"Contessa, I think I've found exactly what you're looking for."
La Contessa is on a mission; she has brought me into the Cannaregio district of Venice again to scour her contacts in the whore-houses of Venice for a girl who can play the role of a slave girl for her. She is deep in conversation with the matron of Il Torro Negro tavern. I was raised in the Cannaregio and before being found by one of her servants and entering the service of La Contessa I used to serve in the inns and brothels around here and, of course, do any work that was offered to me, whether that meant prostituting myself with a noblewoman or with some visiting merchant.
Eighteenth century Venice is a tolerant liberated city and the alleyways of the Cannaregio one its most debauched districts. La Contessa takes pleasure in visiting these places in Venice's dark underbelly, sometimes in disguise, sometimes not. The last time I was in Il Torro Negro I was dressed as a noblewoman and debauched in one of La Contessa's perverted scenes. But today La Contessa appears as herself, dressed sumptuously in an indigo gown woven with pearls and her ebony hair swept above her head and held by two ivory combs. Over her shoulder is a black velvet cape. She wears a plain white mask over her eyes to disguise her identity, though she is so renowned in Venice that it probably serves little purpose. All eyes in the tavern are turned on her. The brothels of the Cannaregio attract a diverse clientele and it is not unusual to find noblewomen here searching for some sexual excitement and they wouldn't normally attract a second glance but La Contessa is a woman who commands attention wherever she goes. Her statuesque figure, her voluptuous curves and stunning dress draws the draws the gaze of everybody in the tavern.
"So, what makes you think she will be suitable?" La Contessa asks.
"I got a chance to speak with her. Her tale is a sorry one. She's had many unfortunate encounters. But, she says she is genuinely submissive and I believe her. "
"Do you think she understands what service to me would mean?"
"I can't say for sure your ladyship."
"I've plenty of girls in my service who will prostitute themselves for me and are only too willing to suck cock and offer themselves to be fucked at my masquerade balls, but I'm looking for someone special, a girl who's prepared to go further, who has the imagination to participate in my little games and is willing to do anything for her mistress.'
"All I can say Contessa is this girl struck me as being a bit different. I see plenty of pretty girls who come to me wanting to work here but this one isn't like the others."
"Hmm," La Contessa ponders, "I'm definitely interested in her. Where's this girl now?"
"Ah well, that's the problem your ladyship, she's in the hands of a merchant from Syria who's been staying here. He asked for a private cellar room where he could keep a girl. I found him a little cell room in the cellars where he keeps her. I don't know what he does to her there; it's none of my business your ladyship, I'm sure you understand, I don't interfere in anyone else's business. But, I sometimes take her food, which is how I got to talk to her. She's a pretty girl Contessa though I've got to say she's in a bit of a sorry state at the moment."
"Take me to her."
"Oh, that's a bit difficult your ladyship, only the gentleman is down there with her now."
"Do you dare cross me Madame?"
A fierce stare, a raised eyebrow and a few harsh words and the poor matron of the house is catapulted into a state of agitation.
"Oh no, of course not your ladyship. I don't mean to contradict you. I'm sure I can arrange something. Come with me."
La Contessa has a satisfied smile on her face. We follow the matron down winding stone steps to the cellars where she points to a door hidden away in the corner and leaves us. My mistress gestures for me to be silent as we creep forwards. There is a metal grill in the door and La Contessa positions herself so that she can see through the door without being seen herself. She gestures for me to take a position on the other side so that we can both peep through the opening in the door.
The matron of the house was being coy about the purpose of the cell as it is perfectly clear that it's part of the services she provides in her brothel and is designed for the use of her clientele with more sadistic tastes. It's a dark cell fitted out with numerous chains and hooks. At first all I can see is a man's back dressed in baggy light blue pantaloons and top and a turbaned head but as he turns to one side I can see a pot-bellied Arab man with a long black beard, who is clearly the merchant from Syria. Looking past him I can now see the girl. She is crouched in a corner, chained and shackled like a wild animal in a cage. The waves in her fair hair are matted and her body bears the marks of physical abuse. There is a metal collar around her neck attached to a long chain, which is fastened to a hook in the stone wall. At the moment this affords her some freedom of movement but her wrists and ankles have heavy metal shackles on, which have been used to secure her to the wall.
The merchant takes a pace towards her and slaps her hard across the face with the palm of his hand and draws it back again striking her other cheek with the back of his hand.
"Whore slut of Bablyon," he shouts at her. "You're my slut and sex slave now. When I get you back to my land you'll be made to service all my family. I have seven sons, all of them randy. They'll take pleasure in having a little white girl to fuck. You'll be my sex slave for life, what do you think of that?"
