La Contessa's Game

As I am standing in La Contessa's boudoir waiting to offer my service my gaze is drawn to the stunning gown draped across the back of a chair. A dress fashioned in glimmering emerald silk with a mantle in rich cream and embroidered with a design of orange flowers. The sleeves and hem are trimmed with the most delicate Belgian lace. It is decorated with golden brocade and passementerie embedded with Venetian pearls. It is as magnificent a gown as I have ever seen in her possession, and that is a fine compliment knowing how La Contessa is admired by the elite of 18th century Venice for the style and opulence of her dress and the magnificence of her balls and parties.

Eventually La Contessa turns away from her bureau where she has been writing a letter. I cannot resist the temptation to comment on her gown.

"If I may be so bold, Contessa, I have been admiring your dress. I believe you will be the toast of Venice in that gown."

She fixes her cold and steely gaze onto me and I immediately realise how inappropriate my comment is. I prepare myself for the inevitable reprimand. Her voice is a torrent of enraged disdain.

"Who do you think you are? How dare you offer your opinion without being asked. I don't expect to receive compliments from mere servants. What place do you think you hold in this household? You are a slave. Your thoughts and feelings mean nothing to me. What are you?"

"Your servant, Contessa."

"And what are you to me?"

"Worthless Contessa. My place is only to serve you," I reply.

"That's better. Don't ever forget your place in my household."

Then the tone of her voice changes, there is an enigmatic glint in her eye and the hint of a smile on her lips.

"Besides, who says that the dress is for me?"

Now she turns around in her chair and faces me with an appraising look.

"Today, my servant, you are going to serve me in a different way. You are going to entertain me. I am going to take you on a little expedition."

She leans forward in her chair her pearl white teeth breaking into a mischievous smile. For servants in La Contessa's employ this is more disconcerting than being rebuked. I am left wondering what wicked plans her fertile imagination might have conjured up for her servant.

"I'm glad that you appreciate this gown slave, because today it will amuse me to see you dressed in it as a high class noble woman, like myself. And then, we will go out together for a little promenade so that the good residents of Venice can admire us."

So this is the game that La Contessa desires to play with me today. It is an unusual request, but I know by now that this should not be of any great surprise to me. La Contessa is renowned for the bizarre sexual tasks that she expects her household staff to carry out for her. My initial reaction is one of unease. I have never had any desire to dress in a woman's clothes before and the idea of it is challenging. On the other hand, perhaps I should be thankful that my task for the day will be only to dress up for La Contessa and that I will not be subjected to any more severe punishment.

"I will offer my maid to assist you whilst I retire to my dressing room to get ready myself. When I return, I expect to find you transformed into a Venetian noblewoman."

She gestures to her maid who has been standing in the corner of the room to come over. Our eyes make contact with a spark of silent burning sexuality. She is dressed finely, restrained by the standards of La Contessa, but in a style that would grace the mistress of any merchant home in Venice. Her bosom is heaving above her tightly drawn bodice. Whatever spark of attraction passes between us has to be played out subtly and silently as we dare not attract La Contessa's attention and risk her anger by flirting openly.

The maid, who I know of as Julia, helps me undress. She pulls down my breeches and gently but knowingly brushes the inside of my thigh as she does so. My cock twitches with the first yearnings of arousal. I am soon standing naked in front of her.

She holds up a pair of silk cami-knickers and smiles playfully at me.

"You must put these on. La Contessa wants every piece of your dress to be perfect."

I pull them gently up, feeling the satin texture of the silk rub against my leg and thigh and finally against my cock and balls. It is hard to describe the sensation. On the one hand I feel humiliated, made to stand in front of a female maid in women's undergarments my manhood enveloped in silk. But then there is also something deliciously sensuous about it. The touch of the smooth material, the feeling of succumbing to a feminine side that I did not realise I possessed.

"The corset is next, I'm afraid."

Julia is trying hard to suppress a laugh. Her blue eyes are sparkling with amusement at my predicament. She is taking pleasure in my embarrassment but also revelling in the sexual tension of this strange situation.

"The cut of the dress will provide you with hips and I will find some stuffing to create your breasts but you must put the corset on to pull in your waist. La Contessa needs you to pass as a perfect lady."

