La Contessa's Slave Girl

"Contessa, I think I've found exactly what you're looking for."

La Contessa is on a mission; she has brought me into the Cannaregio district of Venice again to scour her contacts in the whore-houses of Venice for a girl who can play the role of a slave girl for her. She is deep in conversation with the matron of Il Torro Negro tavern. I was raised in the Cannaregio and before being found by one of her servants and entering the service of La Contessa I used to serve in the inns and brothels around here and, of course, do any work that was offered to me, whether that meant prostituting myself with a noblewoman or with some visiting merchant.

Eighteenth century Venice is a tolerant liberated city and the alleyways of the Cannaregio one its most debauched districts. La Contessa takes pleasure in visiting these places in Venice's dark underbelly, sometimes in disguise, sometimes not. The last time I was in Il Torro Negro I was dressed as a noblewoman and debauched in one of La Contessa's perverted scenes. But today La Contessa appears as herself, dressed sumptuously in an indigo gown woven with pearls and her ebony hair swept above her head and held by two ivory combs. Over her shoulder is a black velvet cape. She wears a plain white mask over her eyes to disguise her identity, though she is so renowned in Venice that it probably serves little purpose. All eyes in the tavern are turned on her. The brothels of the Cannaregio attract a diverse clientele and it is not unusual to find noblewomen here searching for some sexual excitement and they wouldn't normally attract a second glance but La Contessa is a woman who commands attention wherever she goes. Her statuesque figure, her voluptuous curves and stunning dress draws the draws the gaze of everybody in the tavern.

"So, what makes you think she will be suitable?" La Contessa asks.

"I got a chance to speak with her. Her tale is a sorry one. She's had many unfortunate encounters. But, she says she is genuinely submissive and I believe her. "

"Do you think she understands what service to me would mean?"

"I can't say for sure your ladyship."

"I've plenty of girls in my service who will prostitute themselves for me and are only too willing to suck cock and offer themselves to be fucked at my masquerade balls, but I'm looking for someone special, a girl who's prepared to go further, who has the imagination to participate in my little games and is willing to do anything for her mistress.'

"All I can say Contessa is this girl struck me as being a bit different. I see plenty of pretty girls who come to me wanting to work here but this one isn't like the others."

"Hmm," La Contessa ponders, "I'm definitely interested in her. Where's this girl now?"

"Ah well, that's the problem your ladyship, she's in the hands of a merchant from Syria who's been staying here. He asked for a private cellar room where he could keep a girl. I found him a little cell room in the cellars where he keeps her. I don't know what he does to her there; it's none of my business your ladyship, I'm sure you understand, I don't interfere in anyone else's business. But, I sometimes take her food, which is how I got to talk to her. She's a pretty girl Contessa though I've got to say she's in a bit of a sorry state at the moment."

"Take me to her."

"Oh, that's a bit difficult your ladyship, only the gentleman is down there with her now."

"Do you dare cross me Madame?"

A fierce stare, a raised eyebrow and a few harsh words and the poor matron of the house is catapulted into a state of agitation.

"Oh no, of course not your ladyship. I don't mean to contradict you. I'm sure I can arrange something. Come with me."

La Contessa has a satisfied smile on her face. We follow the matron down winding stone steps to the cellars where she points to a door hidden away in the corner and leaves us. My mistress gestures for me to be silent as we creep forwards. There is a metal grill in the door and La Contessa positions herself so that she can see through the door without being seen herself. She gestures for me to take a position on the other side so that we can both peep through the opening in the door.

The matron of the house was being coy about the purpose of the cell as it is perfectly clear that it's part of the services she provides in her brothel and is designed for the use of her clientele with more sadistic tastes. It's a dark cell fitted out with numerous chains and hooks. At first all I can see is a man's back dressed in baggy light blue pantaloons and top and a turbaned head but as he turns to one side I can see a pot-bellied Arab man with a long black beard, who is clearly the merchant from Syria. Looking past him I can now see the girl. She is crouched in a corner, chained and shackled like a wild animal in a cage. The waves in her fair hair are matted and her body bears the marks of physical abuse. There is a metal collar around her neck attached to a long chain, which is fastened to a hook in the stone wall. At the moment this affords her some freedom of movement but her wrists and ankles have heavy metal shackles on, which have been used to secure her to the wall.

The merchant takes a pace towards her and slaps her hard across the face with the palm of his hand and draws it back again striking her other cheek with the back of his hand.

