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Chapter 18: The Hunting Lodge
As soon as the excitement over La Contessa’s puppet show has died down, the household is plunged into another whirlwind of activity. It’s Julia who catches me in the kitchens one morning and excitedly explains.
“La Contessa’s announced that we are going to her hunting lodge in Piedmont. She goes every winter and returns to Venice in time for the Carnevale. This year she’s sprung it on us suddenly. We’re to make preparations and leave in a few days-time!”
“Is this to her country estate?”
“One of them,” Julia explains.” She’s a villa overlooking Lake Garda I’ve been to and various other estates. The hunting lodge is one of the highlights of the year. You’ll love it there, and she’s sure to come up with interesting ways to entertain herself! And, with a bit of luck,” she looks around to make sure nobody else can hear, “we should get time to ourselves.”
She winks at me. Julia has lovely hazel eyes, which complement her olive skin and chestnut hair perfectly, especially when she’s animated. They light up the room. I’m pleased to see her in such a bright mood. The puppet show has lifted her spirits. There’s been no adverse reaction to my fucking of Becky in full view of La Contessa’s guests. Indeed, it seems mistress was full of praise for the enthusiasm with which Julia entered into the role. This has restored her confidence, making her less paranoid about how La Contessa is treating her.
Julia explains we are to be part of an advance vanguard to prepare the lodge, with La Contessa and her slave girl joining us when everything is ready. Mademoiselle La Tour, who has become a confidante of La Contessa since the card game, has also been invited as her guest. This means we’ll get a few days together on our own, and no Lucio snooping around after us.
Julia’s role is to prepare La Contessa’s wardrobe for the trip. It can’t take too long I think, naively. Several days later I stand at the landing stage surrounded by a mountain of trunks and hat boxes, watching the fleet of gondolas hired to carry them. I realise this is more like a military expedition. The gondolas convey staff and luggage across the lagoon to the mainland where a line of coaches await us for the arduous journey across country. The trip, along the bumpy roads of northern Italy, is made pleasurable by the opportunity to share the journey with Julia. We snuggle up together in the coach. Along the way we stop at coaching inns where, though we have separate rooms, we contrive to spend the nights together for sex.
Eventually we arrive at Villa Perosa, La Contessa’s hunting lodge. I’m surprised at the modesty of the house. I say this in relative terms, making comparison with both the Palazzo Cavelli in Venice and other hunting lodges of the Italian nobility, which I know can resemble palaces. At the heart of the estate is a handsome single-storey log-built lodge. It’s a commodious rural retreat containing a great hall with its fireplace, a study, other reception rooms, and suites for La Contessa and her guests. It’s more homely and welcoming than the luxuriously grand I expected and know she could afford. There are smaller wooden lodges at the rear, the accommodation for her household staff, along with stables and kennels. The lodge itself is nestled in a dip and surrounded by pine woods and woodland paths. To reach the hunting lodge, we take an avenue running through the farm and olive groves. This must be where La Contessa produces her olive oil, which I’ve seen in rows of bottles in the kitchens at the palazzo decorated with her livery of the black swan.
Julia immediately sets to work malatya escort directing the other staff in unloading the coaches, and I muck in by helping carry the trunks to La Contessa’s suite. Julia is on a mission to get the work done as soon as possible so we’ll get time to ourselves before La Contessa and her entourage arrives. The staff waste no time in fetching logs and lighting fires in the rooms to warm the place up. By early evening, the lodge is comfortable, the glow of the fires giving it a homely atmosphere.
Julia’s pleased. The other staff are busy with chores, and it’s her place to unpack La Contessa’s trunks containing her clothes and personal effects. I’m nestled in a most commodious armchair in the corner opposite La Contessa’s four poster bed as Julia unpacks.
“How long are we staying here?”
“It depends,” says Julia, “two to four weeks usually. La Contessa is capricious; if she gets bored I’ve known her leave at a moment’s notice. That would be bad, Roberto, after all you and her slave girl are here to entertain her so if we leave early it’ll reflect badly on you,” she scolds.
“She needs all this stuff for a few weeks!” I exclaim, as I get up to drag another trunk along the floor for Julia to unpack.
“Roberto, have you learnt nothing? Of course, she needs it all! She has to look magnificent at all times as you know. Each garment is carefully chosen and has its place.”
