The Countess and the Contest

"Heathyr." The haunting, melodic tones of the Countess' voice rang out through the cold, silent house. Even after months in her service, I still couldn't get over the way the exquisite marble floors and twelve-foot arched ceilings managed to create seemingly impossible acoustics. It was as if the entire house was built to obey her beck and call -- which probably wasn't that far from the truth.

I froze in place, carefully bent at the waist, with my ass in the air. My tight, binding corset did not allow for much freedom of movement. Even if it had, I was too well trained to allow myself to ever relax my posture.

"Your presence is requested in the parlour."

A sudden chill trickled down my spine. The only time she `requested' my presence was when there were guests to be served, or if she was particularly angry with me. Since I had not been summoned to attend to the door, I had to assume it wasn't the former. However, I couldn't recall doing anything to prompt such anger in the usually serene Countess.

Regardless, it was my duty (and my pleasure) to obey.

With only the briefest hesitation, I gave the mahogany bookcase one last wipe with the pink feather duster, and then hurried downstairs. The sound of three-inch, silver tipped stiletto heels upon the marble stairs announced my presence long before I arrived.

"You called, Countess?" I halted just inside the door of the parlour and curtsied deeply. As my training dictated, I lifted my leather skirt high enough to reveal the black satin panties beneath and waited. It hadn't been easy earning the privilege of satin, so I was especially careful not to give her cause to take them away.

"Hmm . . . smooth, no bulge, but I do believe that you are wet." Despite the darkness, I couldn't miss the dangerous glint in her eye. "Is it fresh, Heathyr?"

I blushed deeply as my own professionally manicured fingers brushed against the damp spot. While I was prohibited from pleasuring myself, a small measure of excitement was allowed in her presence. "Yes, Countess."

I held my finger up for her to lick the spot of pre-cum from the tip, proof that it was indeed wet and fresh. "Good." She nodded sharply, and then dismissed the issue with a wave of her velvet-gloved hand. "You may enter and prepare for our guest."

It was a struggle not to let my relief show. "Thank you, Countess." It's not so much that I feared punishment, but that the thought of disappointing her - in any way - made me physically ill. I was almost orgasmic in the knowledge that I had not angered her.

The first step in my carefully laid-out ritual was to make sure the heavy, black velvet curtains were securely closed and fastened along the seams. Even the smallest shaft of sunlight piercing through to strike the antique, hand-woven carpet would mean twenty lashes. At least I assumed that was the prescribed penalty for such an offence - I had only made the mistake once.

Next - and this was often the most difficult step of all - I had to guess the Countess' mood, based on nothing more than a few words and a wave of her hand.

Guiltily, I risked a quick glance back towards the couch and confirmed my immediate impression upon first entering the room. The Countess was dressed primarily in a dark burgundy this afternoon, with black lace accents. That alone told me this was to be a casual affair, as did the unusual absence of her thigh-high leather boots. For that matter, she didn't appear to be wearing any leather at all - a definite first in my experience.

Anxious, as always, to get it right the first time, I risked another glance towards the Countess. Her velvet dress was full-length with a high neckline, revealing only a glimpse of alabaster flesh where the sleeves ended and her matching gloves began. Her makeup was sparse, yet elegant as always, but her jewellery was rather . . . subdued.

Not only was this to be a casual affair, I guessed, but presumably a familiar one as well. Carefully, following the prescribed ritual, I began setting the blood red candles alight. As always, I started in the far corner of the room, banishing the darkness there, and then ushering the flame into the Countess' glorious presence. As my hand hovered above the final candle, though, I froze.

The Countess chuckled softly. "Is there a problem, Heathyr?"

"I . . . please forgive me, Countess. I did not realise your guest had already arrived." With shaking hands, I quickly lit the last candle and laid the box of matches on the mantelpiece. I stepped forward and curtsied before our guest.

"Please accept my apologies, Sir. I had not meant to be rude. May I get you a drink, or - oh!"

The stranger laughed as he gave my imprisoned penis another squeeze. "So, there really is a boy under that sexy costume!"

Despite my training, despite my submissive nature, I wanted to protest. I wanted to cry out that he was wrong, to deny his crude comment. Fortunately, the Countess spoke up and chastised him herself.

