Chapter Seven
“Give me that man that is not passion’s slave,
and I will wear him in my heart’s core...”
- William Shakespeare
Countess Esmeralda
The cruel countess smiled. Her plans were working out perfectly. Her stable of slaves was expanding, the slaves she had acquired were slowly becoming tame, submissive, obedient, just as she wished.
She was lounging in her large canopied bed, wearing only a short black negligee. One of her slaves was giving her an oiled foot massage; the high heels that entranced so many men were a type of torture for her. The slave was erect, of course, tenting out his loincloth. Had he not been, she would have had him punished. She might have him punished anyway, just for fun. Of course, having her luscious body so close was torture for him, she knew.
Tha
