The following story was inspired by a book found under suspicious circumstances, but denied to be true by the woman who apparently wrote it:
...My friends used to know me as a bookworm, the kind of woman who would rather be in a library or some other place where dusty books were found. I played the part perfectly, thick glasses that I really needed, and I dressed to conceal the body that no serious book collector should have. I had even found a way to make a good living with books, very old books that people of means still traded in for their personal libraries. It is this lust for dusty books and the words contained inside them that led to my present position, and that could one day set me free...
...I had heard of a fellow collector that I had known, and had done some business with, that had passed on at the ripe old age of ninety six years. As I had some knowledge of some of his collection, as it turns out only a small portion of it, I was offered the job of helping his estate place a value, and possibly the ability to broker his collection. It was a high honor to be offered this, and I was sure at the time some of the reason was to keep the local collectors from raiding the estate of it's most valuable pieces. It would require a trip and extended stay in England, not exactly a hardship for me, and I was even offered a room in the old fellows place as he wasn't in need of it anymore.
I had done business with the old gentleman before as I stated, but I had never been to his house, and after a long flight and expensive taxi ride into the countryside I just wanted to present my letter of introduction and get some rest. Even in my jet lagged state though, I was sure the fellow in the cute old looking cab was mistaken when we drove to the address I gave him. It was a set of stone pillars that looked completely covered in ivy, as were the walls that apparently went on as far as the eye could see. I was fully awake at that moment, all thoughts of sleep forgotten as the heavy iron gate, also covered with ivy, opened just far enough to have a man step between them offering no view of what was hidden behind. The young man opened my door for me as the driver also got out to deposit my bags from the boot and leave as quickly as possible. I found that the young man was the great grandson of the old Count, a title that he never used with me when we spoke.
When I was escorted to the other side of the old gate I was overcome with the massive stone building that looked for all the world like a castle. I had been in country before, and even toured some of the more famous castles, as I was fascinated with the old wealth and power they represented. Henry, my host and the old Counts great grandson was charming and it appeared not the least bit surprised that I wasn't an old bookworm. As he loaded my bags into his Jag and we drove to the main house, after I attempted to get into the right side of his fine car by mistake, I couldn't help but to notice his tension increase as we neared the massive stone house. Once inside, Henry and I were served scones and tea and he explained that his plans for the old house entailed converting the old place into a kind of museum. He told me he doubted the old Count would have approved, but that selling some of his book collection and using the proceeds to convert the main house was the only way to honor the old man's wishes to keep the house in the family. He also told me the house was believed to be haunted, and if I accepted his offer to stay there I would be alone as none of the help will be staying on with the old Count gone, especially at night. I thought that was a shame as the scones were especially good. I also told him that his generous offer of room and board was appreciated, and I would gladly stay as I didn't believe in ghosts. "Really" he said, in that way that only an Englishman can, complete with raised eyebrows. Henry looked at me after that with an expression that told me he expected I might change my mind!
Henry gave me a tour of the old house, and said I could pick any room I desired to stay, and part of the living quarters were quite modern and comfortable, although most of the huge house had a musty and unused feel to it. When we got to the old Counts library my breath was taken away, he had hundreds of books, and I quickly found the first editions I had sold him. I had seen larger collections, but absent from the old shelves were anything but a first or second edition, at least on first inspection. I asked Henry the obvious questions about fire suppression and security, and he assured me all were in order and quite modern. The last thing Henry gave me was a phone number for his residence in case I had an emergency, and he told me the refrigerator was well stocked as he seemed only to happy to leave the old house before the sun went down. I took several photos of the collection with a high resolution digital camera and gave Henry the memory stick, and explained that those pictures were for his assurance that everything in them would be here when I was finished with my appraisal. I took another set for myself on a separate stick. I had no intention of anything dishonest, but I also feared for my reputation if something wasn't on the shelves that was supposed to be.
With Henry's hasty retreat before nightfall, and a light rain falling outside, I decided to choose the old Counts room and take a long hot bath in the deep claw foot bathtub I had found earlier. With the castle empty I felt no need to practice my false modesty either, and the bedroom I chose was close to the massive bathroom, obviously placed in an unused bedroom long ago when indoor plumbing was first brought into the castle. The lighting was good in the individual rooms, but nonexistent in the connecting hallways, no doubt adding to the suspicion of ghostly activity.
