La Contessa Ch. 09

Ağustos 4, 2022 0 Yazar: admin

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Chapter 9: The Kitchen

After working in La Contessa’s service for several months I’ve become accepted as part of her household. My days are a mixture of serving my mistress in whatever sex games she decides to use me for and a variety of domestic tasks.

Whenever the mood takes her, she will summon me to her boudoir to serve her. She enjoys administering corporal punishment and possesses a massive chest covered in erotic carvings, full of whips, paddles, floggers, tawses, and canes which she uses to deliver severe punishments. She has a choice of clamps and pegs for applying to nipples and genitals, which she takes delight in squeezing to make me twist and squirm.

She has ropes and cords to bind me and her skill at rope bondage is extraordinary. She will tie my balls up and put me in bondage so tight the knots leave marks where they’ve pressed into my flesh. She likes the pattern of white ropes against my olive skin. She puts me into a hog-tie position and all manner of predicament bondage.

She has a huge collection of dildos and strap-on cocks of varying lengths and girths to create different sensations, some in polished wood, others covered in kid skin leather. Her favourite, which she used once on me, is a dildo of solid Murano crystal. She keeps a selection of candles and one of her past-times is to watch me squirm as she drizzles hot wax over my bound-up cock and balls.

It comes as no surprise she takes pleasure in offering me up to her friends given how she involved her guests in my torment at her party. Often I’m blindfolded and have no idea whether it’s a man or woman, a real cock, or other object being thrust into my orifices. I’m made to suck cock, and to lick cunt. Her visitors are often masked and dressed in costumes, so there’s always a sense of theatre in her play. As for La Contessa, she always looks magnificent. She has a vast wardrobe but whether she wears corsetry or a gown, she always looks stunning.

I’ve come to relish serving her. I submit to her freely and offer myself for whatever she desires, and to whomsoever she invites to the palazzo.

In between those times when she seeks to use me for her pleasure, I’m given domestic chores to run for her. Typically, these involve things like cleaning the marble statues in the palazzo, polishing the silverware, or dusting the frames of her art collection. I enjoy these tasks, the last one in particular, as you can imagine. They give me a chance to scrutinise La Contessa’s magnificent collection of erotica. I swear there’s not an item in the palazzo that isn’t suggestive if you look close enough. For example, her dinner service has images of seduction and fornication disguised within it.

I’m not confined to the palazzo though, and am often given errands to run, which take me into the vibrant and debauched streets of my beloved Venice. I collect dresses from her couturier, hats from her milliner, wigs from her wigmaker, fine wines, and champagne from her vintner, the best French perfume from her perfumer, cakes and sugared biscuits from the patisserie and even offal from the butchers to feed her dogs.

I’m even accepted by the rest of the household staff now and have established a good working relationship with them. I make an effort to be helpful. I’m mindful of Julia’s advice on my first day concerning the tensions between La Contessa’s household staff and slaves, but can’t say I’ve experienced any hostility towards me. My easy going manner means I get on with most of them, the female staff appear to have taken a special shine to me!

The only exception is old Lucio, who’s always watching me. I don’t report to him for any of the tasks I undertake, only to Julia who conveys La Contessa’s orders to me. I believe this is a source of resentment for him, even though I’m careful to do nothing to antagonise him. Julia is aware of it and, though agreeing I’ve done nothing to upset him, she warns me to be wary as she says Lucio is La Contessa’s eyes and ears in the palazzo.

In between participating in La Contessa’s sexual games, the various errands I’m given and Julia’s service to her mistress, we steal as many opportunities to make love as we can, though not nearly enough for my liking!

Julia has no set work pattern as she is more or less permanently on call to serve La Contessa. She can be summoned at any time of the day or night, and is often called to her boudoir in the early hours of the morning after La Contessa has returned from a supper, ball, or visit to the theatre to assist with her undressing.

Julia doesn’t mind in the slightest. Quite the contrary; she says she enjoys serving her at these times as La Contessa is often relaxed and chatty. She gossips to Julia about where she’s been, the aristocratic Venice elite she mixes with and titbits about who’s fucking who, often in a highly amusing way. Julia laughs, saying she often returns malatya escort tipsy, having quaffed many glasses of champagne or malvasie, a delicate white wine popular in Venice these days. She says La Contessa is even more beautiful than ever when she’s had a drink as she looks flushed. I comment, as a joke, that it sounds like Julia wants to go to bed with her, but Julia turns defensive, embarrassed by the suggestion.

