La Contessa

Chapter 20: The Hunt

La Contessa is in a mean mood. She's come to the hunting lodge determined to inflict her particular brand of discipline on her servants, and in Mademoiselle La Tour she's found an enthusiastic and equally sadistic accomplice.

She finds fault with everything Julia has done. The pine wood furnishings haven't been buffed well enough, there's still dust on the floors, the plates, and cutlery haven't been polished and, perhaps most significantly, her clothes and undergarments should have been pressed before being hung in the armoire. Oh dear, all I can think is, it's lucky she doesn't know what we really got up to! Julia is as penitent and apologetic as she can be, but her mistress will accept no excuses.

I overhear her scolding Julia, "You lack focus lately, my maid. You seem distracted when your whole attention should be directed at serving me."

Julia is upset. She rarely gets such treatment and prides herself on making things perfect for her mistress, so takes the criticism badly. She looks fraught by the end of the day.

As for me, well, there's no let up for the punishments. In the evening my wrists and ankles are tied together and I'm strung up from the beams of the hall as a plaything for La Contessa and Mademoiselle. I'm subjected to further corporal punishment with whip and paddle and nipple torture from mistress's teeth. I have my cock and balls tied with cord and drizzled with hot wax to the delight of the two women. The mind-set of a dominant's slave is a strange one, and I've come to understand it. Yes, my treatment is humiliating, and the punishments inflicted on me excruciatingly painful, but it doesn't mean I don't get a perverse pleasure from them, I certainly do. I understand my role and enter into it with dedication.

Naturally the slave girl forms a significant part of the entertainment. The bond she's established with Mademoiselle over the course of the coach journey develops. Becky is her pet. She spends the evening on a collar and lead being led around the hall, petted and stroked, and pleasuring Mademoiselle with her tongue. She's strung up from the beams opposite me where she's also subjected to punishments from both women. At one point the nipple clamps are attached to each of us by a cord, so each time one of us wriggles or flinches in response to the whip it tugs on the nipples of the other, much to the mistresses' amusement.

I don't see anything of Julia during the night. She gets up ridiculously early to make amends for the deficiencies La Contessa pointed out and ensure everything is in order by the time her mistress rises. Lucio arrived the previous evening. He's here to check the farm and olive groves are being well managed.

By the next morning I'm relieved to hear La Contessa and Mademoiselle are going hunting, so I might get respite from their attentions.

"What does she hunt?" I get the chance to ask Julia after she's finished dressing her mistress.

"There are boar and deer in the forests around here, and they hunt for smaller animals like rabbits too."

"Wolves?" I ask, thinking of the magnificent fur coat.

"No, not around her. You've got to go into the Alps to find wolves."

"Do you join La Contessa's hunting party?"

"No. I've never been on the hunt itself. But the staff gather outside before it sets off. There's a great atmosphere and, as you can imagine, La Contessa always looks fabulous for her hunting trips, as you'll see."

After a hearty breakfast, La Contessa, and Mademoiselle congregate outside the lodge with a group of servants who will attend the hunt and the rest of the household staff who are there to see them off.

Today the pair are dressed for show. They wear woollen overcoats in olive green, lined around collar, sleeve, and hem with black fur, and matching fur hats. They look like they've stepped out of the Russian steppes. The knee length leather boots and riding crops are obligatory!

The horses; La Contessa's sleek black stallion and Mademoiselle's brown mare, are especially handsome. They stamp their hooves on the stones and shake their manes, impatient for the impending ride. They are surrounded by La Contessa's hunting dogs. This is a pack of

spinoso

, a dog bred in Piedmont for hunting and retrieving. They gather around mistress yelping excitedly. They are square built dogs with long heads and white, wiry coats with orange or brown markings.

"Let us toast our host," announces Mademoiselle La Tour as she produces a flask, and glasses are handed round. "The finest French cognac, an aperitif to warm us up before we ride out.

Bon appetit

!"

The staff are in better spirits today as they share in Mademoiselle's toast to La Contessa.

"And what will our quarry be today,

ma cherie

. Deer, boar, bears?!"

"I have a more interesting sport planned, Mademoiselle."

"More interesting than bears!" she laughs.

