What follows is the true and terrible record of the Countess Mila, who sought to harness the “seed of life” to remain eternally young.I must remain anonymous for posterity’s sake, so call me Ichobod. I nearly fell prey to Mila’s powerful allure.For me, it began in the year 1795 in the small village of Stone Gorge, in the shadows of the mysterious Carnalia Mountains. I was but ten and seven years, and had never ventured more than a few miles from my home. Living with my parents and younger siblings, I’d expected to live the humble, uneventful life of a blacksmith. But fate had something very different in store for me.Like everyone else in my village — and that dark corner of Eastern Europe — I’d heard all the legends about the insatiable, evil Countess Mila. She was said to be nearly two hundred years old, yet appeared no older than thirty. Further, it was said she maintained this unholy youthfulness by siphoning the very life-force of men, taking their life energy, leaving them empty husks incapable of fulfilling manly tasks for the remainder of their days. I’d never truly believed these stories, until the night I was taken from my home by force, the perpetrators so uncannily silent that my parents never even awoke. The black shapes were almost Erzincan Escort like wraiths, and despite the fact that my slight frame belied my growing strength (I was, after all, an apprentice blacksmith), I was no match for them. Only when they flung me, my feet and hands bound, over the back of a horse at the edge of the great forest, did I suspect why they were taking me.I heard one of them chuckle derisively, “the Countess will be pleased. No way this one’s ever lain with a woman.”A moment later, they pressed a foul-smelling rag against my nose and mouth, and the world became black.I awoke naked, on the cold stone floor of what appeared to be a dungeon. My head was pounding. I moaned, in pain and confusion, and a female voice answered. from the dimly-lit corridor outside my cell. “Try to at least sound like a man.”I looked up. Out of the dimness, a woman pressed herself against the bars of my cell, assessing me cooly. Only when she lit a torch did I realize she nearly naked herself! Curly, jet black hair fell over her shoulders. A scabbard hung from a broad leather belt at her hip, but that was almost the totality of her clothing: the only other things she wore were sandals and looping metallic bands on her Erzincan Escort Bayan upper arms and ankles. Despite my situation and the pounding in my head, my manhood immediately began to become rigid. It was then I truly became aware of my nakedness, for smiled a bit as she noticed. I tried to move to conceal my excitement, but my movements were restricted by the shackles.“Do not be embarrassed, boy. In fact, it’s a good sign that fear has not clouded your ability to become aroused. Otherwise, the Countess would have no need for you…and what she does not need, she cuts off.”I didn’t like the sound of that. “W-why am I here? Where am I?”She produced a key from I don’t know where, and unlocked my cell. “You are in the Castle of Countess Mila. As to why you’re here…you’re about to find out.”She knelt aside me, unlocking my shackles with the same key. I could smell her…her womanhood. Blood surged toward my member in response to this olfactory stimulation. “I warn you now, boy. No touching. Not me, and not your cock. Trust me when I say you would not want to experience the consequences. Now, walk ahead of me.”I did as she asked, stumbling out of the dank cell and into a torchlit corridor lined with identical Escort Erzincan cells. She guided me through winding, oppressive hallways. Soon, I began to hear the din of many voices up ahead…behind a large wrought iron barred door.“Go ahead,” she urged. “Quickly. The Countess does not abide hesitancy.” She swung the large iron door inward, and I noticed the sturdiness of the muscles flexing in her lithe arm. “Go in. Now.”I stepped forward into a large, circular, arena type structure. But instead of benches filled with spectators to watch some great spectacle in the central space below, the chamber was lined with ascending rows of stalls. In each of these stalls was a naked man, his hands locked into manacles attached to the stall’s frames. Something glittered amid the rows of stalls….something metallic: winding silver runnels trailing down toward something sunken into the central stage area.My escort prodded me, slapping me on my bottom. “Stop staring and move. This way.” I was guided to my own stall. I caught the eyes of several other men – though, like me, most were barely out of boyhood – and each seemed as puzzled and scared as I was.A scant moment after I was pushed into my stall, the guard roughly placed my wrists and ankles in the manacles attached to the stall’s frame, leaving me unable to move. My erection had softened by this point. As she clicked the lock in place, my guard hissed in my ear. “Don’t let the Countess see you flaccid!”With that, she disappeared. I surveyed my surroundings, now with a better vantage point.