Full Confession Ch. 01

Her body was instantly receptive. My swollen glans roved noisily among the lubricious folds of her cunt, slipping inside with unexpected ease. She was marvelously tight, gripping my shaft fiercely as it sank deep within until the wild tangled hairs of my crotch mingled with Satta's immaculately trimmed muff.

I clutched Satta's raised left leg tighter against my body, grinding my hips and my teeth. She made a noise, a tiny mewl of pleasure, and her body tensed. Her cunt squeezed harder against my shaft, contracting then releasing, contracting and releasing. My cock had never felt larger or harder, and she was helplessly impaled on it.

Groaning, I clawed at her right leg, by which she was continuing to support herself with her back braced against the wall. I took her behind the knee and lifted her right leg as I had her left, pinning her to the wall with my weight. Satta grimaced and squirmed, lifting her buttocks to accept my irregular thrusts.

"Look at me, Satta," I gasped. "Look up at me."

"Yes, Master," she moaned, turning her eyes up to me. They were gray as a morning mist, agleam with raw pleasure. It was almost more than I could stand, and perforce I withdrew entirely from her sweet sheath, stood panting and scowling as I waited for my throbbing cock to recede from the brink of orgasm. I re-entered as soon as I felt capable of resisting the temptation of immediate ecstatic release, groaning as her torrid little hole gripped me.

I resumed my rhythmic thrusting, but turned my gaze away from Satta's pleasure-creased face, as I feared the mere sight of it might take me perilously close to climax. Instead I gazed down at the point of intersection between our bodies, eager to witness my ardent penetration of her.

Satta gasped and moaned with steadily rising intensity, her body trembling and shuddering. I hazarded a look into her face, and saw that her great gray eyes were fixed, as my had been, on the intersection of our bodies, her sweet brow deeply creased. She glanced then into my eyes, her lips parted.

"Master," she murmured. "Satta cums, Master."

She erupted immediately into the most delicious orgasm, writhing and squirming against me, murmuring through clenched teeth words of worshipful gratitude. Her comely climax naturally induced a like reaction in me, and with a final protracted groan I shoved myself as deep inside her as my length allowed, inundating her gloriously greedy cunt with my seed. I continued to pound her tight hole, panting with the effort, until my sated staff subsided, disdaining the silken temple it had been so adamantly determined to occupy just minutes before. My jism spilled out of her, puddling the floor at my feet.

Finally I ceased my thrusting and gazed at Satta, my half-limp prick nestled in her sheath. Her cheeks were deeply flushed with satisfaction, and she smiled up at me, a shy timorous little imp-grin.

"Thank you, Master," Satta whispered, "for letting this hole be the instrument of pleasure for Master's mighty tower."

Yes, Reader -- Mighty tower, she called it, proclaiming this grandiose exaggeration with every semblance of verisimilitude. I knew that her words were the sort of obligatory fiction any servitrix would be trained to use in addressing a nobleman, and I felt a sudden rush of prickly vexation that she would employ them so carelessly on me. I wanted to hear from her only genuine expressions of passionate gratitude -- anything less was blatant mendacity. Peevishly I released her legs, letting her fall to the ground so that her plump buttocks struck with a gratifying smack.

"Forgive Satta, Master!" she cried earnestly, scrambling to kneel at my feet. "In her stupidity she offends without realizing! She angers her magnificent Master entirely without intent!"

I gestured at the globules of my semen on the floor, between her knees. "Clean up your mess," I commanded. "And finish making dinner."

"Immediately, Master! Satta obeys. Satta is good!" She lapped the semen from the floor, diligently licking it clean. "Thank you, Master," she said as I turned and left the kitchen. "Master is kind!"

As the weeks passed I used Satta avidly, many times a day, and because she was so readily available to me I even abandoned the daily habit of autoeroticism which I had formerly indulged. More accurately, whenever the urge to masturbate arose, I merely utilized one of Satta's lubricious holes to satisfy my need. Satta, for her part, seemed to take it for granted that she should be taken for granted, and evinced neither dissatisfaction nor displeasure. Quite the contrary, I daresay.

So for a time I was allowed to experience a taste of the sybaritic life to which I should have been entitled by the nobility of my blood. But Satta was not to me a mere means to achieving physical gratification; even after my carnal needs had been met I would remain in her company, seeking excuses to extend our post-coital interactions. Soon I was spending as much of my free time with her as I could, chatting pointlessly for hours as she performed her chores, using her whenever the desire arose in me, and then continuing with our palaver.

