Chapter One

"Is that you Mistress Lynx?" said the voice on the mobile phone.

"Peter," I yelled, raising my voice in an effort to overcome the poor reception. "I've just gone through the village, am in a lay-by. I can't see the lane you've drawn on your map!"

Peter was an estate agent and one of my top slaves. It was he who had told me about the property called Drummond Castle being up for sale.

He described the surrounding area, which gave me my bearings.

"You should find the lane about a quarter of a mile further down the road. You can't miss it."

"You want to bet?" I challenged, then cursed as the atmospherics took over completely.

I pulled out of the lay-by and found the lane as he had described, cautiously steering the car round numerous blind bends, following instructions until a pair of impressively constructed wrought iron gates loomed up before me, upon which the equally impressive notice stood out in bold capitals:

DRUMMOND CASTLE

PRIVATE PROPERTY

STRICTLY NO ADMITTANCE

THAT MEANS YOU

I do like people to say what they mean, that notice said it all. I climbed out of the car and checked along the high stone wall for a short distance in both directions. There were more notices advising would be visitors to get lost. There was also evidence of security cameras and sensors, just to add that extra touch to anyone contemplating entering without permission.

I touched the buzzer as indicated by a sign on one of the high pillars at the gates.

"Yes?" asked a deep male voice, after some considerable delay.

"I have an appointment to view the property," I replied loudly and clearly, making sure I would be understood without further delay. I had no intention of standing in the middle of nowhere all day and I didn't like anything barring my way ...

"Name?" came the gruff retort.

"Look, buster!" I said, looking straight at the bland stare of the one eyed camera. "If you don't want to sell the heap of crap you call Drummond Castle, then why the hell advertise? Are you going to open up these pearly gates or do I leave you to fart yourself into oblivion?"

I could have said any number of rude things, but I am supposed to be a lady and one does have to maintain certain standards.

"You must be the Lynx dame," he grumbled, as much to himself as to me.

At least my gentle personality must have seeped through the moron's thick skull as without further delay and no more sweet mutterings, the heavy gates swung silently open on well oiled hinges.

I climbed into my car and went up the long gravel drive, which eventually curved through the trees to reveal the castle itself. It was set amongst a wide stretch of what had been at one time well manicured lawns. Even from a distance I could see they had been sadly neglected and would need the attention of a number of slaves if I hoped to get them back to their former glory.

The building was not large, at least as far as castles go but with three floors, eight bedrooms and numerous lounges, dining rooms and a large kitchen, not to mention the cellars and two towers, it had more than enough elbow room for my needs. I particularly liked the towers at either end of the castellated structure. Both were round; one was of considerable diameter, the other tall and narrow. If you are going to have a castle, you have to have towers, or at least in my book you do!

With a potential purchaser arriving, I would have thought the owner would have been at the door to greet me, full of enthusiasm and the joys of spring but the solid oak door remained firmly closed. I pulled the wrought iron handle I assumed was attached to something and heard a distant bell ring out its message: I had arrived.

"Welcome to Drummond Castle!" I murmured under my breath.

The heavy door finally swung open and a man stood there, or at least the nearest approximation to the species that could be described as man. He was well over six feet tall and of considerable bulk, which was obviously caused by over indulgence and heavy bouts of beer swilling. The man looked larger than life, as much as anything due to the shaggy, unkempt beard and loose fitting, none too clean clothes he was almost wearing.

This apparition of macho manhood gave a grunt, shuffled backwards and presumably expected me to step inside, which I did, holding my breath while in his proximity. His air space was polluted with body odours, garlic and unwashed clothing.

"I'm Jake!" he mumbled from somewhere down in that bloated beer belly of his. "You want to have a look round?"

"You take a guess at the answer to that one and I'll wander around while you're thinking about it!" I replied, trying to be as polite as I possibly could.

If the lumbering heap called Jake registered my sarcasm, he made no sign of it, but simply gave another deep gutted rumble, farted, then shuffled after me as I began to explore.

I purposefully failed to show any emotion and hardly conversed, maintaining my best stony attitude as we went from room to room and floor to floor, but I absolutely adored the place. It was perfect for my purposes and letting my imagination run away with itself, I straight away fell in love with it.