"Nathaniel, really . . . I thought I already made that clear." There was a dangerous edge to her voice that told me this was not to be the friendly affair I had expected. "As we discussed earlier, the genetic remnants of Heathyr's past are completely irrelevant to me. SHE is mine, and SHE is precisely what I need HER to be." There was a long pause. "Understand me - there will be no more of this boy talk."

He just laughed. "Then perhaps we should get this show on the road and put her to the test, hmm? Let the little slut taste a real man?"

The Countess released a bored, drawn-out sigh - something I prided myself in not having heard for months. If she really held her guest in such disdain, though, why the casual, familiar mood? Something strange was going on here, but I sensed that things were going exactly as she had planned.

They always did.

"Very well. If that is the proof you desire, so be it." She pointed towards his blue-jeaned crotch and waved her fingers dismissively. "If you would, please, Heathyr?"

"Of course, Countess." I knelt carefully before our guest, arranging my skirt around me. As I stared at the man before me, I blanched. Even without the benefit of a mirror, I knew I must have looked more like one of the wannabe-vampires that the Countess so disdained, than the artful, elegant goths she embraced. There had been a few, completely minor, things in my training that I'd been reluctant to accept, but nothing I'd felt the slightest inclination to refuse. I truly believed in the path I'd had embarked upon - with her stern guidance, of course - but this . . . my feelings about this confused me.

There was no denying the fact that I wanted his cock. Such a thought would have never entered my mind prior to coming to the Countess, but she had trained me well. She had taught me all about what would be expected of me as a woman, and had thoroughly trained me to take pleasure from my duties. Not that pleasure was ever to be my primary concern, but she firmly believed that the best slaves were those who took satisfaction in their work.

Still, this man was not the Countess, and his cock was not one of her strap-on dildos.

"Go ahead, Heathyr, and make it quick. You know very well it's nothing that I haven't enjoyed before."

Strangely, that was all it took to resolve my confusion. If the art of fellatio was good enough for the Countess, then I would consider myself privileged to enjoy the pleasure myself. Of course, I would have obeyed no matter what - I could think of no greater shame than disappointing her - but the thought of growing one step closer to her idea of perfection was extremely arousing.

"Yes, Countess." When I turned back to face our guest, I saw that he'd already freed his semi-erect penis.

I placed my dark red lips around the shiny head and kissed it softly, leaving a ring around the top. The taste was a little strange, but not unpleasant. It was certainly softer, with a different texture than a dildo, but the shape was one my mouth had long become accustomed to. I made a loose `O' of my lips and slowly took his cock into my mouth, coating the shaft with saliva. Once he was all the way inside, I began gently sucking while slowly pulling away.

When I was done, a fully erect, hard, swollen cock popped out of my mouth and sprang up to smear a drop of pre-cum across my nose. For a moment, I stopped and stared in wonder. I had done this. I had made him hard.

For a moment, I wasn't sure what to do next, but the Countess' training soon took over. I dropped my head down and took his balls into my mouth. They were hairy and hot, something I wasn't sure I liked, but I knew how important it was to worship all aspects of his manhood. After a few moments of gentle sucking and licking, I let the fall away to bounce against my chin as I began licking my way back up the shaft.

Fully erect, I gauged his cock to actually be a bit shorter than my own sissy clit, but easily three times thicker. It reminded me of the strap-on dildos the Countess had first trained me on, before graduating me to the monsters she enjoyed herself.

Upon reaching the tip, I gave his cockhead another kiss and swirled my tongued against his piss-slit. Keeping a tight seal around his cock, I plunged my head down and took all of him into my mouth. Much to my surprise, I found myself disappointed that his cock wasn't long enough to force its way down my throat. As much as I had gagged - and, on one humiliating occasion, even thrown up - while deepthroating the Countess' collection of dildos, I had come to love the feeling of utter submission it gave me.

"Hmmm . . . yes . . ." His voice dropped to a low, satisfied growl. He grabbed a handful of bright red locks and forced me to suck even faster. I began bobbing my pretty head up and down in time with his thrusts. "Ohhh . . . very nice . . . you learn fast."