Although a firm mistress who expects high standards of servitude, La Contessa is a fair employer and gives her staff days off. On the occasions when Julia and I have the same leave we will go into the city for a stroll or share a rich hot chocolate and pastries at Café Quadrie, one of Venice’s supreme indulgences. La Contessa pays her slaves generously for the unique services she requires from them, so we can dress up in respectable clothes and frequent the cafes around Campo San Marco. Julia believes La Contessa indulges such behaviour by her special household staff because she’s making a statement. She’s so rich and powerful even her servants can be seen in fashionable places.

We often end up in one of the secret courtyard gardens I know of, and where I used to take clients when I was walking the streets. There we take the opportunity to indulge in al fresco sex if it’s quiet enough. Julia will go out with no undergarments to make things easier, and we’ll find a hidden corner of a garden where we can make love. Sometimes we get a chance to meet up in Julia’s room either during the day when it’s quiet or when Julia has finished work. I’m more than content with my life at the palazzo, and my decision to serve La Contessa.

I treat La Contessa with the submissive respect she’s due and is expected from me, but this still allows for a modicum of social contact beyond serving as her sex toy. She is a cultured and engaging woman as well as an awesomely strict dominatrix. Although rare, these moments give me a great deal of pleasure and afford me an insight into La Contessa’s mind beyond her sadistic cruelty. Having gained this, I can well imagine why Julia gets such satisfaction from serving her. I’ve seen them together and they have an easy rapport. I think Julia is the only person I’ve not heard La Contessa speak harshly to, though I’m assured by her it’s happened on many occasions.

On discovering my interest in art, La Contessa is happy to discuss the subject with me. On one occasion she was thrilled when I told her about the secret frescoes of the Last Judgement hidden in a locked baptistry in the church of San Giovanni my father took me to see. As a youth I remember being shocked by their content but they left a lasting impression on me, and I guessed they would appeal to La Contessa’s taste.

The frescoes depict the seven deadly sins and the punishments in hell meted out to the fallen who have succumbed to them. The scene portraying lust is particularly graphic and, when I describe the pictures of naked bodies on racks being punished by black devils with pitch forks, she insists on me taking her to the church there and then. The priest was reluctant to open up the baptistery at first, but nobody denies La Contessa! Through a mixture of cajoling, seduction and threat she soon has the priest eating out of her hand and only too eager to show the frescoes to her. She insisted it was for reassurance of how the sinful would be punished in hell, but I saw how her eyes lit up when she saw the scenes of debauchery before her.

“I’m most grateful to you. How satisfying to see how the sinful will be punished in hell. It is a lesson for all of us to heed,” she commented to the priest, but she did so with a mischievous glint in her eye. And when we emerged from the church, she was thrilled.

“What a shame the artist died centuries ago. I would have him fill one end of my ballroom with a fresco so perverted it would shock everyone! My slave, I must act out these scenes with you! You saw how one was wrapped in chains and suspended from the ceiling and whipped with a flail, poked with knives and prodded with forks. How I should love to do that to you, my slave.”

“Whatever you wish, mistress,” I reply submissively, but secretly wishing she would!

“I’m sure you have many sins to atone for my slave. And not only those committed before entering my service,” she added suggestively.

The visit to the church has been one of the highlights of my service to La Contessa. It gives me great satisfaction to have introduced those frescoes to her and brought her such pleasure.

The opportunities to share such intimacies with La Contessa are rare and most of my tasks are more mundane. Typical of such errands is one Julia announces one day. I’m to sit in the scullery in the basement of the palazzo adjoining the kitchens and polish La Contessa’s shoes and boots. Now, at first I mistakenly think this should not maltepe escort be too onerous a task but I have grossly underestimated the sheer quantity of footwear in her wardrobe. So, when the maids appear with several barrow loads of shoes, I know this task will set me up for the day. The job comes with dire warnings from Julia.

“You must make sure every shoe is clean and polished. She will inspect them, and if any aren’t shiny then you’ll be punished for sure. She’ll expect to see her face reflected in them.”