The Countess, at first pleased with my interest in our servitrix, became alarmed as its excesses grew more apparent. She became increasingly critical of Satta, berating the poor girl for every insignificant error and oversight. When, for example, Satta mistakenly made a ragout too bland the Countess belittled her vehemently in my presence. Satta made no attempt to defend herself, not even to explain that I had personally requested the milder seasoning myself. I did not bother to enlighten the Countess on this point, as I knew it would have made no difference whatever. When I saw Satta later that night -- after sneaking out to her little pallet in the wee morning hours -- the only apprehension my sweet servitrix expressed was over my own satisfaction with her dish. I assured her the meal had been perfectly to my taste, and in response she exerted the most strenuous efforts in demonstrating her gratitude.

The Countess grew more irascible as I continued to show an "unseemly" regard for Satta. When she discovered me one evening in the kitchen assisting in the preparation of a meal, she made a point of sending me on a needless errand into town while Satta finished making dinner. Thenceforth, the Countess monopolized our servitrix's time as much as she was able, and for days at a time I did not enjoy a moment alone with Satta. At first I endeavored simply to ignore the Countess's presence, but invariably she would maintain a perpetual critique, distracting me with querulous observations disparaging Satta's appearance, skills and technique.

"I do wish you would alter your position," she might insist. "The wild swinging of her runty little bags is most disagreeable!"

Or else --

"How can so lanky a backside possess such an excess of dimples?"

Or again --

"Do those oversized teeth not grate your flesh, Dominus?"

When she grew truly peevish she would make more broadly derogatory remarks: "Really, Satta! You cry out as if Lud Himself were filling you. The boy is hardly so well-endowed as that!"

Poor Satta was miserable. Born only to please her owners, she began to lose sleep when the needs of her Master and Mistress became mutually exclusive. After a few weeks her appearance was notably haggard and weary (as the Countess was only too quick to point out), and soon even her work suffered -- Both her household chores and the performance of her holes. In my presence she no longer tantalized me with her shy smile and timorous, anticipatory glances; when I used her she no longer climaxed (or no longer troubled to feign it, the Countess would claim).

One evening at dinner, after the Countess had reduced my poor Satta to tears over the alleged unsavoriness of a meat pie, I decided I must initiate a campaign of encouragement and praise. I made a great show of sampling a bite of the dish in question (bland, yes, but hardly worth excoriating little Satta over), then looked the Countess in the eye.

"Delicious!" said I.

The Countess's brow furrowed, her lips puckered. "Peasant fare," she countered.

I glanced at Satta, who knelt patiently in the doorway to the kitchen, awaiting commands. Her eyes were bright with the tears she had shed over her Mistress's displeasure. My heart cried out.

"It is very much to my taste," I declared, watching to see if Satta would grace me with one of her longing looks; but her eyes remained averted, her countenance morose.

"Oh, indeed!" snapped the Countess, giving me a look of withering disdain.

"Satta knows my preferences in seasonings, My Lady," I replied. "And doubtless this was her overriding concern when she prepared our dinner. Is that not right, Satta?"

"Yes, Master," she said. Finally she lifted her chin a fraction, and her eyes met mine. The corners of her mouth curled very slightly upward, quivering with reticence. Even that miniscule response was enough to gladden my heart.

"That's much better!" I said heartily. "You were born to smile, Satta. Whenever you do, I can see the handiwork of Lud Himself in the beauty of your face."

Satta's jaw dropped, but before she could react further to my compliment, the Countess slammed her open palm against the table and interjected sharply.

"Lud's Light, Dominus! You are most inappropriately fulsome in your praise. The girl may be an adequately winsome receptacle for your spunk, but really! Her blood is most base."

My cheeks burning with suppressed anger, I forced my gaze from Satta's face to the Countess's. "Please do not speak so dismissively of Satta in my presence, My Lady," I said.

"You take offense, do you, Dominus?" she replied loftily. Then, pointing to the floor beside her chair she said, "Here, Satta!"

"Yes, Mistress," said Satta, obeying instantly. She crawled to the place indicated and lowered her head to the Countess's slippered foot, placed a reverent kiss on the toe and nuzzled the instep. The tiny skirt of her uniform rode up on her hips, baring the pink gash of her vulva dotted above by the puckered eye of her anus. I willed myself, unsuccessfully, to be not aroused by the sight.

