LA CONTESSA

 

By The Old Man

 

When Richard entered the foyer of her hotel suite, La Contessa Fiona Di Luna greeted him with a kiss, fed him a caviar canapé and introduced him to the bottle of vintage champagne that rested, still unopened, in its silver bucket of crushed ice.

 

She was genuinely glad to see him.  Richard-now Sir Richard Braisely-had been her first serious lover all those years ago when she was eighteen and working as an au pair in London to learn about British cultural life.  Richard, twenty-one at the time, was delighted to help educate her.  Since then, she had married the elderly Umberto di Luna  (Il Conte) who had the good taste to die after five boring years of wedded life, while Richard had gone through a couple of wives.   But they continued to see each other whenever they happened to be free and in the same city.

 

Now forty-five, Richard was far older than her usual lovers who were men in their early twenties; all muscles and hard-ons.  Like Steve, the American boxer she just spent three wild weeks with in Milan.  But Steve was tiresome except in bed and when his staying power started to go, she'd ignored his protests and sent him back to Philadelphia.  Two days later, she was off to New York where Richard was heading the New York office if a London bank-Richard who made up in technique what he lacked in muscle.

 

She'd prepared carefully for him.  She let her hair fall past her shoulders the way Richard liked it.  Her black silk gown-created for her by Milan's most exclusive designer-had long sleeves and a V-shaped neckline decorated with white lace.  Under the dress, was a specially crafted bra that flattered her "B" size breasts and made them look almost like thrusting "Cs". As was her custom, she did not wear panties or pantyhose, but used a garter belt to support her sheer nylon stockings.  She enjoyed the feel of air on her intimate parts and would try to imagine about what men-bellboys, waiters, her lawyer-might say if they knew.

 

She watched as Richard made an elegant gesture of working the cork until, with a gentle "popping" sound, it pulled free of the napkin-wrapped champagne bottle.  The effect was spoiled by a series of loud bangs from the direction of the door.

 

"Want me to see to that?" Richard asked in Italian.

 

Fiona replied in English.  They were equally proficient in both languages.  "No.  I will."

 

She had hardly turned the door handle when the door was pulled open from the outside and a strange woman forced her was past her.  She was a platinum blond who looked to be barely out of her teens and was a good three inches taller than Fiona and was wearing a bright red, short sleeve dress that fit her like a second skin and was held up by spaghetti straps.  The dress ended well above her knees to call attention to a pair of well made legs attractively clad in white stockings.  All this, la Contessa took in at a glance.  But what really caught her attention was the expression of sheer fury on the blonde's face.

 

"Bitch!" The girl said, narrowing her eyes and baring her teeth.  "Fucking old bitch.  Why don't stick with men your own age?  Like him."  She indicated Richard.  "You creaky old rich bitches think you can buy anything you want!  Well, keep your stinking hands off of my man or I'll rip off those dried up old tits of yours!"

 

"Oh, my, you do have a mouth on you," la Contessa drawled.  "I gather you're that buxom blonde child Steve Quinn spoke about. Ann something?"

 

 "Annie Havers, bitch.  And I ain't no child.  I'm a woman!  And Steve is my man!"

 

Fiona noticed something sparkle near the center of the blonde's tongue.  Tongue jewelry, she realized with amusement.  She wondered if the girl wore a navel ring as well.

 

 

No old rich bitch is going to get away with screwing up Steve's ring career," Annie went on.  "You know he missed an important match in Detroit to be with.

 

"Really?" Fiona mocked.  "I wonder why?  Perhaps he found it more useful to learn skills that only a woman of the world could teach.  It is a shame he didn't have the stamina to go with all those gorgeous muscles.  So I had to send him back to regain his strength with someone less knowledgeable and challenging.

 

Annie had enough.  She let out a loud war cry, and hurled herself forward to bury her hands in Fiona's expensively done hair.

 

But Fiona was expecting the move.  She raised her hands to chest level with palms facing outward so that Annie's breasts ran right into them.  She felt their fullness through two layers of thin cloth, squeezed and pushed away at the same time.

