La Contessa Ch. 01

La Contessa

The most decadent city...

The most perverted of mistresses...

Renowned for her cruelty and the bizarre sexual tasks her household servants perform for her, La Contessa's reputation is well established. And Venice of the eighteenth century has degenerated into a decadent and lascivious city, the perfect backdrop for her perverted games.

This is the first chapter of a completed BDSM novel entitled 'La Contessa'. I am publishing it on Literotica a chapter at a time every few days.

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Chapter 1: Roberto

This is a favourite place to ply my trade. Leaning against the flaking stucco of this dilapidated warehouse, the flickering wall lamps transform me into a shadowy figure of mystery as my alluring silhouette entices clientele into the dark passages of Venice.

From this spot I can see down the alleyway to a landing stage where gondolas are moored. If I glance to the left, I have a view of Campo di San Canciano with its numerous taverns and brothels, and the customers of Il Toro Nero as they stumble drunk into the night air. There can be no doubt in anybody's mind what I'm offering when they see my slender, well-toned frame leaning against the wall, and the seductive glint in my eye. Oh yes, the Cannaregio is notorious. No-one scouring the alleyways in this district is ignorant of the erotic delights on offer here.

Tonight is unusually quiet. From this location there are many places I can take my clients depending on what perverse desires they have. There are the hidden, arched entrances of the disused warehouses and dilapidated merchant houses, once thriving and bustling, but long empty since the decline of trade through Venice. Occasionally it's possible to sneak down to the gondolas bobbing restlessly on the canal for an encounter requiring more comfort. Often I've been chased off by an irate gondolier. Others know me well and, when it's quiet, will let me use their gondola in exchange for a few soldi.

I could choose to work in the comfort of a brothel or a tavern like Il Toro, but why should I have my hard earned money creamed off by the madam of a bawdy house? No, I can make a fair charge for my special kind of service and keep the proceeds. And business is good.

You'd think anybody looking for a sexual liaison would yearn for a soft feather bed and a warm fire but no, often that's not the case. Many of my clients prefer the debauched excitement of being fucked against the wall in an alleyway or having their cock sucked in the gloomy light. The frisson of being discovered is part of the allure. I know I'm good at what I do. I'm young, fit and in good shape. I know my boyish good looks appeal not only to the women seeking sexual excitement, but also to those men whose sexual preferences are for other men. I cater for them all.

My clientele is more varied than you might imagine. You'd think offering myself on the alleyways of Venice would only attract the lowest classes, but that's not so. Eighteenth century Venice is an open minded, many would say decadent, city. You find all classes here, from nobility, who fancy a dalliance with the perverse, to working men, who will blow their wage on an encounter with a prostitute. They'll all happily wander the lanes of the Cannaregio to satiate their sexual needs. Yes, I know; I've fucked duchesses and countesses, sucked the cocks of dukes and counts.

And then Venice has many foreign visitors on the Grand Tour. They may profess their motive for visiting the city is the magnificent architecture and brilliant art, but the underlying reason is far more risqué. It's surprising how these aristocrats open up to a street-boy offering sexual services. It's as if they have a perverse excitement in doing so. I can smell their anticipation as they scour the streets choosing the right woman or man, depending on their preference.

Don't make the mistake of thinking it's only men. Oh no, I've had countless young aristocrats, married off to an ageing heir by their families, who come to the streets of Venice solely to get fucked. You can hear the sly arguments they put forward, "Oh but Lord Chichester, we simply must go to Venice. It's the most fashionable place to be seen and the buildings and art are a marvel to behold. Why I was only speaking to Lady Sykes the other day. She has recently returned from a tour of the Alps and Northern Italy, and Venice was the indubitable highlight of her trip." Yes, I've heard the stories. "I'm going to midnight mass in Santa Croce, my love," she will say, and a compliant servant will chaperone her whilst my cock thrusts into her willing cunt. No other city offers the same range of erotic delights as La Serenissima, the serene Republic.

Mind you, I can't do this for the rest of my life. There's only so long you can be on the streets at night in all weathers and it not take its toll. The prostitutes in the Cannaregio have a longer working life; they can use layers of make-up to disguise their age, but in my game youth is everything. I care for my body and groom myself well as it's essential for the success of my trade but I know I can only do this for so long. I'm careful with what I earn and keep it stashed away in my lodgings, hoping one day I'll earn enough to buy myself into an apprenticeship, perhaps in the glass blowing works in Murano, since I'm especially good at blowing. In the meantime, I enjoy my work. I revel in the thrill of the unexpected and get a buzz out of the dark and dangerous side of my occupation.