"Whore slut of Bablyon," he shouts at her. "You're my slut and sex slave now. When I get you back to my land you'll be made to service all my family. I have seven sons, all of them randy. They'll take pleasure in having a little white girl to fuck. You'll be my sex slave for life, what do you think of that?"

The girl remains silent and the merchant slaps her violently across the face again.

"I said, what do you think of that girl?"

"Yes, very good master," the girl replies quietly.

La Contessa is watching intently. Will she intervene I wonder? At the moment she appears content to let the scene unfold before her, her blue eyes gazing with studied fascination. I try to gauge the girl's reaction to her abuse. Is she enjoying this treatment? I know that such a thing can be possible. I have been tormented and tortured by La Contessa many times and have learnt to appreciate the blurred line between pain and pleasure and stay loyal in my service to her because of, not despite of, her treatment of me. But, I see no hint of pleasure or engagement in the girl's face, only a blank look. Her expression is resigned as if this is a fate that she has to accept.

The merchant pulls at the girl's bodice and rips it apart releasing her ample breasts. He bends down and bites her on the tits. I can see the red marks he has left on her soft flesh. He reaches out for a whip that is on the floor and lashes her across the breasts with it. There girl doesn't moan or whimper let alone scream. The act of striking the girl is arousing the merchant sexually as I can see the outline of a hard cock pressing against his loose pants.

"Get on your knees bitch," he shouts at her. "I'm going to make you my bitch-dog you fucking slut. Now, get on all fours."

With a clank of the metal shackles on her ankles and wrists on the stone the girl does as she is ordered and gets herself onto all fours. The Syrian merchant stands over her pulling the chain attached to her collar so the rough edges of the metal dig into her neck. He grabs hold of her hair and yanks it hard. The girl lets out a gasp and egged on by the reaction the merchant twists her hair around his fist and pulls even harder. This time the girl, anticipating what was going to happen, doesn't react. He pulls her head around and puts his face close up to hers.

"I'm going to take you girl, like a bitch in heat. But I'm going to give you some punishment first because you're an insolent whore. What are you?"

"An insolent whore and a bitch slut master," she answers obediently.

She releases her hair and, whilst still on all fours, she pulls up her skirt and sets on her back-side with the whip. The blows rain down on the peachy flesh of her arse. The whacking sound of leather on skin fills the cell. The blows get harder and harder until her back side is glowing red.

"Take that you bitch. What do you say?"

"Thank you, sir."

He throws the whip onto the ground, drops his pants and kneels in front of her. He twists her hair around his hand again and pushes her head down onto his erect cock.

"Now suck on it, slut."

The girl responds immediately to the command and takes the angry hardness in her mouth and sucks on it. Her head bobs up and down as her lips run along the length of his throbbing member.

"Ooh, yes, suck hard you bitch, suck harder."

Still holding onto her hair he pushes the girl's head up and down his cock in fast rhythmic movements. He lets go of her hair and the girl continues the tempo of her sucking, her mouth moving in a frantic motions. The merchant looks at though he is about to burst, his face is bright red and he is moaning in ecstasy shouting, "suck me whore, suck me."

Suddenly he pulls his cock out of the girl's mouth and moves behind her. She's still on her hands and knees in a doggy position and the merchant let's go of her chain lead to grasp her hips and push himself into her cunt. He's so close to coming that it only takes a few hard pushes before he releases his load into her. He moans in ecstasy. She pants for breath with the shock and force of the final penetration. She collapses onto the floor, no longer able to hold the position on her hands and knees, and the weight of the Syrian merchant's corpulent body falls onto her.

La Contessa and I look on transfixed. I can see Mistress is not interested in the cock sucking and the forced fucking, she is studying the girl's behaviour, her facial expressions and her reactions, weighing up her potential to participate in La Contessa's more refined exotic play. The girl can certainly take some punishment but it's hard to judge if she's taking it because she has to or because she genuinely desires it. La Contessa will want more than a passive vehicle for abuse like the crude merchant; she will want a slave who is willing and open, who will be prepared to explore all the sadistic fantasies that La Contessa can offer her.

Having taken his pleasure the merchant sits the girl up with her back against the wall of the cell, he lifts her arms, spreads them out and chains her to the wall and then spreads her legs and locks them to rings set in the floor.

"I'll be back to take some more pleasure from you later," he threatens.

It's at this point that La Contessa decides to intervene. She pushes the door open and strides imperiously into the cell. La Contessa towers over the merchant, filling the small room with all her feminine power and beauty. The merchant is startled. Before he can respond La Contessa proclaims her intentions.

