The Countess Ch. 01

A countess is a noblewoman, equal in status to an earl or a count. Countesses either inherit the title when they're born or gain it by marrying a noble. 

A countess is a member of nobility who ranks below marquess/marchioness in the British peerage system. The term is the third of the five noble classes, which include duke/duchess, marquess/marchioness, earl/countess, viscount/viscountess and baron/baroness.  

The protagonist in this story is the Countess Shannon LaRue.  

The 5-foot 4-inch, 120-pound beauty gained her noble title through marriage. She is a striking lass.  

Blonde, of course...a "real" blonde as in the drapes match the carpet. Incredible legs with perfectly proportioned calves, thighs and quite a firm ass.  

Not overly endowed but firm "B" cup tits with gorgeous dark bubbly nipples perched high atop her perky mounds.  

Her ice blue eyes are striking...able to mesmerize any normal man, invoking the drool complex along with the innate need to adjust one's crotch in a flash! 

THE COUNTESS  

The Countess Shannon sits in stunned silence, staring at her husband, Lord Lawrence. She sees him moving his lips, but her mind is overloaded with a loud cacophony of buzzing, banging, and static.  

Her life as she knew it, the only life she had, was shattered by the news that Lawrence is being investigated by the house of Lords for not only espionage, but fraud as well.  

The major networks ran the story nonstop and no matter what Lawrence tried to tell her, his pleading that it was all a fabrication and a smear campaign against him, she could only think of how this would affect her standing in the community. She is ruined and wonders how she could ever venture out into public again.  

After what seemed to be an eternity of rapid-fire pleading of her husband, Shannon wipes her tears and stands up. Adjusting her expensive dress, she walks away. Climbing the stairs to the upper floor of their country manner, she wonders if it would be the last night she would spend in her palace of solitude. She closes and locks the bedroom door in her hopeless attempt to shut out the world.  

Shannon sleeps for 2 days straight. The shock to her system causes her slumbering blackout. As her eyes slowly open. She stretches and as she rolls over to greet the sun shining through the sheer drapes, the horror of her situation comes roaring back, carrying with it the sledgehammer to the head effect, her nervous system attempts to deflect it.  

As the video flashes through her mind, she lay still trying to regulate her heart rate, struggling to breathe. She cried every tear she possibly could. Realizing that hiding in the bedroom, trying to sleep away the truth, was not the answer. She slowly places one foot on the floor and then the other. She stands and staggers to the bath, her bladder screaming at her for ignoring it for such a long time. Upon satisfying that organ's demands, she stands in front of the vanity, wondering who the waif with the mascara streaks covering her cheeks and the knotted tangled mess of blonde hair is.  

Splashing some water on her face does nothing to dissolve the dark film but the feeling of the cold water on her skin triggers her body to satisfy its demand for water. She about breaks a tooth as she smacks her mouth on the faucet. Turning the cold handle full on, she gulps close to two liters of the cold fluid. Struggling to catch her breath she notices that the pounding headache subsides rather quickly.  

She sniffs at her underarms, realizing the stench assaulting her is emanating from her nasty self. Her sexy silk sleeping gown clings to her as if she just did a sweaty five miles on the treadmill. She stares at her reflection, unable to find a reason to give a fuck about how she looks. She simply had no fucks to give! 

Stumbling to the bedroom door, she unlocks it and wanders through the manor, curious as to where Lawrence is. To no avail, she discovers he is not there, and his Range Rover is not in the garage. She locates her phone and discovers she has 47 texts and numerous voice mails from the press, the constables, and some friends. She makes herself some tea, knowing she is about to be dragged through the gutter for things she knows absolutely nothing about.  

Sipping her tea, she rattles her brain to make sense of what and how everything got so out of sorts. She did realize, the reality is that her life is about to change drastically. Finally accepting the situation, she works her way through the messages and texts, ignoring most. The one she pays attention to is the voice mail from the Shropshire constable's office. Steeling herself, she dials the number and identifies herself as Mrs. Larue, she listens to the detective explain the reasons for her husband's location. He is being held in jail, pending a trial for his indiscretions and crimes against the monarchy.  

She ends the call and sits like a statue. She could cry no more. After what seems to be an eternity, Shannon feels the need to escape her self-imposed prison. Looking at her appearance in the mirror, she swears that she will not allow this to destroy her. She is made of sterner stuff than any of the miserable nosy people in the press could imagine, as well as all of her so-called friends.  

Showering feels incredible, like washing the weight of the world off her shoulders. She dresses in her finery and fires up her Austin Martin. Driving the sports car like an angry pizza delivery driver on a busy Friday night, she chews up every back road in the Shropshire district. For hours she pushes the little roadster hard, loving the feel of the power as well as the grind of the tires through every turn on the winding barely single lane roads. Not caring if another car is trying to occupy the same space as her dark blue machine, she throttles her favorite toy like a two-bit street walker begging to be abused on a hot steamy Saturday night.  

