The Countess of Discipline

by Emma Allan

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

Munitions worker Julius Klaber must escape from the ruined city of Berlin before he is caught by the enemy. There can be no worse fate than becoming their prisoner - or so he believes. But he is destined to be captured, not by the Soviets but by a woman - a beautiful raven-haired Countess whose family castle boasts a superbly equipped dungeon.

As Julius hangs, chained to the wall, the Countess makes him a proposition. She can release him to face certain capture, or he can remain in the castle as her servant and earn his keep. Even as he agrees to stay, he wonders what cruel future awaits him at the hands of the countess of discipline . . .

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Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group

Print pages: 256

Sample

She held his balls tightly in one hand and used the other to circle the hard, veiny throbbing cock. Dipping her head, she slipped his phallus into her mouth, pursing her lips around the distinct ridge at the base of his glans. She sucked on it so hard it made him moan. Then she squeezed him with both hands, making his cock surge against her tongue.

‘Does that feel good?’ she asked, pulling her head back and looking up at him. Her dark red lipstick was painted on thickly. It had left a ring around his flesh.

‘Very good.’

She was kneeling at his feet wearing a black satin girdle; the bra of the all-embracing garment was stitched in a concentric pattern, the material cupping her large, firm breasts. Her gauzy French knickers were also black as were her stockings, their opaque welts held in place by thick, strong suspenders, a V-shape of elastic ending in a large metal hoop. In this position her creamy thighs looked plump and strong.

She had extracted his cock from his trousers but he was still fully dressed.

‘It’s been a long time since I had a man. A real man. A man like you,’ she said. ‘Berlin has only old men and boys. I hope you’re not going to disappoint me.’

‘Do I look as if I am?’ he said.

He pulled her to her feet and kissed her hard on the mouth, wrapping his arms around her, letting his hands caress the smooth satin, inhaling her sweet, musky perfume, feeling her big breasts crushing against his chest. It was a long time since he’d felt anything so intoxicatingly feminine.

Outside, the noise of falling shells was ceaseless but distant. They both knew that could change at any moment.

She had short brown hair permed into loose waves. He stroked it gently then ran his hand down her back and under the waistband of the French knickers. The tight corset gave way to soft flesh. He inserted his fingers between her buttocks until he felt the coarse, thick hair of her pubic bush.

She had found him sheltering in the doorway of her house. She had given him schnapps and ersatz coffee but they had said little. There was nothing much to say. At any minute they might be dead. Though he had walked into the suburbs to the south of the city and the shelling was concentrated on the centre around the Wilhelmsplatz, shells and bombs fell short all the time. The street outside was littered with craters and the bombardment continued although the war was all but over. Hitler was dead. The Russians were closing in on Berlin.

He pushed two fingers into her labia. Her sex was already moist. Unsubtly he forced his fingers into her, so hard it almost lifted her off her feet. She gasped. He felt her sex clench around him.

‘I’m so wet I can feel it running down inside me,’ she whispered into his ear.

He pulled away and began tearing off his clothes. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down to his knees but before he could take them off she caught his hand and pulled him down on to the bed.

‘No time,’ she said.

A shell exploded two streets away. The noise was deafening. The building shook, plaster dust raining down on them, the windows rattling.

He tried to wrestle her knickers down, but she pushed his hand away and rolled on top of him, straddling his hips. In the light from the single candle on the bedside table he saw her fingers pulling the crotch of the silk knickers to one side. Her other hand guided his cock into the forest of pubic hair that covered her pussy. The coarse hair scratched his cock. Then, by contrast, he felt the smooth, oiled softness of her labia.

Immediately, she thrust her body down on him and his phallus sank into the depths of her cunt. It was so wet he heard a loud squelch. But under the silky wetness was hard, supple muscle which gripped him as firmly as her hand had minutes ago.

‘Now you’re mine,’ she said. As if to confirm it he felt her vagina flex, squeezing him even more tightly. She grabbed his wrists, pinioning them above his head, her arms stretched straight out in front of her. She had dark brown eyes and he could see them flaring with excitement. He realised he didn’t even know her name.

