Catle busenstien

This story is about Becky a twenty something woman on a tour of Europe. She’s a down to earth girl but every bit a babe. I’ve based her on Denise Richards; athletic, curvy with long dull red hair. She has large expressive eyes and full pouting lips. Her best features are her hips and big wide mouth; her thick long eyelashes give her a come hither look. I hope this story manages to set the scene, but in the end it’s up to you if she’s the only person to visit castle Busenstien.

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The rusted out old car had whined and spluttered for over a 100 miles. The east European Trabant was famous for two reasons. Firstly for being mass produced on a scale Henry Ford would be envious of, and secondly for being crap. This Becky had learnt all too soon after parting with her cash. A hundred dollars seemed a bargain for her own transport, after all the buses and local trains were almost non existent. However over a day at 30 miles an hour with little suspension and even less brakes had hammered her folly home. Last night she had slept in the thing and although the summers were warm here in Romania once you got into the mountains it could be still quite chilly.

Becky had started her tour three months earlier. Back packing through the northern European highlights; London, Paris, the Matterhorn, the splendor of Rome. The trip had been a great adventure with Becky getting more world wise and confident as she had gone along. Eastern Europe had also delighted her. Cheaper here, she had traveled through Hungary, along the Danube heading to Romania and the only real wilderness left on this ancient continent. Becky had caught the traveling bug and although she planned to return home at this point the delights of Istanbul and the Turkish beaches called. She had heard wolves still roamed the forest of the infamous Transylvania and a trip across country on her way to the old Byzantine capital would be in keeping with her growing confidence.

So here she was miles from nowhere in her rickety car. The densely wooded hills giving her no idea of direction or perception of distance traveled. The road was becoming almost a dirt track and Becky realized she could have made a wrong turn anywhere in the last 50 miles. Fuel wasn’t a problem as this engine would run for ever on a gallon of gas; no what worried her more was food and water.

She had only packed for a couple of days and she knew with growing worry that she was already two days in without a sight of anyone. So it was with great relief that as she came to a high sided valley she saw a huddle of buildings below; the high cliffs and tree canopy putting them in shadow even in the afternoon sun. The track ahead split and she decided to take the nerve racking descent towards them. The car had struggled on the flat, now down the steep gradient its brakes gave up and the steering hardly responded. The car was going faster and faster as Becky wrenched the wheel gritting her teeth.

“Shit, ooh fuck aggg!”

There was a sickening thud as metal crumpled a tree branch cracking the windscreen, poor Becky knocking herself cold on the steering wheel.

The villagers found her very quickly. A young blonde boy about 8 years old had been playing soldiers; lying in ambush for his friends when the car had clattered past him. Normally he wouldn’t leave his post but what the hell he practiced ambushes every day so he’d hurried to get help. Now he stood watching as the villagers helped her out still very dazed.

Her car had almost made it down and was only a few meters from the village street. She was carried in the arms of a strong moustached man to his shop. Becky sat there head on hands surrounded by sausages and jars of preserved wares, it was a butchers or similar. The villagers crowded in and she felt a little foolish.

“Please there no need I’m fine.” She said embarrassed by all the attention and the spectacular entrance she had made.

The people looked concerned. They all appeared pleasant enough mostly young, smiling reassuring her in what sounded like German or some similar dialect.

“Are you alright my dear?” Came a sweet Teutonic voice in English.

In front of her bending down was a beautiful woman. She had long blonde hair like a 50’s movie star and deep piercing blue eyes. Her manner was almost aristocratic, high cheek bones, terse lips smiling. She had a basket full of shopping in her hand. Becky smiled back.

“I feel a little dizzy.” She admitted; the woman’s obvious concern relaxing her.

The stunning blonde in her early thirties was dressed in an all black trouser suit and boots. She looked back down the street. “You’re vehicles wrecked, we have no garage here. You’ll have to stay the night and I’ll send for help in the morning.”

Becky looked at her puzzled noticing she said “I’ll.”

The woman introduced herself. “My name is Kristen Busenstien. Lady Busenstien actually; my brother is the count. We live on the hill and this is our village.”

Twenty minutes later Becky sat along side her new friend in the old luxury Mercedes as it made the tortuous ascent up the other side of the valley. Ahead almost built into the side of the cliff was a large stone building. In fact Becky saw as they neared it was more of a castle than a huge house. The stone was almost black, high walls with long windows, towers with fairy tale pointed roofs.

Becky couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before as she had driven. However, as she tried to get an orientation she realized that only once you entered the valley would you be able to see it; the cliff face masking it from the outside world. The thing wasn’t beautiful, more ominous than enchanting. However it certainly looked spectacular and thinking of how cleverly hid it was she had to admire the ingenuity of people who built it.

