Stephanie's Castle

by Susanna Hughes

  The speedboat glided gently into the jetty, the boatman expertly using the throttles to bring it smoothly alongside the rubber tyres hanging down into the water from the mooring. He cut the engines and jumped ashore to moor the boat forward and aft by brightly polished chrome cleats set in the varnished wood. Devlin stood up. He was smiling broadly, obviously delighted that Stephanie had come to greet him, his air of anxiety dissipated, she felt, but by no means vanished. As the boatman helped him ashore he turned to introduce the other man in the boat who had not taken his eyes off Stephanie, as far as she could tell, from the moment she had come into view.

  'My dear, I'd like you to meet my associate Giancarlo Gianni.'

  Gianni stepped from the boat on to the jetty. Stephanie offered her hand which he took in both of his and raised to his lips. As he pressed it to his mouth, she felt his fingers stroking her palm, almost as if trying to find a clitoris there. At the same time she felt his wet tongue dart out from between his lips to touch her hand too. She shook her hand free and did nothing to disguise her distaste. She would have rather been kissed by a three-toed sloth.

  'Devlin has told me so much about you,' Gianni said, apparently oblivious to her displeasure.

  'Has he?' She gave Devlin a sideways glance.

  'But you are more than he has said.' Gianni was a stereotype Italian: olive skin, dark brown eyes, thick black hair, not tall but slim. He was probably the same age as Devlin but looked younger. He was impeccably dressed from his Gucci loafers to his Rolex watch and silk Valentino tie. His voice was low and his fractured English heavy with his Italian accent. 'More lovelier.'

  'Lovely,' Devlin corrected. 'Shall we go in?'

  'My apologies, lady. I have not to practise my English lately.'

  'Don't apologise,' Stephanie replied with little sincerity. The two men waited for her to go up the narrow stone steps first. Walking ahead of them in the thin wrap she might as well have been nude. She could feel their eyes feasting on her long legs, her round firm arse and the long slit between her legs. It was not a feeling she disliked. She heard Gianni say something to Devlin in Italian. From the tone of his voice she was sure the remark concerned her body.

  On the main terrace the sun was not so fiercely hot. One side of the terrace was completely shaded by a giant hibiscus and the shade was welcome after the heat. Devlin ordered tea from one of the seemingly never-ending array of white-linen-coated servants and they sat at a table in the shade. Gianni sat opposite Stephanie. His eyes had not left her for a moment, dancing over her body, never quite sure where to rest or which part of her was most exciting. He looked, she thought, like a schoolboy in a sweet-shop, not sure of which of the goodies he should ogle over next. If she had to guess she would have said his gaze most often rested on the dark triangle of her pubis, thinly veiled by the wrap. His eyes were there now, staring intently as if trying to develop x-ray vision and see her naked cunt. He made no attempt to hide what he was doing, to look surreptitiously. Had he not been an obviously wealthy and sophisticated man she could well imagine him drooling from the corner of his mouth as he continued to stare.

  As Stephanie might have expected, the tea arrived in a silver service, with delicate German china cups and saucers. Devlin dismissed the servant and poured the tea himself. Only Stephanie took milk. Both men used lemon. Despite his huge hands Devlin seemed capable of remarkable dexterity, passing the small cups to his guests with no spillage, cups that in his hands looked like the tiniest doll's house crockery.

  Gianni watched as Stephanie sipped her tea. 'The English way?' he asked.

  'Sorry?' She had no idea what he was talking about.

  'With the milk. That is the English way?'

  'Yes. But we have lemon too.'

  'Gianni is an Anglophile...'

  'Obviously.'

  'I have an English car, Aston Martin. An English tailor, Huntsman. English sunglasses, Dunhill. English shoes, Lockes. And I have many, many English women.' He laughed, dropping his gaze from her face to her breasts, wanting her to know that was where he was looking, wanting to get a reaction. He was disappointed.

  'Aren't you the lucky one,' she said coolly.

  'They, I would rather say, are the lucky ones.' He smiled broadly, pleased at his own remark.

  'Really. Well, that's a matter of opinion.' Stephanie was developing a rapid dislike for this man. From the moment he stepped ashore her instinctive reaction was distaste, which was hardening into a very definite dislike. She had never liked arrogance in men. Gianni clearly thought his charm was quite irresistible and that any woman should be grateful to be graced by his presence.

