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Castle Of Dreams

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Castle Of Dreams
Andy Sachs, Second Assistant to Miranda Priestly, grimaced as she stifled yet another violent yawn. She was so fucking exhausted. The two months leading up to Runway’s iconic September Edition were always frenetic and unbelievably tiring and to add an unexpected photo-shoot in Europe to the mix without warning was unbelievably stressful.
She sighed as she prepared for bed, her eyes taking in her environment, but her mind denying the reality of the situation that she found herself in.
“I’m a simple girl from Ohio, and here I am at Runway, Ellis Clarke’s flagship publication, not only working for Miranda Priestly, but I’m about to sleep in an enormous hand-carved bed in a Gothic Castle built in the 14th Century. Not exactly the life I had planned for myself, but I wouldn’t complain, if only I could get some sleep!”
Yawning again, she gazed around her sumptuous velvet-draped bedchamber in bemusement, noting the brocade tapestries on the walls and the enormous chandelier over the middle of the bed, it kind of reminded her of a scene out of "Dracula".
Her drained sluggish mind could appreciate the grandeur of Corvin Castle, with its imposing buttresses, medieval armor and massive dining hall. She had always wanted to visit Romania, but it was a long way from her studio apartment at home in New York. She remembered the decision to shoot the feature here.
Nigel had suggested a Gothic Castle to showcase the ethereal creations of Miranda’s new discovery, Enfant Terrible: Curtis LaStrange, and Miranda had agreed. She would deal with the overblown budget with a miserly Irv Ravitz later, after all - needs must.
So with several hundred hours of logistical planning, here they were, and here they would stay for the next five days. Miranda was overseeing this vital shoot personally, so they had all been up for well over 18 hours, including the ten-hour flight and making all the plans that had to be perfect for Miranda and her Team prior to the real work starting.
“Real work.” Another yawn. “Real work. I have to be up in 6 hours and I haven’t even slept yet. Sleep, need sleep…”
Muttering darkly, she unpinned her chestnut hair and gracelessly slid between the covers of the dramatic and over sized bed. Within seconds, she was sound asleep.
She woke with a start, and tried to scream. A hand was over her mouth and she couldn’t breathe, She struggled as other hands came down firmly upon her body, restraining her limbs. She thrashed silently, her throat closing in panic as a strange smelling rag of some sort was pushed over her nose and mouth. She tried not to breathe in, but gagged when she felt the foul vapors entering her lungs. Tears slipped out of her eyes as rough hands picked her up off the large bed and carried her out into the darkness. All she could see were dark-robed figures all around her. The sound of her terror-stricken breathing was the only noise she could hear.
The robed figures carried her swiftly down the long corridor, illuminated by ancient wall sconces. Her kicking had become futile jerks by now and her attempts to scream had become little pants of fear. Where were they taking her? What the fuck was going to happen to her? Andy had never felt so terrified in her life. Yet without warning, she felt her breathing slow and all her muscles relaxed.
“What the fuck, they drugged me, the bastards drugged me, why would…” This thought came too late. She sagged weakly in her captives arms as the drugs swiftly took effect. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she knew no more of consciousness.
Her first thought upon waking again was that she was lying on a cool hard surface of some sort. Sharp prickles of a structure that felt like wood were sticking into her back and she shivered in the cold. She carefully opened her eyes and looked out at an awe-inspiring sight. She was lying on one of the two huge banquet tables in the medieval dining hall they had eaten in earlier, and she was quite naked.
Andy was pleasantly muddled by the drugs and not at all panicked about this unfolding situation. Neither was she particularly bothered by the figures circling her, spectres in black velvet robes with the hoods up covering their faces. She sleepily squinted and tried to see beyond the entities surrounding her. The hall was huge and had hundreds of sconces on the walls, which gave off a pretty flickering light that had her quite mesmerised in her languid numb state. She idly wondered what was going to happen, but she was too blank to be afraid or even embarrassed about her nakedness.
As she watched, two of the hooded parties approached her in the darkened room and put their hands on her. She relaxed, and was boneless as they each took an arm and sat her up on the edge of the table. It was at this point that the two figures threw back their hoods in unison, showing her their faces. Andy was apathetic, but she recognised Emily and Serena from Runway as the two beings who were restraining her.
