"I'm going back to bed now. You're staying where you are. You're a bad, ungrateful boy. Perhaps I might release you in the morning - and then again I might not."
Vigorously tugging on his cock chain several times, she gave him one last taste of agony before heading off to bed and hopefully a good revitalising sleep for what remained of the night.
But even after her cataclysmic body-weakening orgasm Mistress Madonna still found sleep difficult to attain. She had not drawn the heavy curtains because although the pitch darkness outside was impenetrable to the eye and she could see nothing of the lodge’s surroundings, in the heavens above all the glories of the night sky sparkled and shone with a wondrous intensity. Enveloped by the covers, she lay marvelling at a cosmic display that she could never have enjoyed back home in London where the ever-present street lights, neon signs and brightly-lit store windows blotted out the distant twinkling of the stars.
Eventually, rather than just lying there waiting for sleep to decide whether to visit her or not, she turned back to the grisly book. Erzebet Bartholi had indeed been a particularly gruesome person, but she found herself constantly looking up from the pages; for some unknown reason she felt uneasy and unsettled. She could not put her finger on it exactly, perhaps it was the influence of the sinister evil of the book but it seemed to her as if some malevolent presence lurked in the gloomy recesses of the hunting lodge, watching her. As finally she felt herself at last sinking into sleep, although she knew that it was impossible, she imagined that she could hear the howling of wolves out in the pine forest and when at last she managed to drop off completely she was plagued by nightmares in which among other strange fantasies she saw a giant bat with viciously sharp teeth fluttering outside her window.
In The Mirror
UP AT THE CASTLE, The Baroness stood facing a full-length mirror. Of great age and size, the mirror was set into an ornately carved frame, its surface reflecting everything it saw with undistorted clarity. It was her practice to regularly stand gazing into the glass for hour upon hour, examining her flawless complexion for the slightest sign of ageing. But if she so wished it, her reflection would fade, to be replaced in the glass by either darkly mysterious images or remote scenes that she wished to view. Scenes such as the interior of the hunting lodge, which she had now been watching for several hours.
When Mistress Madonna had climbed back into the bed, the Baroness had not stopped studying her until she fell into a fitful sleep. Now reluctantly deciding that she would witness no further action from her guest that night, the Baroness turned away from the mirror and concentrated her attention on the mixed pair of very nervous and frightened slaves she had summoned to her presence in anticipation of requiring their services for sexual duty. Ordering the young male to the back of the room, the Baroness sank into the depths of an all-enveloping armchair and fixed her eyes on the slim young waif of a girl, savouring her total dominance over her.
Stolen from her parents several years earlier the girl had been sold to the Baroness’ slave gatherer by a band of wandering Romanian gypsies who from time to time provided extra stock to replenish her continually decreasing herd of virgins. The unfortunate girl was now fast approaching her eighteenth birthday and as had the boy, she had performed her duties as a body slave to the Baroness’ absolute carnal satisfaction. She would have liked to have continued to enjoy them both for longer, but circumstances made that impossible; to be eighteen and a virgin were the two requirements for the participants in her revivification ritual and that was now very close at hand. Feeling some regret that after midnight the girl would have reached the necessary age to be sacrificed in the Ceremony, the boy having attained that age several days earlier, she rued the fact that she would very soon lose the services of two very competent and satisfying sex slaves. But there was one thing she needed far more than their lust-sating ministrations: their blood!
Being the epitome of cruelty that she was, there was no trace of pity or concern for the slaves in the Baroness’ thoughts; she just did not like to lose a good thing. And in any case, when she thought about it, it was of not really of any great matter, after all there were plenty more where they came from.
Beckoning the girl over, in a cold emotionless voice the Baroness ordered her to pour her a glass of wine.
“And be very careful, it is of a singularly unique vintage. Spill a single drop and I will flay the skin from your back.”