The Countess glared at me. "Tell us, Satta," she said. "How highly do you value yourself?"

"Satta is not worth a fleck of spittle from the Mistress's mouth," said Satta softly. "She is worth far less than a drop of seed leaked from her Master's glorious shaft."

"And for the benefit of my benighted son -- who thinks you a Lady of most noble characteristics -- what manner of female are you?"

"Satta is the very lowest of beasts, great Mistress. She exists to obey, that her owners may live in pleasance and ease."

She paused, and I was on the verge of commanding an end to her degradation, but the Countess purred sweetly, "Continue, little one. Do not spare us the distasteful details."

"As Mistress commands," murmured Satta, warming to the task. Her buttocks were grinding slowly in the agitation of arousal. "Satta is the pig wallowing in its filth, great Mistress. She is the worm on its belly writhing at the feet of humanity. She begs only to pleasure and amuse her owners in whatever manner might be demanded of her."

The Countess nodded, still watching for my reaction. I was outraged by the Countess's casual cruelty, and inflamed beyond words by Satta's enthusiastic self-degradation. I struggled to maintain my composure and steady my breathing, meeting the Countess's gaze with a sullen glare.

"Go now to Dominus, Satta," commanded the Countess. "Tell him what feelings you harbor in your breast."

"At once, Mistress!" cried Satta. She turned and crawled to me, to my feet, rubbed her cheek against my boot and left a streak of tears. "Please, most wondrous Master," she moaned. "Satta begs only to be an instrument of amusement, an object to be used and set aside. Her holes need not be greased with flattery and praise, great Master."

"I understand your fondness for the girl, Dominus," interjected the Countess. "But you really must reserve your noble passions for a Lady of worth. Satta is here merely to serve your basest lusts."

"Please, Master," whimpered Satta, fairly groveling at my feet. "May Satta lick the leavings which stick to the sole of her Master's boot? It will form the grandest feast of Satta's life if Master commands it."

"Satta . . ." I croaked miserably, love and lust combating in my heart.

"Satta begs leave to mount the Master's leg, that she might hump it like a rutting dog. Satta begs it, Master!"

"We have driven her to a frenzy, Dominus," observed the Countess, eyes smoldering.

"Enough!" I bellowed, mastering my emotions at last -- Or rather, surrendering to the one over the other. "My heart is fiercely gripped by this noble passion, as you call it, Countess. I cannot simply will myself to be free of it. Satta, I love you."

Satta turned her face up to mine, and I saw there only misery and despair. "Oh, Master," she said, shaking her head sorrowfully. "Satta begs forgiveness, Master."

"Bah!" spat the Countess. "Dominus, you are a childish fool! Satta, get you to bed. We will speak more of this tomorrow."

"Yes, Mistress," said Satta at once. She rose, careful to avoid even a glance in my direction, and hurried to her pallet.

"You will sleep in my room tonight, Satta," the Countess said.

"Yes, Mistress."

Outraged, I called after her: "No, Satta! You needn't obey her command. Come sleep in my room tonight. In my bed."

"Do what you feel is proper, Satta," said the Countess primly.

Satta hesitated, her bedding gathered in her arms. For several seconds she stood there, her face contorted in indecision. Then, without a word, she slipped into the Countess's room.

The Countess eyed me with wry satisfaction. "Are you convinced, Dominus?"

"She doesn't understand," I said, shaking my head. "She cannot comprehend the strength of my love, or that --"

"She cannot comprehend why a nobleman would expend his love on a mere animal!" snapped the Countess. "And neither can I. Frankly, Dominus, your perversion is beginning to alarm me. What can I expect next from you? Professions of love for a goat? A proposal of marriage to a hare?"

I glowered at the Countess, said softly but clearly: "Satta's veins may be full of muck and filth, but you are the only beast in this house!"

The Countess could not have appeared more shocked if I had struck her across the face. "Dominus!" she cried, aghast. I waited for her to continue, to have her say, but she clamped her mouth shut and composed herself.

She stood up, eyes on the wall above my head. "I am taking my leave of you for the evening, Dominus," she said. "Good night."

I did not deign to reply.

The next morning I was unexpectedly awakened by a sharp knock at my chamber door.

