It was silent. ‘H.. hello?’ She tentatively spoke from her cries, sniffing and spitting out some gob from her mouth and nose. That was when she h...ard the clothing being rustled. Not her clothing. Someone else’s clothing. Her eyes bugged out inside the sack around her head, and she started to squirm and buck against her bonds. The laugher came back – hard to hear for Lynn as she was struggling so hard and her face was sweating and sniffing inside the confines of the bag. ‘Oh no… you’re not. ..the Count's boots echoed down the dank stone passage, rousing Misty from her reflections. She shivered as he approached, his rakishly handsome features afffecting her as they always did, despite the heavy whip he carried in his hand and the hard, cruel glint in his eye. Misty was acutely aware of her helplessness, her wrists held over her head by heavy manacles, her pettycoat a ragged ruin that clung tenuously to her voluptuous body. The Count paused before her, eyeing her boldly. When his. More

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