Royalty, Vanity, and Lust for Blood.

Miranda, adorned in her tightest corset and gown, exited her father’s carriage at the entry of a large stone house. “This is a way for you to become a lady, and don’t fear, it is the closest to the estate, should we come and visit you,” her father assured her as he took her arm and guided her to the heavy wooden doors. The footman followed close behind with the trunk and luggage. 
Her father, a graying man, lifted and released the heavy iron knocker. A thin, frail man answered; his clothes in shams, but still shown a bright green. “Yes, sir?” he asked. 
“I have been in correspondence with the lady of the house about my daughter Miranda attending the finishing school. We are expected; Miranda Polk.” The man lifted his head in a nod. 
“Ah, yes, right this way. I’m James and I’ll show you to your room. I’m terribly sorry the countess is away and is not expected back until later this evening, but if you wish, I’d be happy to give you a tour.” 
The open inside gave a grand appearance, but a dankness lingered. The halls were void of girls and noise as one might imagine; only a solitary student every so often would appear and retreat just as fast. 
An hour past and they said their farewells. Miranda paced around exploring her new room while another servant of the house unpacked her belongings. 
That evening, James informed her that she, like all of the other girls, would be spending her first dinner with the mistress as an introduction. Miranda followed him down the hall, thinking it odd since she had not heard anyone come home, but all the while admiring the tapestries and imported vases. At the very end of their walk James opened a set of double doors leading into a bedroom. Just past the large rose carved four post bed stood a woman in a billowing velvet red gown; fitting so tight around her torso that her breasts seemed to overflow at every breath. Her hair was pulled taught giving her pale face a stern and sunken appearance. 
“My dear Miss Polk, please have a seat at my table.” A feast sat beneath the floor to ceiling window. James pulled out their chairs and filled their wine glasses. “You have beautiful fair skin. Tell me, how old are you?” 
Miranda wiped her mouth before speaking, “I am but eighteen.” 
“Eighteen! By that age I was already married with two children.” Miranda examined her instructor; surely that was not the face of a woman that much older than she. No, this was a youthful beauty. 
The interrogation continued though dinner with the hostess only prying never reciprocating. At the end of their meal the countess beckoned Miranda to follow her into her bathing room. There hung a large gilded edge mirror. “Look into the mirror and tell me why you are beautiful.” Miranda looked into her instructor’s reflection, “I don’t understand.” 
“This is your first lesson.” She awaited, arms folded around her voluptuous breasts. Miranda took a breath and began, “I offer a gentleman glowing eyes, golden hair, and a perky bosom.” 
“Very good. This exercise is about building confidence. Now, do you feel confident around me?” 
“Yes, mistress, of course.” 
“Good, please continue the exercise by stripping of a garment. Imagine it is like shedding your timid shell. I may help you to untie if necessary.” Miranda held her breath; slightly confused yet eager, but instead requested, “Countess, may we continue this assignment another night?” She wasn’t quite sure what to do about the fluttering emotions consuming her. There was no response. In the mirror she could see her mistress’s cold eyes piercing into her soul, but then, “Yes, my dear. I have other things to do.” She stormed out of the bathroom and bedroom. Miranda stared into the mirror a while longer. “I am beautiful, and so are you. What is this feeling that has overcome me?” 
It was a few days before Miranda saw the countess again, but every night at dinner she sat in silence with the other twenty students; they all appeared somewhat fearful and battered to her. Someone was always called away to dine with the countess, and this rejection drove Miranda wild with anticipation. Worried that she had offended her mistress, she pulled James aside one day and asked him for assistance. “Maybe you could deliver this message, ‘I’ve found my confidence.’” 
Her jealousy continued for a couple more days until it was finally her call. She dressed in her tightest corset again and lowest cut gown to pronounce her breasts. James did not, however, lead her to the mistress’s bedroom; instead, they passed through the kitchen and down into the wine cellar. Though nervous, she did not ask and just let the adrenaline devour her. 
Behind the last cask was a hidden door, he opened it and led her in, locking the door behind them. The room had a foul odor; candles and one narrow window were the only source of illumination. From the darkness Miranda heard, “The shadows show pitting in your face, dark circles under your eyes, the moisture is frizzing your hair, and your hands appear bony like and old woman.” The countess emerged, dressed in only a red corset and silk stockings supported by a red garter. “Do you feel uncomfortable? I am confident. I have no shame. What about you?” Miranda tried to avert her eyes as she spoke, “I have faith in you countess. Please, teach me.” 