Roughly one hundred and twenty miles later, she allows the sturdy machine to take a break. It is getting dusky, and her throat is parched. Being just over the county line, she stops at a roadside public house. Shannon hopes she can quench her dry throat anonymously.  

The gravel parking lot is empty except for an old dusty truck and a small sedan. Entering the dimly lit pub, she takes up residence at a table in the corner. There is one other patron at the bar. An older gent, who appears to be about 3 sheets to the wind, and the bartender.  

The barkeep approaches her table and asks spryly, "Fancy a pint of love?"  

Shannon, recognizing the beautiful, but definitely local country girl. She sits silent for a moment, as her voice is hard to find. She finally quietly utters the woman's name..."Annie?"  

The barkeep responds with a question. "Yeah, that's me name alright; do I know you?"  

"It's me, Shannon, from secondary school!" she says.  

Annie steps closer and after a second of lost thought says, "Shannon...Wiseman?  

Shannon rises from the table and gives Annie a hug. Thinking to herself she wonders...Is it possible that some haven't heard about her embarrassing evolutions? 

"Good heavens! What's it been 10 years?" Annie exclaims  

Shannon stammers and nods her head.  

"I do believe it has been that long!"  

Annie tells Shannon to sit, and she fetches herself a pint, plopping right down at Shannon's table. 

"Well, you must tell me everything that's been going on with your life and why the hell are you out here in the country at this hour?"  

Shannon hesitates and then decides, 'what the hell. It's time I begin to live my own life. To hell with what other rubes think!'  

She tells Annie her story about how she went to university and met her husband and how he came from a wealthy political class and that he actually sat in the House of Lourdes. She explains how they were living the high life and that it became too much for him to handle. The power and prestige of being a royal and in big government led him down some evil paths.  Admitting that he is currently in jail and that she was in the process of divorcing him and that she was trying to pull her life back together after losing it all, it was tough for her to plead.  

Annie listens with rapt attention, taking in every juicy detail. When Shannon finishes, she sits back and reacts like her mind is blown. She then jumps up and pours them each another pint before sitting back down at the table.  

"Thats quite a bit of living you done since I last saw you! I feel somewhat like a simple loser after hearing your tales. I can't tell you anything exciting like that except I got married and birthed 2 kids with the old man. We have a piece of land just out back of the pub here and we got some sheep and goats on it. I have been operating this pub for gone on 5 years now."

Shannon listens intently and finds herself feeling jealous of her schoolmate. She wishes she had chosen a simple life and felt she would have been much happier and wholesome compared to the kettle of swill she fell into.  

"So now I am very soon going to be homeless, with no income, no husband, and no idea of what I am going to do with my life from this point forward!"  

She raises her glass to Annie and says, "What the hell...Cheers to my life of rubbish!"  

Annie laughs and clinks her mug to Shannon's and together they down the brews, laughing and having the best time she could remember in a long time.  

"You know Shannon, if you need some work, I have something you might be willing to consider, just to tide you over."  

"By all means Annie, please tell me. I am desperate to right this sinking ship!"  

"Well, you might want to curb your enthusiasm until you hear what it is. It's actually something I am involved in, and it is, depending on your point of view, a whole lot of fun...however, a bit risqué!"  

Shannon sits back for a second, staring at Annie. She quickly weighs any consequences and decides what does she have to lose.  

"OK Annie, I'm all ears!"  

Annie grins and begins to tell Shannon about a self-made woman that operates in London selling a certain type of lingerie. "It's all cum stained, if you can believe it!"  

Shannon feels as if her jaw had just bounced off the table. She sits silently, filtering what she heard through her prim and proper little brain, nodding at Annie.  

"Ok...please continue!"  

Annie explains how everything is through mail order. "All you have to do is get a man to cum on your stockings, thigh highs or panty hose. You then package them up and ship them to "The Nylon Wife", whose name is Sharon. She and her staff rate them for quality control and salability. She cuts you a check and that's it. The more you submit, the more you make. Oh, and if you send along a dick picture of the 'artist" and his first name you get paid double. It seems wearing these items around is a huge hit in the bar scene, and according to her, the trend is beginning to boom in America."  

"So let me get this straight...I just get any random guy to 'cum' on my stockings...and I get paid for that?"  

Annie grins a big shit eating grin and reemphasizes to her..."It is so much freaking fun and can be so freaking hot! My husband loves cranking out products and we make huge amounts of money every month. It's done outrageous things for our love life also. Who doesn't love to get paid for fucking"  

Shannon's mind is blown. She sits back and tries to process what she just heard. 'It can't be that simple she mulls in her head.'  

She thinks about how much she loved fucking in university, especially with as many lovely cocks as she did. She can't really remember the guys, just the cocks. A smile creeps across her face as she realizes that she is about to be free of the matrimonial stigma and will be available to having rowdy irresponsible sex. She loves the thought of returning to those simpler times. She looks at Annie and says...  

"I'm in! What do I have to do?"  

Annie nods and smiles. "Come here next Friday and I'll help you get started. Make sure you wear something extra spicy if you catch my drift."  

