The Confession of Alexa Connor (ff:bondage, 7546 words)
|Added: Jul 05 2012||Views / Reads: 11187 / 6857 [61%]||Story vote: 9.56 (16 votes)|
|A professional burglar is caught stealing a painting in the house of a wealthy heiress who proceeds to use her own methods to extract a confession.|
They were standing in the Countess' expansive drawing room. The light was dim, as if to emphasize the secrecy of their meeting. Heavy curtains were drawn against the darkness outside. A log fire was crackling in an imposing fireplace at the opposite end of the room.
"A true masterpiece," the Countess repeated. She was pacing slowly, her attention directed towards a tall circular table standing in the middle of the room on thin, elaborately decorated wooden legs. Poised obscenely on top of it was the sculpture of an oversize, erect phallus. It was carved in exquisite detail from a single piece of wood: a smooth glans proudly crowning a sinewy shaft of impressive girth. Its entire length was crisscrossed by a network of thin veins, accentuated sharply by the soft light of a table lamp caressing it from one side. It was carved with such skill that it positively appeared to be pulsating, as if caught in the throes of a violent orgasm.
Alexa was standing silently a few paces in retreat, her gaze following the countess as she attentively studied her new acquisition from all sides. The hardwood floor was creaking softly under her steps. For a moment she seemed oblivious to the presence of somebody else in the room. Then she looked up suddenly, as if some tangent thought had broken her concentration.
"Oh, of course. Your fee. But please, take a seat while I do the necessary," she said cordially.
Alexa followed her accross the room where an L-shaped leather couch and matching armchair were facing each other in front of the fireplace. She remained standing while the countess accessed a safe hidden behind a painting.
"In cash as promised," she said as she handed Alexa a stack of notes inside an envelope. "Can I offer you a drink? To celebrate our success?"
Without waiting for an answer she walked to the small bar where a lonely bottle of scotch was standing next to an acrylic ice cube bucket and three tumblers neatly arranged on a tray. She fixed two whiskey on the
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