Stephanie's Castle

by Susanna Hughes

  'Mr Devlin asks if you will join him for breakfast,' the man said in English flavoured with an Italian accent.

  He turned and walked up the stone steps and Stephanie followed, using the towel she had brought to dry her hair as she walked. On the other side of the small courtyard by the main doors was a small flight of steps up to a large open terrace, once again garlanded with flowers and terracotta pots, and tiled in what she imagined to be local ceramics. Here Devlin sat in front of a circular table laid for breakfast with white linen napery.

  'Good morning, my dear. The swim was a good idea, was it not?' Devlin rose and kissed her on both cheeks.

  'Wonderful. The water is so soft. It's like silk. And all the fish.'

  'Yes. Surprisingly they seem not to regard man as any threat.'

  A basket of croissants and brioches was set on the table with honey, jam, butter, a plate of sliced melon, and glasses of blood-red orange juice. A servant brought large cups of steaming espresso coffee. Stephanie ate with abandon as Devlin watched. Now, she thought, would be a good time for some of the questions that had crowded into her mind last night.

  'Our chef makes the croissants. He tells me it is quite an art.'

  'They're delicious.' And they were.

  'I hope you didn't mind me leaving you this morning. There were one or two calls I had to make.' He looked genuinely concerned that she might say yes, she minded a lot.

  'You didn't wake me,' she said instead.

  'Good.'

  'There's something I wanted to ask you, Devlin,' she said, taking the bull by the horns.

  'Anything.'

  'Your private plane...'

  'Oh yes. I understand you had a good look round.'

  'I'm not stupid enough to believe you weren't told exactly what happened.'

  'I was.'

  There was a pause as though that was all there was to be said on the subject. But Stephanie had no intention of leaving it there.

  'Who was he?' she said, getting to the point.

  Devlin smiled broadly but did not reply.

  'Is he here on the island now?'

  'My dear, I wanted to give you the best possible weekend you could imagine. One of my staff thought that the plane could carry another passenger. It was not part of my plan. If you'd remained in the cabin, of course, you would have been none the wiser...'

  'But I didn't.'

  'No.'

  'Your stewardess used the expression "on punishment". What did that mean?'

  'You don't miss much, do you?' Devlin sighed. 'Why don't you just forget it? Let's enjoy our weekend together.'

  Stephanie looked Devlin in the eyes. 'I want to know,' she said firmly but quietly.

  'It is a very delicate matter.'

  'I can be discreet.'

  'You may be shocked.'

  She smiled broadly. 'I thought I'd convinced you last night that I am not easily shocked.'

  'Well, you'd better see it all for yourself then. If that's what you want.'

  'It's what I want,' she said emphatically.

  'As soon as we've finished breakfast, then,' Devlin conceded. There was no arguing with the determination in Stephanie's voice.

  Stephanie drank her coffee slowly. She was in no hurry. She had won her point. Devlin looked distinctly uneasy about revealing whatever secret the castle held but she knew he was committed now and would not go back on his word. The sun was getting hotter and it felt strong on her face. She pulled off the robe and let the sun dry her swimming costume as she saw Devlin's eyes moving over her body, no doubt remembering the glories of last night.

  She chose a thin white suspender belt, matching bra and lacy French knickers with sheer white stockings. Over this she wore a silk dress in creamy white that buttoned down the front, and white shoes with heels not quite as high as those she had worn last night. She brushed out her long black hair and then pinned it up rather severely. As she had a long neck and good, firm chin, the absence of hair falling to her shoulders always somehow made her look taller and more in control.

  She joined Devlin in the sitting room where, in one corner, he had a large desk and shelves and cabinets of papers and books.

  'Ready,' she said smiling.

  'I've never seen you with your hair up,' he commented.

  'Well?'

  'I like it.'

  'A lot?'

  'Yes.'

  He got up from the desk and led her by the arm out into the marble lobby. Beside the main staircase Devlin pulled aside the corner of a large modern tapestry, draped over much of the wall, to reveal a small thick wooden door which he unlocked with a key from his key-chain. Behind the door Stephanie felt a rush of cool air and saw a flight of steep winding stone steps leading down into the cellars of the castle. She shivered slightly.