They held her firmly on the edge of the massive wooden trestle and waited for a third hooded creature to approach. This figure was taller and seemed to be carrying some sort of chalice with red liquid sloshing inside it. Andy relaxed as she felt the mystery being pulling up her chin. She obediently swallowed the viscous liquid that was poured into her throat, gagging as it dripped down her neck onto her full breasts. Within moments, she started to feel some of the soporific effects of whatever drug she had been given, leave her. She tried to get Emily’s attention, whispering urgently
“Em, what’s happening? Why am I naked? What’s going on? Please tell me…”
But no answer was forthcoming. Andy gasped as Emily turned her face into the light to reveal a slack jaw and dull eyes. She reminded Andy of a sleepwalker. Andy felt the stirring return of hysteria bubbling up in her chest. She craned her neck around to look at Serena and was horrified to see a flabby flaccid sort of leer on Serena’s face. Neither woman spoke to her, nor made any attempt to maintain eye contact. They acted as if they were under some sort of spell and could not even recognise her. Andy’s heart sank as she saw any chance of reasoning with the two women swiftly evaporate into thin air.
Another set of hands touched her cold skin, and Andy jumped. The hooded figures had encircled her again, whilst her attention had been diverted onto Emily and Serena. These hands were not deferential or gentle. She gasped as they started to poke, pinch and slap at her tender cooled flesh. Rude fingers grasped her nipples and stretched and rolled them, until they were singingly sensitive, whilst other hands scratched up and down her inner thighs and her taut abdominal muscles. Another, smaller, hand in a silk glove was slowly and deliberately running itself near her mons, and despite herself, the combination of the aggressive actions and the soft stroking of the glove had an effect. Andy blushed and shivered as she realised that her cunt was getting wetter with every stroke of that wicked glove closer to her clitoris, each teasing stroke getting her higher, at counterpoint with the rough handling.
As if some secret signal had been given, the hands all stopped their ministrations. Andy looked up as all of the figures dropped their robes in unison and her mouth fell open in astonishment. She knew them all, every single one of them.
All were Runway Staff, all Clackers from the New York Office and all were nude. She identified Jocelyn, Giselle, Katie, Letitia and three other women from work. To her dismay, all of the women shared the same slack-jawed sluggish look and none of them made any attempt to talk to her. It was like they had all been bewitched or drugged. Andy began to grow afraid as to what was to be expected of her. What were all these women possibly planning to do to her?
It was at that moment that a deathly quiet, yet familiar voice spoke out in the silent hall.
“Sisters, tonight we offer up this innocent. We bless the Ancient Sisters and we pray that her immolation will harken a new era of power for all of us who believe in The Old Ways. May this sacrifice be found acceptable to you. Blessed Be.”
Andy shivered.
“Miranda? What is she doing here? What is she talking about? Oh My God, are they going to kill me? Is this some Secret Society that I have been kidnapped into?”
She felt her breathing quicken, but before she could descend into full blown panic, Miranda continued, in that delicate satin voice.
“Ancient Sisters, we offer up the ecstasy of this innocent to you. My Sisters, prepare her and use her as you will.”
As one, the women released their breath. At Miranda’s bidding, the hands came back down onto Andy’s body en masse and she was pushed flat onto her back, but it was so much more intense this time. Oiled hands began running themselves over all available areas of her pale skin, the pinching, rolling and kneading was augmented by slapping and heavy massage, Andy gave herself over to absolute sensation.
She felt someone run an oiled finger lightly onto her clitoris and cried out, then flinched as another hand shoved two oiled fingers into her cunt and began thrusting them in and out quite vigorously, stretching her tender vagina wider and wider. Finally, with a popping sound, the owner was wet to the wrist, her fist firmly set in Andy’s tight cunt.
She felt herself falling into a web of physicality. She lost awareness of whose hand was where and what each was doing. The Pack was merciless in their intentions. Hand after hand took turns driving itself into her. Her cunt slopped and tightened at each delicious invasion, and she closed her eyes, lost to the frenzied rhythm of the grind. She felt herself pausing on the edge of a monstrous orgasm, her hips thrusting up and down like the most wanton of Harlots, sweating profusely, breathing heavily. A scream escaped as her hips drove her even further forward on to the lucky fist that was presently fucking her. Spasming, she came in a widening rush, rivulets of creamy juices streaming out onto the wrist and down the arm of her delicious invader.