Julia empties a trunk containing La Contessa’s underwear. There are silk knickerbockers, satin corsets, and lace stockings. She dangles a shiny, ivory basque from her fingers.
“You ought to try it on!” I suggest.
“Oh no, I shouldn’t. If she were to find out she’d be furious. Maybe you should try it on,” she taunts.
Julia picks up a pile of knickerbockers in various colours: white, cream, red, black, and purple, buries her nose into them and breathes in their aroma.
“Julia! That’s a bit kinky.”
“No it’s not. They’re freshly laundered. They smell delicious. They smell of roses and lavender, and her.”
I can’t help thinking it wouldn’t bother her if they were soiled, and she inhaled the odour of dried piss. She’d still be waxing lyrical about her mistress’s scent.
“No, really, wear La Contessa’s undergarments whilst you unpack. Go on. You’ll look sexy in them. Thinking about it is giving me a hard-on.”
“Oh, you’re incorrigible, Roberto! Ok, just for you.”
She slips out of her servant’s clothes, the smart skirt, and the blouse with La Contessa’s livery embroidered on it. She chooses black satin knickerbockers and wriggles them up over her hips, tying them with a lace cord.
“Oh, that feels so nice,” she gasps, “so smooth against the skin and sensuous compared to the starchy linen ones I wear. But then you know all about wearing sexy women’s underwear don’t you, Roberto!” She says, reminding me of the occasion La Contessa dressed me as a noblewoman.
“You look fabulous, Julia,” I say, encouraging her. “Try one of the corsets on.”
She picks up the corset with purple and black satin panels and stiff whale bone stays.
“I’ll need your help to lace it up,” she calls.
I oblige her and, as she bends over for me, I pull the laces tight. She looks fantastic.
“God, I feel great. I can see why La Contessa dresses like this. It makes me feel so powerful… and sexy. Come over here and fuck me!” Julia exclaims.
It’s tempting… so very tempting. And I can’t deny how turned on I am by Julia parading in La Contessa’s sexy undergarments, looking every bit the dominatrix in them. But I exercise restraint, deciding maltepe escort I’d prefer to spend time watching her in them.
“No, not now… not yet. Carry on unpacking whilst I watch you. I reckon if you carry on I’ll cream in my knickers!”
“Oh Roberto, that’s disgusting. No masturbating! You’re only allowed to watch. I don’t want you wasting your spunk. I want that in my cunt.”
This sexy game is turning us both on.
Julia carries on with her work. She empties the trunks of gorgeous silk evening gowns, sumptuous velvet dresses and tantalisingly teasing costumes. I’ve seen La Contessa wear this full range of clothes during my service as she dominates all, from collared slave to the ruling elite, with her commanding presence fuelled by a wardrobe designed to enhance her considerable physical attributes. Who wouldn’t wish to kneel before her!
“I love this,” says Julia. “I’ve always enjoyed unpacking at the lodge, but it’s even more exciting having you here watching. And I’d never dared try anything on without your encouragement. You’re a bad influence on me, Roberto!”
She handles each item of clothing with loving care, caressing the folds of material as she smooths creases out, before hanging them up in a massive armoire of polished Piedmont pine. She’s relishing every moment, and I appreciate watching her fetishistic pleasure at handling La Contessa’s beautiful wardrobe.
Eventually, she comes to the last trunk which is packed full of coats, cloaks and over-garments.
“Oh my god, look at this,” she exclaims holding a fur coat in the air for me to admire. “I’ve never seen this before, it must be new.”
She holds up a coat which has to be wolf fur. It’s magnificent; the pile of the fur is thick and lush, and its silver-grey hue shimmers in the fire-light.
“You must try it on.”
“Should I? I can’t, it’s my mistress’s. Do you think I ought?”
“Do it Julia. It’s magnificent. See the quality of the pelt. You’ll look stunning in it.”
“Oh well, ok. I suppose it can’t do any harm, and we’re alone. Contessa will never know, will she?”
She threads her arms into the sleeves and wraps the luxurious fur around her, revelling in the touch of it against her skin.
“It’s gorgeous. And it’s so heavy, like it’s dragging me down.”
“You look amazing,” I exclaim.
She walks towards me seductively; a wolverine glint in her eyes making her appear feral and sexy as if she’s actually taken on the qualities of the creature the fur came from. By now I’m sitting back in the chair, admiring every step. She stands before me, and then gently parts the heavy pelt to reveal her lovely legs and seductive curves.