She raised herself on her haunches so his cock almost slid out of her sex, then thrust down on him again. ‘That’s good,’ she said.

And it was. Her body was voluptuous, its lush curves tightly constrained by the girdle, the black satin panels of the garment shimmering in the light.

She began to ride up and down on him much faster, letting go of his wrists and sitting upright, dropping her whole weight on him.

‘This is what I need,’ she said, almost to herself. Her hands clutched at her own breasts, digging into the material of the girdle to pinch her nipples. The hair of her pussy had become so wet it was plastered back against her flesh and he could see her labia now, stretched apart by the breadth of his cock.

He felt her shudder, her whole body trembling. Suddenly she flattened the palms of her hands against her breasts with all her strength, squashing them flat against the black satin and squirmed down on him, grinding her clitoris against the base of his shaft. She screamed, one long continuous sound that only died away when she slumped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the mouth, her tongue plunging between his lips.

‘More,’ she said at once, her voice husky with passion. ‘I want more.’

‘Take it, then,’ he said.

She sat up. He watched as she pulled herself up off him. His cock slipped out of her sex. Even in the dim light of the candle he could see it was glistening with the copious juices from her body. She reached behind her back and gripped it tightly with her right hand. He saw a glint of passion in her eyes as he felt her pushing his glans between the plump cheeks of her buttocks until it was held firmly against her anus. Satisfied it would not slip away, she released her grip and used both hands to stretch her buttocks apart as she eased her body down on him again. He felt the little ring of her sphincter resist momentarily, then suddenly give way, opening out for him. She did not hesitate, driving herself down so that his phallus reared up into her, filling the tight passage completely. She screamed for the second time, a cry of pain and passion. He saw her eyes roll up and felt her whole body quiver, the muscles of her anus clutching him as tightly as her cunt had done moments before.

He was sure she had come for the second time but again she did not rest. This time she slid her hand down over her tightly corseted body to her mons. Her middle finger slipped into her labia. It found her clitoris instantly, judging by the moan of pure pleasure she gave, and the way her body clenched around him again.

He could see her moving her clit from side to side, faster and faster, until the movement of her hand was a blur. Then, quite suddenly, she stopped and pushed her hand back further. To his amazement he felt her finger delving into her own sex. In seconds, one then two fingers were up inside her own body, separated from his cock by the thin membranes of her inner flesh.

‘I can feel you,’ she said. As if to demonstrate, she pressed her fingers into him then began stroking the length of his shaft, the wetness of her sex making the movement frictionless. ‘So hard.’

‘You’ll make me come,’ he said.

‘That’s what I want.’

He felt his cock swell, expanding even further as the tip of her finger rubbed against his glans. No one had ever done this to him before.

She forced her thighs further apart, pushing herself down on him to get every last inch of penetration. Her anus was hot and incredibly tight, enclosing him completely. His cock spasmed once, fighting the constriction. As he felt his spunk pumping up into his shaft, her left fingers stroked the whole length of it. He passed the point of no return, unable to hold back any longer, and his spunk began spurting out of his cock as her fingers drove up inside her sex with one final effort. As he felt his orgasm stretching his muscles, reaching every nerve, he knew she was coming too, the two passages of her body quivering in ecstasy. In the impossibly tight confines of her rear passage there was so little room he could actually feel his spunk, hot and viscous, running over his glans, squeezed between her flesh and his.

She did not move, waiting for his cock to soften and slip from her body of its own accord. Only when it had did she climb off him.

In the stillness they were aware again of the gentle popping of shells in the distance. She snuggled into his body, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

‘Will you stay till morning?’ she asked.

‘No. I have to travel at night. I only sheltered in your doorway for a rest.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To the west. They say that’s where the Americans are, and the British. I don’t want to fall in with the Russians.’

A shell landed nearby again. Both cringed instinctively. More dust floated to the ground.

‘Are you a soldier?’

‘No, I worked in the tank factory in Pichelsdorf. Reserved occupation. They insisted we kept working. Last night it was overrun. I only just managed to get out. And you?’

