Stephanie's Castle

by Susanna Hughes

  'Hold his cock.' Susie obeyed at once, obviously having decided that Devlin's instructions in relation to Stephanie overrode any other considerations. Stephanie resumed her position, pushing backward on to the man. She felt Susie's hand on his cock and felt her guiding it into her still-wet cunt.

  'Now my clitoris,' she said. The thrill of being able to order a woman to do something so intimate practically brought her off at once. She managed to restrain herself because she wanted to feel his spunk inside her and let that make her come.

  Susie's touch on her clitoris was perfect. The man's cock felt even bigger now. She could feel it swell. She knew he was going to come and she knew her orgasm was there too. As she felt the first hot jets of spunk spray into her cunt her whole body shook with her climax, making her scream with pleasure and grind her body further back on to the man to get him just that inch deeper so she could finish with it there, as deep as it would go.

  Stephanie didn't want to move, but when she felt his cock slip out of her she straightened up.

  'Is there a bathroom?'

  Susie nodded and, collecting Stephanie's clothes, led the way back into the main cabin. There, set in the forward bulkhead, was a complete bathroom with a powerful shower, bidet, toilet and every possible toiletry from shampoo to perfume, all recessed in custom-built mirrored cupboards.

  'We'll be landing in fifteen minutes, madam,' Susie said, emphasising the madam as if to confirm Stephanie's authority. But Stephanie was not finished with her new-found power. She had had another idea.

  'Wash me please.' She indicated her suspenders with a nod of her head and immediately Susie unclipped them and rolled the stockings off as Stephanie raised each leg in turn. Then Susie unclipped the suspender belt and ran the shower.

  'When the temperature was to her satisfaction Stephanie stepped into the warm water. The shower was strong and pummelled her body, making her feel fresh and clean again. Susie took the soap and washed her back, hesitating for a moment only when she came to the front, waiting, perhaps, for Stephanie's approval which was given with a nod of her head. For a moment Stephanie considered ordering Susie to perform a more personal service but at this stage she decided she did not want to over-indulge herself and settled for letting Susie wash and dry her, and help her back into her clothes. With this amount of luxury, over-indulgence was something she would have to be careful to avoid.

  Back in the main cabin, fully dressed again, Stephanie felt refreshed.

  'Who is that man?' she asked Susie.

  'I don't know, madam.'

  'Is he going to the lake?'

  'Yes, madam.'

  'What will happen to him there?'

  'I don't know madam.'

  Susie clearly knew more than she was prepared to say but Stephanie thought it was pointless to ask further questions. She ordered a small glass of champagne which she sipped as the plane banked and came into land. How much of what had happened on the flight had been planned by Devlin in advance she did not know and, she had to admit to herself, she did not care. The experience in itself was enough.

  Chapter Three

  As the plane taxied to a halt on what was obviously a private landing strip Stephanie could see a large black Mercedes waiting on the tarmac. The plane came to rest near the car, the pilot shut down the engines and Susie opened the exterior door and deployed the landing steps built into the fuselage of the plane.

  'I hope you had a pleasant flight, madam,' Susie said mechanically without looking directly into Stephanie's yes. Stephanie said nothing in reply, stepping out into the balmy heat of an Italian evening.

  The uniformed chauffeur held the back door of the car open for her and Stephanie climbed in and watched as Susie handed the driver her case.

  At the back of the plane a van had driven up and parked and Stephanie saw two men manhandling a large coffin-shaped crate off the plane. Susie went over to supervise. Obviously the other 'passenger' was not going to have quite as comfortable a ride to the castle.

  It took only five minutes to drive to the lake. It was only as they arrived at a large wooden jetty that Stephanie realised there had been no passport control or customs at the airstrip where they had landed. Either they had entered illegally or Devlin was a very influential man in Italy. What looked like a brand new motorboat, in highly polished wood and brass, waited at the jetty. Stephanie was guided on to the back transom and immediately the engines were fired and the boat glided away from the moorings. Then the engines were opened up and the boat surged forward cutting a huge swathe through the calm water and leaving a vast foaming white wake to mark its passage.

  The sun was setting now. Whether this was part of Devlin's plan too Stephanie did not know, but the view from her seat was one of the most breathtaking she had ever seen. She could see the castle on an island in the middle of the lake and behind it the sun setting in a fire of gold and orange. A flock of birds, disturbed by the noise of the engines, took to flight, flying out towards the sun, black silhouettes against the light.

  With the power of the engines it took only a few minutes to cover the two or three miles to the castle. Stephanie thought she saw a glint of binoculars as they approached, a servant perhaps, going to alert Devlin that the boat was on its way. And sure enough as they approached an ancient wooden jetty built at the bottom of a long stone staircase leading up into the castle, a staircase overhung by bougainvillaea and jasmine, she saw Devlin standing at the mooring, smiling energetically.

  'Welcome, welcome!' he shouted as the boatman glided the boat into the rubber buffers and jumped ashore to moor the boat fore and aft.