I stripped out of my conservative clothing in front of the antique mirror and admired my raven haired form as I stretched my arms out over my head. I thought to myself that I needed a man, a large powerful man who could make me his. I snickered to myself right after, in this day and age, sure! I padded down the cold floor, naked as the day I was born, to the master bath and I started filling the large tub with water as hot as I could stand. Bubble bath was found in the room, and with my razor in hand I took care of personal things the way I like them. As the water was nearing the rim I shut off the flow and sat back to unwind from my long travel day, and was instantly surprised to hear what sounded like a cat wailing in agony. At first I thought I imagined it, but after a moments silence I heard a crack distant and soft followed by that pitiful sound, only this time it was higher pitched and more urgent. I listened as the pattern repeated itself over and over again, for how long I don't know.
I decided what I was hearing sounded like it was coming from the direction of the library, and if it were cats, possibly even humping down there, they could ruin the place. I climbed out of the tub, naked and dripping wet and found my way in the direction the old library down the darkened hallways. My eyes were slow to adjust to the low light, but I finally arrived down at the first floor and went in search of the amorous felines I was sure were hiding down by my precious books. There was no noise at all in the library, and no open windows either despite a slight draft from somewhere that gave my naked and wet skin goosebumps. I got on hands and knees to search for the cats I was sure were there and wondered if the old place had hidden cameras with a smile at the show I was potentially providing. I decided to ask Henry when I saw him, and also decided to investigate the source of the noise and the draft in the morning. I found my hot bath had cooled slightly, but I enjoyed it none the less and only got out when it was cool.
I made my way to the old Counts bedroom that I had commandeered, determined to ask Henry where the laundry was kept so the next time I could have a proper towel in stead of the hand towel that I used to attempt to dry myself off with. On second thought, I decided to look for it myself when I was alone so as not to bother Henry. When I got to the heavy door of my room I found it closed, even though I was sure I had left it open, but worse yet it was locked and wouldn't budge! I had remembered the phone number I was left and I walked, still naked, all the way to the only phone in the house to call Henry. He said the ghosts were being mischievous with me and where I could find the master key set after I implored him not to return to unlock the stubborn door for me. I thanked him and unlocked the door after several attempts with the found keys, determined to find a logical reason for the event. Fortunately the staff had changed the linens before they left, and I crawled up into a bed that was probably half a ton and worth more than my car! I laid in bed and heard the amorous cats at it again, an odd crack followed by that horrible wailing repeated until I fell asleep.
In the morning I got an early start and was dressed this time in more work suitable work clothing for the first full day of appraisal and hard at work in the library. I wore my white cotton gloves so as not to impart any oils onto the old parchment. I could spend months studying the books I had never seen, and by the time Henry arrived I had already found one not listed anywhere else, as in an unknown work by a known author. Henry had brought me coffee and bagels and I had to fight the urge to give him a big kiss for them as there was plenty of tea, but no coffee in the house. As we ate he asked if I enjoyed my first night in the castle, and if I wanted him to find me other accommodations. I said I was fine and I related the sounds of cats wailing, but I left out my naked search of the library. He said there were no cats on the property that he knew about, and had said that others, including himself had heard similar things when he was younger. We made small talk and I told him of the progress I was making and I asked as casually as possible if there were cameras in the castle. He told me there wasn't, only outside at the perimeters and that my privacy was not in jeopardy in the house proper.
Bookworm or not, I think I got his imagination going.
Henry told me he couldn't stay with me as he had business to conduct, but before he left he made sure I had everything I needed for the several days he expected to be gone. Being alone in the castle during the day was peaceful, and I worked relentlessly with books of the kind I could only have dreamed of until early evening. I then made myself a snack and went in search of the cats, and possibly the laundry. I searched every room in the castle with the aid of the master key set I was now in possession of, only to discover room after room filled with tarp covered treasures. There was apparently a key for each separate heavy door, and that explained why I had to try so many of them in my bedroom door the previous night to get in. As they all looked the same I took to marking them with tape so as to speed my use of them, and in doing so I discovered several that were unused in the house.
I went outside to the carriage house and found the doors there unlocked, but with much more modern locks and not a match for the keys I had. I did find the laundry in there and I brought in several large towels for my next bath, and where I could wash my clothes later in the week. I had no excuse to search further, except for the natural curiosity I was born with, and I returned to the library to find the source of the draft that I felt earlier. I sat at the old Counts reading desk and opened all the drawers looking for God knows what, and I found another book with the Counts reading gloves resting on top of it. I removed it from the drawer and thought to myself that this must have been the last book he was reading as I set it on the desk and closed the empty drawer. I heard a click behind me and discovered one of the bookcases just away from the others. A quick repeat of my previous actions revealed a secret mechanism that the drawer operated, and I left the book where it was to see what treasures were hiding behind the bookcase.
