Indecent: 15 Erotic Victorian Romance Story Box Set (43 page)

Count Wetula

Chapter 1

Jennifer Harker’s Journal

2 May – Left Munich at 8.35 on 1
^st
May, arriving
in Vienna early the next morning. Should have arrived at 6.46 but the train was
an hour late. We sat outside the station and I became increasingly
uncomfortable, the toilet having been out of order since leaving the German
border. At 6.10 I could no longer wait and sought relief somewhere within the
carriage. I was corralled in a four seater with two women and a lone individual
who gave all the indications of being sound asleep. I found a coffee mug under
my seat and whilst my bladder threatened to overflow at any moment, I placed a
blanket across my lap before raising my skirts to my waist. I glanced across as
the sleeping figure opposite me stirred momentarily before settling again. I
could last no longer so pulled my panties to one side and pressed the mug
against my pussy. The coldness of the ceramic sent a chill through me as I
relaxed my body and felt a trickle of pee drip into the mug.

At that point the train jerked forward and one of the women
awoke with a yawn. She muttered a good morning to me in German whilst I held my
breath, the mug remaining in place whilst I fought to prevent any further pee
from escaping.

As the woman turned to stare out of the window I tried to
let a rivulet of urine escape me to ease the pressure upon my bladder. Sadly
the noise was such that the woman turned back to me and stared with a frown
forming upon her features. I coughed loudly to hide the hissing sound as best I
could whilst what felt like a torrential river leaked from me into the mug.

The woman smiled as she seemed to realise what I was doing.
“English?” she whispered, glancing across at her companion. I nodded in
response. “I need pee also,” she said.

I nodded again, realising modesty was beyond me at this
point. Pee flowed out of me until I glanced under my blanket, realising the mug
was close to overflowing. As I looked up again, the blanket slipped down to
reveal my spread legs and bare pussy to the woman’s shocked gaze.

She put a finger to her lips as the last of the pee dribbled
from me, running down the side of the completely full mug. I put the mug beside
me as I brushed my skirt back down into place. The woman picked up the mug. “I
use?” she asked.

“It will need emptying first,” I replied quietly.

The woman nodded and then pressed the mug to her lips,
gulping down the contents in an instant. I was shocked to my core at the sight,
realising what I thought I knew of Europe was but a pinprick. Once she drained
the mug, she raised her own skirts without attempting to hide from view. I
caught sight of her pussy as she pressed the mug between her legs and
immediately sighed with relief as pee gushed from her. It sprayed across the
carriage, most of it missing the mug before she regained control and the
drinking vessel began to noisily fill with urine.

“I cannot stop,” she said in panic as the mug filled. Not
wanting the others to awaken, I realised I had to help. I took the mug from her
as she held her bladder in check, wriggling on her seat as she did so. I looked
at the contents and then held my breath as I drank down the pee, finding it
surprisingly warming in the chill of the morning.

Once drained, I passed back the mug and the woman finished
urinating within it. She did not lower her skirts when she had ended her task,
instead smiling at me as she began to gently stroke herself. I found myself
unable to look away, staring in silence as she masturbated gently, her eyes
closed. I could not resist reaching down as my own body began to awaken with
desire. I found the end of my skirts and raised them until I was able to copy
her movements on my own pussy. We sat staring at each other as we touched
ourselves. My clitoris throbbed with desire as I stroked it and to my surprise
the woman moved to her knees and shuffled across the carriage, her tongue
stretching out to lap at my juices.

I stifled a gasp as she expertly delved inside me, her hand
remaining on her pussy as she brought me towards climax. When she dipped two
fingers into me, it sent me over the edge and I came, biting my lip to keep as
quiet as I could, a moan escaping me as my pussy twitched around her digits.

Once I’d calmed down again, I glanced down to see her reach
her own orgasm a moment later. She looked as if she might scream and in my
desire to keep her silent, I embraced her, plunging my tongue into her mouth
and stifling her noises to little more than a whimper.

She pulled away from me as the train moved into the station
and once we came to a stop at the platform I rose before she, leaving the train
for a glimpse at Budapest. I walked through the streets for as long as I dared,
trying to clear my head from the secret encounter I’d just experienced. I
feared moving too far from the station, for as we’d arrived late I knew we
would start as near the correct time as possible.

The impression I had when we entered the East over the
Danube which was of noble width and depth, took us among the traditions of
Turkish rule.

We left in good time but my companion was nowhere to be
seen. At nightfall we reached Klausenpiss. Here I spent the night at the Hotel
Desperate. I had for supper a chicken done up with red pepper, which was good
but thirst inducing. I asked for the waitress and she said it was called
paprika hendl and that it was a national dish I should be able to get anywhere
along the Carpathians.

I found my own smattering of German useful here and indeed I
don’t know how I would have got on without it. Having some time at my disposal
when back in London I had visited the British Museum and searched among the
books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania. It had struck me that
some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance in
dealing with a noblewoman of that country.