“This sounds like one of those thankless tasks in which I’m set up to fail,” I laugh, aware that I’m unlikely to polish every piece of footwear to La Contessa’s impossibly exacting standard.

“That may be Roberto,” Julia replies, “but it’s as well to remember the scale of any discipline will be in proportion to how you’ve completed the task. So, I suggest you make a serious effort.”

“Oh yes, I understand. Don’t worry; I’ll devote myself to doing a good job.”

Julia leaves me with a mountain of shoes and boots, tubs with a greasy substance made from beeswax, lanolin and oils coloured with dyes, a bundle of rags and several soft, pig-hair brushes to aid me in the task before leaving.

I sigh deeply. I don’t mind in the least. I’m happy to carry out these domestic errands for my mistress. I just think it’ll be a bit of a chore. But that’s before I pick up the first pair of boots. Before the smell of leather, mixed with the odour of the sweat of La Contessa’s feet, hits my nostrils. Before that heady mixture combines with the aroma of the beeswax as I scoop a blob up onto a rag. And before I start handling the boots.

I caress the smooth leather and run my fingers along it feeling the creases left by the wearer. I get a hard-on. I have an iron hard stiffy within minutes of caressing La Contessa’s beautiful boot with its pointed toe, and elegant shape. I finger the long heel with its shiny metal tip and visualise La Contessa’s shapely calves inside the boot and the heel pressing on my balls and imagine the exquisite pain as the sharp metal digs in. I realise that, far from being an onerous task, I can turn it into an afternoon of sensuous fun.

As I work my way through the pile, I realise there are shoes and boots of every description. There are kid-skin slippers, ankle length boots made of red morocco leather, and riding boots with sharp spurs. There are all manner of buckles and eyelets in silver or brass to polish. Other shoes are made of material such as gold brocade or are embroidered in silk and need a gentle wash with soapy water.

I set about my task enthusiastically, taking time to polish, and buff every inch of leather and material methodically. I take time and care over each item of footwear, handling it lovingly and ensuring I do a thorough job. Around me the kitchen is a hub of activity as they serve tea and then evening meal. I break to take bread, cheese, and wine with the kitchen staff before resuming my labour of love long into the evening. Eventually, when there’s only one pair left from the massive pile, Julia arrives to see how I’m getting on. “Are you still polishing shoes!” she exclaims.

“Yes, I’ve only one pair to go now.”

“But it’s 11 o’clock. You’ve been cleaning shoes for hours.”

“Well, I wanted to do a thorough job. Anyway, you know La Contessa will punish me if her boots aren’t polished properly. Besides, I’m enjoying it.”

“Is this turning you on?” she asks with a mischievous grin.

“Well, a bit… maybe,” I laugh. “I’ve saved my favourite pair for last.”

It’s a pair of boots. Their leather is as soft as kid gloves and they are so perfectly cut. They are knee length and obviously made to measure by La Contessa’s own shoemaker as you can see how the elegant curve of her calves would fit snugly in the boot. Both their pointed tips and long heels are tipped with silver. They are secured onto the leg with a series of eyelets and laces which run up the front of the boot.

“Can I help you?” asks Julia.

“Yes,” I reply passing over one of the boots and then tossing her a rag.

“Oh, I remember her wearing those boots. I’m sure it was when one of the Council of Ten came to visit. I don’t know why… I helped Madam get dressed. She looked magnificent though. I had to tighten up the laces whilst La Contessa sat back in her chair. I loved it!”

“They’re an awesome pair of boots,” I concur.

Julia is running her hands along the soft leather wistfully. She places her nose over the boot and breathes in deeply.

“Mm, the smell of leather mingled with La Contessa’s perfume. How glorious!”

I’m a little shocked Julia would be so perversely risqué as to sniff her mistress’s boots. But I should not be so surprised, after all, haven’t I spent the best part of the day wallowing in the sensations of handling La mamak escort Contessa’s footwear.

“Yes, it’s quite a turn on. At first I thought it would be a chore, but I’ve had an erection all day. I had to hide it from the other kitchen staff when I stopped to eat!”

By now we’ve both dipped the rags in the beeswax and are coating the leather in it.

She cast a sly glance across at me, “Well, maybe we ought to do something about your hard-on.”