The heavy bookcase easily swung on it's concealed hinges and behind was another heavy door that one of my unused keys turned as easily as the others. The blast of cold air as I opened the heavy door must have been what tickled my wet skin the other night, but I found no light switch to illuminate my way. I remembered the flashlights I saw where the master keys were kept, and I almost ran to the spot and back to retrieve them for my exploration. There was a narrow and uneven staircase that appeared to be rough hewn through the limestone, and I had to duck my head as I traveled down the dangerous path deep under the castle. I found myself standing at another heavy door, and when I opened it with still another key I found myself standing in catacombs under the castle. I knew these could be used for interment of the previous residents, but the only bones I found were on a cot in an alcove with the opening enclosed with rusty bars. I found several other cells down there, but all were unoccupied. I found rusty chains hanging from the roof, a rusty hanging cage large enough for a human to stand in, and several other torture devices. I also saw a rack of the kind you would see in an old horror movie, but it was rotted and rusty and obviously had not been used since those unfortunate bones were alive centuries ago. I explored the rest of the chamber and found various rusty things that only the owner of those bones would likely know the purpose of.
I was chilled to the bone, and not just because of the cold and damp conditions.
I made my way out, careful to leave things just as I found them, and I returned to the living up above. I had concern for the books subjected to the moist air, even slightly leaking into the library until I put the bookcase back against the wall, this time making a better seal with no draft. Had this meant that somebody had been down there lately and not put things back properly? Could the old Count have known about the bones down below in need of a proper burial? Certainly the way the locks worked suggested I wasn't the only visitor in the last several hundred years.
I wanted a hot shower this time to get clean and warm, but my mind kept going back to the... bones... in... the... dungeon... That surely had to be what that place was. Only this time it was not some sanitised tourist attraction of the likes I had seen before, those for some darkly erotic reason had me daydreaming about some very bad things. I dried off and climbed up into bed in just my skin, as I usually like to sleep, and put on my white gloves to read through what I suspected was the old man's last book found in his desk drawer with the secret latch.
The book was handwritten in old English with all of the script touching, but thankfully by a precise feminine hand. That was rare enough, a woman of the age educated enough to complete the task, but it also implied she was noble born, or at least of the royal court. I paged through carefully and noticed the scripts appearance got rougher as the book went on. I went back to the beginning to read, my curiosity peaked:
"I, whose name can't be known, was instructed by the old witch that if I faithfully related my ordeal and kept the secret hiding place of my sponsor's vast fortune, I could one day be released from my personal hell.
My sponsor was the good Duke, who was appointed over the providence by the King after he had learned of the wicked actions of the old Duke. The evil old Duke would tax the peasants until they had nothing, and then take from among them the fairest of the females to do to them the most horrible perversions under the guise of collecting what was due the crown. The powerful and evil men under his control had made sport of their horrible abuses, and even wagered on the durability of their victims in the castle dungeon that was the entertainment center for the evil royal court.
My Uncle and sponsor was the good Duke, and he was just and fair with the peasants and the providence had peace and happiness for the first time. His castle was my home since I was young, and I was treated as if a member of his own family. Apon reflection, his success was his undoing. In bringing peace to the area his men didn't train hard for the foe that didn't appear to exist, and the dungeon went unused. The good Duke was rumored to have hidden the peasants previously collected gold and silver coins that numbered in the thousands, not wanting to even touch that cursed bounty...
I was out of the castle with the villagers when the attack happened, just I and two of my maids, and the old witch to watch over me. She decided the best thing to do was run and hide, at least until the King heard of this outrage and put the matter asunder. While we hid and unknown to me at the time, my sponsor and his entire household were defeated, and the brutal men had their twisted fun with the surviving women in what was hours before their home. Their rage with the women was fueled by their inability to find the hidden treasure they came for. And by the end of the week no living blood relative was left to restore the castle's rightful possession to. I felt like a coward for running away, but the witch knew her and I were likely the only two remaining alive that knew the secret location of the massive treasure, and the evil Duke would do anything to learn it's location. His bold attack was proof of that.
My sorrow was great, but the desire to survive greater, and we hid in the forest with my lovely handmaids.
