La Contessa Ch. 20

"Do not be so harsh on her, madam. She has played your game in the right spirit and emerged as the victor. And besides, she looks so sexy covered in leaves, and she smells divine. I could eat her up right now!"

Mademoiselle's hands are all over Becky, fondling her under cover of brushing the leaves and pine needles from her body. She kisses the girl on the lips.

"Then she is your prize, Marie. You can pleasure her however you desire."

"You are most generous, madam."

"Thank you, mistress," echoes Becky.

Before we return to the lodge La Contessa sends the dogs out to hunt for rabbits, which are tied up and slung over the arms of the men carrying me.

"So, it's rabbit stew for dinner," says Mademoiselle, "I know an excellent recipe."

"Yes, that... or roast slave," replies La Contessa with a sadistic ring in her voice.

The entourage returns to the hunting lodge, and I'm paraded through the entrance porch into the hall where the fire has been burning all day. La Contessa and Mademoiselle retire to their chambers for a hot bath, and to get changed. The rabbits are taken off to the kitchen to be skinned and stewed. I'm taken off the pole but with the dire warning my punishment for being hunted has barely started.

I sit there quietly as the hustle of the activities of the staff buzz around me. When the two women return, they emerge refreshed and changed into stunning new outfits. They both wear jerkins and pantaloons in black leather. La Contessa leads the way with Mademoiselle behind her, Becky on her arm, now bathed and tidied up from her adventure in the woods. Her hair is pinned up, and she wears a golden tunic, short enough to leave her solid thighs exposed. Mademoiselle settles into an armchair with the girl at her feet. She unbuttons the front of her leather pants. One hand strays to her crutch, whilst the other playfully twists a curl hanging loose from the obedient girl's hair.

"You must lick me out, my sweet, like you did so deliciously in the back of the carriage Then I shall return the compliment, as your reward for being victorious in the hunt."

"Yes mistress," says Becky, nestling herself up against Mademoiselle's leather clad thigh.

"Should I put more logs on the fire mistress?" asks one of her servants.

"No, not yet. Those burning embers will suit my purpose well. I said we would have roast slave, did I not? And so we shall."

My eyes widen in shock and fear. Surely she can't be serious? Yet when servants enter the hall carrying a cast iron spit, I realise she is. I'm ordered to lie on the floor on my front. The spit is laid along my back and then with my arms and legs stretched out along its length I'm tied onto it. The fireplace, the focal point for the hall, is huge. It's used for roasting boar and pigs... so this is what La Contessa has in mind for me. The spit is heaved up by servants, placed on its stand, and a handle attached.

"Madam!" squeaks Julia, unable to refrain from expressing her concern at the unfolding scene.

"Keep silent, maid."

"But..."

"Do you think I don't know how to judge my punishments?" La Contessa scolds, as her hands run along my buttocks, stroking my skin as I stare into the fiery embers. "Besides, he looks so content in that position, don't you, my slave?"

"Mm, yes, mistress," I reply, squirming on the spit.

My body is enveloped in the heat of the rising currents. It's hot, uncomfortably hot, but not dangerously so. I stare into the embers, mesmerised by the glowing ashes.

"The fire is dying down, I believe it needs more tinder," says La Contessa as she selects branches from a wicker basket at the side of the fireplace.

As soon as she throws the dry wood onto the burning embers, flames leap up in fiery tentacles. My breathing intensifies and my heart races. I can do nothing but stare back powerless into the flames as they curl and spark upwards. The heat spreading over my body intensifies. I endure it on the tip of my cock as it dangles towards the fire. La Contessa's torment is ingenious. I notice she chose not to use the massive logs, but the branches used for kindling with the intention of delivering a scare, but not of roasting me alive... at least I hope so. The smoke wafts up into my nostrils making my head spin.

"Is it the pine wood, madam?" asks Mademoiselle, breathing heavily. "He'll smell delicious once you've finished roasting him."

Through the heat haze and the blur of the smoke, I see the French woman reclining in a tapestry upholstered chair, her leather pants around her ankles with Becky at her knees licking her fanny like a demon.

"Is it getting hot for you slave?" my mistress asks, a wicked smile spreading across her lips.