"Indeed, for the animals we hunt today are of the human variety."

"Contessa, you are incorrigible. But we won't be able to have our catch for dinner!"

La Contessa arches an eyebrow as if to say why not?

And there was me thinking I might get a quiet morning and respite from La Contessa's attentions. But it's Becky who's led out from the lodge with only a fur cape around her naked shoulders. She must be freezing as winter in this part of Italy is chilly. So, it's the girl they plan to chase?

"Slave, come here," she orders me to come forward. "Why are you still dressed? I don't care how cold it is, you should make yourself available at all times. And if the girl can stand the chill then surely you can? Besides, a little exercise will soon warm you up."

I don't like the sound of that.

"Yes, mistress," I say, as I strip off, handing my uniform to Julia, who looks at me in sympathy for my impending plight.

"Let's make this interesting shall we?" announces La Contessa. "Mademoiselle and I will hunt you both. We will give you a half hour head start to make it interesting, and the pack a good run. Neither of you know the woods, so it will be fair. Whoever is caught first will be subjected to humiliation and punishment, and whoever wins will be permitted sexual pleasure. Marie, we can have another couple of glasses of your excellent cognac whilst we are waiting. How does that sound?"

I don't know why she's asking, as if I have any choice in the matter.

The dog pack is allowed to gather around Becky and myself to sniff us. There are five

spinoso

gathered around me with their muzzles like drooping moustaches sniffing at me. Once the dogs get the scent they become over-excited and have to be hauled back by their tethers.

"Are you ready, my slaves? You may set off at the sound of the horn."

"Oh, Contessa, you are so wicked. I can't wait to join the hunt," says Mademoiselle before downing a glass of cognac in one gulp.

I might as well enter into the spirit of it. It could be fun... but then again? I glimpse across at Becky, who acknowledges me with a nod. She's a determined look on her face. I fear she'll be a formidable adversary. She's focused on victory, and the promise of pleasure. I can imagine she'd love Mademoiselle to lick her clit and make her come, if it were offered as a reward for victory.

La Contessa is handed a horn, fashioned out of a stag antler.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, mistress," we reply in unison.

She puts the hunting horn to her lips and blows. The rasping sound echoes around the lodge. The household staff, who are thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, let out a loud cheer as Becky and I set off.

We head off into the woods in different directions. I run at a steady pace because I don't want to tire myself out. It might be tempting to set off at speed and build up as big a distance as possible from the hounds until they are released, but I want to conserve energy. It's hard running on the forest floor with the undergrowth and foliage digging into the soles of my feet. We're both sent off into the wild entirely naked. There's something exhilarating and primaeval about it to be honest, like acting out an ancient ritual hunter and animal have been part of for millennia.

After I've covered a fair bit of ground, I pause to get my breath back and reflect. The person who gets caught will be the one whose scent the dogs pick up first. I reckon the route to victory is to make sure the dogs don't pick mine up, and the only way to do that is find water. Unfortunately, the city of Venice has been my home for all my life and I know nothing of rural ways, how to disguise my tracks or even where to find a water course. I plunge forward into the woods. The half-hour before La Contessa sets the dogs loose gives me time to put more distance from them.

I plunge further on into the woods, heading downhill in the hope I'm more likely to find a stream there. The pine trees tower over me, and in the direction I take they close tightly in on me, making my path claustrophobic. As I run forwards, the branches flick against my naked skin. I no longer feel the winter chill as my steady pace has warmed me up by now. I come across a ledge with a steep incline, and at the bottom is what I'm looking for, a bubbling stream weaving its way through the forest. I scramble down the slope, slipping onto the forest floor, and the bed of pine needles covering it. Spiky pines. That's all I need sticking in my sore arse right now. Unable to stop myself, I crash through a thorny bush on the way.