Watching with eagle eyes, the Baroness sat in growing impatience as the girl picked up a crystal decanter, hesitantly filled a glass and handed it to her. Waving the girl back into the shadows to join her companion, the Baroness swirled the crimson elixir around the glass and took a deep draught. Then closing her eyes she began to re-run the events of the evening through her mind, soon losing herself in a reverie of diamond-sharp, swirling lascivious recollections, the scenes unfolding in her mind just as if they were happening at that very moment.
But recollections were not enough to satisfy her, she needed more and gathering all her concentration, she peered deeply into depths of the mirror. A heavy swirling mist clouded its surface and just as if she were re-winding a modern day video, the Baroness willed time to fly back, the fog eventually clearing to commence displaying a clear playback of the succession of lurid and arousingly inspirational events that she had witnessed during the evening.
In vivid clarity, the mirror showed a scene that had been played out in reality several hours earlier. The Baroness’ iron-willed English guest was disciplining her slave and as she watched, just as she had when she had seen the scene unrolling in actuality, the Baroness felt herself becoming increasingly impressed by the way Mistress Madonna handled him. Hard as iron, showing no mercy and with a steely determination to inflict the greatest level of pain, both mental and physical, that he could endure without permanent damage, the woman was everything that The Colonel had led her to believe.
As the scenes rolled on, one after another, she saw the arrival of the two agents de police, whom, being greatly desirous of a more first-hand assessment of Mistress Madonna, she had dispatched to conduct a close-up inspection of her activities.
Their explanation that the slave’s tortured screams were the reason for their visit was not questioned by Mistress Madonna and if the marks on her slave’s neck turned out to be what the policewoman obviously thought they were, then that meant that Mistress Madonna was one of the Baroness’ own kind. She was also darkly beautiful, a distinctly welcome added bonus. Everything was going perfectly.
As the two police officers duly took their leave, the Baroness silently praised them for their more than efficient handling of the situation, seemingly having aroused no doubts or suspicions in the mind of her guest. Carrying on with her surveillance of the hunting lodge, she nodded in grim appreciation as the slave’s punishment grew in painful severity.
She had not been altogether surprised when she had first witnessed The Colonel’s arrival on the scene and now, once again her excitement notched up several levels when the action reached the point where it became obvious that Mistress Madonna was going to let him fuck her. As he fed his weapon into her dripping, eager vagina, the Baroness felt her own need rising and when he began to cannon into Mistress Madonna’s sex she marvelled at his magnificent cock and his masterly shagging technique, rolling her nipples through the material of her long black dress and throwing open the slit that ran down its front to delve between her legs
The flame of Mistress Madonna’s passion roared higher and brighter as The Colonel stoked her towards her climax. And so did the Baroness’, her fingers working on the hard nub of her clitoris and sinking between her sex lips and into her juiced-up minge. As Mistress Madonna’s orgasm neared, the Baroness’ own ministrations to her sex grew more frantic until at the very moment The Colonel drove Mistress Madonna over the edge, the Baroness screamed and shook in the throes of her own fulfilment.
Although she
much preferred sex with younger persons of her own persuasion, The Colonel’s performance prompted the Baroness to toy momentarily with the idea of seducing him herself. Married at the age of fourteen, sex with her husband the Baron had been less than memorable and since his mysterious death so very many years before, although she had led a full and inventive sex life, she had only rarely taken a male lover. And only with one exception never one with a cock like The Colonel’s! She soon dismissed the idea however, a dalliance with him would only complicate matters and that had to be avoided at all costs. It was all to the good that he and Thierry had left the castle for a few days of carousal and fornication at Le Manoir. It would keep them well out of the way during the Ceremony; and it was not as if she had not sold a few spare female virgins to that establishment in the past. Although none of those girls had known it, they were the lucky ones.