“The castle is nearly a thousand years old and lay in ruins for centuries, up until the Second World War.” Kristen explained, her pale white skin glowing in the shadowy cabin.

“It was used by the SS and still bears some signs of there presence; carved swastikas, bomb shelters etc. My father acquired it soon after they left, along with the village.”

Becky stretched; her heaving bosom through her tight olive green t-shirt. Kristen smiled not taking her eyes of the road

“Don’t worry my dear tonight you can rest in comfort. My brother and I so like to entertain, he’ll be delighted.”

Ahead an iron gate opened. The railings were shaped into the crooked cross of the Nazi symbol; and Becky shuddered a little. “I don’t think I would be comfortable keeping such things.” Then she apologized, feeling ungrateful and a little pompous.

Kristen nodded appreciating her opinion then adding. “But the craftsmanship outstanding, wouldn’t you agree?”

The car stopped in the high sided courtyard, two large hounds thundering out towards the blonde woman. Kristen snapped an order that made Becky jump, the two dogs instantly heeling, docile and obedient.

“Good job you’re here,” Becky joked one eye still on the powerful animals. “Yes it is,” came the matter of fact reply as Kristen led her inside, the dogs sitting rigid were she had left them.

A young maid took her rucksack and beckoned her to sleeping quarters. “Dinner will be served at 8pm,” said Lady Busenstien as she strode off her boots echoing on the hard cold floor.

The castle was a maze of corridors, stairs, and vaulted rooms. All kitted out in elegant furniture, pictures and from time to time medieval armour. Eventually she got to her room. The Lady of the house hadn’t been kidding, comfort was the word here. There was a huge bed surrounded by drapes, wardrobes, dressing table, with a small log fire already lit to protect her from the evening chill.

“Wow,” she thought falling on the bed, “double wow!” She laid back, kicked off her shoes and fell asleep.

She awoke lazily as if at home, then remembered were she was. The wall clock now said twenty to eight, and the daylight was quickly receding. She washed and carefully made herself presentable. Apart from grundge kit she only had a single black mini dress and sling backs in her pack. So her fashion decisions were made for her, nothing else was appropriate for the occasion.

She admired herself in the mirror. Mousy red hair tied up in a bun showing her long neck, the dress hugging her tits and curved waist. Her firm thighs just showing under the tight mini, long calves taut in her 2 inch heeled shoes.

“Hmm I wonder what the count looks like?” She pondered smoothing the material over her round perfect butt.

She opened her bedroom door and began to head back the way she had come. All the corridors looked the same and though she could see out of the windows into the court yard she was struggling to find a way down. She began to get frustrated and cursed as she went over on her ankle; it had been so long since she’d been out of trainers. As she paused she heard noises to her right. She headed towards them calling out. Then fell silent, the noises making her nervous.

They were not talking, but there was definitely more than one voice making unrecognizable sounds. She found a two foot hole in the corridor stone wall that appeared to look down onto another room. Maybe some type of old flue or ammo port. She crouched down heels tight together firm ass straining her dress; and slowly pushed her head inside to look.

Becky almost cried out, but stopped herself hand over her mouth. Below about 20 feet was a cell like room full of barrels and boxes. She reckoned it was a pantry. Sprawled across a table face down was a girl her hands gripping the wood, a bowl of vegetables already knocked to the floor. She had long black hair and must have only been 16. It was the little maid who had shown her to the room earlier.

Her uniform was hitched up revealing her cute upturned ass and slender back. Behind her was a young man pants down his cock buried up her tight pussy. The maid was groaning and thrashing as he fucked forcefully. The young girl was shaking her head gritting her teeth.

“Uggh, awwwww nien bitte!”

The man snapped orders to her pulling her onto her knees forcing his cock in her mouth. Becky’s eyes were wide in horror and fascination. “What was going on, oh my god, I shouldn’t be watching. Should I?”

Her mind raced but she did not pull back.” Oh he’s going to come in her mouth, ooh, oohh!”

Becky blushed hand on her mouth as he spurted; the young girl moaning as spunk frothed from her lips. The man slapped his cock across her face the strands zig zagging her young mouth and chin as he grunted in satisfaction.

Becky suddenly felt very obvious peering down and shot back upright out of the shaft, panting in excitement and worry. She stood and steadied herself feeling flush and a little light headed.

“Just forget about it, it’s none of your business. “She told herself silently.

The stairs echoed to her heels as she hurried down and along the corridors, she just wanted to leave now. Should she just go,” yes why not?” As she ran around a corner she gave a yelp as she fell into some ones arms. To her horror she recognized him as the man she’d just been watching.

“Ahh Frauline Becky I believe, you look upset? Allow me to introduce myself I’m Count Busenstien. You can call me Hans.”

Becky sheepishly smiled back at the good looking young man, his blonde hair a mess, face still red from excursion.