I found the district she named laid in the extreme east of
the country on the borders of Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina in the midst
of the Carpathian mountains, one of the wildest and least known portions of
Europe.

I was not able to light on any map giving the exact locality
of Castle Wetula as there were no maps of this country as yet to compare with
our own Ordnance Survey Maps. I found that Pissritz, the post town named by
Countess Wetula is a fairly well known place. I shall enter here some of my
notes so they might refresh my memory when I talk over my travels.

I did not sleep well though my bed was comfortable enough
for I had all sorts of queer dreams. It may have been the paprika for I had to
drink all the water in my carafe and was still thirsty. Towards morning I slept
at last and was wakened by continuous knocking at my door.

I opened it to find a maid carrying a chamber pot. She spoke
neither English or German and I was unable to make her aware of my desire for
privacy. As such I had no choice, the water within me making me desperate to
urinate, but to go in front of her.

She set the chamber pot on the floor and helped me remove my
nightgown. Once naked I squatted over the pot and to my surprise the maid
lowered herself to her knees and pulled apart my pussy lips, ignoring my
protests. Unable to hold in my pee any longer I began to urinate and I found
the flow ran through her fingers before beginning to fill the pot. As I peed,
her fingers brushed over my clitoris and a shiver ran through me. At the sight
of my surprise, the maid planted a kiss on my lips, moving her hand under the
flow of my pee until she slid a finger up into me. She continued to kiss me
until I had finished peeing, whereupon she slid the pot into her hands and
poured the contents over her uniform. It soaked the fabric in such a way that
the shape of her body became visible to me, her nipples stiff and pointing in
my direction. She pushed me onto my back on the floor and climbed onto me,
continuing to finger me as she planted soft kisses on my neck. I found my hand
moved up her dress to her naked bottom and I could not resist groping and
squeezing her round buttocks as she gasped for breath. When I found the hole
between her cheeks I went to move on but she pushed back onto my hand and then
I was inside her bottom. She rocked against my finger as she continued to fuck
me until I could last no longer. An orgasm raced through my body as she rubbed
her pussy against my thigh, using me to reach her own climax within a minute.

Once she had recovered from her orgasm, she stood up and
curtseyed, carrying away the chamber pot and leaving me to dress myself for the
day.

For breakfast I had more paprika and a sort of porridge
which they called mamaliga, a very excellent dish. I had to hurry to carry the
train and rushed to the station with the morning coffee sloshing around inside
me. I had to sit in the carriage for over an hour before we began to move. It
seems to me that the further east you go, the more unpunctual the trains are.
What must they be like in China?

All day long my need to pee grew ever stronger as we dawdled
through a country which was full of beauty of every kind. Sometimes we saw
little towns or castles on the top of steep hills, sometimes we ran by rivers
and streams which made my need to pee ever stronger until I could not sit still
upon my seat.

At every station there were groups of people in all sorts of
attire. Some of them were just like the peasants at home with short jackets,
round hats and home made trousers but others were very picturesque.

The women looked pretty except when you got near them for
they all seemed to have dark stains upon their crotches. They stood in full
white sleeves and most of them had big belts with strips of something
fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet but of course there were wet
petticoats under them.

It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Pissritz
which is a very interesting old place. I was positively bursting for the
toilet, cursing the lack of facilities in my train when I reached the Golden
Shower Hotel which Countess Wetula had directed me towards. I found it
thoroughly old fashioned and I was obviously expected for when I got near the
door I faced a cheery looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress – white
undergarment with a long double apron of coloured stuff that fitted too tight
for modesty, her nipples almost visible as her breasts spilled over the tip.
When I came close she bowed, her breasts falling free as she said, “Frau
Englishwoman?”

“Yes,” I said. “Jennifer Harker. I must use your toilet
before I go any further.”

She smiled and gave some message to an elderly man in white
shirtsleeves who had followed her to the door. He went but immediately returned
with a letter which I read whilst wriggling on the spot, my bladder threatening
to explode at any moment.

“My friend, welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously
expecting you. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will start
for Bukovina, a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will
await you and bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a
happy one and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land – Your friend,
Wetula.”

I looked up at the woman whose boobs were still hanging free
from the front of her dress. “The toilet?” I asked but she just frowned. I
mimed the motion of urinating and to my chagrin she misunderstood entirely. She
murmured to herself before shrugging and then lifting her skirts to her waist.
She squatted in the dirt and began to pee, all the time looking up at me for
approval as I tried to get her to stop.

The sight of her urinating so freely made my own bladder
lose control and I felt a leaking trickle run down my thigh having soaked
through my panties in less than a second. I sighed to myself before squatting
beside the woman and pulling my knickers to one side so that the rest of my pee
could sink into the ground under my feet. As I peed I let out a deep sigh of
relief whilst the other guests of the hotel walked past without batting an
eyelid as if this were a common occurrence in this country.