 

Annie fell back.  "You hurt my titties.  I'll fucking kill you!"  She began another rush, hands forming claws aimed at her enemy's eyes.  But Richard, who'd been shocked into paralysis at the first swift turn to violence, mow collected himself and stepped between the women to take hold of the blonde's shoulders and force her back.

 

Annie howled with fury.  "Lemme go or I'll make you sing frigging soprano! *  She drove her knee up again and again, but Richard kept twisting to take the blows on his thigh.  "Fiona," he suggested, just a trifle nervously.  "Perhaps you should call Security."

 

 "No, that would be too easy," she replied.  "I am La Contessa Fiona di Luna.   And when some insolent young trollop has the audacity to physically assault me and try to ruin a coiffure that Monsieur Jacque Cannet, himself, spent a full hour crating, it becomes my obligation to make her understand to recognize her lowly place in the natural order."

 

The blonde stopped her struggles to stare blankly at Fiona.  "What the fuck . . ?"

 

Fiona ignored the interruption: "Just let her go," she told Richard, "and watch me transform an angry wildcat into a sweet meek pussy cat.  One that you'll enjoy.  I know how you like compliant pussies."

 

"Up your ass, Grandma," Annie snarled.  She flung herself at Fiona; hands stretching the V neckline of her elegant black gown to invade the cunningly crafted bra cups.  "That'll teach you to fuck with my tits!" she crowed as her eager fingers found vulnerable flesh.  Then her cry of triumph became a strangled screech of pain as Fiona reached inside her mouth between her lower lip and her teeth.  La Contessa's perfectly polished nails dug painfully into soft tissue forcing Annie's jaws apart.

 

 

Annie forgot all about doing any damage.  Her fingers left Fiona's breasts to wrap themselves around her wrists.

 

She might have been able to force those terrible claws from her mouth (two hands are stronger then one) if Fiona had not reached in with her other hand and caught the girls tongue, her thumb and forefinger locking onto both sides of the jewel tipped post and pulling until that organ was stretched to its limit.

 

Tears of pain and shock filled Annie's eyes and feeble, incoherent sounds issued from her throat.  Her grip weakened until her hands fell away from Fiona's wrists to flutter uselessly in the air.

 

"This," Fiona chided, "is a very wicked tongue, indeed.  "If you continue to wag it at me and call me spiteful names, I may just remove it from your nasty mouth." She gave the organ an extra tug and moved it up and down while Annie's eyes filled with new horror.

 

"I believe she gets the point," Richard put in, mildly.  "Why not let her go?"

 

"If you think so," Fiona said, releasing the girl who staggered back against a wall while several droplets of blood leaked from her mouth.  "Though it was not very nice of her to pull my breasts half out of my superbly made bra.  Do you think she's may be jealous of my breasts?"

 

Richard shrugged, silently.  He felt it was the wisest thing to do.

 

The red haired Contessa turned toward Annie who made a gesture of bringing her hands up to defend herself.  But she was still not ready to fight again, and Fiona moved swiftly to grab a double handful of blonde hair and bang the back of Annie's head against the white plaster wall to daze her.  She spun her about, tore the hook at the top rear of the red dress and pulled the zipper down to where its track ended at the small of Annie's back.

The thin straps fell off Annie's shoulders of their own accord, but the dress fitted snugly over Annie's rounded bottom, so she ripped further until the garment collapsed about her feet.  Fiona undid her bra clasp leaving her in her red garter belt, red briefs and white stockings.  She turned her so they were face to face again.

 

Annie's breasts were large, round and very firm.  They stood out proudly on her chest and were graced with erect pink nipples which stood out proudly on them.

 

"You have nothing to be jealous of," Fiona said sweetly.  "You have a lovely pair of breasts.  What are they?  Size 'C'?  'D'?  No matter.  They're well shaped, firm and as large as any girl might want.  But there is one thing you should remember:  A young lady with an imposing bosom like your should never attack the breasts of another lady.  Her own are simply too vulnerable.  See?"  She took hold of Annie's breasts and squeezed until she could feel the dense, sturdy glands beneath the skin collapse under her grip.

