As her vision finally cleared, Caitlin found herself staring up at a massive stone structure looming before her. It was a gothic castle, piercing the sky. The moonlight glinting off its towers made it seem almost alive. The young girl had no idea how she had gotten there. One moment she had been inside her safe, warm bed, and the next she was standing bare naked on a doorstep in the middle of the woods.
The doors slowly crept open of their own accord, as if welcoming her into their dark embrace. Hesitant, she ventured inside the ominous place. As if guided by some unseen force, she found herself drawn irresistibly towards a grand hall at the far end of the corridor. There, standing before a large table glittering ebony and crimson, was a man who could only be the count himself. He was tall and imposing, bald, and with a skin as pale as alabaster. His eyes, however, burned with an inner fire, an unholy mixture of hunger and malice that sent a shiver down Caitlin’s spine.
He fixed her with a predatory gaze, and for a moment, Caitlin felt as though he could see straight through her. “Ah, my little virgin,” he rasped, his voice like the rustling of dead leaves in the wind. “I have been waiting for you.” Without another word, he gestured dismissively towards a chair beside him. “Sit down,” he commanded. “And spread your legs open for me.”