I take offence at this. I am young and lithe and have very little flesh to pull in. I feel the gentle brush of Julia's hair against my skin as she stands behind me to fit the stiff whale bone corset and tighten its cords. By the time she has finished my waist feels pencil thin. How can women wear such things? But I know I must tolerate the discomfort to serve as La Contessa wishes.

Julia helps me on with the padded and stuffed bra to help create the illusion of an amply breasted lady. Then she helps me into the magnificent dress. The weight of the layers of rich material lays heavy on me. I have to adjust my stance to stop myself from falling over. Once again I am astonished by the encumbrances that women have to endure. How can they possibly move freely and go about their daily business in such dress?

Julia's face is a picture of concentration as she does my make up. Occasionally she permits herself a subtle glance and smile. She applies white powder to my face as is the fashion of the day and uses her finger to smear rouge onto my cheeks and then sensuously runs her finger across my lips. She puts on long false eyelashes and eye shadow and then applies a small patch of black taffeta in the shape of a half moon onto the top of my check bone. Finally, she ties my hair up and secures a wig on my head. It is full head of blond curls built up high above my head in an elaborate hair piece. The whole experience has been made me feel very vulnerable but also, I have to confess, very aroused.

Julia stands back to admire her creation and smiles approvingly at me.

"There, we are finished now. Let's both hope that La Contessa is pleased with how you look."

We do not have long to wait before La Contessa calls a command from her dressing room.

"Servant, I want you to stand in front of the mirror, close your eyes and wait for me."

I do as I am told and wait expectantly for La Contessa's entrance. If the dress that she has offered her servant is so luxurious I try to imagine how stunning she must look. I can sense movement behind me and then feel an arm pass under mine and take hold of my hand.

"Servants you have done a good job for me. I see my slave transformed into the perfect image of a Venetian lady. What does it feel like, to be turned into a woman?" she asks.

"I feel humiliated and emasculated, mistress, but at the same time strangely sensuous," I reply.

"It is good that you feel humiliated. You should feel that you have surrendered something for your mistress. You should realise that your sexuality means nothing, that your mistress can change your gender at her whim. This is just the start of a journey for you servant. You have to learn that servants in my employ must be prepared to give everything up for me, even their very manhood.

"You will be paraded and shown off. You will be taken through the canal-sides and alleyways of Venice in the full view of the public. They will stare at you. Will you pass as a finely dressed Venetian noblewoman or will they suspect the hidden secret under your beautiful dress?

"Now, the time has come for me to reveal myself to you. Open your eyes and look into the mirror."

I open my eyes and before me, reflected in La Contessa's ornate mirror are two figures standing arm in arm. I, transformed into a Venetian noblewoman, and La Contessa, into an elegant Venetian patrician.

She is wearing an azure and gold damask jacket trimmed with jewelled buttons, grey silk trousers, white breeches and black Italian leather buckled shoes. Her dark hair is straightened and swept back in a fashionable pony tail underneath a black silk tri-cornered hat decorated with gold brocade. Above her lips is a false black moustache. With her other hand she is holding a sword stick.

Our respective transformations are indeed stunning, but will we pass as the perfect noble couple? La Contessa appears to be delighted.

"Come, the canals and lanes of Venice await us."

XXXXXXXXXX

From La Contessa's palace on the Grand Canal we set out on foot at a leisurely pace towards the Rialto bridge. La Contessa seems to be in her element as she nods her head in greeting to every passing stranger as we stroll along the canal side paths and elegant squares of the city. It is as if she is inviting everybody to take notice of us, teasing them to guess if this perfect noble couple are not quite what they seem.

I can't help thinking that everybody is looking at us, suspicious that there is something not quite right about how we look or how we carry ourselves. I feel uncomfortable and uneasy dressed as a woman. Although our respective transformations are remarkable I am self conscious of the flaws that betray the dark secret underneath the elegant clothes. I feel the humiliation of being exposed to public view dressed as a woman. How many people can guess that underneath my gown there is a hardening cock rubbing against the silky smoothness of my cami-knickers?