  'Be careful,' Devlin warned.

  He indicated a thick rope looped to the wall along the length of the stairs before leading the way down. She grasped the rope and started down after him, wishing she'd worn the flatter heels. The steps were narrow, the stone worn away by centuries of use. They led to a broad, vaulted brick chamber lined on all sides with racks of wine. Devlin made no comment. Stephanie knew little about wine except that this amount must represent a considerable investment in financial terms.

  Devlin was standing at the far end of the long chamber now, in front of another strong-looking wooden door set into the stone wall.

  'Are you sure you want to know?' he asked, though he knew what her answer would be.

  'Yes,' she said immediately. 'Don't look so worried. I'm a big girl.' She patted him gently on the cheek.

  Devlin rapped twice on the door. After a moment Stephanie heard a lock turn and the door swung open. A man stood in the doorway dressed for all the world like a medieval executioner: black tights, black tunic, black boots. All that was missing was a black hood. He was a big man with the physique of an all-in wrestler.

  'This is Bruno. He's a mute, so I'm afraid he can't say hello.'

  'He's clearly not a fashion victim.'

  'Oh, I dress him like that for my amusement. Just a little joke.'

  Bruno stood aside and Stephanie followed Devlin through the door.

  'Bruno's father used to work here in the castle before I acquired it. And his father before that. Actually I don't think Bruno has ever been to the mainland.'

  Again they were in a brick-vaulted chamber but this one had been divided into a long corridor with small cells running down both sides. All the cell doors were the same size, all contained circular peepholes that could be opened and closed and all were numbered. These may have been the castle's original dungeons but they had been renovated and remodelled in modern times.

  Devlin opened the peephole to the cell marked with the number five.

  'I believe you've already met this gentleman.'

  Stephanie gazed through the door. Sitting on the floor in the little cell was the man in the mask. He was naked except for the same hard black leather pouch that the men had worn last night and a thin chain around his neck bearing a metal disc engraved with the name Clive. Around one of his ankles a steel cuff was attached to a chain that was in turn locked to a ring in the stone floor. Seeing the peephole open, Clive stared at the door as though expecting something to happen.

  'The names are entirely fictitious,' Devlin explained. 'Now the others...'

  They went to each cell in turn, opening the peepholes. Behind each Stephanie saw the same sight: a man or a woman, chained by one ankle, the men in the hard leather pouches, the women naked, all wearing a disc bearing their Christian name around their necks. Each looked up at the door as they saw the peephole open, some apprehensively, some apathetically. Two of the men Stephanie recognised immediately. They were the men Devlin had used last night, though they had not worn identity discs then.

  Stephanie's astonishment was complete. Whatever she had imagined was happening at the castle since she'd seen the man in the mask, it was not this. For a moment she couldn't think which
question to ask first. She looked at Devlin. He was clearly excited, his eyes sparkling and alert, at showing off his 'collection'.

  'Do you want to know more?' he asked. He would have been disappointed if she had said no.

  'Of course...'

  'These...' he hesitated, trying to avoid using the word 'slaves', '...people were all employees of my various companies. They were caught with their hand in the till, so to speak. I offered them a simple choice. To come here to the castle and perform certain services or to be handed over to the police.'

  'What services?'

  'During the day, cleaning, gardening, domestic work...'

  'And at night?'

  Devlin smiled broadly. 'With a business the size of mine I have many friends, acquaintances, colleagues. I can sympathise with people who have special sexual needs, as I'm sure you understand. I have organised this castle to meet their needs. They, in turn, can be very helpful to me and to my business. Needless to say, because of the position of my...' this time he didn't hesitate, '...slaves, I can guarantee their complete discretion. None of them would dare breathe a word of what goes on here.'

  'How long do you keep them here?'

  'I try to make the punishment fit the crime. Usually six months is the maximum. After that exhaustion sets in.'

  'So the man in the mask? He's one of your slaves?'