“On your knees,” she whispers, the command sounding natural coming from her whilst enveloped in silver-grey fur.
I do as I’m told. The months of training in La Contessa’s service making me submit instinctively to any command from a female voice.
“Un-lace my knickerbockers and pull them down.”
I carefully untie the laces and gently pull the black satin over Julia’s hips and down her thighs and legs. When they’re on the floor, she steps out of them and kicks them to one side. When I glance up, I’m eye level with her crotch. I bury my face into the downy, brown hair of her bush, feeling the warmth of her against my cheek and smelling the juices oozing from it. My tongue seeks out her cunt, lapping wildly at her like a wild wolf on heat. I find her clit, and she moans.
“Fuck me, Roberto. Take me whilst I’m wearing the fur.”
Julia jumps onto the bed and spreads herself onto the mamak escort embroidered coverlet, parting the coat slightly so I see the crack of her sex winking invitingly at me through the slit in the fur. I waste no time in discarding my clothes and joining her. The silver-grey fur is wrapped around her and I run my hands over it; the pelt is thick and soft. Julia moans in pleasure at my touch through the animal skin. I kneel over her, pulling the coat apart to uncover her shapely breasts with their pert nipples, pushed up by the corset, and her cunt. Julia splays her legs for me, inviting me to enter her.
“I want you inside me,” she whimpers.
Julia, turned on by the touch of fur on her skin, the flaunting of her sexiness in front of me and, dare I add, the illicit, wanton behaviour of wearing her mistress’s clothes, is sopping. Risk is always a turn on; a lesson I learnt in my time in the Cannaregio. It’s why the wealthy choose a prostitute when they could have the pick of many girls. I waste no time in satisfying her needs.
I thread my cock into her and she’s ready for it, desperate for it! It’s a relief for both of us to be joined, and now I’m inside her, the urgency of our desires is satisfied and we take time over our lovemaking. I gently slide into her, and her body arches to receive me. The wolf fur becomes a tool, enhancing the sensuality of our union. I pull it up to Julia’s cheek as I kiss her, run it along the curves of her breasts and brush it against her nipples. She pulls it over us so we become enveloped in its luxuriousness. Our orgasms have a long, slow build-up, but they are all the more explosive for that. The pace of Julia’s heart quickens against my chest, I hear her breathes as they deepen, and savour the desire on her lips. Her moans become incessant and full-throated as her climax builds, until she has to let go with screams of release and pure physical pleasure.
It’s not the end of our lovemaking for the evening. The corset and wolf skin fur get discarded, tossed aimlessly onto the floor. If La Contessa could see the careless way we treat her precious things, she’d be furious, but by now we are beyond caring. We’re focused only on each other, and our mistress’s presence recedes into a dangerous oblivion. Tired and satiated after a night of great and fulfilling sex, we crash out on La Contessa’s bed, curled up in one another’s arms, and fall into a deep sleep. When we merge from our slumber, it’s Julia who brings us back down to earth.
“Shit, look at the state of this bed, Roberto! It’s a mess.”
I admit it’s rather dishevelled. Our lovemaking has pulled the sheets, rumpled the coverlet, and dented the pillows with the impressions of our heads. The bed oozes with the odour of great sex; of sweat, spunk, and cunt juices. I love it.
“Don’t worry, Julia, we’ve plenty of time. She’s not expected to arrive till later in the day.”
“Yes, Roberto, but I’ve no time to get this lot laundered.”
“Straighten it up, smooth the sheets and bolster and it’ll be fine,” I reassure her.
We get out of bed and set about tidying up. We throw the cover back, tighten the linen sheet and tuck it in before putting the coverlet back on. Whilst doing that I notice a spunk stain on the embroidered cover where we made love. There’s no mistaking what it is, a white stain on bright turquoise textile. I don’t want to panic Julia by drawing her attention to it. So, whilst she hangs the wolf skin fur in the armoire and her back is turned, I try to wipe it off with spittle and a handkerchief.
“That looks better,” she says with relief as she plumps up the pillows. “But open a window and let some fresh air in, it stinks in here.”
“I know. It smells of us. It smells of dirty sex.”
“Sorry Roberto, not now. It was a great night, but it’s back to work for us now. We’ve got to make sure everything’s right before La Contessa arrives.”
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