From her seat across the room, the Countess laughed. "You don't know the half of it, my dear Nathaniel. When Heathyr first showed up on my doorstep, she was wearing black jeans, a black T-shirt, black sneakers, and these oh-so-tacky sunglasses. I half-expected her to ask if I needed my driveway paved or my lawn mowed."

I blushed red in embarrassment at the memory, but continued working to please our guest.

"You can imagine my surprise when she dropped to her knees and begged the honour of serving me. To start with, I insisted she rid herself of that drab little outfit, which she did - right on my front step. I was impressed by her eagerness to please, so I allowed her inside."

Suddenly, just as I felt the warm penis begin to swell beneath my tongue, our guest pushed me way. Not sure what he expected by way of a response, I giggled demurely and lunged forward for another taste.

"Hey!" He slapped my cheek hard enough to leave a mark. "I'm curious to hear the rest of your story. You can lick me until I tell you to continue."

The Countess continued. "By then end of that first day she'd shaved everything from the eyebrows down, dyed her hair my favourite shade of red, and adopted her first set of nail-extensions. I think it was the hair that convinced me of her sincerity - men are so skittish about dying their hair -- but I chose to . . . toy with her a bit."

"While she finished cleaning the bathroom I laid out three complete outfits upon her bed. The first was a velvet dress of black and red that matched my own; the second was a black latex minidress with red PVC waist-cincher; and the third was what you see her wearing now - the black leather dress and red leather corset. The poor thing must have fretted over the decision for a good half-hour, but she proved her taste by making the right decision."

The Countess smiled as I self-consciously adjusted my corset. "After that, I let her guess how I should be addressed. Her first choice, predictably, was Mistress. That earned her a slap. Her second choice was Milady. Amusing, but it earned her a second slap. There were a few more after that, Goddess among them, each of which earned her another slap. By the time my Heathyr finally stumbled upon Countess, her face was nearly as red as her corset, and her mood as black as her nails!"

Our guest growled. "Amusing, but hardly a test of a slave's devotion." Suddenly, he grabbed my head again and forced me to swallow his entire penis. A part of me thrilled at being used to roughly, even as I lamented the fact that he wasn't bigger. "What did you do to break her?"

She smiled. "Take that nasty thing out of her mouth, and I'll show you."

Instead, he began thrusting into my mouth again and again, never releasing his hold upon my head.

"Nathaniel."

I felt his cock begin to swell. I panicked, but his grip was too firm to allow me to pull away.

"Nathaniel." The Countess didn't need to raise her voice. Her tone was enough to convey her anger.

At least, it should have been. Our guest just ignored it and began fucking my face.

"I thought I made myself clear." I couldn't see, but it sounded as if the Countess had stood up from the couch. "The last thing she needs in her condition is to be subjected to your testosterone laden sperm."

When I looked up into his eyes, I saw the anger . . . the defiance . . . the challenge in his glare.

"My boys always swallow."

"Heathyr is NOT one of your boys. She is mine, and you would do well to remember that."

Our guest's only response was to hold the Countess' gaze as he exploded inside my mouth. I knew this was forbidden, but there was nothing I could do. He held me there, pressed tight against the base of his cock, forcing me to hold my breath or swallow. I nearly blacked out from the effort, but only the barest trickle slipped down my throat.

"You will release her. Now."

The moment he let go of my head, I pulled my head from his cock and turned to face the Countess.

"My sweetest Heathyr." She came over to stand before me.

Kneeling before her, my mouth nearly overflowing with another man's cum, I discreetly wiped my lips clean, being careful not to ruin my makeup. Applying my foundation was a skill I'd mastered early, but matching the right shade of lip-liner to my lipstick was still something I still fretted over. While the Countess limited me to only the darkest shades available, she always left me enough choice to make me work at making a decision.

Since I couldn't speak without swallowing, I nodded instead.

"I am so proud of you." She crouched down beside me and licked the trail of cum running from my mouth. "Give it to me," she commanded, "that you might be spared the contamination."

The Countess pressed her lips against mine and pulled my head forward. I felt every drop of hot, salty man-cum slide across my tongue, over my lips, and into her mouth. As we kissed, she probed my mouth with her tongue and licked the remnants of cum from inside my cheeks. When she broke away from our kiss, I found myself wanting to cry out for more.