At this moment, all the women stopped what they were doing as one. Andy gasped as the hand inside her was withdrawn with a moist pop and she mourned the loss of all the other nasty hands from her body. All the women turned and looked behind her. Andy couldn’t comprehend what was going on, and followed their gaze. The sight that greeted her made her sore cunt gush and crave anew.
On the dais at the apex of the hall, stood Miranda Priestly. She had shed her robe and Andy was astonished at the beauty and symmetry of Miranda’s pale nude body in the candlelight. She was so fucking beautiful. Andy’s gasp was as loud as a thunderclap when she saw what else Miranda was wearing, an humongous black dildo in a shiny silver harness that glinted in the rush light.
Andy wheezed as she tried to suppress her reaction to the nude Miranda - a nude Miranda wearing an obscenely large sex toy. The silent mass of women parted and drew back from Andy at this point, and she trembled under Miranda’s icy regard. She stuttered as Miranda quietly addressed the heaving Pack.
“Sisters, you have done well, she is adequately prepared for my pleasure.”
Emily and Serena, still expressionless, moved forward and assisted Andy to stand. They turned her around and bent her over the trestle with her ass in the air. She shook at the thought of Miranda’s cold regard and what was to come.
Miranda moved quickly towards Andy, as Andy was spreadeagled, face first on the table. Miranda beckoned one of the woman to approach the tableau, and instructed her to put a finger into Andy's ass and to oil up her rectum. She squirmed at having a finger in so sensitive a place. She felt her ass burning as it stretched wider as the woman inserted a second and then a third finger into her squirming hole, the friction causing her to open up wider, after thrusting her fingers in and out for a short while, she withdrew, and there was only silence and the hot eyes of the Pack that had profaned her so very well.
Vision impeded by being face first over the table, Andy strained to hear what was happening. Without warning she was lost in Miranda’s unique scent, she trembled as the small cold hands took her hips firmly and the huge dildo was shoved into her anus with a decidedly wet slide. Andy groaned as Miranda swiftly got into a fast rolling rhythm, she was unable to think as the cock stroked all of the nerve endings inside her. She moaned loudly with each invasion and actually screamed when Miranda scratched her sore sensitive clit with a finger nail. Tight, wet, hot, tight, wet and hot, she trembled as the mighty ass-fucking continued. She had never felt so full, so stretched, so tight. It seemed that Miranda was fucking her right up into her throat, her dildo an extension of her will and her will was to take Andy so thoroughly, to own her, and she did just that.
Andy lost all sensibility at this point, her eyes rolled back into her head and her body went limp into divine unconsciousness.
When she next opened her eyes, she was tied to a chair with her legs spread and Miranda was swabbing her nipples with a cold liquid. Andy erupted in near-hysteria as the first barbell was deftly pulled through her erect nipple, and she sobbed at the feeling of rising heat afterwards. Miranda pinched the other nipple and swiftly and dispassionately pierced it quickly. The same feeling of warmth and tenderness enveloped the twin nipple. Andy looked up and caught a cold smirk on Miranda’s face, almost as if the regal woman was pleased, and Andy was proud. She felt herself drifting off as she savored the burn in her chest and the ache in her well-used hole.

RING RING RING....
“What the…. What’s happening? Oh, my alarm. Castle. Photo-shoot. Shower. Miranda’s coffee. Photo-shoot…up…out of bed.”
Andy blearily rubbed her eyes and went to get up out of her bed. Six hours sleep was never going to be enough after 18 hours of travelling with an impatient Miranda on this Assignment. And why did she feel so spent and sore? She wondered. Andy yawned and stretched as she climbed wearily out of her luxurious bed and headed to the bathroom to get a glass of water. She shook her head when thinking about the erotic dream she had conjured up involving Emily, Serena and all the Clackers, and an ass-fucking nude Miranda - let’s not forget that pertinent little detail. Andy seriously debated just calling Nigel and playing sick and hiding in her bed, so that she wouldn’t have to face all the Innocents who had defiled her so deliciously in her dreams.
As she walked to the bathroom mirror, and turned on the light, she froze and just stared at her breasts. They were replete with shiny new nipple piercings.