Chapter 2

"He's a strange one all right," said Andre as they were settling in their room, he exploring the large dresser and chest-o-drawers.

"Very direct I'll grant you, but he has been gracious to offer us dinner and a place to stay until father and your mother return."

"I just don't understand why, if their carriage was repaired they didn't arrive for the wedding."

"Perhaps because they thought they were stranded and so sent the message. Even though their carriage was repaired it may have been too late to make the ceremony."

"Then where are they?"

"I have no idea. Perhaps the count's servant will be able to track them down and have them return."

"Yes, perhaps. In the meantime our wedding night awaits," he said smiling.

"Now Andre, you know we agreed that we would postpone our honeymoon until out parents were found. Besides, I really am exhausted. Would it be so terrible to wait?"

"Well, I suppose not. We have waited this long, so another night won't matter."

"Thank you, darling," she said, pecking him on the cheek. "I do want to sleep next to you."

"Yes, that will be nice," he added. "Perhaps you could wear this," he smiled, pulling out a negligee from a dresser very similar to the one worn by Markessa. "It's almost as if it was here for your wedding night."

"But Andre..."

"Oh, I intend to keep our promise. However i would like to see you wear it."

"Perhaps tomorrow night if our parents are found."

"Oh, all right," he said with a disappointed voice, dropping the wispy garment back into the drawer.

Minutes later they were in bed, Justine wearing a full length flannel gown.

"Good night, dear," she said kissing him lightly on the cheek. But Andre wanted more than a mere peck. His mouth found hers and while he was quite passionate, Justine, on the other hand was experiencing an inexplicable coolness, a disinterest she had not felt before.

As Andre lay back on his side of the bed, she began wondering why she suddenly possessed so little interest in him sexually especially since she had just experienced the ultimate pleasure for the first time in her life. Why wouldn't she wish to share her body with her husband, to re-experience such delicious and decadent satisfaction? Could it be because the source of that pleasure had been Count Ragonian and not Andre? Surely not, yet it was at the moment the count entered the room that she had first felt such pleasure and then again when he had taken her hand. Nonsense, she thought. Yes, the man was handsome and there was certainly an air about him, almost overwhelming, but...

She lay back as Andre turned the lamp down and out. Within minutes Andre was snoring lightly, sound asleep. Justine lay in the dark, concern for her father and Andre's mother on her mind but also she simply could not expel the count from her jumbled and excited thoughts. As her mind replayed the count's kiss of her hand Justine felt a warmness between her legs and realized she was aroused. Chastising herself she turned over and tried to excise such thoughts, but sleep did not come for some time and when it did there were strange erotic dreams all of which involved the count, danger and sex.

Justine had not been asleep more than a couple of hours. Distantly the wolves howled in their mountain lairs and a frost hung in the night air as Justine suddenly awoke with a start. She was sure someone was calling her name. She strained in the darkness to hear but there was only silence to greet her. She looked over to Andre who slept soundly, his heavy breathing the only sound penetrating the stillness of the darkened room.

There! There it was again. More in her mind than an actual sound. Her name repeated over and over slowly as if whispered at the edge of audibility. She thought it her imagination, perhaps a remnant of the strange dreams she had been experiencing. She turned over and lay back trying to ignore it and return to sleep, but the sound, almost a summoning, grew stronger and as she listened Justine realized the voice was mesmerizing instilling in her a desire to arise and seek it out.

Again she thought it nonsense and closed her eyes but it was much stronger now, pulling at her and she found her will to resist was weakening. She was afraid now and twisted under the covers as if trying to break a hold, but she could not. She tried to turn and awaken Andre but found instead her arms gently pulling back the covers, so as not to awaken her sleeping husband. Fear running through her, she willed herself to stay in bed next to Andre and safety, but could not. Slowly and quietly she slipped from the bed and almost as if in a daze walked to the large dresser. Disrobing from her flannel nightwear her naked body shivered in the coolness of the room, Her fingers, seemingly no longer her own, quietly opened the middle drawer and withdrew the sensuous negligee Andre had discovered just before they had retired for the evening. Slipping it on she looked back to Andre still sleeping soundly then knowing not her destination she tiptoed from the room.

Once in the hallway, Justine was petrified. What was she doing? Why had she awakened? Why had she donned this provocative piece of nightwear and why had she left her husband? Perhaps most important of all, where was she going and why?

The voice was no longer beseeching but demanding and Justine found she could not resist even though she tried again and again. The voice seemed eerily familiar yet unrecognizable.

