La Contessa Ch. 11

Mademoiselle has a wicked glint in her eye. She's enjoying this. I steel myself for the next five strokes. She knows how to use a cane and these are another series of hard strokes. La Contessa comes forward. I know she's cruel and will show me no mercy. The cane bears down on me with a swishing sound as it slices through the air and then hits my backside with a loud crack. Oh yes, La Contessa knows how to wield a cane with malice. Four more strokes of those whilst straining to the utmost not to expel the slightest gasp, knowing it will lead to further punishment, is as much as I can endure.

After she finishes, La Contessa adds to my humiliation by inviting her guests to inspect my arse with its deep red marks where the cane has slashed across the flesh.

They carry on playing to complete a round, working through the whole deck of cards. I do a quick calculation; there are twenty-five rounds within the deck, four players, each placing five stakes. A total of five hundred strokes of whip, crop, paddle, strap, slipper, and hand (and that's not even counting the extra ones given). On average there should be one hundred per servant, yet, though I've not been counting, I'm sure I've received more than my fair share of them. La Contessa, as the dealer, doesn't appear to have won anything like the odds she should have in a game of faro.

It's no surprise Mademoiselle is the overall winner, having won by far the highest number of stakes.

La Contessa announces, "I promised a special prize for the overall winner. Get onto the billiard table, slave," she orders.

The billiard balls are swept to one side to clear the table, and I climb face down onto the green baize. La Contessa distributes a coil of rope to each of her guests and instructs them to tie me to the corner pockets of the billiard table. Mademoiselle and the Russian undertake the task with relish. They expertly secure the ropes around my wrists, stretch my arms out and tie the other end of the rope around a pocket. The Archduchess is more reluctant as she's still smarting from the French heiress being the winner. Meanwhile, Lady Rudston is getting in a tangle with her knots and needs La Contessa to help her out. Once the knots are secured around my ankles, the four ladies pull my legs to stretch me across the table, tying the ends of the ropes to the corner pockets.

"You see ladies how sadistic domination is an art form. See how the slave's brown body looks spread-eagled on the green baize of the billiard table. Admire how the slave's balls are left exposed to us. He's all yours Mademoiselle."

"What should I do with him?"

"Well, there are the billiard cues," La Contessa suggests.

"Or the billiard balls," adds Mademoiselle clicking two of them together.

"Oh yes, what an excellent proposition."

My eyes water as I imagine what she might have in mind.

"Would anybody like to join me in a game of billiards?" asks Mademoiselle.

I hear the clunk of an ivory ball being laid on the table, the sound of cue on ball, and then feel the billiard ball slam against my balls left exposed on the baize. Mademoiselle has given the ball an almighty, and accurate, hit.

"My slave's balls are the pocket," announces La Contessa, "The aim of the game is to hit the pocket with the billiard ball."

"Oh what fun, Contessa. I must try this. Lord Rudston only allows gentlemen into his billiard room, so I expect I'll be hopeless."

"Here, let me help you Lady Rudston," says Mademoiselle.

I'm conscious of massive powdered wigs hanging over me as Mademoiselle leans over to show Lady Rudston how to hold the cue, helping her line it up with the ball.

"There, now slide the cue firmly between the bridge formed by your fingers," explains the French woman.

A billiard ball rams against my balls to squeals of delight from Lady Rudston at hitting the 'pocket'. My balls are now throbbing with the pain of being crushed by the heavy ivory.

Princess Anastasia makes her contribution by squeezing the sac of my balls against the baize with the tip of the cue. The four guests play 'billiards' with me in this way, much to their amusement. La Contessa looks on, satisfied her guests are having an entertaining time. She grasps a billiard cue from the Archduchess and asks them to stand back before raising it over her shoulder and bringing it crashing down on my backside. I'm not expecting it and let out a yelp of pain.

"You will suffer your punishment in silence, slave. Two more strokes for a lapse of concentration."

She whacks my arse with the cue another couple of times. I imagine those final strokes will add bruises to my already sore backside.

"I hope you've enjoyed your entertainment ladies. I think we shall retire for tea. Lucio, you can untie this slave for me now and dismiss him."

The four guests express their effusive appreciation for the different amusements La Contessa has provided before they leave the salon for her private waiting room, and tea.