La Contessa's Slave Girl

I can hear a bustle of activity behind me as La Contessa, with a coterie of attendants, sweeps through the grand marbled entrance hall of her palace. As always La Contessa looks stunning. She is wearing a low-cut silk gown in bright scarlet with matching silk gloves. Over her shoulders is a huge hooded cloak, also in scarlet. Her black hair is combed long and loose tonight. She wears a magnificent pair of knee length boots designed in soft Italian leather with real silver buckles, white silk laces and long stiletto heels capped with pure silver. I reflect on much I desire to kneel at her feet and worship her. Her attire is finished with an ornate red mask to match her dress and decorated with long plumes of feathers in red, orange, yellow and gold. She looks wonderful, like she really is a phoenix rising out of the flames.

She looks across at Kim and her red lips curl into a smile of satisfaction. One of the attendants puts a black cape over Kim's shoulders to keep her warm from the chill on the crisp spring night and then a mask of peacock feathers over her eyes.

"You look lovely my dear. You look and smell like an English rose, all fresh and innocent, but ready to be picked," she added ominously. "You know you must give in to me completely and submit to whatever plans I have made for you. I trust you are ready for your trial. Are you nervous girl?"

"Yes, Madame, but I am still willing to submit to you."

"Good, that is how it should be. Now we must go."

La Contessa puts an arm through Kim's and they step down the staircase together to the waiting gondola moored at the foot of the grand entrance to the palazzo. It is my task to accompany them both tonight and transport them to La Contessa's secret destination. Her gondola of black lacquered wood with fittings of solid gold is a magnificent vessel, as befitting her wealth and status. La Contessa takes up her position on silk cushions under the ornate gilded 'felce', a small gazebo like structure in the centre of the gondola, fitted with curtains of red and gold damask tied back so La Contessa can be admired by all. Night has descended and the gondola is lit with lanterns hung from the 'felce' that illuminate La Contessa. Kim sits opposite her whilst I take up the oar at the stern of the boat. I push the flat bottomed vessel gracefully into the Grand Canal.

After we have been rowing for a few minutes, and whilst in full view of the crowds lining the Grand Canal, La Contessa gestures for Kim to come forward. She seductively parts her scarlet cloak so that the leather of her boots is exposed. No words are exchanged between them. Kim knows instinctively what she has to do. She gets down on her knees before La Contessa and starts to lick her boots. She runs her tongue across the sole of the boot and then takes the silver tipped heel into her mouth and sucks. She kisses the toe of La Contessa's boot and then runs her lips up its length cleaning the silver eyelets with delicate flicks of her tongue. I can see everything whilst steering the gondola and feel myself getting aroused. I also feel a twinge of jealousy; how I wish it was me at La Contessa's feet, licking her soft Italian leather boots.

This is the city of my birth and I still marvel at its splendour. It is never more beautiful than at night time when the candle light from the magnificent palaces that line the Grand Canal reflect on the water so that ripples of light appear to dance on its surface. The Venetians are out in great numbers in all their finery. I can hear the bustle of street traders around Ponte Rialto and the mouth watering smells of food vendors plying their trade. This is my city and I love it, love the fact that I serve La Contessa and am honoured she has chosen me to carry her along the canals of Venice on this special task. In my heart I feel the girl Kim will not let her down. The gondola glides under Ponte dei Sospiri and soon after La Contessa gives orders to turn the gondola into the network of narrow canals in the Sestiere Santa Croce. It is nine o'clock at night and the bells from the hundreds of churches of Venice peal in unison all across the city. I sense the bells are tolling for the sinister fate that awaits the girl.

The lanes in this part are less well lit and the buildings close darkly in on the narrow canals. This is another aspect of Venice I love; its narrow canals, its winding lanes, places where you can get lost and places where there are dark secrets. We are gliding down just such an area, the atmosphere dark and oppressive, the buildings looming over us. La Contessa directs me to turn left and points for me to navigate the gondola towards a small landing stage. I notice a sign by the side of the iron gates above the stone steps, 'Palazzo dei Sadismo' it reads and I know we have reached our destination and that it is here the girl's ordeal will begin.

