The Countess - Part Four

I remember little of the following day except that a strange lassitude seemed to have taken hold in me. I ate frugally at lunch and dozed fitfully during the afternoon, my thoughts dominated by sadistic and masochistic fancies which were disturbingly erotic and left me hot and breathless.

I saw nothing of La Comtesse all day and I worried that I had disappointed her in some way but my anxieties were alleviated by a brief handwritten note I received as I was dressing for dinner. The note simply told me to come to her room at midnight.

As a consequence, I could think of little else during the meal in which I was the only one dining. Again I had no appetite for food but I did drink liberally of a dark, crimson claret which, unusually for me, seemed to have no intoxicating effect and merely acted to increase my yearning for physical gratification.

By the time I’d regained my room, I was full of an inexplicable and unquenchable sense of need. But I was neither surprised nor alarmed to find that the painting that had wrought the change in me had reappeared in the bedroom and crept closer to the bed as though its sole purpose was to torment me. Moreover, I was sure that the scene depicted had subtly altered for the dark haired lady seemed to have stirred. Hints of her profile I caught, the angles of nose and chin and the shape of a breast. Also, she appeared nearer to her prey, her shadow now darkening the upper half of the fair-haired girl.

Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light but I fancied the shaded area was thinly streaked with new colour. As I peered more closely my vision blurred and I doubted myself but the impression endured. I was powerless to resist the joint seductions of terror and fascination awoken by the image and was but dimly aware that during my study I had removed all my clothes. I fell upon the bed, eyes still fixed on what had so beguiled me and let my urges take control. But there was no relief for each unsatisfactory orgasm made me ache for more.

Eventually, I took control of my passions enough to have a tepid bath but I was still trembling by eleven thirty when I came to dress for the tryst I yet both feared and craved.

My shaking fingers were entirely unable to deal with all the small bows and buttons and I was forced to call on La Comtesse’s maid to help me. When she entered the room, she gave me a look so arch that I was certain she knew more of my mind than I liked a mere servant to have. However, she brushed my hair, thus alleviating my nervous tension a little and then spared my indecision by picking out for me what I should wear.

Her choices were such that I would never have dared myself. She helped me on with a pair of black stockings and garters which I would swear I’d not seen before and a black silk chemise that I was also unaware that I owned. The impudence with which she’d touched my legs would normally have elicited a sharp rebuke but the thrill that had run through my body confused me and I found myself staring at the luscious breasts that were barely constrained by her tight bodice.

I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to restrain the thoughts that had flowed through my mind and opened them only to find her seeming to study the two small puncture marks on my breast. Suddenly embarrassed I tried to turn away from her but she ignored my efforts and tied up the small ribbons that closed the chemise and hid my shame.

Hid my shame, did I say? Not so because when she smoothed down the silk, my nipples hardened and stood out in a scandalously obvious way. A knowing smile crossed her lips as she tied a sheer petticoat and a top-skirt around my waist. Both of these were black also and then it was I finally understood that this girl was dressing me under instruction from her mistress.

She left me standing alone in my room staring into the cheval mirror. The black silk of my clothing enhanced the whiteness of my skin and I felt more than ever like a sacrificial offering. I should have been terrified then but I confess that I felt mostly excitement. That I had not been allowed any undergarments was particularly provocative and a flutter of wholly indecent anticipation spread down my body. The shiver this caused was a delicate one and admitted of a manner that was decidedly delicious to me.

I forced myself to walk slowly and I managed to open and close the door of La Comtesse’s chamber with at least a little grace. But when I saw her standing there, resplendent in a low-cut black gown which hugged that magnificent figure, I was overtaken by a tremendous urge to offer myself to her unconditionally.

I stood in front of her, nerves tingling, and began to untie my skirt. I was desperate for her to desire me and so my disrobing I made as slow and sensuous as I could. The skirt and underskirt eventually slipped silkily to the floor and I gloried in the feel of her eyes devouring my body. I touched myself for a fleeting moment and a moan of yearning escaped from somewhere deep inside as I began to undo the buttons of my chemise. My mistress’s lips parted in a smile that was more hunger than amusement and I caught a glimpse of dagger-like canines. My wound throbbed in response and both my breasts felt heavy and full.

If my Lady noticed any difference in me she gave no sign but walked forward and gave into my hands a silken rope which was already knotted into two loops at one end. No word had been spoken but the command was felt in every muscle for I was in thrall. I put my wrists through the loops and allowed the nooses to be pulled tight. The knowledge that I would again be bound to her will was incredibly erotic and the tremor that flowed through me must have been all too obvious.

My breath was already coming in short gasps but when La Comtesse indicated that she wanted me to undress her, I swear that I stopped breathing altogether. I undid her gown and tentatively helped it to fall to the floor at her feet. She was naked now and I urgently wanted to touch her but I was conscious that this was not yet allowed. She had greatly favoured me by conceding this much to my desires but any more would have been to rob her of her conquest. That I knew she would not permit.

And it was not what I wished for either. I had chosen to be possessed and the ropes at my wrist were eloquent testimony to my defencelessness and imminent surrender. Her victory was assured without these trappings but they somehow made it all the more comprehensive and thrilling.

I don’t exactly know why I did it but I held out my bound hands to her, as though making an offering. This seemed to be what she expected for she smiled rapaciously, took up the trailing rope and led me to the bed as though it was a halter.

But instead of laying me down, she ran the ends of the rope through a high ring on the canopy and pulled it till I was stretched out almost onto tiptoes. Then she fastened the rope tightly and I truly felt like a tethered lamb with no hope of salvation.

Did I wish for salvation? No indeed, for she radiated an aura of goddess-like femininity that was irresistible. I was physically bound but this was as nothing against the power radiating from the unknowable depth of those dark eyes which held me spellbound. I knew that it was a lascivious and wicked feeling but I was wholly aroused and suffused with an ache to be utterly conquered by her.

I know not how to explain it but when she kissed me on the lips and I felt her arms around my shoulders, it was if I all my senses were being besieged. I became acutely aware of my body touching hers, lips to lips, breasts to breasts and abdomen to abdomen, and my whole being tingled before exploding in an orgasm that arched my back and lifted my feet from the floor.

My gasps had ended the kiss but the waves of carnal pleasure pulsating through me continued. I looked down and saw that in my lust I had wrapped my legs around my bewitcher, joining us together and opening my femininity to the soft, moist touch of hers.

Every nerve seemed to be concentrating on my continuing orgasm and I was careless of the weight now being carried solely through my bound wrists but I saw with wonder that the small wounds on my left breast were weeping fresh trails of blood. This re-awoken evidence of my desecration, rather than alarming, threw me into a frenzy of need to be further violated. And when those piercing teeth sank into the tender flesh above my right nipple, I sighed in masochistic gratification.

My body was soon a delta of crimson rivulets, all converging on the place where I was still locked in congress with my mistress. I watched in lascivious fascination as the blood was licked off my skin but every time that she sucked at my wounds to increase the flow, I was racked with a tremendous new level of orgasm, each greater than the one before. And then the pleasure became so overwhelming that I swooned.