"The place is in a bit of a mess," I commented, prying into every cobwebbed corner and making out I knew a lot more about the structure of buildings than I did. "It'll cost a bomb to put right."

"It's got history," he offered, as if that would add value.

"It's got woodworm too," I replied, with a sarcastic laugh. "But I'm not paying extra for them."

The top two floors were as expected. Lots of bedrooms, most with their own private facilities and a maze of passages leading, amongst other things, to both towers.

The narrower of the two towers had a tightly winding spiral staircase leading to a small single circular room on each floor, secured by low, heavy wooden doors, ideal to lock slaves in. At the other end of the building, the larger tower had its spiral staircase connecting each floor, each with its single room, but in this case they were considerably larger, using the entire circumference of the tower to make very attractive, circular areas. One was a lounge, with a massive open fireplace and splendid views from the windows overlooking the countryside. Another was a library, the curved bookshelves filled with books of every description which, by the dust gathered on them, hadn't been disturbed in a very long time. I doubted if the present moronic owner could even read. On one floor, the massive room had been converted into a sumptuous bathroom, complete with huge circular bath, in which a person could luxuriate for a any length of time, especially if slaves were there to attend your every need.

"That doesn't look as if it's been used in quite a while," I observed, giving my guide a sidelong glance. "I hope the taps work."

"They work," he mumbled, although from his appearance, I couldn't see how he knew.

I followed the owner down the spiral staircase to the ground floor and inspected the kitchens, scullery, store rooms and another large sitting room, which no doubt could be made most attractive but lacked the superb view obtained from the lounge in the large tower.

"You don't wanna see the cellars, do you?" he grumbled, no doubt exhausted from all the exercise.

"The cellars?" I asked, delighted to know that there was something down in the depths, hidden from view. "You mean real live dungeons?"

I was letting my imagination run riot, but the enthusiasm was obviously not contagious.

The shambling Jake led me along another twisting corridor to a low entrance, almost as if it had been cut from the solid stone wall. It was so dark in the passage I would have missed it altogether if he hadn't been there to show me.

"I suppose you never thought of installing lights?" I asked, peering into the dark entrance.

"What's that then?" he retorted, as he flicked a rusty switch and a pale glow came from a lamp screwed to the wall, making a pathetic effort to resemble a candle. I think a candle would have given a brighter light.

"Don't use this part of the place," he mumbled in his beard, then disappeared into the dark entrance.

I ducked my head and followed the man down yet another spiral staircase, this one considerably narrower than the others and festooned with cobwebs.

"I'm glad you're in front," I said, as he swept his arm about, wiping them out of the way.

"I'm getting covered in the shit," he moaned, wiping his already filthy face. "I'm going to need a wash after this."

"It's a hard life, Jake," I sighed, trying to sound sympathetic, but picturing him washing was stretching even my imagination a bit far.

Thankfully, we reached the bottom of the stone steps, our feet echoing on the flagstones as we worked our way along a low passage, again obviously carved from solid rock.

"No lights here. Needs wiring," he took a candle in its holder from a niche in the wall and struck a match, lighting it into spluttering existence.

With the candle held aloft we continued our journey, passing various doors, the passage twisting this way and that and seemingly for no obvious reason other than to confuse. There were several branches leading off from the main passage, all with small doors in them.

"Cellars, store rooms, all empty, never used," he rumbled, imparting so little information he would have made an estate agent weep.

At the furthest end of the dark passage was a door as solid and low as all the others, but with a grille, through which one could peep to view the interior; provided of course there was light inside.

"You want to look?" Jake asked incredulously as I tried to open the door.

"It looks interesting," I told him, trying to hide my enthusiasm. "I like to know what I'm buying."

With a sigh of exasperation, as if this was all becoming too much for him, he put his considerable shoulder to the door and it burst open, allowing me to step inside.

He didn't follow but stood at the entrance. I reached back and took the candle from him, leaving him in darkness while I went exploring.

