”
“Yes,” Vartan said, “we haven’t exposed them to this, yet.” He slipped his hand under the maid’s apron bib and fondled her undefended breast. “But their time will come.”
“Oh, do feel free to touch our girls in any way you wish,” Yeva said. “Vartan and I, well—we
enjoy seeing our guests sport with the maids.” Her smile spread as she leaned toward Garrick, her firm breasts a homing beacon for his hands, “And especially ourselves.” Her smile widened, exposing her pirouetting tongue, toe dancing around her crimson lips.
The two corseted maids joined the aproned one in serving the soup course. Garrick helped himself to a full feel of her breasts as the leather-corseted maid served his dish. She ladled the soup without pause or objection, proving the thoroughness of her training and the severity of the discipline inflicted on her. Graveston gave them silent orders and criticism with a glint of his eye, a scowl, or a gesture.
“Tell us about Voldavia, Baron Vartan,” Caroline said. “We get so little news about what is really happening there.”
Vartan sighed and paused his spoon in mid-air. “There is much news, but mostly sad. The people will soon be at the throats of their neighbors. So many people squabbling. Serbia is looking to their powerful friend, Russia, to help them shake off the yoke of their Austrian-Hungarian masters.”
Richard scowled. “But that would mean war, wouldn’t it, Vartan?”
“Yes, it will be war, I’m certain of it. Many fine homes and noble families will be destroyed. The beauty of my country will perish in the flames and the shells of the cannons.”
The room became silent a moment, then Lissa spoke. “Is that why you left Voldavia, Baron?”
“Partly, but there was other, more pressing, unpleasantness. The peasants hate us aristocrats, and are arming themselves. Some hearts are seething with hatred. There is a very real danger of assassination. I chose exile rather than execution.”
“And lust, rather than loneliness?” Garrick asked with a wink.
“Exactly,” Vartan replied. “Now, let us speak of happy things. After dessert our maids will shower you with their intimate attentions in the bedrooms upstairs. I’m sure they will satisfy all of you. All bedrooms are equipped with the latest in erotic restraints. And if any of you choose to shackle, or be shackled, by Yeva or myself, we are at your disposal.”
Lust Lurks at Dark Lair Page 3