“Let’s start with your polishing skills. Sit here.” James followed close behind as Miranda sat at a small wooden chair at a small wooden table. Before she realized it, James had already bound each of her feet to a leg of the nailed down chair. “Place your hands on the table.” She did as she was told while her mistress chained her hands to a ring in the center of the table. “Tell me I’m beautiful,” the countess commanded as she pulled up a chair and sat across from Miranda, clasping her hands in hers. 
“You are stunning.” Miranda’s heart fluttered. 
“And what of you?” 
“I’m disgusting. Make me as beautiful as you are.” The countess pulled out a small leather whip and quickly struck her student’s fingers. Miranda flinched, but her mistress held her hands tightly. She kept her eyes open and watched as her finger tips began to turn a faint shade of pink. No screams, only slight whimpers escaped her. 
“Your next lesson is in proper dressing.” The countess walked over to another table and returned with a knife. “You don’t mind if I remove your bodice, do you?” Miranda’s heart paced faster, but her mind kept calm and curious, “No, mistress.” 
“Stand up,” the countess commanded. Her pupil tried to comply, although her restraints left her hunched. She sliced down the back of Miranda’s gown and corset, leaving only her bare pale back and butt exposed; then slowly and gently traced circles into her student’s back with her nails. The mix of excitement and scratches made her squirm; she liked the new sensation down her spine. 
James placed another set of shackles on Miranda so as she would not escape as he released her from the table and chair, all while the countess continued shredding her garments until she was completely nude. James attached a hook to her chain and cranked her up to the ceiling. Her feet dangled just inches from the floor and she watched, chilled with anticipation as James restrained her feet individually to the ground. It felt like he pulled them as far apart as they would go; her inner thighs pulled and she finally let out a scream of anguish. 
The countess returned and stated, “Lady’s don’t fuss,” whip in hand. Without announcing, she began to whip Miranda’s naked body; she screamed over and over as the tail broke over her skin and slid ferociously across her body. One slash hit perfectly across her nipple; tears were now starting to flow. The countess stopped and Miranda felt the numbness that was her body, but even in agony, she longed for more attention. Her mistress disappeared in the shadows while James stood with his back facing her burning body. 
The minutes dragged on and her once numb body now tingled with the sensation of hundreds of tiny pins. She bit her lip and tried to clench her fists. The countess returned with a strange pear shaped object on a stick. 
“Are you a virgin my dear?” Miranda shook her head, “Yes, my mistress.” 
“Good. Chastity is very important before marriage.” She walked over and placed a finger on the outside of Miranda’s vagina; it was wet with anticipation. “Shame, shame on you; you are sexually frustrated. A lady should never experience that.” She forced her finger into the tight hole and began thrusting in and out. Miranda tried to squirm, but her taught restraints left her immobile and forced her to take the foreign feeling of penetration; an invasion of her body. Laughing, the countess added a second finger and began to massage her clitoris with her thumb. All of a sudden all of Miranda’s conflictions melted away and a feeling of ecstasy started to fill her. 
“Thank you mistress,” she managed to express. Immediately the countess stopped, removed her hand, and forcibly inserted the pear. Miranda’s vagina split open driving a blood curdling scream. Her mistress was a blood thirsty persecutor, but she liked it. Gently the pear began to twist back and forth, she moaned, but then the countess twisted the handle and the device began to open inside her. Blood of the virgin ran down the handle as Miranda felt her insides slightly stretch, but it was over as quickly as it had begun.
“Let her down.” James unlocked her feet and she shrieked as her legs clapped back together. He then let her down and removed her chains. “Sit back down in your chair.” Miranda wanted so desperately to obey, but her insides were numb so she could barely move. “James, help her.” He forced her down and again chained her legs, but left her hands free. 
The countess sat on the table facing her, spread her own thighs, and placed her feet onto Miranda’s knees spreading them; again her student cried out in pain as her vagina throbbed. “Just be glad I took pity on you and didn’t open it all the way,” she grabbed her pupil’s hair and forced her face to her crotch. “Now, eat like a lady. Lick.” Miranda began lapping her mistress’s clitoris, slow at first with the tip of her tongue, but as she looked up she saw her instructor throwing her head back in ecstasy, she sped up; anything to see her in pleasure.  Then with one free hand she took a chance and inserted a finger into the countess’s vagina. When she didn’t stop her, she added another. In and out, fast then slow, the tip of her tongue then flat. She writhed and moaned on the table. 
Miranda decided to try it herself and placed her other hand between her own legs. She was wet with blood and pleasurable anticipation; the warm fluids felt amazing. Her mistress’s hips rose as she began to get closer to her peak, then she let out a violent shriek as her body started convulsing. It was at the site of this that she rubbed her own clitoris faster and she too felt the eruption of pure pleasure. As she lifted her head from the sweet smell of her companion she said, “I can’t wait until my next lesson.”

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