"Who is there?" I called.

"It is I," said the Countess. "I must speak with you forthwith. It is a most urgent matter."

"Very well. One moment."

I dressed quickly, and two minutes later I opened the door to find the Countess standing with Satta on hands and knees by her right foot, head bowed.

"Good morning to you, Dominus," said the Countess. "I think you will be quite interested to see what I chanced to find among Satta's bedding this morning." She extended her hand, in which she held an object which I at first mistook for a lingam; peering closer I saw that it was in fact a figurine, roughly man-shaped.

"What is it?" I asked, taking the figure from the Countess's hand. It was made of wax, slick to the touch.

The Countess looked down at Satta, whose head remained bowed. "It would appear to be a crude charm," she surmised.

"Magic? But to what end?"

"Is it not altogether obvious, Dominus? It is a love charm."

"What? Impossible! Satta, look at me."

The girl raised her head, revealing an expression of misery.

"Where did that charm come from?" I asked.

Satta grimaced, appeared to be on the verge of tears. "Satta does not know, Master," she whimpered.

"Oh, come, Satta!" snapped the Countess. "I drew it out of your bedding this very morning! You were there, you saw it!"

"Yes, Mistress," said Satta.

"Then it came from your bedding," I prodded.

"Yes, Master."

"You used this charm to ensorcell me? To make me fall in love with you?"

Satta glanced up at the Countess, who was glaring intently at her. "Please, Master," she whispered, looking at me again. "Please do not be angry with Satta, Master! Satta wants her Master to be happy." Her voice broke, and a tear slid down her cheek.

I was dumbfounded. My feelings, so passionate, so overwhelming, had been no more than an illusion, conjured by magic! Furious, I gripped the charm in my two hands and broke it in half, with a crack that caused little Satta to jump. I fancied that my feelings for her abated noticeably as soon as the charm was broken.

The Countess gazed at me triumphantly, while Satta cowered at our feet like a dog expecting to be whipped. "This explains everything, Dominus," said the Countess. "I knew there could be no natural explanation for your behavior."

I let the pieces of the figurine drop from my hands.

"You are angry, Dominus?" asked the Countess.

"Very much so, My Lady," I said, my voice trembling with rage. I had been manipulated, magically violated!

"Then I suggest we first burn the anger out of you. Satta, fetch my largest lingam and the Chastiser."

"Oh, Mistress!" moaned Satta, eyes rolling with fright. Then, "Immediately, Mistress!"

She rushed into the Countess's bedroom, returned in half a minute with a monstrous phallus in one hand and a wide leather belt studded with metal in the other. She knelt at the Countess's feet, tears streaming down her face.

"You know what is expected," the Countess told her, almost tenderly.

"Yes, Mistress," sobbed Satta. She braced the end of the phallus against the floor, settled the lips of her tight little cunt against the enormous head, which was as broad as her fist. She writhed on it, gasping softly, and her cunt instantly began drooling. In seconds she was descending the shaft, rising and falling on it, sinking farther each time, down toward the base of the phallus. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face creased, her nipples harder than I had ever seen them. At last her buttocks brushed the floor, and the shaft of the huge phallus was crammed almost fully within her.

Satta held the belt up to me, but did not dare look into my face. "Please whip Satta, Master," she begged, her sibilant whisper barely audible. "Please make Satta suffer, Master!"

I took the belt, glowering. Satta turned her back to me, bent forward to press her face to the floor. She raised her buttocks high, presenting her backside, the end of the phallus protruding from her straining cunt. I kept my gaze on that lovely target, which quivered and gyrated ever so slightly in anticipation; I drew back my arm and snarling like an animal released all my rage in the stroke of the belt across Satta's buttocks.

It impacted with a report that resounded through the small house. Satta lurched, shrieking. I sneered, watching her buttocks writhe as she squirmed in pain, the mark of the belt darkening her flesh.

The Countess, arms folded across her chest, was gazing impassively at Satta. "Speak, Satta," she said.

"Please, Master!" gasped Satta. "Please whip Satta, Master!"

Her face was contorted by an anticipatory grimace which grotesquely disfigured her pretty features. From her throat issued a low quavering moan, and as I delayed my next blow in order to savor her agony and fear, this sound gradually rose in pitch to a breathless whine. She bit her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut; I raised the belt and lashed it against the backs of her trembling thighs.