Once at the bottom, I'm encouraged. My plan now is to run along the length of the stream in an attempt to put the pack off my scent. The water is icy. I shiver at its touch as it flows as high as my knees, but I'm convinced this is the right course. I plunge forward as fast as I can whilst wading against the fast flowing water and stumbling on the slippery rocks on the brook's floor. At one point the stream narrows into a channel and the waters reach my groin, enveloping my cock and balls in an icy chill. I carry on through them, anyway. I stop again to take stock. I'm panting with the exertion now. I consider myself fit, but the exercise I take to tone my body has not prepared me for the sustained stamina needed for this. I've lost track of time but can only assume the dogs have been released by now. I wonder how Becky is getting on. I must have an advantage as I've seen nothing from her time at the palazzo to suggest she's stronger than me. Dare I allow myself to speculate on what sexual pleasure might be permitted if I emerge as victor?

I'm brought back to earth by the sound of the hunting horn. It's in the distance and faint, but proof the chase has begun. I understand La Contessa's thinking, she will want us to know how close the pursuit is because it will make the hunt more interesting for her. I decide it's time to get out of the stream, climb up the other side of the bank and start running again to put distance between myself and the pack. The horn blows. It sounds closer. Does this mean the dogs have picked up my scent? I run ahead with greater urgency.

The horn blows again. There's no question it's getting closer. I've scrambled up the bank. I notice scratches from thistles and thorns all over me, though I've barely noticed them. The horn is louder still. Looking across the valley I see her on the brow of the hill as her black horse crashes through overhanging branches into a clearing. She's way off still, and the steep incline of the valley divides us, but the pursuit is on. I duck behind a tree and peek from behind it. I should continue my escape, I know, but I can't resist the temptation. She's a figure to admire even from this distance. She's riding side saddle and looks imperious in her olive green coat and its fur. She gazes out across the valley. Mademoiselle joins her with the dogs panting and yelping around her horse. I see the two women exchange words and La Contessa point into the distance. They daren't try to take their horses down such a steep incline. They send the hounds crashing down the slope whilst they gallop off, presumably to find another route across the valley.

This is the moment of truth. Will the barrier of the stream be enough to put the dogs off the scent? The pack plunges down the incline into the stream. At first the signs are good. The dogs are confused and scurry around sniffing in the water and along the bank, but then one picks up on a scent and barks. The others gather round and they start scrambling up the hill. It's steep and they're struggling but it's only a matter of time before they make it to the top. I set off at a dash through the trees now. My instincts tell me I'm done for now, but I can still put further distance between me and the dogs to at least delay the moment of reckoning. Perhaps they've already captured Becky?

There's nothing to do but run as fast as I can. The horn blows. The sound comes from my side of the valley. The net is tightening around me but I keep on running. I can't give up, La Contessa will expect the thrill of a chase and some sport. I crash through the branches of the trees. I hear the gallop of hooves in one direction and the yapping of dogs in the other. I see a flash of black, brown, and green through the trunks of the trees. La Contessa pulls the reins of her horse to bring it to a halt and Mademoiselle comes to a stop behind her. They both peer through the trees.

Mademoiselle points, "Look madam, through the trees. I saw a shadow. I think we have him."

"Yes, Marie. I see him. The hunt is on!" she calls.

The end is inevitable, but can I extend the pursuit? Looming before me is a bank of thorny bushes,

prinus spinoso

. Perhaps I can hide in there for a while. The horses won't pursue me through there and the dogs will surely be put off by the thorns. I clamber through the blackthorn. My feet are cut and bloodied by now, and there are scratches all over my body. I crouch within the brambles and consider what to do next. The dogs are sniffing at the entrance to the barrier of brambles. The thorns are no impediment to their progress as I can hear their panting getting nearer. I break out of the bushes into open land and run as fast as I can. The first dog wriggles out of the thorns and starts barking at its prey. The other dogs soon join him and they begin the chase after me. Suddenly the horses emerge from the trees at a gallop.

"Good boys," La Contessa shouts at the dogs. "Get him!"

My heart is pumping, and blood coursing through my veins. I sprint, but I know the game is up. Exhausted and unable to run any harder, I stumble and collapse to the ground. The dogs are on me in a second, jumping over me and barking. I'm thankful

spinoso

are not an aggressive breed of dog or I would fear being bitten to shreds. They clamber over me, slaver dripping from their muzzles. La Contessa rides up. She doesn't call the dogs off. She enjoys the spectacle of them jumping on me, their muddied feet pawing over me.