  He put out his hand to help her from the boat and she took it. The boat rocked slightly as she stepped on to the jetty. Seeing her hand in his again immediately sent a whole panoply of thrills racing through her. She remembered his huge fingers, each individually the size of a banana, the whole hand resembling an American baseball catcher's mit, but had thought perhaps her recollection had exaggerated their size. In fact, as she looked at them now, she realised her memory had added nothing to their dimensions. Her own hand was dwarfed by Devlin's: in his it looked like a small child's. The thought of what this hand, these fingers, would do to her later, and of what they had done in the past, made her feel a delicious shiver of anticipation.

  'I'm so glad you could accept my invitation. I hope all the arrangements were satisfactory,' Devlin was saying.

  'Everything was perfect, thank you.'

  He was as ugly as she remembered too. His huge bulbous nose veined with blue blood vessels dominated his face, his pock-marked skin like the surface of some strange planet.

  'I tried to think of everything.'

  'It's nice to see you again.' And Stephanie meant it. She hadn't been sure what her reaction to seeing him would be after their brief but intense affair in London. But she suddenly experienced a strange rush of affection for this man: whether it was because of the way she was being treated, like some Oriental princess, or something more profound she did not know.

  'I'll show you to your room and then we can eat. I think you'll enjoy the food. I've tried to make it special.'

  'Why me?' It slipped out. She had been determined not to ask that question.

  'The time we had together. You made a very great impression on me.'

  'You haven't made any attempt to see me since.'

  'I thought perhaps it was best to wait a while,' he said seriously, as though trying to make her believe it was something he had thought about at length. 'I can assure you I would like to see a great deal more of you in the future.'

  Questions crowded into her mind again but she decided to ignore them all. The boatman had untied the motorboat from the jetty and started to nose out into the lake, no doubt going back to pick up the other visitor. Devlin indicated the stone staircase and she walked ahead of him - it was too narrow for more than single file - smelling the fragrance of the flowers and looking back over the lake, as the boat cut through the still water again and the
sun finally set. Behind her Devlin followed, his eyes taking in her pinched ankles immaculately clad in the fully fashioned seamed stockings and soft Bally shoes he had chosen for her.

  They passed a small courtyard planted with orange trees and through two massive carved wooden doors into the anteroom of the castle. A vast marble staircase dominated this area, leading to a long gallery on the first floor. Everywhere Stephanie looked there were objects of beauty: hand-woven rugs on marbled floors, oil paintings, all modern and individually lit. The furniture - tables, chairs, little chests of drawers, a huge armoire, some antique, some modern - were works of art in themselves. Everything fitted perfectly against the grained stone walls of the castle.

  Devlin led her up the marble staircase and along the gallery until they reached a thick, polished oak door at the end of a short corridor.

  'This has the best view of the lake,' he said, leading her through the door.

  The room was like a suite in the world's most sumptuous hotel: walls lined in pale cream silk, a deep pile navy-blue carpet, two cream sofas, and an elaborate modern four-poster bed made from ash and curtained in white voile. A white lace counterpane covered cream silk sheets. There were flowers everywhere, all colour coordinated with the room in shades of white and cream occasionally dotted with blue. Off to one side Devlin showed her the bathroom of white marble equipped with a huge bath and powerful shower and amply supplied with every size of fluffy white towels and matching bathrobes, all neatly folded on heated towel rails.

  Devlin opened the french windows on to the terrace which ran the whole length of the bedroom. It was paved in terracotta tiles shaped into hexagons and furnished with loungers at one end and a table and chairs in white cast iron at the other. Here there were lemon trees in full fruit, individually planted in terracotta pots of the simplest design. On the castle wall honeysuckle and clematis, both dripping with heavily scented flowers, vied for position in the sun.

  Stephanie walked over to the parapet and looked out across the lake. Devlin was right: the view was magnificent. Below her she could see the jetty and the little courtyard in front of the main doors. She could see the lush vegetation that seemed to grow from every crevice of the castle to form a cascade of flowers and, in the distance, as the last light faded, the land on the edge of the lake disappearing into the mists of twilight. The scent of the flowers in the still of the early evening air was almost overpowering.

  Devlin stood by the bed as she came back into the bedroom from the terrace. He looked uneasy, as if trying to gauge whether he should approach her now or wait till after dinner. Stephanie kissed him lightly on his pock-marked cheek, having to stoop slightly as Devlin was not a tall man. Some men, in this situation, would have had no hesitation in claiming their prize.

  'This is so beautiful. Everything.' She unbuttoned the dress and stepped out of it, standing in front of him in the cream silk underwear and stockings, wanting to make a deliberate statement with her immodesty. He took her hand purposefully and she had the feeling he wanted to say something, something important to him and necessary, but at that moment there was a sharp knock on the door.

  'The luggage...' he said, looking crestfallen. He took the case from his servant, opening the door only a crack so there was no possibility that the man could glimpse the vision that stood by the bed. The mood had been broken.

  'Let me get changed,' Stephanie said.

  'Of course.'

  'We have all night.'

  'You are a very beautiful woman. I thought so the moment I saw you that night in London.'

  'Thank you. You make me feel very special.'

  'Do I?'

  'Of course you do, Devlin,' she smiled.

  He walked over to the bedroom door.