I reach out my hand and assist La Contessa from her reclining position on the cushions of the gondola. She leads the way up a short flight of steps with Kim following her and me at the rear. I can feel the tension in Kim's body as she climbs the steps to meet her fate. It's a sensation I know only too well from those occasions when I have been summoned into La Contessa's presence; a tingling fear of the unknown mixed with excitement and anticipation. I wonder if she saw the inscription on the building, "Palazzo dei Sadismo" and understood its meaning.

There is an iron grille at the top of the steps within which is set a gate that has been left unlocked and which La Contessa opens, its hinges creaking ominously. We enter a vast stone room with a vaulted ceiling, which had perhaps in the past been used as a wine cellar or store room, but which now is undoubtedly being used for more sinister purposes. La Contessa is an exacting mistress and expects everything to be perfect; she has no doubt sent forward instructions as to how she wants the room set out as it has already been prepared for her.

In the centre of the chamber there are four huge wrought iron candle sticks arranged on the floor in a square, two of them either side of a wooden frame that has been fixed to the floor and by its side a large wooden chest. The glowing church candles cast a gloomy and atmospheric glow over the vaulted chamber; its flickering light casting shadows across the stone ceiling. The light does not penetrate into corners of the large stone room but as my eyes adjust to the dimness I can see the hazy outline of other pieces of metal furniture, equipment designed for torture I am sure, perhaps recovered from the torture chambers of Venice's medieval past or more recently from the counter reformation and the resurgent power of the Jesuits. I am reminded that Venice has not always been the liberated city state of this enlightened century. The outline of the equipment is indistinct in the gloom but it is clear the room has been set up as a place of torture.

I can see that the girl is spellbound as an awed hush permeates the room. The only sound is the click of La Contessa's silver tipped heels on the stone floor as it echoes menacingly around the chamber. The vaulted ceiling is supported by a row of pillars and on the pillar directly opposite the wooden frame there is a short, fat bearded man tied. It comes as no surprise to me that this is the Syrian merchant who misused the girl as it was me who La Contessa used as intermediary with the procurator of the Sestiere dei Cannaregio to arrange his arrest and his subsequent transfer into the hands of La Contessa. Her power and influence in the city is great and, with the offer of a small gift and the promise of an invitation to one of La Contessa's famous balls to partake of their perverted pleasures, he was easily persuaded to do her bidding.

The Syrian has been skilfully tied, his whole body covered in a criss-cross pattern of black ropes and an elaborate arrangement of knots pulled so tightly that I can see the rope burn marks on his wrists and ankles from struggling too much. He is also gagged with a ball gag made of a wooden ball covered in leather and secured with leather straps. On La Contessa's appearance he struggles to shout abuse at her but all that comes out is a muffled noise. If this is not the work of La Contessa herself, who I know is an expert at rope bondage; it is of a skilled practitioner of the art.

I can see that Kim looks fearful at the presence of the Syrian merchant.

"Yes, it is I who have arranged for your tormentor to be here," announces La Contessa, "don't you trust your new mistress girl?"

Kim stands quietly and obediently, her arms behind her back, her breaths short and shallow. She relaxes her body, which bristled with tension at the sight of her abuser, and gives an affirmative nod.

Then La Contessa turns to me and says, "Servant, you will not be required to participate in the events of the night but I do want you to observe. And I don't expect to see you getting aroused at any of the sights. You are here to witness only, do you understand? You know what punishments I can inflict if I think you are getting pleasure when all I need is your service. It occurs to me that perhaps you could write a little account of the proceedings for me. Who knows, if it amuses me, there might even be a little reward for you."

"Yes mistress, of course," I reply enthusiastically.