"You have a very pliable young girl there. I am looking for just such a girl for my own household. I will offer you good money for her."

The Syrian's brown eyes light up at the word money but he is too experienced a haggler to sound too eager.

"She's my sex slave now. She belongs to me. Why should I give up my slut-bitch to you?"

"I will offer you a good price for her."

"How much?"

"Four silver soldi."

"No, six."

"No, four. Come, with four silver soldi in your pocket you can fuck every whore from here to Damascus five times over and still have change."

"No, six," insists the merchant.

"I will offer you five. Besides she's damaged goods. It's a good price and you know it. If you carry on like that she'll be worth nothing. Even fully fit you'd only get one soldi for her at the slave market. Five is my final offer."

The merchant pretends to ponder for a little while but they both know he doesn't want to lose the sale.

"OK, mysterious masked lady, you have a deal."

"Excellent, my servant will return with the money and collect the girl this evening. It's been good business for me."

"Likewise for me, Madame," says the merchant as he takes La Contessa's hand and plants a kiss on it.

She bristles, pulls her hand away, and throws him a disdainful look before sweeping out of the cell. Her look throughout the brief negotiations for the girl was inscrutable and I am amazed that she would hand over five silver soldi to the creepy Syrian. Against my better judgement my curiosity gets the better of me.

"But mistress, are you really going to give that rat five soldi?"

"Idiot of a servant. Do you think I would hand over good money to a worthless serpent like that. I want the girl. I'm very interested in the girl. She has potential. But, I'm not paying five soldi for her. Take my signet ring and go to the procurator of the Sestiere dei Cannaregio and demand on my behalf that he send constables to arrest him. I have plans for him. You will go with them. Say the girl has been stolen from me and then bring her back to my palace for me to deal with."

I smile; how foolish of me to doubt La Contessa's determination and ingenuity.

"Yes, of course mistress. It will be a pleasure."

xxxxxxxxxx

La Contessa is waiting in her throne room; at her feet is one of her slaves on all fours being used as her foot stool, naked save for a leather hood.

I beckon the girl into La Contessa's chamber. She looks forlorn and bedraggled; her hair is a tussle of fair waves and her bodice and skirt are rough and torn. She has scratches on her cheek, bruises on her upper arm, sore marks around her neck, wrists and ankles where the iron shackles have been and welt marks all over her, all the results of her abuse at the hands of the Syrian merchant. But La Contessa has seen past her battered body and unkempt appearance and recognises the potential in her.

La Contessa rises up, pushes her slave onto the floor with her booted feet, steps onto him, pauses for a few moments as the man gasps trying to take the full weight of her with the sharp heels of her boots digging into his back before stepping down off him. Two deep indentations are left in the servant's back. She comes forward a few paces, her penetrating blue eyes appraising the girl.

"What's your name girl?" She asks.

"Kimberley, Madame, but I'm known as Kim."

"Kim, that's a strange name."

"It's foreign Madame. I'm from England."

They stand facing each other, La Contessa still in her sumptuous indigo gown and the girl Kim, in tattered rags as if she had been dragged through the alleys of Venice. The one is imperious; the other is forlorn, but with a quiet air of dignified resilience. La Contessa runs her painted fingers sensuously down the girl's face and gently straightens a few strands of tousled yellow hair.

"She's very lovely," La Contessa says, turning to face me. "I love her fair hair and pale skin. It's so unusual to see such a complexion even in a cosmopolitan city like Venice. My companions will love her; I think they will be attracted to her peach like complexion. When she is bathed and dressed by my maids I think her underlying beauty will shine for all to appreciate. Tell me girl, how is that you find yourself in Venice."

"It's a long tale Madame, but I will try to be as brief as I can. I once served a master back in Norfolk in England. I submitted to him dutifully and he dominated me like a true master but he lost all his money when the wool trade collapsed and he sold me to a German merchant from the Hanseatic League. Much of his trade was through Venice and he brought me here with him as his sex slave but, just a few days ago, he bet me as a stake in a game of dice to a Syrian merchant and lost. The Syrian was even crueller and abused me terribly, as you have seen."

"I hear that you are submissive, yet you speak of your abuse as if it were a trial for you?" La Contessa queries.

"This is true, but yet the German and Syrian did not truly dominate and control me Madame, they just used me abusively," Kim replies.

La Contessa nods quietly to herself.