The sound of two revellers turning out of the square and into the back-lane in my direction disturbs my reverie. Their bulky frames are silhouetted in the gloomy lamp light of the alley, a twin vision of bustles, busts, and curly wigs teetering on Italian leather shoes, waddling purposefully down the alleyway. A less expert eye might be fooled by them. Being familiar with the clientele who frequent these alleys, there's no disguising what these two figures are. Something in their demeanour betrays them, as if they are trying too hard to walk with effortless, feminine grace without quite succeeding. It's a familiar sight in the Cannaregio. After all, this is Venice; the dark underbelly of its decadence is never far beneath the surface. However much they try to hide their maleness, it's obvious they are transvestites.

As they approach I play along with their game.

"Greetings ladies," I take my hat off and bow extravagantly, "and what service can I give you tonight?"

I can't fault their make-up, it's flawless, but the lie of their Adam's apple betrays their true gender. The night air becomes infused with powder and sweet perfume as their magnificently coiffured wigs bob to and fro before me.

"What a sweet boy, isn't he Lucretia?" he says, admiring my good looks and sleek black hair tied into a queue which hangs on my neck.

"Yes, but is he old enough to be on the streets of these parts of Venice? Does your mother know you're here?"

I smile benignly and play along with their joke, "I promise you ladies, I appear younger than I am. I assure you I'm old enough not to need my mother's permission to service any needs you ladies might have... for a price."

"Oh, he's a cheeky one, isn't he Viola?" giggles Lucretia.

"And you'll do anything we ask of you?"

"Oh, yes my lady, I'm willing and very... adaptable, as I say, for a fair price."

After a brief exchange we agree upon a price and a silver ducat is passed into my palm. The charade of seduction begins.

Lucretia, the taller of the two transvestites in a blonde wig, runs a fingernail along my cheek. The fingers are expertly painted but there's no hiding the roughness of his skin. Venice is a tolerant city, but even here there are risks for homosexuals and transsexuals. Sodomy is illegal in Venice, frowned upon by the ruling Council of Ten and the church, though it's hard to believe, given how prevalent it is. But they must still be careful, hence the extravagant disguise, and why they come to this place to satisfy their sexual urges. Viola, the second transvestite who is thicker set and has a black wig, reaches his hand down to my breeches and runs his fingers along them, feeling the line of my hardening cock. I have no problems responding. Male or female client, my member is always ready and willing and my powers of recovery are renowned, which is necessary in my trade.

"Come, let's retire to a more secluded place," I urge. "If we go into the alley, there's a porch where we're less likely to be disturbed."

The two transvestites readily comply with my suggestion. I link my arms with theirs, one on either side of me, and lead them towards a hidden alleyway. I flatter their beauty extravagantly whilst we walk and they respond with delighted amusement, revelling in the belief their secret has not been discovered.

But as I glance around to check everything is clear in the entrance to the alley, I detect a shadow in the dark. A wide-rimmed hat and a slim, female figure darts behind a Doric pillar, the entrance to a deserted merchant's residence. It registers with me for a fleeting moment, and my curiosity is aroused. Who could be watching me? It's not the typical behaviour of the prostitutes working these alleyways, but I push it to the back of my mind; after all, I have my clients to think about.

I hustle the two transvestites under the portico of a once grand house whose façade is now crumbling like many buildings behind the Grand Canal. The dark haired transvestite wastes no time in forcing me into the corner, pressing me against the stone work with the billowing spread of his gown and the thrust of his false bosom. He takes my face between his hands and pushes his lips eagerly onto mine, his tongue exploring my mouth. He pins me against the wall. The overwhelming aroma of sickly perfume and powdered wig invades my senses.

Meanwhile, Lucretia is on his knees pulling at my breeches to release my, now, fully erect cock. I have no problem with this. I know what I'm paid for; to provide a service to my clients. I can't even claim there isn't some perverse way I enjoy it. I warm to the touch of sticky saliva around my cock as Lucretia takes the full length of my member into his mouth and sucks on me. I groan in exaggerated pleasure.

"Oh yes, suck me lady, suck me!"

I'd be lying if I say I don't get sexual gratification from this. Besides, the transvestite is a skilled practitioner in the art of oral sex and it does no harm to enter into the role. My clients expect a performance. I don't have to pretend too much in this case as the expert tongue wraps itself around the tip of my cock, licking its glans. He'll bring me to a climax soon unless I can control myself. He pulls his lips away from my member leaving me teetering on the edge of release.

"He's an eager one, isn't he my dear?" says Lucretia.

"Oh, yes, he's enthusiastic. Shall we see how far he'll go?"

"He promised to service us in any way we pleased."

"Yes, he did, didn't he? We must take you at your word, boy."

"Yes, get down on your knees."

I anticipate what will come next. I obediently kneel in front of Viola. He pulls up rolls of silk material from his dress and layers of petticoats and lowers his silk knickerbockers to allow a blue-veined penis to spring free.

I feign shock to play along with their game. I'd done nothing to betray that I'd seen behind their disguise, and I don't want to spoil their pleasure in revealing the surprise beneath the layers of material. The pair of them giggle in delight as they reveal their secret.

"You said you'd service us. All the sucking's made me horny. Are you ready for this boy?"

