Femdom Fantasies

(Continuation of “The Mark of Excellence” and “Whimsy”)

by Arafin © 2008

Catalina had long known about her grandmother’s mansion in Tuscany. Although she had never visited it she knew from the photographs sent to her by the caretaker what a beautiful structure it was, and the reputation of the area was widely known. Many people would have given their eye teeth to live there. With the full onset of winter now bearing down upon the ranch there was little to do outside and she noticed that Rowdy was becoming restless. Perhaps now was the right time for that little vacation she had been planning?

It was easy enough to convince Rowdy that northern Italy was where he wanted to be right now. A few long-standing triggers here and there, a few new suggestions about how much fun it would be, and that smile of hers, against which he was totally defenseless. The time that elapsed between his initial objections and his enthusiastic agreement could have been no more than three minutes. Clothes were chosen and bags were packed. Care for her horses was arranged and flights booked. As they bounced down the icy dirt road towards town she turned to look at him and smiled to herself as she noticed his obvious eagerness to continue pleasing her. They ditched the old Jeep in town behind the gas station and caught the bus into the local airport and an hour and a half later they were in the city.

They spent that night in a hotel by the airport and she worked her magic on him and she always had, a gentle smirk here, a stroke of her finger against his cheek, the soft whispers which rendered him totally helpless, and then the earth shaking sex. Rowdy was a goner and he knew it, but he just didn’t care. Why would he? This was paradise most men would die for. Tangled together like two vines they drifted asleep and woke to a crisp, clear morning with not a cloud in the sky.

He bathed her with loving tenderness as he did every morning, patting her silky skin dry with a soft, warm towel and then rubbing in just the right amount of that French moisturizer she swore by. Although his hands were rough from a lifetime of working outside the gentleness of his touch was beyond measure. He treated her with his hands as if he was praying to a deity. To him she was a goddess, his reason to live, his reason to serve. As they dressed she coyly inquired if he still wanted to go. She was teasing, of course, and knew what his answer would be, but she loved to do this, to test the bonds which she had tied so expertly around his mind. Rowdy vigorously answered in the affirmative that he not only wanted to go to Tuscany but had wanted to go there all his life. Catalina almost laughed. Before yesterday afternoon he had never even heard of Tuscany.

They chatted on the flight about little things of no importance and played games by watching the other people on the plane and betting on their actions. There was a young couple across the aisle from them, perhaps newlyweds, perhaps just very intimate friends. Their affection for each other was obvious. Every once in awhile the young girl would offer a knowing nod to Catalina and Catalina would return the gesture with a nod of her own or smile. The unspoken language between two beautiful women who knew how to get what they wanted from their men and leave the men with the complete faith that that’s what they wanted, too. As the plane finally touched down in Turin, Rowdy was staring out the window at the unfamiliar landscape like a little boy agape with awe on his first trip away from home.

Leonardo, the old caretaker, had dutifully driven all the way in to meet them. He spoke not one word of English and Rowdy spoke not one word of Italian so Catalina translated the greetings between them. Of course, she spoke fluent Italian and could affect the local dialect as if she had lived here all her life. Back on the ranch she had looked as if she had been born a cowgirl on the range, but here she looked as if she had been ever the sophisticated lady of means. The drive from the airport to her grandmother’s mansion was a happy mixture of local gossip offered from Leonardo, affectionate thanks from Catalina, and laid-back country humor from Rowdy, which Leonardo seemed to understand perfectly. They had both grown up working the land and so had that common ground between them.

The mansion was just as she had seen it in the pictures. It was an absolutely gorgeous seventeenth century estate house with long stables in the back and several cottages for various servants here and there. An oval pond stood directly in front of the house upon which a small flock of black ducks paddled and quacked and nibbled at water bugs. Long vines swirled around the pillars in the front of the house, now bereft of their leaves, yet showing a lovely reddish-brown color which seemed to go perfectly against the light orange stone. High arched windows with too many panes to count and the grandest front door for miles around, carved by hand from ancient oak, fitted with massive bronze hinges, and decorated with copper inlay which had long ago turned a delicious shade of green. Leonardo bid them enter and held the door open for them, actually bowing as they passed. Rowdy found this amusing. No one had ever bowed to him before. For Catalina, to be the recipient of such respect was common.

Although the air outside was chill and crisp for this locale it seemed balmy when coming from the high plains next to the Rocky Mountains in the dead of winter. Leonardo introduced them to Sylvia the young maid. Sylvia spoke a little English and proudly explained that she had set a fire in the living room. Back on the ranch this weather would not have been cold enough for a fire but here it was not at all unusual. The house had long ago been modernized and had radiant heating in the floors, but the black walnut logs crackling amidst yellow fingers of flame was a welcome sight. Sylvia offered to prepare some supper immediately though Catalina quickly explained in Italian that she and Rowdy wished to have some time to relax alone, and with the little grin she added at the end the young maid easily understood what had been meant by “relax”. Leonardo had not been so quick on the uptake and it required a tug on the elbow from Sylvia to shepherd him from the room.

They both stood in front of the fire for a moment and admired this beautiful setting. Catalina was used to such elegance but to Rowdy it was grander than anything he had ever seen and it made him a bit uncomfortable. Turning to look at the picture of her grandmother over the fireplace, Catalina slowly began to undress. Although he had seen her do this more times than he could count, to witness her disrobing with others so nearby, as well as in a strange location, had his mind boiling in seconds. She noticed this, in fact she expected and wanted it. It was part of the game. When nothing was left but her lace panties and thigh high velvet boots she carelessly shuffled the discarded clothes across the slippery floor with her foot, turned directly to face the fire, and then threw a challenging glance back across her right shoulder at the bedazzled cowboy. He knew that look and in an instant began shucking off his clothes as if they were painful to wear.

“Do you see this picture? This was my grandmother. Her name was Catalina, too, and as you can see she used to play music. It was said that her voice was that of a nightingale and could bewitch any man in seconds. I only met her once when I was very young when she visited my mother in New York. We spent an entire afternoon chatting and she taught me many things. Would you like to see some of the things she taught me?”

And with that Catalina smiled at Rowdy with that little mischievous look of hers that let him know he was about to embark on yet another deep and wonderful journey into the mysterious pleasures of her exquisite imagination. As the heat of the fire lapped against their bronze skin she slowly, ever so slowly, drew the back of her right index finger laterally across his chest, the nail leaving a faint red line like that one might make on the map of an expedition one intended to take. Rowdy’s mind raced a little harder, a little faster, and then her whisper met his ears. That one word, a mere hush of breath, almost a kiss, ………. and he was gone.

Just outside the door Leonardo and Sylvia bent to share glimpses through the keyhole and strained to listen. Things were beginning to get interesting and both the old caretaker and the young maid began to recall the local tales of the sorceress who had built this place and the spells she had woven.