I'm in too much of a daze even to reply. La Contessa takes hold of the metal crank and turns the spit. It's a disorientating sensation as my body slowly gets turned 180 degrees so I'm now facing up, staring into the sooty tunnel of the chimney. I'm swung around to complete a 360 degree rotation and then back up again. La Contessa stands grinning over me, her hand gripping the spit's crank. Through the heat haze she looks even more stunning. The leather outfit clings tightly to her figure and, from my upturned position I have a view of her cleavage hanging over me.

She bends over to put more wood on the fire. There's a hiss and crackle and then a surge of heat on my back and arse. I try to wriggle in discomfort but I'm too securely tied to the spit. La Contessa retires to a comfy chair and nonchalantly sips from a glass of brandy whilst the waves of scorching heat creep over me. From my precarious position I catch the gleam of satisfaction in her eye as she revels in my predicament, and the spectacle of Mademoiselle and Becky pleasuring each other.

The two women are on the rug in the centre of the hall in a '69' position with the French woman on her back reaching out with her tongue to lick Becky's clit. The slave girl is on top, her face buried in Mademoiselle's crotch, her backside sticking up in the air. The French woman squeals in ecstasy as she approaches her impending climax. The sight of Becky's pale arse sticking out from under her tunic is too tempting an invitation for La Contessa. She takes up a whip with leather thongs and, from a sitting position, whacks her behind. Becky whelps in pain, but it only encourages her to go down on Mademoiselle with even greater enthusiasm. La Contessa continues to whip her slave's arse, until both Becky and Mademoiselle come to simultaneous orgasms. The room is engulfed with the groans and screams of their euphoric climaxes. Mademoiselle pulls Becky towards her, and they curl up into each other's arms and kiss deeply, the sweet taste of their juices on their lips.

La Contessa turns her attention back to me. I've been so drawn into the erotic scene being played out that for a moment I've forgotten my own discomfort. But the heat is overpowering now. Sweat trickles from my forehead. I sense my whole body glowing red.

"Is it getting hot for you slave?"

"Yes mistress," I gasp, hoping she might have had her fun.

"Being roasted alive for your sins by a powerful woman and strict mistress? Do you think this is what hell must be like?"

Somewhere in my heat induced daze I find the wherewithal to reply, "No, I think this is what heaven must be like."

She laughs. "Indeed! But don't think your wit will earn you escape from further punishment."

She leans down and holds another twig in the fire for a minute and then lifts it out. She waves it across my face.

"Do you see this slave?"

I nod. She's taunting me with its glowing tip. I fear she will to press it into my flesh.

She moves into position over my crotch and holds the burning branch over me. She flicks it and a shower of golden sparks falls onto my cock. I scream out in a strange amalgam of agony and ecstasy. She flicks the twig again and glowing cinders float onto my balls. I've experienced many kinds of cock and ball torture at mistress's hands, but this pain is sharper than any I've felt before. I can't see if the sparks have burnt me, but La Contessa is ingenious; she's planned on inflicting the severest torment to my tackle without causing any permanent damage. She takes the branch and, pressing it against my side, rubs it against my flesh to burn the surface of my skin with three short lines in the shape of an 'N'.

"There, slave, that is my mark," she says, as she runs her finger across my skin and scrutinises the trail of scorched skin she has left. "'N' for La Contessa di Nemesia. It will leave a red mark on you as a reminder of your servitude. One day, I should brand you properly. I should like that. Then you would have a permanent reminder of who you belong to."

"Yes mistress," I mutter, too bamboozled with smoke, heat, and pain to protest at her declaration of intent.

"Well, we shall see. Julia, summon servants now and get him down. What a satisfying day; the hunt, stewed rabbit, roast slave. I've enjoyed it immensely!"

The servants haul the huge iron spit, with me tied onto it, out of the fireplace and untie me.

I flex my aching limbs, run my hands along my hot, glowing skin and admire La Contessa's mark etched into my side. I'm woozy and unsteady on my feet but, as is always the case with mistress, there's a glow of satisfaction and euphoria at having been used in such an extreme way. I'm tired now. The strain of the day having caught up with me, all I want to do is sleep.

Julia is concerned and attentive.

"Are you ok, Roberto?"

I nod.

La Contessa's eyes flash, "And what do you care, Julia? You show an undue consideration for this slave. Do you care for him?"

"No, madam," she stutters. "I just thought he looked unduly stressed."

"Stressed," she sneers. "What do you mean, girl?"

Julia prickles. I've never heard La Contessa use the expression before... Julia, maid, servant, but never girl; she usually reserves that for Becky.

"You're both dismissed," she says with a contemptuous wave of her hand.