"And there's another hard cock needs satisfying when you've finished there."

I take Viola's cock into my mouth, drawing the unyielding flesh deep until it gags at the back of my throat. I suck on it vigorously, pulling my lips over its taut hardness, revelling in the pleasure I'm giving my client. I know I'm good; I can tell the transvestite is surprised at how good. He groans in ecstasy.

"Ah, yes," he gasps. "You've done this before, boy. You dirty little slut. Oh that's good boy, come on, suck me."

I slow my pace as I sense his excitement, and the tension building up in his cock. I don't want him to come too quickly. I like to give my money's worth, then clients will come back. So I suck him with long, slow strokes, occasionally rolling my tongue over the tip of his cock to his moans of delight.

Whilst I'm pleasuring him, Viola reaches out to take hold of my cock, still slimy with a mixture of saliva and pre-cum. He closes his fist around it and pulls on my hardness, rubbing in synch with my sucking motions. This only serves to excite me and increase the pace of my lips sliding along Viola's cock.

Lucretia teases me, "I can tell what a naughty boy you are. Oh, I'm going to enjoy taking you! Get on your hands and knees boy."

I momentarily release the cock from my lips. It's red raw now and screaming out for release. I grasp Viola's balls into my hands and kneed them as I run the tip of my tongue along his throbbing cock to the sound of his euphoric groans. By now my breeches are around my ankles, and I get down as I've been ordered. The granite of the porch is hard and cold but I barely notice. I imagine the scene, me on my hands and knees like a bitch in heat, sandwiched between these two extravagantly dressed transvestites with their vast wigs and layers of make-up. I know what Lucretia wants. I know he wants his cock up my arse.

Viola drops onto her knees so I can continue sucking his cock. I open my mouth wide for him so he can thread his member into my mouth again. The debauched scene is set for its frantic climax, the two transvestites aroused and eager for release. As for me, yes, you might think my behaviour disgusting, but in a perverse way I'm enjoying myself with these two men, helping them act out their sexual fantasies. There's something gloriously decadent about offering myself up in such a wanton way. It's strangely liberating.

I continue sucking on Viola's cock as I sense Lucretia searching for the little hole of pleasure in my backside with his finger. I gasp through a mouthful of hard penis as he pushes a finger inside me, rotating it roughly around my arse to prepare me. He extracts his finger. I raise my arse into the air and wiggle it invitingly. Lucretia runs his hand over my backside and gives me one hard slap with his palm. I let out a muffled grunt which amuses both of them.

Lucretia moves his hands over my groin and grasps my hips firmly to steady himself, ready to penetrate me. The hardness of his erection presses against my flesh as it seeks out the hole. He soon finds it and eases his penis into me. I endure its girth stretching me, and his urgent nudges as he pushes deeper. I offer no resistance. I'm experienced enough to know the best thing to do is relax my anal muscles and let the hard flesh push past the tight ring of my arse-hole. With one more thrust the whole length of Lucretia's cock is inside me. I groan with pleasure. I don't need to pretend or exaggerate. It's a muffled moan, the kind you can only make when you've a mouthful of hard cock. It's strange and bizarrely fulfilling to have a penis deep inside you, pressing against the sensitive nerves deep in your anus.

Lucretia warms to his task. His cock nestled inside my arse, he sets about the task of fucking me, repeatedly withdrawing and pumping inside me. His strokes get deeper, and his grunts of exertion and pleasure louder. As he thrusts harder, my sucking on Viola's cock gets firmer. I'm oblivious to anything now, except the debauched physicality of what the two transvestites are doing.

I sense Viola's orgasm building up first. His groans increase in intensity as he builds up to his climax. Before he comes, he pulls his cock out of my mouth and masturbates. He wants to watch as he comes in my mouth. He expels a loud groan as he reaches his climax and his cum spurts into my waiting mouth whilst other globs of his spunk splatter onto my face. How deliciously depraved! I taste the saltiness and roll the disgustingly thick substance around my mouth before swallowing it. All the time Lucretia pumps his cock into my backside. Seeing the show his companion has put on tips him over the edge, grunting in ecstasy as he releases himself into my back passage. The three of us collapse onto the floor of the porch in exhaustion and fits of laughter.

You don't judge people in my game; you accept them and their desires for what they are. I'd never mock them for how they choose to dress or for trying to satisfy their sexual desires, however strange they appear. On the contrary, over the course of my brief encounter, I've acquired respect for them.

"You're good boy," gasps Viola, "we'll look out for you when we're next in the Cannaregio.

"He's bloody good," echoes Lucretia, still panting with the exertion.

They both show their appreciation for my service by giving me a kiss and a hug. Then my two transvestites adjust their dresses and walk away, two more satisfied customers, and me a silver ducat and a generous tip better off for my troubles.

I turn back to the lane... to see the broad-rimmed hat disappear behind the corner. Now my curiosity is piqued. I have to investigate this mysterious figure who's been spying on me.