The girl remains silent and the merchant slaps her violently across the face again.
"I said, what do you think of that girl?"
"Yes, very good master," the girl replies quietly.
La Contessa is watching intently. Will she intervene I wonder? At the moment she appears content to let the scene unfold before her, her blue eyes gazing with studied fascination. I try to gauge the girl's reaction to her abuse. Is she enjoying this treatment? I know that such a thing can be possible. I have been tormented and tortured by La Contessa many times and have learnt to appreciate the blurred line between pain and pleasure and stay loyal in my service to her because of, not despite of, her treatment of me. But, I see no hint of pleasure or engagement in the girl's face, only a blank look. Her expression is resigned as if this is a fate that she has to accept.
The merchant pulls at the girl's bodice and rips it apart releasing her ample breasts. He bends down and bites her on the tits. I can see the red marks he has left on her soft flesh. He reaches out for a whip that is on the floor and lashes her across the breasts with it. There girl doesn't moan or whimper let alone scream. The act of striking the girl is arousing the merchant sexually as I can see the outline of a hard cock pressing against his loose pants.
"Get on your knees bitch," he shouts at her. "I'm going to make you my bitch-dog you fucking slut. Now, get on all fours."
With a clank of the metal shackles on her ankles and wrists on the stone the girl does as she is ordered and gets herself onto all fours. The Syrian merchant stands over her pulling the chain attached to her collar so the rough edges of the metal dig into her neck. He grabs hold of her hair and yanks it hard. The girl lets out a gasp and egged on by the reaction the merchant twists her hair around his fist and pulls even harder. This time the girl, anticipating what was going to happen, doesn't react. He pulls her head around and puts his face close up to hers.
"I'm going to take you girl, like a bitch in heat. But I'm going to give you some punishment first because you're an insolent whore. What are you?"
"An insolent whore and a bitch slut master," she answers obediently.
She releases her hair and, whilst still on all fours, she pulls up her skirt and sets on her back-side with the whip. The blows rain down on the peachy flesh of her arse. The whacking sound of leather on skin fills the cell. The blows get harder and harder until her back side is glowing red.
"Take that you bitch. What do you say?"
"Thank you, sir."
He throws the whip onto the ground, drops his pants and kneels in front of her. He twists her hair around his hand again and pushes her head down onto his erect cock.
"Now suck on it, slut."
The girl responds immediately to the command and takes the angry hardness in her mouth and sucks on it. Her head bobs up and down as her lips run along the length of his throbbing member.
"Ooh, yes, suck hard you bitch, suck harder."
Still holding onto her hair he pushes the girl's head up and down his cock in fast rhythmic movements. He lets go of her hair and the girl continues the tempo of her sucking, her mouth moving in a frantic motions. The merchant looks at though he is about to burst, his face is bright red and he is moaning in ecstasy shouting, "suck me whore, suck me."
Suddenly he pulls his cock out of the girl's mouth and moves behind her. She's still on her hands and knees in a doggy position and the merchant let's go of her chain lead to grasp her hips and push himself into her cunt. He's so close to coming that it only takes a few hard pushes before he releases his load into her. He moans in ecstasy. She pants for breath with the shock and force of the final penetration. She collapses onto the floor, no longer able to hold the position on her hands and knees, and the weight of the Syrian merchant's corpulent body falls onto her.
La Contessa and I look on transfixed. I can see Mistress is not interested in the cock sucking and the forced fucking, she is studying the girl's behaviour, her facial expressions and her reactions, weighing up her potential to participate in La Contessa's more refined exotic play. The girl can certainly take some punishment but it's hard to judge if she's taking it because she has to or because she genuinely desires it. La Contessa will want more than a passive vehicle for abuse like the crude merchant; she will want a slave who is willing and open, who will be prepared to explore all the sadistic fantasies that La Contessa can offer her.
Having taken his pleasure the merchant sits the girl up with her back against the wall of the cell, he lifts her arms, spreads them out and chains her to the wall and then spreads her legs and locks them to rings set in the floor.
"I'll be back to take some more pleasure from you later," he threatens.
It's at this point that La Contessa decides to intervene. She pushes the door open and strides imperiously into the cell. La Contessa towers over the merchant, filling the small room with all her feminine power and beauty. The merchant is startled. Before he can respond La Contessa proclaims her intentions.
"You have a very pliable young girl there. I am looking for just such a girl for my own household. I will offer you good money for her."
The Syrian's brown eyes light up at the word money but he is too experienced a haggler to sound too eager.
"She's my sex slave now. She belongs to me. Why should I give up my slut-bitch to you?"
"I will offer you a good price for her."
"How much?"
