Michael Jaeggers
Honeymoon hotel
PROLOGUE
Fog moved sinuously – billowing, as it hugged the surface of the lake – and from a distance the dark castle looked as if it were floating atop a cloud. No light showed within those crenellated stone walls; it was as if the structure were some ghostly apparition – a mirage of the past.
A fish jumped; the splash of its return to the water was muffled by the fog. Above the swirling vapours, one large, black night bird flapped its way across a starless sky. Then, as if giving lie to its ghostly appearance, somewhere within the confines of the castle a clock struck midnight.
A flashlight flickered briefly in one window on the third floor. It moved on to the next window and then, at the corner of the castle, the lights came on in a large room.
"I say, Morgan, isn't it a bit chancey; I mean, lights and all that?" The question came from the older of two men as he gazed somewhat apprehensively down at a deeply sleeping girl.
"You should know me better than that, Lord Medwell. She won't awaken until I tell her to. Watch." He laid down the camera case he was carrying and lifted the covers from the reclining girl's body.
Lord Medwell's breath whistled out of him in one lewd groan when he saw the full ripe contours of the girl's lush young body. The blue nylon gown had crept up to mid thigh, and the left shoulder strap had slipped down revealing a luscious mound of flesh the size and shape of a ripe melon. Tom Morgan simply reached forward and pulled the bodice down until it revealed the brown areola and nipple. "Watch," he ordered again. Taking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he cruelly tweaked it. The girl did not stir, but the nipple – like some slowly awakening thing – came erect.
"Watch," Morgan repeated, and lifted the hem of the gown to uncover the pouting mound of Venus between her legs and its luxuriant growth of sparse black pubic hair. He parted the girl's legs and, using his right arm under her knees, raised them until the soft pink lips of her vagina came into view. Morgan glanced over at Lord Medwell and laughed at the rapidly breathing older man. Slowly, he placed the tip of his middle finger against his thumb and then flicked at the pouting clitoris. The girl remained motionless, but a low moan of lust was wrenched from Lord Medwell's throat.
Morgan dropped the girl's legs; they remained spread lewdly out with the vaginal lips slightly open… the entrance to her secret-most regions was completely exposed, defenseless.
"Satisfied?" he queried with a slight knowing smirk.
Lord Medwell trembled in eagerness. "Oh my, yes!" he said hurriedly. "Such a beautiful young creature. Such a fine tight little cunt. I can hardly wait to pay a visit there." He placed his camera on the chair.