3 Works in Conrad Veidt

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    Summary

    Within the mirrored hallways, upon the chequered floors and amidst the Rococo furniture of his pleasure-palace, Baron Kurt von Kolb teaches his 17-year-old fiancée, Lady Ursula, everything she must know about the perversions of a true aristocrat.

    She'd thought she'd feel a princess the day he finally took her to his castle, but instead of the sumptuous dinner she'd been expecting, he had but led her to a marble bathroom and presented her with razor and enema syringe instead. So that her sex would be bare for his pleasure, he'd said; so that he would be able to see and touch and taste everything, he'd said; so that she would be clean for him tonight when he'd take her more deeply, more completely, more thoroughly than she'd ever been taken before, he'd said.

    ***

    He runs the spur of his jackboot up her breastbone, dipping it into the hollow of her throat.

    "Good girl," he purrs, smirking through his monocle. "You did not flinch once."

    "Thank you, sir," she says, squeezing her shivering hands into fists, proud of her self-control.

    For now, she rests in a state of complete nakedness at his feet, he towering over her in his uniform as she lies there upon his drawing room floor.

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    Even if he's the one wearing the dress--a beautiful, white silk dress and silk stockings, with smooth-shaven legs underneath--Connie's the one who's ended up on top tonight. And very literally so: now, Connie is straddling Baz, kissing him, grinding into him, hard underneath his dress; determined, he is pressing Baz's wrists into the bed and won't let him move.

    All of this had happened naturally, somehow; inevitably. The moment Baz had shown up looking gloomy and tense--well. Connie had taken one look at him and had known that tonight, he needed to take charge, needed to undo that stupid anguish of his, those knots in his being.

    Even if it's but subconscious, both of them know that tonight's the night: tonight, Connie will finally take him. He wants Baz so much he isn't going to be satisfied with just taking the female role this time--well, depending on the female. For Connie is now also the woman who takes, the maneater, and Baz cannot help but think of the firm command with which Marlene had taken him to her bed.

    Therefore, after a little tumble upon the bed, it just so happens that Connie throws Baz face down upon the bed, yanks up his hips and buries his tongue in his arse.

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    Now, Connie leans onto his right side a little, moving Baz's legs, guiding him into a sideways position, face to face. "How does that feel?" he asks.

    Baz is not sure if he can come like this, but he's not sure if that's even Connie's intent; however, when he decides to wrap his right leg around Connie's waist, something happens inside of his hips and his eyes roll back in his head. He freezes, shuddering; Connie decides to try for a slow thrust, and now all Baz can see is white, all the hair on his body standing on end.

    "That's very good," Connie drawls, and just keeps going, calm and easy and slow and sweet, even if Baz is going to utter pieces around him. Now, Connie can deliver only the shortest of thrusts; yet the tightness, the heaviness, the pressure against Baz's prostate is incredible. Baz can only hang on for dear life, his mouth gaping open wide; all of him is open wide, open, open for Connie to fill again and again and he loves this ridiculous gangly German bastard and he wants to weep.

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