 

"You know it isn't very pleasant to have ones breasts pulled halfway out of their bra cups.  They are still in some discomfort.  And I think you may have torn the bra as well-not to mention my very expensive gown."

 

Annie tried her best to form words in her damaged mouth:  "I zorry . .  I zorry.  Bleeze ztob . . . 'ou're gilling me." .

 

"And will you treat me with the deference and admiration that is obviously due me?"

 

Annie nodded vigorously.  "'es, I bromise."

 

"Down on your knees, please.  Show to me you're sincere."

 

With her breasts still trapped in La Contessa's, the gagging sobbing blonde had no choice but to do what she was told.

 

"Very good," Fiona said approvingly.  "And since a true aristocrat is always generous to inferiors, I will give you back what you fondly call your 'titties.'"

 

Once freed, Annie fell back until her rounded rear end was on the carpet.  She cradled her aching breasts and explored her injured mouth with her tongue. 

 

Fiona turned Richard.  Tell me, caro, did she actually tear my gown?"

 

"Just a little.  It's hardly visible.  I don't think anyone would know."

 

"But I would.  La Contessa Fiona Di Luna does not have even a minuscule tear in her gown.  I refuse to wear it until I have it repaired in Milan.   Richard, be a love and unhook those little dodads in the back for me."  She gave Annie a reproving look.   You see what you've done to my favorite gown?"

 

Annie did not reply.  She rose painfully to her feet.  The hatred and resentment she felt was bottled up inside her, not yet ready to explode.

 

Fiona shrugged out of her gown and placed it neatly on the back of a chair.  "Would you unhook my bra, too?" she asked Richard.  "I must see if it is also damaged.  I can hardly continue to wear it if it is."

 

As she examined the delicate bra, Richard admired the breasts he had never grown tired of.  They were a size smaller than the blonde's, but as firm.  Her nipples were darker and larger than Annie's and were surrounded by wider, rosier aureoles.  He gathered them in his hands and pressed himself against her.

 

 "I see you are still an upstanding man," La Contessa said, backing away with a laugh and glancing down at his crotch.  "Be patient, caro.  I promise it will be worth it."  She winked at him and turned towards the blonde.

 

Annie was trying to understand what had happened to her-or rather, how it had happened.  She was not only younger than Fiona; she was taller, heavier and stronger.  In any sort of fair fight, she should beat her easily.  The problem was the countess didn't fight fair!  And while Annie could fight dirty, too, she liked to hold off until the fight started to get out of hand.  At least, she'd start out fighting fair.  But La frigging Contessa. with all her fancy talk and la-de-da ways, fought dirty from the very beginning!  First grabbing her tits through her dress, then doing that terrible thing to her poor mouth, and finally going back to her naked tits to hurt them worse than Annie had thought possible.  It wasn't right:  The bitch had taken advantage; caught her by surprise!

 

Annie felt her fury grow until it numbed her pain.  She studied the other woman, taking in the two exposed breasts with their long nipples and the thick, reddish brown bush that grew between the black garter straps which held up her stockings.  She was going to rip that clump of hair out by its roots.  The bitch didn't wear panties.  Nor did she think to pull off Annie's when she had a chance.  How dumb can you get?   Her bush was safe!"

 

Raising her eyes, she saw that Fiona was looking back at her with an arrogant sneer.  Good. She thought.  You don't know how close you are to being ruined.

 

"Well. Annie," Fiona snapped.  "Do you finally understand our roles?  That as a noblewoman, I'm your natural mistress and you my servant; and as a peasant girl, you're my natural servant?"

 

"Fuck you!"

 

"Oh, my.  That was a bad mistake."

 

Fiona raised a hand to grab the blonde by her lip again.  Annie ducked and caught the hand with her left while her right hand reached down to grab Fiona's pubic hair.  The red head from Milan let out a hissing sound from between her teeth while her face contorted with pain.  She tied again to get her fingers inside the blonde's mouth, but her hand was caught by the wrist.  With the pain at her groin was sapping her strength, she knew she had to do something, and soon.