"Well spoken girl. Yes, there are but a few men who understand what it is to truly dominate. They think that beating a girl up and raping her is sadism. They are wrong, true sadism is an art form. Don't you agree slave?" she asks turning towards me.

"Oh yes mistress," I concur enthusiastically, "and you are its most skilled proponent."

La Contessa curls her red lips into a smile.

"To be a true sadist you must have the artistry of a painter, the perception of a mind reader and," she let out a wicked little laugh, "a cruel and twisted imagination. It is not brutal, it is subtle and refined. It takes a special person to possess it and, I think, a particular kind of submissive to receive it and really appreciate it. Are you that kind of person Kim?"

At this La Contessa runs her hands down Kim's neck and pulls her ripped bodice apart so her breasts are exposed. She runs the tips of scarlet fingernails across the pale flesh of her breasts and takes a nipple between her fingers. The two women look into each other's eyes. La Contessa squeezes the soft buds of Kim's nipples between her hard nails. Kim expels a gasp of air and the slightest shudder ripples through her body but she does not flinch for one second and her eyes remain fixed on La Contessa. She takes Kim's other nipple between her nails and squeezes them both simultaneously. I have been subjected to this treatment myself. I know how sharp La Contessa's nails are, I know how painful it feels when she squeezes nipples so tightly. I watch on fascinated. La Contessa is testing the girl and she, for her part, is showing her what she is capable of taking. Her eyes have glazed over with the effort of enduring the pain but they are still locked onto La Contessa's.

"Do you know what it means to serve me girl?"

"No, Madame," Kim whispers.

"I am an exacting Mistress. I am cruel and capricious. I expect my servants to obey my every word without question. I demand a lot from them. The nature of my household is, how should I say, bizarre and perverted. Yet for those that genuinely give themselves up to me and embrace their servitude the rewards are great. Isn't that so slave?"

"Oh, most definitely Mistress," I reply with feeling.

La Contessa, still gripping Kim's nipples tightly with her nails, twists them suddenly and firmly. The girl's eyes flicker momentarily but then stare dreamily back into La Contessa's.

"Do you still desire to serve me?"

"Yes Madame. Yes please Madame, I do. Very much."

"I don't accept just anybody into my household. There must be a test, an initiation, to see if you are truly worthy to serve me. You have passed one little examination but this will be a far more strenuous challenge. Do you still want to go ahead?."

"Yes please Madame."

La Contessa finally releases Kim's nipples. They are reddened and sore and I can see the deep impressions La Contessa's nails have made in the soft flesh.

"Very well, I will make the plans for your initiation ceremony. Julia," she calls to her personal maid. "This girl desires to join my household. As you can see she is in a poor state. I want you to look after her. Run her a bath and put some rose water into it. I will have her smelling like the old fashioned English garden. Find some salve for her cuts and bruises. Then find something suitable to dress her in. Report back to me on her progress, I want her ready for me a week from today. You will bring her back as my little rosy faced, fair haired submissive girl dressed for her initiation into the perversions of the world of La Contessa."

With these ominous words La Contessa dismisses the girl and myself from her presence with a wave of her hand.

xxxxxxxxxx

I wait for La Contessa underneath the portico at the entrance to her palace which overlooks the Grand Canal. Hers is one of the grandest palaces in Venice reflecting La Contessa's wealth and social standing. Its frontage was remodelled earlier in the 18th century to create an elegant façade. An imposing stair case fans out before me down to the canal side. Kim is by my side having been bathed and dressed by La Contessa's maids. She is wearing a crisp white sleeveless cotton bodice laced tightly so that her fulsome breasts are lifted up to show them off in all their soft milky magnificence. I can see her breasts swelling up and down with every breath that she takes. Her skirt is decorated with a bright rustic floral pattern. Her lips have been painted a subtle pink and her cheeks with the merest touch of rouge to set off her pale skin. The knots have been combed out of her fair hair which tumbles in waves down to her shoulders and she smells fragrant. I can see La Contessa's vision for Kim; she has been re-cast for her as a fresh and innocent peasant girl dressed in her finest clothes for some special occasion. She is lovely. At the sight of her I have to control the swelling that is rising up in my cock. I daren't let La Contessa see any traces of an erection or I know I will be in for a severe punishment. She looks calm and serene now but I wonder if she knows what she has let herself in for. I have experience of La Contessa's bizarre and wicked imagination and know that the ordeal she will devise for this night will be a challenging one for the girl.