‘I was a lady of leisure.’

‘I didn’t think there were any left. What will you do?’ ‘Hope that I find a protector. I had a protector.’

‘A protector?’

‘A certain General …’

‘And what will you do now?’

‘Hope I find another protector. I’m sure the Russians have Generals who could be persuaded to be generous to me in return for what I have to offer.’ She looked down at the tight black satin that moulded itself to her ample curves.

‘Is it worth taking the risk?’

‘I’m not leaving my house. Would you like another schnapps before you go?’

‘If you can spare it.’

‘After what you’ve just done I think you deserve it.’ She ran her fingers down his body and touched his flaccid cock. ‘There’s a lot of things I’d like to do with you.’

‘Ships that pass in the night,’ he said.

‘You’re right.’ She got to her feet. ‘Wait here. I’ll bring you your schnapps,’ she said. There was a wistful look in her eye as she walked out of the room.

Julius Klaber got to his feet. He was a handsome man, tall with a broad chest and muscles honed by the physical effort he had put in every day at the factory. He had curly blond hair, piercing blue eyes and a rugged face with a straight nose, rather hollow cheeks and a square chin. He was not surprised at the woman’s wanton appetites. With the remnants of the Third Reich literally crumbling around their feet and the possibility of sudden death a question of pure chance, normal standards of behaviour were suspended. He thought about staying but dismissed the idea immediately. A Russian officer might be persuaded to take a beautiful woman under his wing, in return for sexual favours, but he would hardly be likely to feel the same about her lover. There were wild stories of what the Russians were doing to their prisoners of war and Julius believed every one of them. His best chance was to get down to the Harz Mountains, to the Brocken where he had been brought up and seek out his sister, his only remaining relative. The war, by all accounts, had passed that area by.

Julius buttoned up his trousers and adjusted his shirt. The woman had been in such a hurry he hadn’t even had time to take off his jacket, though his thick overcoat was downstairs in the hall. He’d have liked to have a wash but, though there was a large bathroom en suite, he knew there would be no water. Running water was a luxury that Berlin could no longer provide.

As the woman had not re-appeared he decided to go downstairs. He walked to the bedroom door and was puzzled when it seemed to be stuck. The door handle turned but the door refused to budge. His reactions were slow. It wasn’t for a good minute that he realised the door was locked.

‘Hey!’ he shouted, banging on the door. ‘Hey! Let me out!’

He heard footsteps climbing the stairs.

‘What’s the matter?’ the woman’s voice said, from the other side of the door.

‘The door’s locked.’

‘I know,’ the woman said. ‘I locked it.’

‘What for?’

‘To keep you in, of course. Until I need you again.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous …’

‘I’m not. I told you, real men are as scarce as butter. Now I’ve found one I’m not going to let you go. Not until the Russians come at least.’

‘You bitch.’

‘Mind your language. Now do as I say, and back away from the door.’

Julius heard the key turn in the lock and prepared to rush forward and overpower the woman. But as the door swung open he found himself staring into the barrel of a Luger.

‘As you see, I have a gun,’ she said. ‘And I know how to use it. My General taught me. So be a good boy. Go and sit on the bed. If you try to escape I’ll shoot you. Don’t think I won’t.’

Julius saw no alternative. He went back to the bed and sat on the edge of it.

‘Very good,’ the woman said. A black lace peignoir covered the satin corset. She had the Luger in one hand and a pair of handcuffs and a bottle of schnapps in the other. ‘You’re being sensible.’

‘Please let me go.’

‘In a day or two, maybe. When you’ve completely satisfied me. Put out your right hand. And no sudden movements. If I shoot you there’s no hospitals and no ambulances. Even if it’s only a flesh wound you’ll probably die of it.’

Julius knew that was true. He put out his right hand and watched her snap one loop of the handcuffs around it. She knelt at the side of the bed and closed the other loop around the iron frame that supported the mattress.