 

"How's it feel to be caught by the short and curlies, your highness?"  Annie laughed mockingly.  "You know what?  I think I'll march you around the room."  Annie took a few short steps tugging sharply on Fiona's pubic hair and forcing her to stumble after.

"Not so snotty and puffed-up now, are you, bitch?"

 

Fiona clenched her teeth to keep from screaming. She could feel the constant pain sapping her remaining strength.  She realized that she had to think of something soon or be reduced to begging Annie for mercy.  She caught a glimpse of Richard sitting in an armchair and watching with interest.  If she called for help, she was sure he'd rescue her.  But that would be even more humiliating than begging Annie.

 

The blonde let go of her wrist to catch hold of her right nipple, twisting it cruelly and adding new torment to old.   Half insane with the pain, Fiona punched out desperately and, without taking conscious aim, caught Annie on the side of her neck, where a carotid artery lay just below the skin.  She hit again at the same spot.  And again.  Not very hard.  She was unable to hit very hard.    But hard enough and often enough so that Annie's grip on her bush and her nipple began to loosen.

 

Fiona pushed Annie from her, took a step forward and rammed her knee between the blonde's parted thighs.

 

Annie's eyes widened in shock and disbelief.  Her mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound came out.  She stood swaying on rubber legs, hands groping her panty-clad crotch.  She might have collapsed altogether, but before her muscles could give way completely, Fiona turned her about and put an arm about her waist to support her.

 

"Amazing, isn't it, how quickly a wildcat came turn into a pussy cat," Fiona told the blonde.  "And speaking of pussies, unless you want yours to be completely destroyed, remove your hands from it, now!

 

"Good," she declared, as the girl reluctantly obeyed.  "Now, step out of your shoes. That's it," she said, and swiftly pushed down Annie's garter belt, briefs and white stockings until they dropped to the floor.  "There.  That's the way I want you.  With everything on display."

 

Fiona looked over her shoulder to where a decorative chair had been placed against a wall.  "Watch this," she told Richard, backing into it and pulling the girl with her as she sat down.  Annie's rump landed on her knee, but this was not the position Fiona was after.  She turned her sideways and forced her head backwards with a hand under her chin, then held her by the blonde bush while she positioned her knee so it was digging into the small of Annie's back.

 

The girl moaned and barely managed to speak:  "My back . . . you're breaking it."

 

"Maybe I will," La Contessa mused.  "What do you think, Richard?  Should I break her back?  Or just do her front for a bit.

 

"Well, I don't believe you want to break her.  The authorities, you know."

 

"True.  They can be spoilsports.  And anyway, perhaps she has learned her lesson."

 

"Oh, please . . . I really have."

 

Fiona patted the bare belly facing up at her.  "Really?  You understand that it is not proper for someone like yourself to pull an aristocrat around by her pubic hair, while it is perfectly normal for said aristocrat to yank on yours?"  She gave it a little extra tug as an illustration.

 

"Oh . . . oh, yes . . . "

 

"And that the same rule applies to other sensitive parts of your body and mine?  Fiona looked down at Annie's larges breasts which gravity-because of her awkward position-was pulling the wrong way towards her chin.  She took hold of a nipple and lifted it up.  "Such as these."

 

Annie whimpered her agreement

 

"Very well," Fiona said, dumping the blonde girl onto the floor where she writhed feebly and tried to nurse her groin and her back at the same time.  "Richard and I will order dinner here for tonight and you will serve it.  Afterwards, you will pleasure us both.  In the morning you will make the beds and clean the suite, relieving the hotel maids of that duty   I've often wanted a naked slave girl, and you will fill that position for as long as I remain in New York.  Or perhaps longer-depending on my mood, I may decide to take you back to Italy,"

 

Leaving Annie to moan hopelessly on the carpet, Fiona went into her bedroom to choose another fabulous outfit.  One she already had in mind.

 

Richard followed her to the door.  "Did you really mean that?  About making her your slave?"

 

"Of course.  Don't you think my ancestors would approve?"

 

 

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