Justine, in her bare feet, felt the cold of the hallway floor as she slowly, as if in a dream, made her way to the door she dreaded. She stood for several seconds fighting the impulse to enter, yet, in the end, the voice was relentless and impossible to resist.

Dazed and frightened, her head shook negatively and she whispered "No, I mustn't," but it was all for naught as the voice beckoned her a final time and her hand, seemingly no longer her own, turned the knob and the door opened.

The count, in a velvet robe, stood smiling.

"Come in my dear. I've been waiting for you."

"You!" she cried. "It was your voice I've been hearing. But how did you... ?"

"Let's just say i have a way with women. I call them and they come to me."

"But I don't want to be here. You ... you ... made me!"

"Ah, ah. I called, but you are the one who has come to my room."

"Well not any longer! I shall return to to our room and my husband..." she said starting to leave, but while the count said nothing aloud she found herself strangely unable to walk out the door. In fact, quite to the contrary she gasped as her hand reached out to close the door leaving her in the bedroom of a stranger on what should have been her wedding night.

"You're doing this to me ... somehow! Please stop immediately! I wish to return to..."

"But it's your wedding night. Why are you not this very moment in the throes of passion and under the protection of your new husband?"

"He's sleeping. If he knew..."

"He'll know soon enough. And sleeping on his wedding night? My, my, is that any way to start a marriage?" smiled Ragonian.

"That, sir, is none of your affair. Now I demand that..."

"You have come to my bedroom in the middle of the night, dressed quite sensuously, I might add," he said eyeing her figure through the wispy negligee.

Justine, thoroughly embarrassed, tried to cover herself bu the count only laughed.

"Now why should a beautiful young bride be so self conscious about her body in front of the man to whom she's about to make love?"

"What? This is outrageous! I..."

"You came to my room dressed provocatively. You closed the door sealing us alone together."

"But ... but..." pleaded Justine, her resistance being sapped by some unknown power this stranger held over her.

"Now my dear, let me get a better look at you," he said smiling confidently.

"But, not even Andre has seen..."

"The count said nothing more but his eyebrow raised slightly and suddenly Justine felt her arms begin to raise and her hands reach to untie the small ribbon which tied the negligee at her neck. Panicky, she tried to will her hands to stop but without effect. A bead of perspiration appeared on her brow as she strained to break free.

"No..." she managed to utter weakly but her hands would not obey. A slight tug on the ribbon and the flimsy nightwear slithered from her. Justine Letour stood naked in the flickering firelight.

"Lovely. The face and body of a goddess."

"No, please..." she begged as he motioned for her to approach and now it was her legs who betrayed her. She stepped to within inches of the handsome seducer.

His hand reached out and lightly touched the nipple of her breast. Instantly Justine was in ecstasy. The orgasm left her quivering with both fright and delight.

"You see, I have no intention of harming you. In fact, quite the contrary. Tonight you shall experience the ultimate pleasure. You, my dear Justine, are about to be driven senseless with desire, deflowered and sated with sexual satisfaction of which other women can only dream."

Her eyes looked up into his, beseechingly.

"But ... I'm married."

"A ceremony which is quite meaningless since I want you and intend to have you."

"But I'm a ... virgin. I've been saving myself for Andre."

"No, Justine. You are mistaken. You have been saving yourself for ME!"

She stepped backward, but in so doing encountered the bed and fell back onto it. As the count smiled she felt her arms rise above her head and reach for the bedposts. She was crying now, tears running down her cheeks as she realized she was defenseless against the power of this man she now considered evil. She wanted to crawl across the bed and escape but she couldn't move and her eyes were driven to his.

With another confident smile he undid the sash which held his robe closed and let the garment fall to the floor. Her eyes widened in fear and wonder at the naked body, but it was what grew between his legs that enthralled and horrified her. The semi-erect phallus was twice as large and twice as long as even a well endowed mortal's. And before her terrified eyes it grew to monstrous proportions.

"Now show me your treasure, Justine."

She had held her legs closed but now, in utter defeat, she felt them slowly spread open until her nest was bared to him. She wanted to close her eyes, look away, but that too was denied her.

"You're wet, Justine. I can see the drops of your passion clinging around those lovely lips and in the coal blackhair of your nest."

She was gasping now, desperate, for her fear, while clear and strong, was now having to share her body with arousal. For the first time in her life she was baring her body to a man and while she, on the one hand reviled him, she could no longer deny he was seductive and desirable. Combine that with his absolute power over her and her body trembled in anticipation.