...We were found not long afterwards, if one of the tortured peasants gave us up, I know not. The group of evil men moved through the dark forest to the perimeter of our fire, and we heard them, but not one of us had a weapon, nor the skill and strength to use one if we did. The witch was our weapon, and she was old and her magic no match for the brutal intentions of the men. The witch gave me an enchanted book and quill, and instructed me to document my ordeals so they would find their way to the King, the book would come when I desired it, and be delivered by magic when I wrote on the last page. I was given further directions for what to write on the last page, a magical phrase to deliver me from my peril if the King didn't hear my plea. The witch had used much of her strength for that bit of magic, and there was just one more thing she could do for us girls. She put her old bony arms around the three of us and said she would be gone in moments, but with her last bit of strength she placed a spell on us that would not allow the men to cause us pain. When they tried, she had said with wheezing breaths, it would be pleasurable to our bodies and if as we were watching the actions of another. She coughed, and said with her last breath that it was all she could do for us! The witch fell to the ground, and we reverently laid her down at the base of a tree, and her ancient body magically vanished..."
This was a fantastic tale and a form of fiction I had never seen in a book of this age, and it had me aroused like few others have. I caught myself with my left hand absentmindedly stroking between my thighs, grateful for my habit of sleeping in the nude.
The author went on... "I looked on in horror as the men descended apon us and I was separated from the others and bound to the same tree that the old witch was moments before laid. I was bound with a practiced skill, my arms behind the tree and forced to kneel with my back at it's base. Three men attended to the task, and even if I was able to free my wrists, my ankles were tied behind the same tree in such a manor that I couldn't reach the knots. The way the rough men had my legs spread around the thick tree split my thin cotton sleepwear to my hip. Had I not been gagged moments later I would have offered myself in willing trade for my maids to be allowed to escape. A simple slip knot was placed around my slender neck, and the other end tied to the tree with not enough slack for me to even turn away from the others. I was apparently the only prize the men were taking back to the castle, and my maids had their sleepwear ripped from their fair bodies and thrown into the fire, causing it to flare up revealing a dozen men in total.
The men pounded wood stakes into the ground six feet apart and lashed my maids wrists to the stakes so that they were head to head on their backs facing away from each other. The sadistic men tied a knot around one of their necks, and then the other's so that if one tried to sit up she would not only strangle herself, but the other as well. Their arms were stretched wide and the skin of their breasts, that I had seen many times in the bath, was pulled taunt like the head of a drum. The men mounted my maids and rutted into them as I was powerless to do anything but watch, at first one at a time, but later into the night several at once as their bodies were ruined by actions that I thought were impossible. The witch's spell worked though, their moans and groans at first were full of terror, but turned into a kind of lusty cooperation with their abusers as they wrapped their unrestrained legs around the waists of their attackers, freeing the men to smash their breasts in their large calloused hands, even as they were taken unnaturally.
I was forced to watch this abuse in front of me and feeling guilty for not being subjected to the same, but by the morning there was little left of the girls, and their lovely bodies were ruined for life despite the satisfied grins on their unconscious faces.. I know not how much longer that was as I was removed from the tree and forced to walk through the same village I had been in earlier, only this time I was barefoot and stripped naked. All my possessions were burned in the fire as well, including the book the witch had given me as a last means of escape. I had a crude leash around my thin neck and my elbows were tied together behind my back until they were touching, with my wrists bound as well. My breasts were forced out obscenely and I was tethered to the leaders mount by my neck like an animal. I was paraded through the village and displayed as a captured prize, and the villagers watched passively from the safety of their small houses my shame. The thin wisp of fair hair that was natural to me did little to hide my feminine virtues, and it matched the mane of long hair on my head that likely made it so easy for the evil men to identify me in this dark haired region. If any of the villagers had enough courage to help me escape, they didn't demonstrate it that day, but by their very nature they were passive farmers and they knew that this attack meant they would have a new master. The older among them probably remembered the brutality and perversion of the old Duke and didn't want to draw attention to their families.