La Contessa is now leading us down the Merceria and then into Campo di San Canciano. I start to recognise some of these alleyways from my youth and the times before I was taken into the employment of La Contessa. She is taking us into the Cannaregio district, the working class area of Venice. As we stroll deeper into this district the lanes become narrower and the buildings shabbier.

The people in the streets are dressed in their working clothes. The grand palaces of the Grand Canal and the elegantly apparelled clientele on the Rialto have been left far behind. I feel even more self conscious now. Dressed like this we stand out and start to attract curious stares from the local people going about their daily business.

I suddenly have a realisation of what La Contessa is doing. I know this area well and there is only one reason why a nobleman would enter into this district of Venice, and that is to find a brothel. La Contessa strolls on purposefully.

She turns to me and says, "I see that you recognise the alleyways of the Sestiere Di Cannaregio. I told you that we were going on a little expedition." She laughs at me, mocking my naivety. "You did not think that after taking so much trouble to transform you I was merely going to take you on a little walk, did you slave? Oh no, I have far more interesting things planned for you."

Now I am anxious at what might further service La Contessa requires from me.

She turns into a narrow alleyway and then into a secluded square. Facing us is a tavern, known by the name 'Il Toro Nero".

"Now, my slave, this is where I will see how well you can serve me. "

XXXXXXXXX

As we enter the tavern the buzz of drunken conversation dies down as curious eyes turn towards us. The air is heavy with the smell of beer, cheap wine and tobacco. The downstairs tavern is populated by a strange mix of characters, working class Venetians, the odd dandy and a scattering of ample breasted courtesans flirting with the customers.

La Contessa immediately steps forward to speak with the madame and proprietor of the establishment. I am left by the door to face the leering stares of the clientele of 'Il Toro Nero'.

This is the most humiliating experience for me so far. Is my transformation so convincing that this tavern full of hot blooded men, here to spend an hour with a whore, are mentally stripping me with their gaze? Are they really imagining me as a naked woman of noble birth here to service their lusts?

Whilst I am reflecting on my predicament La Contessa is deep in negotiation with the madame of the house. I watch her empty a pile of silver Soldi into the madame's hands. Then she gestures for me to come forward. I walk with as much feminine grace as I can muster in the tight corset and heavy material. It is a curious sensation. I feel as though I am flirting with the drunken customers of the tavern, flaunting my femininity and status. Is part of me actually enjoying this? Am I getting some kind of perverse pleasure from the attention being given me and the deception being perpetrated on this unwitting audience.

The madame leads the way and La Contessa and I ascend the stairs to the gallery.

La Contessa turns to me and whispers, "servant, remember you must act the role I have chosen for you convincingly and obey all of my instructions."

I nod my acknowledgement of La Contessa's wishes

"Francesco," the madame's voice calls along the upstairs gallery, your clients are here." She turns to La Contessa, "I have personally chosen this one for your game, milady. I believe he has the sadistic streak that you are looking for."

La Contessa appraises the man. He is some years older than me, perhaps in his thirties, and is thick set and muscular. There is a malicious glint his eyes as if he is looking forward to his encounter with La Contessa.

"Yes, that will be satisfactory. I am happy to trust to your judgement," she says.

"If that will be all, Contessa, I will take you to your room."

The madame leads the three of us into one of the upstairs boudoir rooms and then withdraws. The room is surprisingly clean and pleasant. It is sparsely furnished and is dominated by a large four poster bed.

La Contessa turns to the man, Francesco, and speaks to him in a deepened husky voice.

"I need to teach my young wife the ways of the world. She is young and innocent and she must learn the true meaning of obedience. As part of her training I desire that she should be punished. I will watch her as you follow my directions and abuse her."

"She's a beauty, sir, there's no doubt about that. I'll give her a good fucking for you if that's what you want."

My eyes widen in shock. My disguise has been so skilfully executed that even at such close quarters this man can believe that I really am a nobleman's young wife. He lustily runs his hand up my body and gropes my false breasts. Surely, the deception will be found out and I will be undone, but no, the layers of thick material are enough to hide the true nature of my false breasts. He puts his hand to my cheek and pulls my face towards his. Our lips meet and he thrusts his tongue deep into my mouth, eager with lust for me. I am shocked but I dare not pull away and risk angering La Contessa.