  'Yes and no. He is a slave now certainly but that is his choice. That is his fantasy, his need if you like. The mask is to protect his identity. He's quite a well-known figure. Even my slaves might be tempted to go to the tabloids...'

  'How intriguing.'

  'Apparently your treatment on the plane gave him considerable... eh... pleasure. I think you can say he now owes me a very large favour.' Devlin was grinning broadly. He turned to Bruno, who stood impassively, his arms crossed over his muscular chest. Devlin ordered him to bring champagne which he did at once, much to Stephanie's relief. She definitely needed a drink after all this. Sipping at the Dom Perignon from the tall crystal flute, she could not help but feel a sense of excitement. It was like being in the middle of a fascinating sexual dream except, quite clearly, this was not a dream.

  It was not long since all this would have come as a shock to Stephanie. But that was before she had embarked on a voyage of sexual discovery. She had become fascinated with sex, bought books on every aspect of sexual behaviour and found that a great deal of what she read had turned her on. That had led her into the affair with Martin who had given her experience of what she had read. It had turned her on more than she would have believed possible; it had created a whole new dimension for her. Now she stood in the middle of a whole world of sex created by Devlin, more, she suspected, at least at first, for his own gratification than for so-called 'business' reasons. Of course, in the event it was no doubt extremely beneficial to his interests, having powerful, influential men not only in his debt for sexual favours they would find it difficult to obtain elsewhere, but trusting him enough to let him into their secrets. No wonder Devlin had all this. She took another large swig of the champagne.

  'Perhaps we should have a practical demonstration?' She could hear the excitement in his voice, hoping she would say yes but too timid to insist.

  'I thought you'd never ask.' Stephanie wanted to make him feel at ease, wanted him to know she had taken this whole experience in her stride. His diffidence towards her was unnecessary. She was committed.

  Devlin walked up to cell number eight. Bruno took a key from his belt and at a sign from his master unlocked the door. Stephanie followed Devlin into the cell, handing Bruno her empty champagne flute as she did so.

  'You see we cater for all tastes.' Devlin said.

  The woman in the cell was fat, but in a strange way the fat was not disproportionate to her body. It was the sort of body that Rodin painted, large fleshy tits with big nipples and brown areola, a round plump arse with dimpled cheeks and a round fleshy navel. The flesh was not lined or sagging. It was firm with a bloom on it like a fresh peach. Like all the female slaves the woman was completely naked except for the disc which announced her name as Dolly. Immediately the cell door opened the woman assumed a kneeling position, her head bowed forward. In this position her large tits rested on top of her thighs.

  'The rule of the house is that all slaves must obey without question. You are a thief, aren't you, Dolly?'

  'Yes, master.' The woman did not raise her head to answer the question.

  'She is remarkably attractive, don't you think? Considering her size.'

  That was exactly what Stephanie thought. In fact she could not take her eyes off the woman's body. In her mind's eye she could see herself lapping at those huge tits or burying her head in between her ample thighs to get at her clitoris. She realised she was squirming slightly, rubbing her thighs together almost without realising she was doing it.

  'What shall we do with her?' Devlin was stroking the woman's hair now, very much as one would stroke a favourite pet. It was cut short and streaked with blonde highlights. 'What shall we do with you, Dolly?'

  'Can I make a suggestion?' Stephanie said boldly.

  'Of course...'

  'I'd like to see her with Bruno.'

  'Oh no.' Devlin chuckled. 'I'm afraid Bruno had an unfortunate accident some years ago which, shall we say, left him disinterested in these proceedings. That's why he's so useful to me down here. We could always have him whip her, of course.'

  'No, master, please no.' There was real fear in the woman's voice.

  'Why don't you suck me then?' Devlin said.

  The woman looked up for the first time. She had blue-grey eyes and looked pleased to have avoided a whipping as she unzipped the front of Devlin's slacks. His penis was flaccid. She disentangled it from the front of his boxer shorts and slipped it into her mouth.

