7 – 1000 (17) – Trapped in Beaufort Castle 6

I awoke in the afternoon, and found clothes had been lain out for me, odd clothes. A leisure suit, folded and pressed so flat it looked uncomfortable to wear. I briefly considered not wearing it, but my ratty clothes were sweaty.

There was a bathroom with a standup shower in it, which looked to have been fairly recently redone. I took a quick shower, aware that I was likely watched or recorded as I did so.

I stood before the mirror, looking somewhat like a hitman in a Scorsese film about drag racing and cocaine. Once I was certain I looked as presentable as possible in that garish mistake of clothes.

I tried the door, and found the handle receptive. I opened the door, which despite its heavy size made no sound, and exited into the hallway. The house was quiet, and I ventured down the halls, eager to make a fuller map of my surroundings.

All of the doors in the hallway were locked, even the door to the attic, and so I descended the stairs and went back to the first floor. The candles which had once covered every available inch of surface were all gone, and there was no trace of them, not even a single drop of wax. The telephone and little table had also vanished, and I realized wryly that it was unlikely I would see a telephone anytime soon. Checking my own cellphone, I saw no reception. My guess was that the house was purposefully blocking signals somehow, either by metal in the structure, or by some kind of generated noise.

The door to the outside was locked fast, as I guessed it would be, and so I moved away to check the other rooms on the ground floor. Of Renfield, the supposed daytime watchman, I saw no sign, nor did I see any sign of the Baroness Desislava either. But then, either of them could have been behind one of the locked doors.

There was a sitting room to the left of the grand door, and I briefly looked in at the ornate chairs. I might have thought the room had gone unused, save for knitting in a bag near one of the sofas, and yet another crossword puzzle book with a golf table on a small endchair. Either Renfield was a giant fan of crosswords (and knitting), or the Baroness was.

I heard the ringing of a bell, and found my way to its source, a room behind the drawing room. Upon turning the door and walking across the small hallway, I saw the source of the ringing was the Dining Room.

The Dining Room with its long maple table, stained dark to match the gothic style of the house, and the room it was in. There, on a plate, was a plate of eggs, toast, hash browns, and beans, with a hot cup of coffee. It was precisely what I most liked for breakfast.

I called out, eager to determine who had made me this fine meal, but there was no answer save for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, and in fact no bell even to have been rung. My caretaker had seemingly vanished.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I ravenously ate everything set out before me. It was amazing – I had never tasted eggs so fluffy, or coffee so perfectly balanced with cream, nor butter so exquisite in texture and flavor. The chairs in the dining room were quite large, I guessed to accommodate the Baroness and her giant form. While comfortable, I felt very much like a child in these giant chairs, my feet dangling down like they did when I was a young boy.

My breakfast finished, I left through the opposite door and found my way into the library. It was a fine old room, with a lit fireplace blazing and crackling and bright lamps providing good light by which to read. Books lined the walls on two levels, with a moveable ladder up to a catwalk with a metal railing to access the top.

Realizing that the Vampiress would probably be active as the sun set, I decided to look over the library. I thumbed through a curious list of books, works I had never heard of by authors of alien name. There were treatises by strange and blasphemous apothecaries, wise sages, mystical fakirs, and sinister wizards. I took up a volume titled The Savage Ectoplasm, which was marked with a female symbol that seemed to have morphed into some great and terrible slime beast, and began to read. So stirring was the account – it purported to be a diary – that I took a seat in a nearby armchair and began to read it carefully.

I became lost in the haunting words of a beleaguered scientist in the Antarctic, a man whose sanity slowly dwindled as the pages drew on. He described terrifying sights and visions, and great and unspeakable horrors.

His account began with expeditions under the frozen ground into a network of caves, and the growing troubles encountered. The strange otherworldly sights, the slow disappearance of men, the dissolution of the expedition into madness and paranoia, and finally, his game of wits in the frozen caverns against a formless maiden, the last survivor.

I was faintly aware of six chimes on the wall clock, the proximate time of the setting of the sun, but so enraptured was I by my reading, and by the frightening things which this Doctor described, that I did not stir. The situation felt at once familiar to me, and I read on, eager for his insight into what he did.

I was just about to get to his final confrontation against his terrifying but voluptuous attacker, when a hand touched me on the shoulder gently. I jumped with a start, and standing over me despite being bent to half her height, was the Baroness Desislava.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, her violet eyes wide, her mouth opened in an expression of either joy or surprise. “I have startled you, sweet Jonathan! I apologize. I hope your afternoon has been agreeable, yes?”

“It has been quiet,” I replied. “I have not seen anything of Mister Renfield…”

“Nor shall you, for a few days. His presence is not necessary, and so I have dismissed him. He says he is going to meet someone from a place called craigslist about a massage. Curious, is it not?”