What really drove her over the edge however, was when the display in the mirror reached Mistress Madonna’s episode with the pike. Inventive in the extreme, it was also deeply arousing. The Baroness’ lips curled up over her lips as she drank in the supremely erotic images, revealing her unusually pointed eyeteeth. Her tongue ran over her deeply-red-tinted-lips, lips that contrasted markedly with her otherwise pale complexion.
Standing to her rear, motionless, quiet and wide-eyed, in opposite shadowed corners of the candle-lit room, the pair of sex slaves drank in every moment of her self-administered arousal and fulfilment. One the dark-haired girl and the other a blond boy, they both possessed a natural unembellished beauty, smooth-skinned and with unusually wan features. As she trembled and shook in the frenzy of her orgasm, they showed no emotion themselves. They knew better. The Baroness was an exceedingly strict disciplinarian, her punishments for disobedience or slackness in obeying orders being brutally harsh. And upon being summoned, their orders had been to watch in silence and to say or do nothing unless she so directed.
Not only was the Baroness’ power over them absolute but the two slaves held her in great awe because of the use she made of mirror. Standing where they were, they could both see into the mirror, but all they could see were the reflections of themselves, the room and its contents. They could see neither their mistress nor whatever it was that she was obviously able to perceive in its depths. And watching the spectacle unfolding before her of Mistress Madonna attempting to pleasure herself with the shaft of the pike was stirring the Baroness greatly, re-lighting the kindling of her passions.
“Over here! Both of you.”
The command was not been exactly barked, the Baroness was far too feminine for that, but it was urgent and emphatic.
“You! On your knees.”
The boy immediately did as he was bidden, positioning himself in front of his mistress, with his back to the mirror and his head on a level with her crotch. She once again swept aside the split skirt of her long dress, revealing her juicy, lusting sex.
“What are you waiting for? Get on with it.”
Inching forwards on his knees, the boy shuffled between her widespread legs and she stiffened in eager anticipation of what was to come as she felt his strong fingers separate and widen the protective petals of her sex lips. His breath wafting hot on the insides of her thighs he did as she had ordered and burying his face into her crotch he sought out the erect nub of her clitoris with his tongue. Shivers of delight ran through her as he licked and sucked her aroused and unhooded love bud and she could sense his own rapture as her juices began to flow over his taste buds. Then as her labia engorged even further, his rasping tongue notched up into overdrive, wringing a gasp of joy from her lips as it speared deep into her open vagina. And just as if he had thrown open a switch to her emotions, a continuous circuit of electrifying sensation connected her clitoris to her nipples. Murmuring in aroused delight she watched avidly as Mistress Madonna tried to ease the fat shaft of the pike into her eager sex.
“And you girl! Here.”
Shrugging the top of her dress from her shoulders, she let it fall to her waist. Lifting her full, heavy breasts in her palms, she offered them to the young girl. Her nipples were as solid as bullets and a shiver ran down her spine as taking one of them between her teeth, the girl nuzzled and teased it with her tongue before plunging her cool wet mouth over it and sucking avidly. Without any further prompting, the girl took the other nipple between her thumb and forefinger, pinching and rolling with the expertise born of constant practice.
But watching Mistress Madonna, The Baroness was overcome with the need for something to be stuck up her own lusting tunnel and looking down she saw, just as she had expected, that the boy had sprouted a straining erection. Not only that, it was wonderfully big and fat and would have been ideal if it were not for the fact that just as with Mistress Madonna and Julian, although for a very different reason, she was not able to take advantage of its eminent suitability. In her case it was because the boy was a virgin. And that was the way he had to remain. It was great pity, but just like her guest she would have to find some other stiff implement with which to fuck herself. Sighing inwardly she cast her eyes around searching for something equally as appropriate for the task.
And there it was.
On her dressing table lay an ornate and exceptionally long and thick-handled hair brush; something that she never used for its intended purpose but frequently employed in the disciplining of her slaves. Smacked onto the more fleshily padded parts of their anatomy, particularly the haunches, it dealt out a sickening blow even when wielded by a delicate hand, leaving an expansive and darkly-coloured bruise in its wake.