Although the rock hewn ceiling was low, the cavernous area seemed to be vast, particularly in the darkness. There were frequent stone pillars which I presumed supported the weight of the castle above. It was difficult to grasp how intricate the cavern was with the aid of only one light, but there were various small niches all around the perimeter of the area and to my delight, some of them were sealed off with iron bars. What they had been used for I could only guess but they would be absolutely ideal as dungeons, to lock the wayward slave up, when he needed to be taught a lesson. Dungeons within a dungeon. Fascinating!

I went back to the doorway and found Jake where I had left him.

"Finished?" he asked, without showing any particular interest.

"I would like to look at the grounds sometime," I commented, as we made our way back up to the ground floor. "That's one hell of an area you have out there."

"Too much," he grumbled, "It's all gone wild."

"Well," I said, as we stepped into the large room. "I'm certainly interested in the place, provided of course it's the right price."

I looked at him, trying to bore holes into his bird-like brain.

"And don't expect me to offer the ridiculous price you gave the estate agent," I continued, putting on the pressure. "The place needs so much work doing to it, you should be paying me to take it off your hands."

We sat down on settees opposite each other and he named a price.

"Get stuffed!" I replied, as polite as ever.

We haggled, then haggled some more. I could have afforded the original asking price without any problems and might well have accepted it if the turd had even come close to resembling a civilised human being, but this heap of blubber gave me the creeps. His lack of interest in the place indicated he could be squeezed down a few thousand without too much of a problem.

Of course I was right. He seemed anxious to be rid of Drummond Castle and it wasn't long before we arrived at an acceptable figure. Much to my distaste, we shook hands to seal the agreement. I was going to have to wash my hand at the very first opportunity.

Thankful that the preliminaries were over, I got up to go.

"Want a drink?" he asked, making a pathetic gesture of hospitality now that the business was done.

"I don't think so, thank you," I replied, not fancying drinking out of an unwashed glass.

"Stay for a while," he suggested, heaving his blubbery body to its feet.

"No. I really must be going."

"What's the hurry?" he said, trying to make his voice sound friendly but coming out as if he had been drinking well used engine oil. He took a lumbering step towards me.

I responded by taking a step backwards, then watched in fascinated horror as his hand went down to the flies of his unwashed jeans and pulled the zip down. A cock, no bigger than the size of a chipolata, flopped out and he held it towards me.

"We could have some fun," he rumbled, his face distorting into what he must have assumed was a friendly smile, his stained teeth indicating that his insides were no more hygienic than the exterior.

I looked at the pathetic excuse for a prick, which looked even more ridiculous compared with the massive bulk of its owner and my horror turned to amusement. I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"You would need something a lot bigger and better than that to entertain me," I informed him, pointing to the offending article.

"You sure as hell could make it better," he suggested and lurched forward with surprising speed for one so handicapped by over-weight.

I had miscalculated his ability to move at anything beyond a crawl and backed up against the wall, then realised that I had nowhere to go. He reached out with a grubby paw, making a grab for me.

Never being one to be backward in coming forward, I made a grab for the deflated sausage hanging from his jeans, jerked it with considerable force towards me and at the same time brought my knee up, directly under his balls.

The man's face was a picture to behold. He went crossed eyed, sucked in a great breath of air and as I released the offending penis, promising myself that I really must disinfect my hands at the very first opportunity, he slowly doubled up, making peculiar whining sounds as he sank to his knees in obvious agony.

"Thanks for the entertainment," I said, as I carefully stepped past him and headed for the door. "Don't trouble yourself about showing me out."

I hesitated before I left the room and turned.

"By the way. I'm still interested in buying the place, but I think I'll let the estate agent handle it. Any contact I have had with you most certainly can't be described as exciting."

Opening the door, I looked back to see Jake still kneeling on the floor, trying to regain his breath and then, after a brief search down in the entrance hall, I found the remote controls for the main gates and set them for open. I drove slowly down the long drive, stopping a couple of times to check on particular features of the grounds, then at the end of the track, found to my relief that the gates were still open.

I told Peter I would be pleased to buy the castle at the price the owner and I had agreed.

The grotty owner must have been keen to sell, because a few weeks later, the papers had all been signed and sealed and I was the proud owner of Drummond Castle. Now I could settle into my ideal place and develop it just the way I wanted.