"I had something more perverse and exotic in mind than a good fucking for her. I have paid you well for my entertainment and I am very particular as to my needs. You will follow my directions precisely," La Contessa pronounces.

"Of course, sire, I am yours to command," he replies.

"I need her punished. She must learn obedience and trust. Tie her to the bed. You may be as rough with her as you need."

"Get down on the bed, you slut," he orders, "you've heard what your husband and master wants."

He pushes me face down onto the bed. I do not need to feign fear, it is real enough for me. He kneels over me and puts the full weight of his body over me.

"There's no point resisting my beauty. You've heard what your master wants. He wants you abused for his pleasure and I'm going to enjoy doing it."

I lie down on the bed gasping for breath, my face buried into the pillow. I feel ropes being tied onto one my wrists. The knot is secured tightly so I can feel the rough fibres of the rope digging into my wrists. My arm is stretched and the other end of the rope tied firmly onto one of the posts of the bed. I can see La Contessa out of the corner of my eye. She is sat in a chair and leans back nonchalantly watching proceedings intently. Her brown eyes are gleaming with a mixture of malice and amusement.

"Make sure that you tie her tight. I don't want to see her wriggle free. And gag her, I don't want to be disturbed by any of her squeals or screams."

Francesco soon has me spread-eagled, the ropes secured to a post at each corner of the bed. The ropes are drawn tight. There is nothing I can do but submit to the fate that La Contessa has conjured for me.

The weight of Francesco's sweating body is heavy on me as he salivates a message in my ear, "You're going nowhere now, my dear, not until your master and I have used you."

"Take this, I know I do not need to tell you how to use it. Beat her and pay no heed to her squeals of pain," La Contessa orders.

Francesco is still knelt over me on the bed. I feel the smell and touch of soft leather as the end of a riding crop is run tantalisingly across my powdered cheek and down my neck. He lifts it and cracks it down hard on the bed head and lets out a malicious laugh.

"You've heard what your master wants. I'm going to give you such a fucking whipping. I'm going to make you hurt, you slut."

My heart is racing and beads of sweat run down my cheeks. Is La Contessa really going to leave me in the hands of this sadist?

La Contessa orchestrates proceedings with firm instructions.

"Lift up her dress and pull her knickers down. Don't take them off. I want them pulled down enough to expose her pert little arse. Don't uncover her cunt. I will save that hidden delight for you later."

I am party to her trick and I can sense the mocking tone in La Contessa's voice. She is delighting in the game. I have gained some insight into her perverse mind and I know that she will not reveal the dark secret underneath my silk knickers until she has acted out this little performance for her own amusement."

The weight of the man's body is off me. Then I feel the touch of the riding crop on my back-side, just a dozen gentle taps with the soft loop of leather at the end of the crop to warm me up and build up the tension. I know that there is more to come. Sure enough the riding crop comes cracking down on my arse. I count six powerful strokes with the full hard length of the crop. My back-side stings like nothing I have felt before and I have to fight the tears welling up in my eyes.

"How does it feel to be punished? Perhaps now you will learn to obey your husband and master."

"I am not satisfied by that punishment," says La Contessa. "I thought madame called you a sadist. I believe you were holding back somewhat. I'm sure you can hit her harder than that. How many more strokes do you think she should have?"

"Another six." Francesco hesitates as he senses that La Contessa is not satisfied with his reply, "perhaps, ten, sire?"

"I want you to give her another thirty strokes, building up in intensity. I want the last ten to be relentless with no break. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sire, I'll enjoy dishing out that kind of punishment."

I can overhear every nuance of the conservation. Six strokes were hard enough. Will I be able to endure another thirty? My body tenses in anticipation of the savage beating that La Contessa has ordered.

I count the strokes. The first few are excruciatingly painful but by about the eighth I reach a plateau where each new stroke does not add greatly to my suffering. Finally, the last ten rain down on me with a speed and ferocity that takes my breath away. By the end the stinging pain in my back-side is being absorbed by my whole body. My head is spinning as my mind and body adjust to the beating I have taken.