Now, she saw another much more pleasurable use for it.
In the mirror she saw Mistress Madonna give up on her struggle to impale herself on the pike. Earlier, when the incident had actually taken place, she had watched questioningly as Mistress Madonna disported herself in front of Julian’s chained and straining figure. As his erection had grown ever more steely and throbbing, the Baroness had suddenly guessed the reason for Mistress Madonna’s erotic performance. What a wonderful solution to her problem. She could have used baby oil or some other lubricant but this had been much more inventive; Mistress Madonna had certainly lived up to what the Baroness had at first thought to be a very overstated opinion of her powers and originality that had been given to her by The Colonel.
For some unfathomable reason the Baroness was consumed by the notion that she had to feel and experience as closely as possible, everything that Mistress Madonna had savoured at that earlier moment. And to that end the boy’s erection was very fortuitous indeed; it would provide her with just what she needed.
Sperm!
The same lubrication that Mistress Madonna had used.
The Baroness’ boy and girl slaves were all medically examined and certified virgins when they were delivered into her service and once there they were not allowed to fuck each other. The horrific punishments she threatened, and indeed sometimes carried out as an example of what would happen to them if they disobeyed her edict, saw to it that they never crossed that particular line. But they were not completely forbidden all sexual activity; as a matter of fact she greatly enjoyed watching them. Sometimes she spied on them surreptitiously in the mirror, while at other times she would make her way down to the pens beneath the castle and order her entire herd to perform for her entertainment.
So the girls, or other boys if they so wished, would suck a rigid cock into spurting orgasm. Girls played with each other, sucking or fingering each other to a climax. Boys sometimes buggered each other, although she did not really approve of that, but what they most definitely never did was to have full sexual intercourse. No cocks were allowed inside female orifices. The girls therefore, with un-penetrated maidenheads remained virgins and as for the boys, no matter what other sexual experiences they indulged in, to the Baroness the fact that they had never soaked their throbbing meat in a dripping, juicy vagina meant that technically they too
were all virgins. Although they might not be the purest form of innocence, in her eyes every single one of her slaves was still untainted and fully qualified for the special use for which she had purchased them.
So she was not breaking her own code when she suddenly issued an instruction to the girl.
“Spunk!”
The girl jerked her lips from the Baroness’ nipple, a question written plainly on her face.
“Spunk, I need spunk. Now! I know you suck him off when you think that I can’t see. Well do it now, and when he comes catch every single drop in your hands. Swallow any and you’ll wish that you were dead; something that I can easily arrange.”
Beckoning the boy to his feet, the Baroness pushed the girl down on to her knees and firmly holding her head, guided her mouth over his throbbing penis. It was plain to the Baroness that he was already extremely excited and very close to orgasm.
“If he comes before I get back, you’re both in for the thrashing of a lifetime.”
With that she made her way over to the dressing table, picked up the hairbrush and returned to stand over the girl.
“Now, get that mouth working.”
Looking into the mirror she saw that events had already reached the point where Mistress Madonna had milked Julian of his creamy elixir and was smearing it over the pike shaft. If she were to keep pace with her guest, the girl would have to bring the boy to ejaculation in double quick time.
“Don’t make a meal of it. Bring him off now!”
The boy had been on the brink of orgasm as it was, the relief springing to his features as he was finally able to let go. The girl did not really have to do any more than tighten her lips around his shaft and pull her mouth back over the sensitive underside of his bell-end to catapult him into a convulsing orgasm. Cupping her hands over his jerking glans she caught spurt after spurt of his hot ejaculate, desperately fighting to contain every drop in her palms. As his cock ceased its twitching and nothing but bubbles puffed out from his meatus, the Baroness held out the brush with the handle pointing down towards the girl.
Slaves to the Bloodline Page 4