I was paraded all the way to what was previously my castle and home, and it was obvious the good Duke and his men were gone. They must have fell easy as the great house was not badly damaged at all it the conflict. I was marched into the great hall to stand before the old evil Duke that I had never seen before, but that was preceded by the reputation of his infamy. He had the nerve to sit his worthless self on my Uncles chair, and I would have cursed him except for the leather bit roughly shoved between my teeth earlier. The women in attendance were dressed in their finest attire, and it was a contrast to my nakedness and shame. The men all looked at me like salivating wild dogs, but were prevented from acting out their desires by direct command of the evil Duke. I didn't show my shame or bow my head in the presence of the evil man, and I met his stare after he looked my body over for signs that his men had touched me in any way. I was forced to my knees not three feet from his massive body by his men, and eye level with his bulging manhood through his garments, more like an animal's than belonging to a man.
A command was given and several maids were dispatched to properly bathe me and prepare me for the Duke, in the same bathing area I had used with my maids only weeks before. I was untied and shackled with my wrists in front of me under the watchful eyes of two of the Duke's guards. I was grateful for the bath, and to have my burning shoulders relieved of the unnatural position they were forced into. I expected to meet my fate at the hands of the evil Duke, and I hoped the witches spell worked on me as well as on my maids as they were ravaged over the course of hours by a dozen relentless men. I held no misconceptions of charity or mercy from the evil man, and only hoped that I expired before he found out my secret.
I was delivered to his chambers still cuffed and naked, but perfumed and clean like a bride. I was deposited on his massive bed and my wrist cuffs were locked to a great iron ring in the center of the massive headboard by his men, and they withdrew to leave me to the perversions of the evil man. I was helpless to even attempt to cover myself with my arms pinned over my head, and my struggles only inflamed the beast's desire for me. The evil man removed his dressing gown an his manhood was massive and inhuman, and jutted out as if to impale me. He spoke to me and told me if I revealed to him where his treasure was hidden that he would allow me to live and become one of his concubines as my flesh was desirable to him.
I knew I would rather die, but I suspected I wouldn't be permitted to.
The evil man was in no hurry, unlike his ruthless men had been with my poor maids, and he sat on the bed and grabbed one my tender breasts in his large and rough hand and squeezed it out of shape, like a potter moulding clay. He grabbed my nipple and held the poor bud tightly, distending the fleshy orb obscenely. I expected to hear myself cry out in pain, but the noise that escaped my lips was more of a moan that I associated with the lovers I had heard in the castle at night. The evil man shook my breast violently and my groans continued as he smiled at me wickedly. He told me that when he had treated the captured women from the old Duke thusly, they whimpered and begged for mercy in a most undignified way. He needlessly told me he offered them none. He told me I had courage and would be a challenge to him, but if I didn't tell him where the treasure was by the time he grew weary of me, I would find myself in his dungeon until I did.
The monster toyed with my breasts further, and to his delight my body responded to his assaults, but not in a way either of us expected. My legs splayed themselves widely in invitation as my back arched, and my mouth spat forth the most disgusting of suggestions for the old monster to practice on my bound but willing body. He put a hand to my womanhood and three of his thick fingers sank into me effortlessly, and he withdrew them and held his slick digits to my face to cause me shame, but I lapped my juices from his hand instead. A rough hand encircled one of my naked ankles, and he easily lifted me to position with one muscular arm. His massive member was poised at my entrance as his move had me spread out to the limit of my flexibility, but before he could thrust into me, I pushed myself onto him in an impaling thrust. A loud groan of pure lust escape my lips and I didn't care if the whole castle heard it. The Duke repositioned his hands at my knees to bury himself into me fully, but I wrapped my legs around his thighs as my maids had done earlier with their attackers. He pulled back and thrust into me again and again as the chain binding my wrists to the headboard was pulled tight repeatedly...
The old monster savaged me for hours, and my body rewarded me with pleasure of the kind I had never experienced, but I think in inverse proportion to what the Duke intended for me. His last defilement of my body that night had him placing a copper tube into my mouth with a raised area that locked in behind my teeth, and another that rested against my parted lips and had my jaw feeling as if it would tear away from my skull. It was made by a smith of considerable skill and was smooth and polished with a leather strap that went behind my head preventing any intelligible noise from escaping me. That was apparently not it's primary purpose, the Duke feared I would mount one last attack against him by crippling him with my teeth as he had me clean his manhood of my juices to complete my debasement.