She stood up to face our guest. I watched as she pushed three fingers deep into her mouth, coated them with her second-hand cum, and then wiped it across his face.

He laughed. "I guess I deserved that."

The Countess spat the rest at his feet, but otherwise ignored him. Instead, she looked down at me and smiled. She began tying back her long, lustrous black hair and nodded softly.

"You know what to do."

I felt a thrill of nervous anticipation run through my body as I rose slowly to my feet. Although I'd participated in the ritual dozens of times since the Countess first initiated me into her world, it never got any easier. I truly was a little sissy girl when it came to anything pain-related, but I would do as I was told, and take pride in doing it.

Before I could present myself to her, I had to struggle out of my tight, binding, body-hugging leather skirt, without disturbing the equally binding corset I wore overtop. Although it flared dramatically about my legs, the high waistband was laced as tightly as my corset. Once I was free of the soft, supple leather, I returned to my knees before the Countess.

Hands clasped behind my back, I lowered my head and stared at her feet. "If it pleases you, Countess, your slave presents herself for inspection."

The only indication I had that she'd heard me was the touch of her riding crop on my back. The Countess traced circles across my body with it, teasing and tickling me, then gave me a solid `whack' when I wasn't expecting it. It was the same with my legs, my arms, my front, and especially my tiny, imprisoned penis. She loved to stroke and fondle it with her crop, to make me gasp in pain/pleasure as prison grew too tight, then slap me hard and watch me flinch.

"Hmmm . . . adequate, pleasing almost . . . but disappointing in one tiny area." Even though I knew what was coming next, I'd never found a suitable way of preparing myself. "Those nipples are far too tiny for slave of mine, Heathyr. You should know by now that I like them big and round."

"Yes, Countess. Please forgive - ah!"

As the hot wax began dripping from the candle onto my right nipple I held myself rigid. If I was perfectly obedient, and kept my back arched just so, the blood red wax would seemingly enlarge my nipple by three or four times it's original size. The Countess was, among other things, an artist, and her wax nipples were nearly indistinguishable from the real thing.

The second nipple involved less pain than the first, but far more effort on my part. By now the strain on my body was near the breaking point, and I just wanted to scream in release. However, even the shallowest breath could foul the Countess' masterpiece, so I literally had to place my life on hold until she was finished.

In the end, though, the triumphant smile on her face made it all worth it.

As our guest looked on, she motioned me towards the floor. "On your back, please, Heathyr - we don't want to mess your pretty new nipples."

I took my place on the floor. She stepped forward and placed her legs on either side of my face. I watched, breathless with anticipation, as she slowly lowered herself towards me. From my angle, the dark burgundy velvet of her dress was like an erotic mask, ready to swallow me into its mysterious darkness.

Once she came to rest upon my face, I knew I had but seconds to perform my duties.

Using only my mouth, I had to coax the red satin panties from the Countess' pussy and hold tight as she stepped out of them. I had no idea whether it was the material, or whether she preferred them that way, but they always seemed to be lodged deeper inside her slit than you would expect from normal wear. As a result, it took a great deal of careful licking, kissing, and biting to perform my task - and the intoxicating aroma made for a difficult . . . distraction.

As she began to rise, I used my tongue as an anchor until I could feel the first bit of space opening between us. Then, when I knew her tender labia were safely out of harm's way, I bit down and helped the Countess remove her panties.

"Very good, Heathyr. It's not often that you're successful on the first attempt."

Her smile of pride was like the most potent aphrodisiac. No matter how much I enjoyed a particular duty, it was her pleasure, her satisfaction that I craved.

Before I had time to return the smile, however, her naked, dripping pussy was rapidly descending once again. The Countess would be looking for pleasure this time, for the kind of oral worship that only a helpless slave can provide. By alternately smothering and riding my face, she was often able to coax out a string of orgasms to last the afternoon.

Our guest cleared his throat. "Really, Countess. This all seems pretty tame."

"Hmmm. There was a time that Heathyr thought so too." Suddenly, she reached down, grabbed hold of my head, and pulled it into her sex even as she forced herself down onto my face with all her strength. As I clenched my fists and held my breath, I heard her tell our guest, "She knows better . . . now."