La Contessa's painted fingernails pull gently on the cords of Kim's bodice, slowly loosening the laces until with one final pull the bodice parts and the girl's beautiful breasts are released. La Contessa runs a finger gently across the soft curve of her flesh and around her pert nipples, which are standing erect. Kim expels a little gasp of pleasure. La Contessa pulls the bodice off her shoulder and lets it drop to the floor. The tension of the moment is palpable; I am witnessing the subtle interplay between the dominant Contessa and her offering, her submissive girl. La Contessa squeezes her finger underneath the waist band of Kim's skirt and runs it gently along her midriff brushing the soft hairs over her sex before finding the hook that is holding the skirt up. As La Contessa releases it, the skirt slowly slips over Kim's hips and drops to the floor. On La Contessa's instruction no doubt, the girl is not wearing any underwear. Kim quietly steps out of the skirt that has fallen around her ankles and kicks off her shoes. La Contessa brushes her pubic hairs with the back of her hand and sends tingle of pleasure rippling through her body.

"She's perfect, isn't she?" La Contessa asks, turning to me.

"Yes mistress, she's lovely."

Indeed she is wonderfully lovely. La Contessa's maids have done a good job. The welt marks on her back-side, the sores on her ankles and wrists from the shackles, the cuts and bruises on her face and breasts have all healed. Her pale skin glows in the candle light and she is fragrant with the smell of the rose water she has bathed in.

La Contessa manoeuvres Kim into the position she wants her and the girl quietly complies with every touch and unspoken command as my mistress raises each arm in turn and ties her wrists onto hooks on the wooden frame with black rope and again as she pulls her ankles and spreads her legs, which are also tied to the wooden frame. Kim is now helpless and completely in La Contessa's control.

La Contessa goes back to the wooden chest and pulls some objects out. She walks back to the Syrian merchant, the clicking of the silver heels on the stone floor gaining in menace with every step. She dangles some metal objects before the merchant's eyes. Although they are clearly some kind of clamp I have never seen anything like them before. She stares into the merchant's eyes, her powerful feminine presence, the gentle swelling of her breasts above the scarlet silk gown and the smell of her scent all conspire to overwhelm him into submission. La Contessa's voice is low and full of menace.

"These are my newest toy. I know a trader of silks from China who, being aware of my special predilections, told me of these and I asked him to bring them back for me. Ahh, the Orient" she sighs wistfully, "now there's a place where they know something about torture. Perhaps one day I shall travel there and refine my art. But, in the meantime, I have these. They're called clover clamps and they are ingenious little things. When they close on your nipples they will hurt but then they will tighten with every touch so that, when a cord is attached to them, all I have to do is flick it," and she demonstrates by flicking the merchant's nipple with her finger nail, "and it will increase the pain. So, what do you think of that?"

She is playing with him and relishing every moment of it. She is in her element, teasing with cruel words and suggestions. The look on the merchant's face is one of sheer terror but all he can do is grunt into his gag. La Contessa squeezes one end of the metal clamp and the other opens up. She stares into his eyes as she holds the metal object directly in front of him before moving it down and releasing it onto his nipple. There is a grunt of agonised pain through the gag. She does the same for his other nipple. La Contessa deftly ties pieces of thin cord to the ends of the clamps and steps back to her new slave girl, each purposeful click of her heels taking her nearer.

Now she faces the girl and wordlessly opens the clamp and holds it in front of her. From the shadows in the stone room I watch Kim's reaction intently. She stares at the sinister metal object transfixed. With her other hand La Contessa plays with her nipple, stroking it, digging her nails in, squeezing and twisting it. Finally, she pulls her hand down and releases the clamp on the girl's nipple. I notice Kim's body tense and her lips expel a little gasp of air just at the moment the clamp tightens on her nipple and then, after the initial shock, her body relaxes into the pain. I look on enthralled. I know these clamps to be severe instruments capable of inflicting exquisite levels of pain yet the girl has taken them unquestioningly. I know La Contessa will be pleased with her. She repeats the process with a second clamp on Kim's other nipple.

She takes the cord in her hand and jerks it hard making the merchant squirm in pain before tying it to the clamps attached to Kim. La Contessa laughs. I too, from my place in the shadows, smile at this ingenious piece of invention. The cord is taut between the slave girl and her former tormentor. La Contessa pulls the cord, just lightly at first, and the clamps close tightly on the two sets of nipples. She takes hold of the cord in her hand and pulls hard. The merchant lets out a muffled scream into his gag. Kim is silent, her eyes glazed into the effort of embracing the pain. La Contessa turns to the merchant.