La Contessa throws raw meat onto the ground as a reward for the dogs and they leave me to take chunks from it. I'm still panting, my dark hair a matted mess, my feet bloodied and sore, and my body covered in scratches. I glance up. She looks magnificent. Her cheeks are flushed from the fresh air, whilst her breasts swell rhythmically with the exertion of the chase. She stands upright side-saddle on her horse, towering over me with a triumphant smile on her face. Mademoiselle trots up beside her.

"What excellent sport, madam," she says.

"Indeed, mademoiselle. It was most amusing, especially at the end to see him running away from us in desperation. You thought to hide in the

prinus spinosa

and hope the dogs wouldn't follow you? How foolish," she spits disdainfully, "the clue is in the name of the breed,

spinoso

. They are thick skinned, coarse haired, bred to pursue their quarry in thorny bushes. Well, we've seen no sign of the girl, so you are the first to be captured, my slave."

La Contessa slides off the stirrups of her horse with effortless grace despite her long dress and heavy coat. She offers a kid-gloved hand to Mademoiselle to help her down.

"The others will join us soon; then we will go in pursuit of the girl who seems to have disappeared into thin air. In the meantime, let us amuse ourselves with this hunted slave."

She retrieves ropes from her saddle bag. She has me leaning against a tree, pulls my arms behind it and secures my wrists, and then ties my ankles together. I'm too tired to care, almost thankful for a sit down. She strolls back to the blackthorn bushes and snaps a couple of branches off. Their spines are long, tough and sharp as a pin. La Contessa bends over me. She takes a glove off and touches the spine with the tip of her finger.

"Ouch! Yes, these are suitably cruel implements of torment. Imagine what pain these spines will cause on a nipple..."

She digs the thorn hard into my nipple.

"...or on a tender cock."

She drags a branch along the length of my penis scraping it with a row of sharp spines and digs a thorn into its tip. I flinch and gasp with the pain. When I look down, I see a spot of blood on my nipple where the thorn has pierced the skin.

"Oh come now slave, don't be so timid about receiving pain. It seems you've been saved from further punishment, but I will take these nasty, spiky thorns back with me."

The rest of the household servants, who have been following La Contessa on foot, have caught up. She goes over, points at me, and issues directions.

"We have to prepare our quarry to carry it back to the lodge," I overhear her explain.

They approach with a long wooden pole. Released from the tree, my ankles, and wrists are now tied to the pole. I'm going to be carried back as if I'm a dead deer, hanging from a pole. Four servants lift me up, resting the pole on their shoulders. We march off, La Contessa and Mademoiselle, who have re-mounted their horses, in the lead with the pack of dogs and me, swinging from a pole, at the rear. Of all the humiliations La Contessa has inflicted whilst I've been serving her, this is the worst. Tired, cold and scratched to shreds I'm now treated like a hunted animal, which of course I am.

La Contessa knows the forest paths, so it doesn't take too long to re-trace our steps. She sends out the dogs to hunt for Becky's scent, but it's not until we get near the hunting lodge they appear to pick up anything. At one point they get excited and start sniffing around, but they find no trace of the girl. We're about to set off again when there's a plaintive call from the undergrowth.

"Mistress, please mistress, do I have permission to come out now?"

"What, where are you girl?"

There's a rustle, a head emerges from a pile of pine needles and then Becky's naked body, covered in needles and leaves, her fair hair hanging in a dishevelled tangle over her breasts. She looks comical, especially seeing her upside-down as I do from my position.

"Have you been there all the time, girl?"

"Yes mistress. I rubbed myself with rosemary leaves and then made a shelter to hide in, and covered it in pine needles to disguise my scent, mistress."

"

Ma cherie

, you are such a clever girl," applauds Mademoiselle.

La Contessa's reaction is more restrained, torn as it is between admiration for her slave girl's ingenuity, and the possibility she's been made a fool of.

Becky, seeing her mistress's ambivalent look, tries to make amends. She approaches La Contessa's horse and kisses her boot and then the fur hem of her coat.

"I only mean to please you, mistress."

"Don't ever think you can outwit me, girl, or you will get a harsh reckoning," scolds La Contessa.

Mademoiselle, who has dismounted her horse, wraps her coat around the girl, and springs to her defence.