“Just look at the pain in her eyes. Isn’t it lovely?”
The Count de Monet diverted his attention from the book he was reading to look up at what
his wife wished to show him. “Yes, dear,” he agreed. “There is a lot of pain in her
eyes, and she does look lovely.”
“I thought you’d agreed. But just wait until I get her back into the dungeon,” purred
the Countess, tugging at the leash attached to the unfortunate object of their attention,
a young woman who was both naked and quite helpless. “I was just walking her around for
exercise and thought I would bring her out here to show you.”
“That’s nice, dear.” Although capable of enjoying the sight of the suffering young woman
himself, the Count knew that this was his wife’s plaything and he would be unwelcome were
he to try to interfere in any way with her games.
The girl who was the object of the Countess’ attention was perhaps nineteen, and a fine
specimen of healthy young female. The firm muscle tone and shapely legs told of an active
lifestyle. The full and firm breasts, slender waist, and luxurious pubic patch of reddish
blonde curls told of a mature sexual nature. And the extremely tight ropes that held the
girl’s arms bound behind her back, the ball gag buckled very tightly into her mouth by a
strap, and the strange pair of high heels shoes, all told of the Countess de Monet’s love
of inflicting pain and suffering upon tender, young girl flesh.
The shoes were the main source of discomfort for the young woman, although the manner in
which her arms were bound certainly was causing her discomfort too. The poor girl’s hands
had been pulled up behind her back and bound together at the wrists, but only after they
had been crossed at the level of her shoulder blades. Additional rope passed up and
around her neck, and to judge from the strained expression on her face, was fairly tight.
At least the neck rope held her hands high on her back, even though the arms would have
liked to come down.
As uncomfortable as her arms certainly were, it was nowhere as bad as the special shoes
which Countess herself had designed and made her wear. They were a reasonably normal pair
of black patented leather high heels, the heels being of the type called stiletto, very
slender and of almost four inches in height. The back of the shoe came up into an ankle
strap that was tightly buckled around the slender ankle. The shoes were pretty and
changed the shape of the young girl’s legs most pleasantly, but it was what was not
visible that made them so special. The Countess had driven three small nails into each
heel, and then filed the heads off until there were three very sharp points sticking up.
When the young woman tried to rest her weight on her heel, those points embedded
themselves into her flesh to cause considerable pain. Forced to walk with her heels
lifted placed a great deal of strain upon the toes and arch of the feet. Which was just
what the Countess desired.
The young woman was being led around the extensive grounds and house by the leash in the
Countess’ hand, which was attached to a slender leather collar around her neck, on the
inside of which was a series of metal spikes, each only half an inch long but quite
effective at making the naked young woman walk as directed when the Countess tugged upon
the leash.
The exercise had already lasted twenty minutes and the young woman was almost at the
point where she would be unable to maintain what amounted to a ballerina’s “pointe”
position, except that she had no toe shoes to help. Several times her heels had lowered,
and were you to look inside the shoes you would find numerous small puncture marks.
“Come along, dearie,” said the Countess sweetly. “Perhaps we could do some jogging on
the grass.”
Count Ryan de Monet smiled, never doubting for a second that his wife was capable of such
cruelty. As they walked away, he lowered the book to enjoy the sight of the latest in a
long string of “playthings” he and his wife had enjoyed, as she walked away. This one was
fairly new and he had not yet had the chance to abuse her. His wife called it
“ravishment” but it was simple sexual abuse. He would sate his lust upon her tied down
and quite helpless body without her permission or even so much as a “by your leave.” The
Countess, he knew, was already playing sexual games with the girl. She had not come to
his bedroom the prior night, and he knew it was because she had “entertained” the new girl
in her own bedroom. He wondered if this one was a natural lesbian, or if his wife had
used force to get what she wanted. It made little difference, since the Countess liked to
use force even on those who cooperated.
He watched the wiggle in that nice, firm bottom and observed the way the ropes cut into
the wrists. His wife must have really jerked on the ropes to get her hands that high on
the back. Some of the more slender ones could almost reach up to their necks behind them,
but this one was fairly solidly built, and having her arms forced upward like that just
had to hurt something wonderfully.
He sighed and went back to his book. Maybe later, when his wife had finished playing
with this new slavegirl, he might sneak down into the basement room they called the
dungeon and do a little playing with the new toy himself. If, that was, she had not
secured the girl into some position that made male playing impossible. Many times he had
visited the dungeon late at night with lecherous sexual intent only to find that the
target of his affections had been chained into some position not lending itself to sexual
intercourse. One of her favorites was to bind the girls tightly with rope then lock them
into a small cage made of steel bars. The cage was only a couple inches larger in any
direction than most girls, and positively a cruelly tight fit for the larger girls. But
it served the purpose of keeping him from “dipping his wick” into their young, tight
pussies. The Countess always took the key to the padlock on the cage with her.
At least, he told himself, this one looked hardy and able to stand up to the Countess’s
rough treatment. The Count considered himself to be a world-class sadist, capable of
refined yet intense torture of female bodies until they screamed insanely for mercy. But
his wife, on the other hand... Well, let it simply be said that her techniques were
cruder and the girls under her loving care screamed louder and longer.
| 