"I'll be here at 1 pm sharp!"  

Annie draws another round for them and then convinces the old timer, Bob, that it is closing time and that he needs to leave and go home to sleep it off. Bob complains but does as he is told. Annie closes and locks the door behind him and flips the switch that turns the outside 'Open" sign to read 'Closed'.  

She and Shannon continue to drink and review their stories about the last 10 years. Shannon feels like a giant weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She renews a friendship with a nonjudgmental schoolmate and possibly finds a path to achieving a way to support herself as well as an escape from the oppression of living under the royal thumbprint.  

Eventually they both retire to a couple of cots in the back storage room. both snoring heavily sleeping off their nice little bender.  

Shannon wakes the next morning to a pounding headache. She stumbles out of the storage room to the smell of bacon and eggs. Her stomach growls. She sits on a stool at the bar.  

Annie comes bursting through the kitchen door and slaps a big plate of bacon, ham, sausage, eggs, and toast in front of her.  

"Here's a meal fir for a sleeping beauty former countess!" Annie yells loudly while laughing heartly  

Shannon eyes her with death daggers. "God my head is pounding, and my stomach is turning cartwheels! How is it you are so chipper? We both drank from the same vat!"  

Annie laughs hard again. "Hey Miss lightweight, I practice consumption a whole lot more than you do obviously! Now eat up! Down it all and you will feel better in no time. Trust me!"  

Shannon picks up a fork and digs in. Annie puts a big mug of black tea in front of her and she takes a huge swig. She gasps and demands, "MILK! SUGAR!"  

Annie laughs, shoving the items down the bar then disappearing back into the kitchen. Shannon slowly picks her way through the humongous plate of food, getting half of it down her gullet before pushing back and letting the house cat have her fill.  

Much to her surprise she feels somewhat better. Feeling halfway human again, she calls Annie asking her for a cup of coffee for her drive. Exclaiming that they enjoyed getting reacquainted again and that they look forward to beginning a new adventure on Friday.  

Shannon leaves the pub and fires up her roadster. She exits the gravel parking lot in a shower of stones and enjoyed traveling the 80 kms on the back roads to her manor.  

As she parks the car in the garage, Shannon senses that she did feel better, wondering if it was the hearty breakfast or the freedom of ripping up the back roads, windows open and her hair loose and in the wind. She stands back for a minute and stares at the front of the manor house. She feels no sense of morning at the fact that in less than 30 days the place will be sold at auction, and she will be flopping her ass down who knows where to sleep at night. In fact, she is experiencing a feeling of release, of freedom that she can't ever remember feeling in her past.   

Bounding up the stairs with a renewed sense of spirit, she decides she will cut ties with everything and everyone. Taking up a pen and paper, she sketches out a 6 

month plan that she reasons will be her best path to taking back her life. Of course, her plan involves Annie's scheme becoming a reality and that it would pay her well enough to make it on her own.   

Sitting back and reliving her conversation with Annie she said out loud to herself.  

"My God Shannon, you are about to become a cum whore!"  

She smiles at the juicy thoughts of different men, stroking their hard cocks, or better yet, her stroking them or even licking and sucking them to the point where they blast their cum all over her stockings, and she gets paid for it. She spasms and soaks her panties, vibrating deliciously. She drops the pen and slides onto her bed, tears open the nightstand drawer and grabs her favorite toy. She rants as she can't turn it on fast enough, bucking and rocking her hips, cursing after realizing she forgot to charge it. 

Moaning at the feeling of her warm juice running down her inner thighs she viciously rams the pencil dildo inside her lovely pulsing quim, stroking slowly at first, steadily increasing the tempo as the sounds of her sloshing fluid invade her senses. Her left hand squeezing her left tit so hard she might tear it off.  

As the most intense orgasm she has experienced in years hits, Shannon shakes and vibrates hard, her legs cramp and her toes curl so tightly. She elicits moans and groans foreign to her ears. The pain/pleasure conundrum gives way to absolute vicious bliss for maybe 15 seconds, and then she passes out.   

Within a minute or so, she opens her eyes and listens to herself pant. She tries to move but she is so twisted up, laying on her right arm and her lower body turned left. Orienting herself she slowly yanks her arm out, which is completely numb, and drags herself into a half sitting position. Looking down at her cum soaked pussy, she smiles and coos to herself.  

"Shannon girl, you are in for a most delicious ride!"  

The week flies by as Shannon arranges things with the auctioneer for the sale of the house and household items. She decides to just sell everything, except for the items most precious to her. A few photos, some jewelry, her 6-month stash of cash, all of which she hid in the secret compartment of her car. On Friday morning, she tosses the bank representative the keys to the house and with a single suitcase, she fires up her car and drives down the long lane to the country road one last time. As the last time she wanders down this route, she loves the feeling of freedom that comes with driving a tight winding road in a sports car. However, she is not in any hurry. 

She cruises sanely over the countryside towards the tavern, pulling up to the front at 1315. She grabs her bag and heads inside, meeting Annie, who shows her to her room.