"Do you see how the girl is stronger than you? Do you see how the girl can take the pain without whimpering?"

She takes out a leather thonged whip from the chest and begins to strike the merchant's cock and balls with powerful harsh strokes. His body pulls and twitches from within its rope restraints, which only causes the clamps to dig more tightly and also to send a ripple along the taut cord that pulls on the girl's nipples.

La Contessa laughs wickedly at their predicament.

"Don't you see how you are two slaves joined in pain and punishment. Each movement you make will cause the other to suffer."

This time she whips the merchant on the nipples, directly on the clamps, and once again he lets out muffled screams of pain. La Contessa turns to Kim and whips her right across her cunt. Her body jerks in reaction to the stroke. But Kim appreciates the game. She knows that every movement of her body will send a ripple down the taut cord and inflict pain on the merchant. She can also see that her acceptance and resilience is far greater than his and through her pain she can make the merchant suffer more. With each stroke of the whip she jiggles her voluptuous breasts and sends a surge of pain down the cord. La Contessa finds this hilarious. She is laughing out loud wickedly as she continues the play alternately whipping one of them or pulling on the tight cord to inflict the maximum torment, though it is the Syrian merchant who suffers the most.

"I could do this all night," she smiles to herself, "but there are many more torments I need to administer before the night is out. Servant, you can untie him now."

She pulls the nipple clamps off the girl first and then off the merchant but cannot resist the temptation of one final sharp tweak with her fingernails. I do as La Contessa has commanded unravelling the complex arrangement of knots. My youthful and muscular physique would always have been too much for the overweight Syrian but in his current state he is in no position to offer up any resistance. Once the ropes are released I drag him across the cold stone floor to the position La Contessa wants. He is soon lying on the floor his face directly below Kim's sweetie, his wrists tied to the bottom of the wooden frame and his ankles to a set of wooden spreader bars.

La Contessa stands over him. She is a magnificent sight and I almost feel envious of the merchant in that position staring up at La Contessa's voluptuous curves a stunning presence in her figure hugging scarlet silk gown. La Contessa shed her red cloak long ago and now her slender arms and shoulders are bare. She still wears the mask though, the bright fiery colours a contrast to her dark beauty. What a wonderful sight for the merchant, one that he hardly deserves. Once again I am trying to resist the swelling in my cock.

La Contessa rests one of her boots on the merchant's chest. The shiny black leather and the glittering silver buckles are placed under his very nose. She raises the silver tipped heel over his sore and tormented nipples and presses down hard putting the full weight of her body down on the nipple. The Syrian grunts in anguish. She runs the sharp silver down his chest and across his stomach leaving a long red scratch. Finally, she rests the silver tip on the end of the Syrian's cock, which lies flaccid and exposed on the stone floor. She presses hard, releases for a moment, and then presses even harder. The merchant's body jerks up and down his body twisting with the pain and pulling on the restraints on his ankles and wrists. I can see spittle oozing from the side of the ball gag as he tries to scream. La Contessa is not finished yet though. She continues digging the sharp silver heels into his balls and then his cock again. Kim looks down into his face and witnesses his torment and humiliation.

La Contessa turns to me and gives me an instruction to undo the ball gag. As the leather covered ball is finally pulled from the merchant's aching jaws he starts to spew out angry words in his native tongue. La Contessa turns on him, her eyes fiery with anger.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear anything form you or it will end up very badly for you. What you have experienced so far is a mere fraction of what I am capable of. You will suffer in silence. Let it be known that La Contessa will extract her retribution from worthless males like you. There is one final act of humiliation I need to witness before I banish you from my presence."

She gently strokes Kim's sweetie and gazes into her eyes.

"Slave girl, this is your final act of retribution on your abuser. I think you understand what I need you to do."

Kim nods. At first it is just a trickle of water as she starts to release her piss over him but soon it is a gushing torrent of hot water form her body, which covers his black beard and trickles into his mouth. It's as if Kim has been saving it all up, holding it in her bladder, knowing the use that her golden waters will be put to. When the girl's piss has been emptied all over her tormentor's head La Contessa finally looks satisfied.