We women had all been told that a man's seed was poison, and I thought that if I could coax him to produce just one more batch of it, he had implanted several of them deep inside of me already, that I could end this for me before I even entered the dungeon and the horrors that surely awaited me. I had intended to imitate the clutching tightness that my abused womanhood provided his inhuman member with my tongue and cheeks, it was fitting that this mouth of mine that had earlier spat forth the most foul of suggestions should provide this final foul act. When he pushed his limp manhood into the copper sleeve I touched it with my tongue and he twitched as I tasted myself for the second time that day. The more I played with his member the larger it grew, and soon he wrapped both of his strong hands around the back of my head and thrust into the tube as I provided the friction he desired, to produce the seed I desired, to end my torment. He held me firmly and I felt and tasted the first of his poison. Although slightly bitter, it was not as I expected and I suckled all I could not knowing how much of the poison it would take to free me of my torment. The elder women had always been a little vague on that fact. When I could coax no more from the Duke's again limp manhood I waited for the inevitable effects of the poison, to his astonished expression. Weather he was surprised that I was still alive, or at my willing performance I know not, but I was disappointed to be still conscious when his guards dumped me into the dungeon.
That first night in my cell I wished my enchanted book was not burned up in the camp fire, and magically it appeared with my quill on my cot. I secretly recorded my experiences at the expense of my dignity, so that if the witches magic was powerful enough, this document could find it's way to the crown. I was also relieved because I momentarily thought my actions with the evil Duke were due to my perversions, and not her spell.
When my interrogators saw their prize, and had the Duke's authority to do as they will in order to find the treasure I alone knew the location of, I knew I was doomed. I was subjected to an endless cycle of devices matching the days of the week, Monday night I was hung from chains by my wrists and roughly used by the men much like the Duke had done, and when they were sated I was flogged until I screamed myself horse in denial of any treasure. The interrogators thought I screamed in pain, but they couldn't have been more wrong due to the witches spell. Each night had one of seven different torments, and after each one when I was alone I summoned my enchanted book to document them. The pattern repeated itself and I saw no reason to delay writing the special words on the last page of the partially filled book that the witch instructed me to, hastening my release..."
"I will freely trade places with the author of this book" was written in nearly illegible script on the very last page as I searched for the ending of this most erotic story. I read it aloud curiously when I found it.
My bookworm shaking hands put down the most erotic fiction I had ever read, my left cotton glove discarded and soaked with my juices from furiously rubbing myself off countless times while I read. In the sudden quiet I heard an anguished scream from the direction of the library, but I didn't have the energy to investigate it, so complete was my exhaustion. I splayed my legs and stretched my arms to the massive headboard wishing I had an imagination like the author of this ancient erotica. I felt something hard with my hands and fumbled with it until I felt an iron ring on a hinge and hanging down toward the thick mattress. I grabbed it and ground my thighs together for one more orgasm before I fell asleep.
It wouldn't have mattered if I realized the true significance of the iron ring, I had read the last page of the book and the ancient magic finally worked!
I was woken from my bed in the still of the night by several men in black leather moving around my room, only I wasn't in my room but in the cold and damp dungeon in the same cell the bones were in. There was a fire burning the center of the expansive chamber and it was smokey. I made to get up and was stopped short by the manacle and chain around my wrists binding me to the cot. I then looked down to my uncovered, and unfamiliar body with a wisp of blond hair where my smooth shaved pussy should have been! The men's hands were so rough in this dream as I was released from my shackles and dragged to a new looking rack in the dungeon that looked like it must have in the story I just read. I thought about that story and the last page that I read aloud offering to trade places with the author, but was interrupted when I was dumped onto the cold frame and chained wrist and ankle to the evil table like device.
"Where is the treasure?" I was asked, just like the woman in the story was probably asked many times. "I know not" I told them, but with a voice that was not my own as my arms were pulled higher on the table and a click was felt holding my arms high. The questions were repeated and each time my arms were stretched higher in what I thought was the most realistic dream I had ever had. When the real pain should have started at my bones being stretched, I instead felt a tingling in my now apparently blond pussy, and at the next click I howled like I had never heard myself before...
Late the next morning Henry came into the Counts room after being given permission when he didn't see the bookworm in the library, but first he looked for the book that he knew to be in the old Counts desk and found it missing. When he entered he found the bookworm standing nude before the full length mirror admiring her body as if for the first time. For Henry it was the first time as well, and he was pleasantly surprised by what until now was hidden from him by her conservative clothes. She turned to face him without a thought of modesty, and beyond her stunning form he saw the book he had hoped to see on the night stand. He asked what he knew to be an unnecessary question, "Did you read that entire book, including the last page?"
The answer both pleased and startled him, "no my lord, the bookworm read the book, I wrote it!"
story continues in The Bones In The Dungeon