4 May - I found that my landlord had got a letter from the
Countess, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me but on
making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent and pretended he
could not understand my German.

This could not be true because up to then he had understood
it perfectly, at least he answered my questions exactly as if he did.

He and his wife, the old lady who had peed for me, looked at
each other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out that the money had been
sent in a letter and that was all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Countess
Wetula and could tell me anything of her castle, both he and his wife crossed
themselves and saying they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further.
It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyone else so it
was all very mysterious to me.

Just as I was about to leave I lay on my bed and decided the
best way to relax for the journey was by masturbating. I found an unused candle
upon the dresser and gripped it tightly as I stroked my clit until my pussy was
wet and ready. I slid the candle slowly into myself, using it to bring me to
the peak of pleasure I knew so well. At that moment the old lady burst into my
room and said in a hysterical way, “Must you go? Oh young Frau must you go?”
She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what
German she knew and mixed it up with some other language which I did not know
at all.

I tried to tell her to leave but she refused to listen,
seeming not to notice the candle buried inside me as she gripped my hands in
hers and spoke in that strange language again.

“I will prevent you from leaving,” she said, glancing down
between my legs. Before I could protest she took hold of the candle and began
to fuck me with it, her mouth finding my clit which she took between her soft
lips and sucked at gently. I lay back and let a sigh escape me, no longer
wishing her to stop.

She teased me by speeding up and slowing down over and over
until I was screaming to be allowed to orgasm. She smiled up at me as she
rammed the candle home and licked frantically at my clit, finally taking me
over the edge to the climax I had been desperate to achieve.

Once I was able to breathe normally again, I looked up to
find her again admonishing me not to leave.

“I must go at once,” I said, telling her that I was engaged
on important business.

“Do you know what day it is?” I answered that it was the
fourth of May. She shook her head and spoke again. “Oh yes I know that. But do
you know what day it is?”

On my saying I did not understand she went on.

“It is the eve of St George’s Day. Tonight when the clock
strikes midnight all the evil things in the world will have full sway. Do you
know where you are going and what you are going to?” She was in such evident
distress that I tried to comfort her, finding my hand running over her breasts
which fell easily from the top of her simple dress. I took her nipples in my
mouth as she continued to mumble at me, her eyes wide.

I fell to my knees and lifted her skirts, pushing her back
onto my bed before clambering up her body, kissing each part of her that came
into my reach. When I reached her pussy I licked her in the way she had done to
me. She raised her knees and spread her buttocks apart and thinking of the only
way to distract her, I picked up the candle and pushed it towards the tiny hole
that had become exposed.

As I licked at her pussy I plunged the candle deep into her
bottom and she at last stopped talking, only letting out a sigh of approval at
my movements. I fucked her anus with the candle as I licked the juices that
dripped from her pussy. As I rammed the candle deep into her she began to pee,
a surprisingly strong flow that hit the back of my throat before I knew what
was happening. The hot urine dripped from my chin as she screamed her way to an
orgasm.

I thought as she recovered that she would leave me be but
she sank to her knees on the floor, the candle exiting her body and falling to
the floor as she implored me not to go, at least to wait a day or two before
starting.

It was all very ridiculous but there was business to be done
and I could allow nothing to interfere with it. I tried to raise her up and
said as gravely as I could whilst planting kisses on her lips that my duty was
imperative and I must go.

She rose and dried her eyes and taking a phallic shaped
length of glass from around her neck, offered it to me.

I did not know what to do for as a polite Englishwoman, such
a sight seemed obscene and yet it seemed so ungracious to refuse an old lady
meaning so well and in such a state of mind.

She saw the doubt in my face for she put the dildo in my
pocket and said, “For the sake of your health,” and went out of the room.

I am writing up this part of the diary whilst I wait for the
coach and I can feel the smoothness of the dildo in my pocket. Glancing around
the waiting room I saw I was alone and I felt unable to resist testing out the
device she had given me. I slid the length of smooth glass under my skirt and
slipped it into me. It sank into my depths easily as if designed just right to
fit my shape. I wondered about how she had enjoyed the touch of my candle in
her bottom and I found myself moving the dildo under me until it slid just
inside my anus, the hole stretching to accommodate the glass cock. As I pushed
it as far as it could go the door to the waiting room opened and a group of
people walked in. I was forced to leave the dildo in my bottom as I sat as
upright as I could, every movement making it shift inside me, forming juices on
my pussy as I fought to hide my arousal from those present.

Soon their coach came and they left and once alone again, I
was able to retrieve the dildo and slide it back and forth into my bottom,
finding the sensation more pleasurable than I had anticipated. I fucked my hole
faster as I rubbed my clit, bringing myself to a moaning orgasm just as my
coach pulled up.

Whether it was the old lady’s fear or the ghostly traditions
of this place I did not know but I am not feeling nearly as easy in my mind as
usual.