  'Some are more cooperative than others. Dolly is exceptionally docile. Bruno has only had to deal with her twice. Hasn't he?' The woman nodded, trying not to let his cock slip from her mouth in the process. His cock was still flaccid. Stephanie watched as the woman worked away on it, sucking, licking, doing everything she knew to try to make him hard. But none of it worked. Devlin was looking at Stephanie now, that same look he had used last night. For some reason he was not prepared to ask her for what he wanted but that did not diminish his need.

  Stephanie unbuttoned the silk dress and stepped out of it. She pulled the stockings taut, one after the other, before slipping her fingers under the loose crotch of the French knickers and along her labia. As she had imagined it would be, her cunt was already moist. Hooking her thumbs into the waist of the knickers she drew them down to her ankles and stepped out of them. She picked them up from the floor. The crotch was damp. She took it over to Devlin and held it against his face.

  'This is what you do to me.'

  'Really?' He inhaled the fragrance of her body as he felt the warm silk on his face. Stephanie looked down to see his cock pulse and swell in the woman's mouth.

  'Devlin,' she whispered, making sure he could feel her hot breath in his ear, 'I want her. I want you to watch. I want you to see me with her.'

  His penis grew again. Dolly worked it in and out of her mouth. Stephanie could see it was wet with her saliva. The ample flesh of Dolly's body quivered as she moved.

  In the corner of the cell was a plain wooden bed with a thin mattress. Stephanie got up and lay on the bed, bending her knees and opening her legs, the white stockings emphasising her nakedness above the thighs. She stroked her clitoris with her finger. She knew what she was going to say next and she knew it would arouse her in the saying.

  'Come and sit on my face.' She wanked her clitoris and slipped two fingers into her cunt, feeling a flush of sexual excitement. Dolly stood up and came over to the bed. Devlin watched as she positioned herself, knees on either side of Stephanie's body, and then lowered her round fleshy arse on to Stephanie's face. Suddenly Stephanie was surrounded by flesh, soft, warm, jelly-like flesh. She reached up with her hands to claw
at the mammoth tits that rested on her naval as Dolly lent forward, uninvited but not unwelcome, to gobble at Stephanie's cunt. Stephanie's fingers found the nipples and pinched at them viciously as her tongue found, buried deep in the layers of flesh, the long clitoris of Dolly's cunt.

  Stephanie felt she was drowning in flesh. On top of her were acres of flesh pressing into her body. It was an exquisite sensual experience, especially as Dolly's tongue and mouth were expertly manipulating her cunt, the tongue flicking at her clitoris while her arms wrapped themselves around Stephanie's thighs so the fingers of both her hands could play with her cunt too. Stephanie felt four fingers, two from each hand, pushing into her. Instead of going deep, however, they tried to widen Stephanie's cunt, to pull it apart, like opening a drawstring bag. This was an entirely new sensation for Stephanie. Perhaps because of Devlin's size she was particularly sensitive in this area but she found herself coming almost at once, and coming with a special intensity.

  She tried to return the compliment, but with Dolly bent forward it was hard to get to her cunt. Then it occurred to her that there was no need. She was there to give Stephanie pleasure. Her own was immaterial. There was no necessity for Stephanie to reciprocate. The thought struck her with the same force as a physical attack. Devlin had given her the power over this woman and it was the thought of this power that, she knew, made her come in Dolly's mouth, just as much as the urgings of fingers and tongues.

  She pushed Dolly off her and gulped in air. Then she looked around to see Devlin standing by the bed wanking at his huge erection. She remembered her amazement when she had seen him do it before in London. A normal cock would have been engulfed by his huge hand. But Devlin's cock protruded from his clenched fist as he wanked it up and down.

  'I want to see her suck you off, Devlin.' Stephanie almost did not recognise the sound of her own voice. It was harsh and wilful, but it was a sound that perfectly reflected her mood. It was the sound of authority. She was in charge here now.

  Dolly crawled over to Devlin's cock and sunk it into her mouth.

  'I want it deeper,' Stephanie insisted, knowing full well there was no way anyone could take the whole of Devlin's cock into her mouth or cunt. But Dolly tried and it slipped in another inch. 'Give her your spunk, Devlin. I want to see it.' Stephanie barked out the command. 'Do it, Devlin.'