A. J. Hamilton

Forced To Breed With The Dungeon Beasts

‘ This is going to be the best vacation EVER!’ Amy Trent squealed as she drove the rental car along the tree-lined road that led to the English village of Slaybury. She and her best friend Sally Wyndham had been driving since they had landed at the airport in London four hours ago. Their homes in central New York seemed like a distant memory now they were surrounded by English hills and trees.

‘It seems like a long way to come to see a tiny village,’ Sally said from the passenger seat. She had a large map unfolded on her knees and she studied it carefully, tracing every twist and turn in the road. ‘The village is hardly even on the map…just its name and a tiny dot of buildings.’

‘Hey,’ Amy said mocking seriousness, ‘that tiny dot is where my dad’s ancestors come from. I have great grandparents buried in the cemetery. So please be more respectful of my roots.’

Sally rolled her eyes. ‘Just so long as there are hot guys there. We could have spent this vacation on a beach sunning our bods and having guys hit on us. Instead, we’re going to be in a village looking at the ancient roots of your family tree.’

‘You’re forgetting something, Sally…the freaking castle!’

Looking up from the map, Sally seemed blase about the whole castle thing. ‘Yeah, a castle. Big whoop.’

Amy shook her head at her friend. Her long blond locks tumbled over her blue eyes and she brushed them away. ‘You need to get some culture in you, girl!’

‘I need to get something in me all right,’ Sally replied, ‘but it ain’t culture.’

‘Sally!’ Amy sounded disgusted.

‘Well you may be into castles and history and all that shit but I’d rather have a muscular Englishman bend me over and take me hard from behind.’

‘Sally!’

‘I wonder if Englishmen have big cocks.’

Amy locked her eyes on the road ahead and remained quiet.