by Lucy Wild
Count Wetula
Chapter 1
Jennifer Harker’s Journal
2 May – Left Munich at 8.35 on 1st 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 cu
rtseyed, 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.
5 May - The Castle. The grey of the morning has passed and the sun is high over the distant horizon which seems jagged, whether with trees or hills I know not for it is so far off that big things and little are mixed.
I am not sleepy and as I not to be called until I awake, I naturally write until sleep comes. There are many odd things to put down and lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left Pissritz, let me put down my dinner exactly.