We both feverously rub the leather to bring out the shine, anxious to finish the job. We glance across at each other, satisfied we’ve completed the task to La Contessa’s satisfaction. The silver glints in the candlelight and we can see our reflections in the shiny leather. The boots are carefully placed in the cart of now sparkling, and polished footwear. Whilst we are both still knelt on the stone slabs, I lean over and take Julia’s face in my hands. I thrust my tongue into her mouth and we kiss passionately. I’ve been in a state of arousal for the best part of a day and I want her. I want her now. And I can’t be bothered to climb four floors of steps to take her!

I take her in my arms, lift her up, and throw her on the huge oak table stretching the length of the kitchen. Luckily the kitchen staff have retired to the servants’ quarters and cleared everything away. I climb onto the table on top of Julia. I pull down the layers of her petticoats and knickerbockers to reveal her delicious cunt.

She gasps, “Roberto… not here… not in the kitchen. What if somebody comes in?”

“I don’t care. I want you now.”

Julia succumbs, her own desires overcoming her caution.

“Go on then, Roberto. Fuck me now. Fuck me quick and hard.”

She reaches her arms out gripping the iron frame set over the table from which sets of copper pots and pans dangle. I lower my breeches. My cock is hard, eager to penetrate Julia and get release. She arches her hips to receive me, and I thrust myself into her cunt. She moans in pleasure.

“Give it to me Roberto. Fuck me.”

I push inside her cunt and fuck her on the kitchen table. She moves her hips in time with mine, inviting me to go deeper into her. I crouch over her, pinning her arms to the table with my hands, and crouch over her as I pump my cock into her. Her look is wild and abandoned as she grips the iron. I swear the heavy table shakes in time to our movements. Julia’s knuckles are white with gripping the metal frame causing the copper pots and pans hanging above us to shake. Julia thrashes her head to and fro, moaning with pleasure.

She’s close to coming, so I thrust myself into her even harder, grinding my hips against the sweet spot to tip her over the brink. She grunts, and her body bucks and twists. The vibrations of her climax ripple through her body until her hands shake the metal frame. A brass saucepan clatters onto the table with a thud narrowly missing my arse, which is still pumping into Julia’s cunt. As I reach my climax, a couple of jelly moulds clunk onto the table falling with a loud clutter onto the stone floor.

“Oh god, yeah. I needed that,” gasps Julia.

“Shit. Me too. That’s been building up all day. God it was good.”

“Shit, we’ve made a racket. I hope nobody heard.”

“Don’t worry, Julia. The kitchen staff left ages ago.”

“Fuck, they prepare the food on this table,” she laughs.

I put my finger in a damp pool of my cum and Julia’s cunt juices.

“Well, the meat will have a nice tang to it tomorrow. I’m up for eating my share of it!”

Julia, now sat up on the kitchen table, took my fingers in her hand and licked them clean.

“Mm, tasty. Cook will wonder what the special ingredient in her stew is.”

Our lusts satiated, we both climb off the table and pick up the copper kitchen equipment which has fallen onto the floor. As we do so, the kitchen door swings open. My heart jumps for fear it’s La Contessa, though it’s rare for her to be seen in the kitchens. It’s old Lucio. I expel a relieved sigh though Julia looks distinctly uneasy. Luckily, she’s adjusted her underwear. Lucio eyes us both suspiciously.

“Roberto has been cleaning madam’s shoes. I came to give him a hand. I accidentally knocked the frame holding the pans, and a couple fell off,” she explains nervously.

Lucio picks up the heavy copper pan, “You must have given it quite a shake to knock it off.”

“Oh, it didn’t take much,” said Julia, more composed now. “You ought to get cook to find something better to secure them.”

I admire what Julia did there, trying to twist the blame onto a member of staff under Lucio’s authority.

“There’s nothing wrong with how they’re hung, Miss Julia. It’d take a lot to make them come off,” was Lucio’s acerbic reply, with the emphasis on the word come.

Once Lucio had gone, Julia started to panic.

“Do you think he heard us fucking? Even if he didn’t, I’m sure he suspected.”

“He wasn’t very observant,” I reply. “If he’d seen the glob of spunk on the table, we’d be done for!”

“It’s not funny,” says Julia. But the glint in her eye shows she sees the humorous side of the incident.

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