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. I was looked up at her pale white skin, creamy in its complexion. Her dark purple lips and eyes. And those large breasts…

I realized I hadn’t said anything. “Uh…yes, yes it is…” I mumbled.

“I see that you have found your new wardrobe. You look quite dapper, sweet Jonathan.”

“Yes, well about that – thank you, by the way…” I began. “Do you think I could have some non leisure suit clothes?”

She tilted her head. “You do not like these?” She asked.

“I, well, they are quite dated…”

She smiled widely. “Say no more!”

She removed one of her gloves, revealing long black fingernails beneath, sharp as razors. Lifting me up by the wrist as if I were a stuffed animal with her other hand, she took her long claws and raked them across the polyester dinosaur garb, ripping the synthetic fabric to shred.

“Hey! Wait!” I pleaded over the sounds of my clothes being torn off. My chest, arms, legs, and torso were soon naked to her feasting violet eyes. She could have spared my boxers but she didn’t, slicing them off and tossing the fragments across the room.

“There, that’s better!” She said, gently lowering my naked body into the chair.

I felt the warm leather against my skin, and shrank back into it, vainly covering myself. She gently grabbed my wrists, and tossed them aside, leaving my body open to her gaze. She then stared at me, drinking in my fear and arousal, as she put her glove back on up to her elbow.

“Ah!” Desislava exclaimed, noticing my book on the ground. She shut the book and looked at its cover. “The Savage Ectoplasm! One of my favorites. A tale of the macabre and strange. A curious creature, is she not, the ectoplasmic beast that the Doctor describes? So fierce and dominating?”

“I-is she a relative of yours?” I asked, aware that her eyes were again on my cock. I was trying not to get an erection, and losing. God, how amazing to have that beautiful creature staring at you, reveling in your discomfort and modesty…

Desislava laughed. “A kindred spirit, perhaps, but not a relative, no,” she replied. “I favor a more…elegant lifestyle than a frozen cave can offer.”

As she said this, she reached down and casually gave my turgid penis a stroke, which made it twitch. She giggled, putting a glove to her mouth.

“Oh, we could horseplay all day, couldn’t we? But now, my sweet Jonathan, it is time for us both to eat.”

She turned, and glided across the room towards the door. I was still reeling, with my heart racing, aware and excited that sooner or later I was going to be her sexual prey. She swiveled back to me, and smiled.

“Coming?” She asked, and her eyes glistened at her little joke.

On wobbly legs I stood, and followed her through the main foyer and into the dining room. Following behind the towering pillar of woman, I watched her hips sway back and forth with undulating regularity. She made the very act of ambling from one room to the other like a dance, a performance art. She had the inherent movements of an entrancing snake, hypnotic in their rhythm, and I went along behind more and more like a bewitched little mouse.

We reached the Dining Room, and I was surprised by the change. Where before it had been large and empty, now it seemed crowded with ornate decoration. Wreaths and flowers hung from the walls, and the great chandelier was lit and resplendent with light. The table was decked out with lit candles, and two elegantly laid out plates with full services. Two covered metal serving trays were on the table.

Despite this, and counter to what I had seen in the morning, there was only one chair in the room. The others had all disappeared. The Baroness glided to it and sat, looking at me with a very pleased smile.

I cleared my throat. “S-shall I stand?” I asked. I was still naked, and standing before the elegant Baroness I began to feel a bit aroused. I wondered if she was going to have me serve her, perhaps treat herself to some more of my seed.

She stared at my hardening member for a moment, which only made me even more turgid. “Look at how you enjoy to be with me! You are such a sweet boy…as for standing, no,” she said, with a giant grin. She then patted one of her gloved hands upon her lap. “You have a seat right here.”

“You…want me to sit on your lap?” I asked.

“Well, of course!” She exclaimed. She slowly pulled down her dress front, revealing her perfect breasts. They were colored like porcelain, but so supple that they jiggled with her slightest motion. Her dark areolas were stained with milk. “You will need to…eat tonight.”

I gasped as I took her meaning. My mind reeled. “…drink your breast milk?”

“Drink it again,” Desislava corrected, rubbing her right boob with her gloved hand, cupping it near the nipple. “After all, it was in your breakfast.”

I took a step back in shock. The coffee, the butter, the milk in the scrambled eggs. I had loved it all so much…

“Come get it from the source,” she whispered, her tongue locking her lips slowly. “I promise you, it’s even better straight from me than in your coffee or scraped on bread.”

I stared at the Vampire Giantess’ massive, lactating breasts, aware that she intended to breastfeed me. I made the mental decision that if I was to die in seven days, that was okay. Tonight, I would eat well.

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