  'If you want to...' She was about to finish the sentence when she hesitated. She would actually have loved him to come over to her now, push her knickers aside and cram one of his massive fingers into her cunt so she could have that unique feeling once again.

  'No, you're right. We have all night,' she said, trying to convince herself.

  'So come down when you're ready.' He left her alone in the room.

  Stephanie stripped off her underwear and showered again. She took the black lacy basque out of the case and clipped it on to her slim body. This was the surprise for Devlin she had bought yesterday, after trying almost everything in the lingerie shop. She knew she looked at her most sexy in a basque. It accentuated her small waist, firm tits and full hips and when she had clipped the sheer black stockings into place the thin black suspenders snaking out over her thighs made her long legs look even longer. At the back the tight black material above her waist emphasised her full round arse and, perhaps by contrast to the constriction above, made it look somehow more available. She picked up a pair of black high-cut knickers and was about to slide them over her ankles when she thought better of it.

  Knickers were superfluous to requirements tonight. She slipped her feet into her highest heels and stood looking at herself in one of the full length mirrors with which the room was well furnished. She watched her hand in the mirror, like the hand of a stranger, as it stroked the thick bush of her pubic hair, teasing out her clitoris for a second, producing the faintest thrill.

  As objectively as she could she assessed the reflection in the mirror. The tight black satin and lace basque hugged her body, the stockings shimmered, the band of flesh above them white in contrast and infinitely inviting. It was not possible for her to look more sexually aware, she thought. And her body was alive, sexually alive, in a way she had never experienced before. After what had happened on the plane, after having fucked a man she had never met and whose face she had not seen, it was not surprising. But it was more than that. She was removed from reality, here in this lush medieval paradise. There was nothing to do, nothing to think about, but her sexuality. She felt like an animal must feel. Everything else stripped away but her body and her feelings.

  She turned from the mirror and slipped into the strapless black evening dress provided by Devlin. Her cleavage, well supported by the bra of the basque, pushed up and together, formed a long dark tunnel between her breasts. She had no need to shadow it with blusher. She turned to her make-up. In a few seconds she applied mascara, lipstick, eye shadow, making sure it was all heavier, bolder than she would normally have used. She wanted to look like a whore. An expensive whore, certainly, but a whore nevertheless. That idea excited her: she was going to enjoy playing her part tonight.

  The dining room was lit with candles. A sheet of one-inch-thick glass supported on pedestals of polished steel provided a dining table quite big enough to seat twenty or more people. Two places had been laid at the end closest to the fireplace where a fire of apple logs produced its unique heady fragrance. Devlin stood by the fire, gazing into its depths, as Stephanie walked in. He was smartly dressed in a suit and tie but there was something about Devlin that made even the best tailored clothes look slightly scruffy.

  'Enchanting, my dear. Simply enchanting,' he said. His voice was deep and rich, certainly his most attractive feature.

  'This was your choice?' she said indicating the dress.

  'Yes.'

  'You have very good taste.'

  A servant appeared and poured Stephanie a glass of champagne from a bottle sitting in a silver cooler on one of the many coffee tables. He wore a white linen jacket with gold-braided epaulettes. The tall crystal flute he handed her was edged with gold. Devlin picked his glass from the mantelshelf and clinked it against the side of hers.

  'To our weekend.'

  'To our weekend,' she repeated, looking straight into his eyes.

  'The castle gets cold in the evening even in the summer. Such thick walls, the heat never gets through.'

  'The fire is perfect.'

  'We'll eat. You must be hungry after all your... exertions.' He hesitated before using the word as though wanting to make sure he chose one with the right connotations. Stephanie wondered if he had received a repor
t of her activities on the plane. She was sure Susie would be anxious to tell all.

  Taking her hand Devlin guided her to the table, kissing her hand before they sat down. In front of her she recognised the distinctive pattern of Georg Jensen silverware, and the delicacy of the finest bone china. Almost instantly a waiter served wine and sparkling water. Devlin tasted the wine fastidiously but his eyes never left Stephanie, seemingly studying every detail anew, though often probing the dark shadow of cleavage resting above the black silk of the evening dress.

  It was a remarkable meal. Delicate sea-bass, followed by baby lamb - a specialty of the region according to Devlin - and a simple salad. Wonderful tastes but not filling. They chatted amiably, enjoying each other's company again as they had done in London. Devlin's range of interests and knowledge was wide, his conversation witty and amusing.

  'Would you mind if I skipped dessert?' Stephanie asked.

  'Not at all, my dear. Coffee?'

  'Espresso?'

  'We are in Italy.'

  She declined the offer to move to the sitting room for the coffee, preferring instead the intimacy of being eye to eye and elbow to elbow with Devlin at the table. The waiter brought cups of strong espresso coffee and a small silver platter of petits fours. Stephanie had the impression that Devlin was nervous. Despite all his money, all his obvious power and influence, he was still unsure of how to broach the subject of sex. Fortunately Stephanie had no such inhibitions. She was enjoying herself too much for that. This was a game she was delighted to play.

  'I would like to take you to my bed now,' she said, moving her leg against his under the table.

  'I would like that very much.'