‘There,’ she said. She walked over to a mahogany chest of drawers and put the gun down, well out of his reach. She took a swig from the schnapps bottle then put that down too. ‘You can have a drink later. First it’s time for more fun and games, I think. And I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that if anything happened to me you’d be trapped up here. No one would hear your calls for help. So don’t be tempted to do anything silly. Understood?’

She was right, of course. He could easily overpower her but what good would it do? He couldn’t get out of the bedroom with the iron bedstead handcuffed to his arm.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You bitch.’

‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘Or I may have to teach you some manners. In fact I might enjoy that. I’ve never had a man at my mercy before. I find it quite exciting.’

She pulled the peignoir off her shoulders and dropped it over the gun. She had taken her knickers off and Julius could see the thick patch of pubic hair between her legs.

‘Lie back on the bed,’ she said.

He had no alternative but to obey.

She climbed up on to the bed beside him and immediately straddled his shoulders, her labia inches away from his chin. ‘You know what to do,’ she said as she eased her sex towards his mouth.

Just as he felt her wiry brown hair pressing against his lips, there was a deafening explosion. The whole house rocked and the ceiling above them collapsed. Plaster and dust rained down so thickly the room was filled with a fine, choking mist. The woman fell to one side, unconscious, her thigh lying across his face.

Julius struggled to sit up. As the dust cleared he saw a huge hole had appeared in the outer wall of the room, and the cold night air was blowing in. A rafter from the ceiling had been dislodged and had hit the woman squarely on the head.

What on earth was he going to do now? He was trapped, just as she’d said he’d be if anything happened to her. She was still alive but, as he shook her vigorously, she showed no signs of coming around. Rolling her on to her back he got to his feet, though he could not straighten up with his hand cuffed to the bed. His only hope was to find the key to the cuffs. He searched the drawer of the bedside table but found nothing. The key was probably downstairs and there was no way he could get out of the room with the metal frame of the bed attached to his wrist.

He examined the woman more carefully. There was a large bruise on her forehead and a trickle of blood from a cut, but her breathing was strong. And that’s when he saw it. A little metal chain, tucked into the valley between her breasts. It was the time-honoured hiding place after all. He pulled the thread and saw a key emerge from her cleavage. It was the key to the handcuffs.

He had never moved so fast. He unlocked the cuffs, grabbed the Luger from the chest of drawers and ran out of the bedroom. The shell had not damaged the stairs. He snatched his overcoat from the newel post and scurried out of the front door. It was the first and last time he would ever feel gratitude to the Russians for their artillery bombardment.

He travelled at night, holing up during the day in whatever shelter he could find, afraid he would be spotted in daylight and shot with no questions asked. He’d grubbed up some root vegetables and eaten those but he was hungrier than he’d ever been. He kept an eye out for rabbits, pigeons or a chicken which he could shoot with the Luger, but the rest of the civilian population had probably had the same idea and he saw nothing.

It was difficult to find his way, too. A lot of the road signs had been destroyed as soon as the Allies had crossed German borders, and others had been deliberately changed around to point in the wrong direction. He didn’t know enough about the stars to navigate at night and just had to rely on the sun coming up in the morning and setting at night to guess which direction he should take.

He had, at least, got clear of Berlin. He saw squadrons of planes, all Allied, heading towards the city, night after night, with no German fighters to oppose them, but after the second night the flashes of the bombs they dropped were no longer visible.

It was five nights after escaping from the clutches of the nameless woman that he realised he had made a mistake. The night was cloudy and dark but, as he walked, it was clear that he was heading towards military action, not away from it as he’d hoped. The rumble of heavy tanks and occasional bursts of gunfire were getting louder and louder. Flashes of light exploded on the horizon too.

Sheltering in a ditch, he decided it didn’t matter. It would take him too long to walk around the problem so it was better to walk towards it. An old woman he met grubbing for roots said she’d heard that the Americans and the British were advancing from the west. He had no fear of them. They would inter him for a while no doubt and then he would be sent home. Which was the object of the exercise anyway. Clearly what he must do was find his way around whatever German troops were putting up a resistance and surrender to the first Allied troops he came across.

With thi. . .