  'I'm English-crazee,' he continued. Stephanie tried to look bored.

  'Even his meat is flown in from England,' Devlin volunteered.

  Stephanie laughed, startling both men. She had no intention of being a piece of 'meat' for Gianni, if that was what Devlin had in mind. If he had come to the castle to experience the delights of the cellars, to have Devlin organise whatever sexual scenario he had in mind, in exchange for a quid pro quo to relieve the problem that had come up this morning, that was up to Devlin. But she had no intention of joining in. Not with Gianni.

  'I think I'll go and change, Devlin.'

  'But you look so elegant like this,' Gianni said at once.

  'Have another cup of tea first.' Devlin took her cup. 'Gianni is right. You look wonderful.'

  Gianni reached forward in his chair and put his hand on hers. She pulled her hand away. He put his hand on her knee. She looked down on it as if it were some fat slug.

  'Do you mind?'

  'Your flesh is so soft.'

  'I prefer not to be pawed.'

  He took his hand away reluctantly.

  Stephanie gave Devlin the dirtiest look she could muster. Gianni was beginning to annoy her now, and Devlin was not going to escape her wrath. Now that she understood Gianni's penchant for the English it was dawning on her why Devlin had brought this particular man over to the island this particular afternoon. It was no coincidence. No doubt if Stephanie cooperated, and she had, after all, cooperated with everything else he had suggested so far, Gianni would be in his debt. The way Devlin was deferring to Gianni with an obsequiousness she would not have thought he possessed seemed to confirm her theory.

  But she was not one of Devlin's slaves and had no intention of behaving like one. Devlin handed her another cup of tea. Quite deliberately she let the saucer slip through her fingers and it crashed down on to the unforgiving ceramic tiles where it smashed into a hundred pieces.

  'I didn't want another cup,' she said in her frostiest tone, being sure not to apologise for the breakage. 'I'm going to change.'

  She got to her feet. Both men did the same.

  'I look forward to seeing you in a moment,' Gianni said, smiling broadly. Clearly his skin was extremely thick.

  Stephanie walked into the castle. Obviously more sensitive than his guest, Devlin caught up with her at the foot of the stairs.

  'Is anything wrong?' Devlin asked solicitously.

  'Who is that awful man?'

  'You don't like him?'

  'I thought I'd made that pretty obvious.'

  Devlin looked genuinely disappointed, a look Stephanie had not seen before. For a moment his years fell away and he looked like a little boy who'd just been told his favourite dog had died.

  'He's a very important man to me at the moment. Very important.'

  'I gathered that by the way you've been fawning over him.'

  'I was hoping...'

  'That I'd provide some meat...'

  'That you might like each other. I can see he's crazy about you.'

  'Crazee,' she mimicked.

  Devlin still looked pathetic. She had clearly been right about his intentions.

  'There's at least two English girls downstairs, aren't there?' she said, trying to be helpful.

  'Yes.'

  'Devlin, you know I like you. But don't ask me this. Not with him. You can't say
I haven't been cooperative so far.'

  'Of course not. Forget it.'

  But he didn't make it sound very convincing. Stephanie turned on her heels and ran upstairs. When she reached the landing she looked down and saw that Gianni had come in and was talking animatedly to Devlin. It did not take a genius to guess at the subject of the conversation.

  Chapter Seven

  Back in her bedroom Stephanie fumed. The peace of this idyll had been rudely shattered by a boorishness of which she would not have believed Devlin capable. Up to now he had been charm itself, attending to her every wish. She had been only too happy to play his sexual games in return. But this was different. She was not a whore. If he had mistaken her compliance in his outlandish sexual games to mean that she was prepared to do anything in exchange for extravagant presents and lavish hospitality, he was sadly mistaken.

  She tore off the wrap, regretting that she ever wore it, and went into the bathroom to run a bath. She only just heard the timid knock on the bedroom door over the noise of the water. She knew at once it was Devlin. Without bothering to put on a robe she flung the door open and stood in front of him naked, arms akimbo.

  'What do you want?' she asked angrily.

  'To explain,' he said.

  'Explain then.' She went back into the bathroom and adjusted the flow of water. Devlin followed. He sat on the toilet seat.

  'I know what you think.'

  'What do I think?'

  'That this was some sort of plan. I got you here this weekend for Gianni, because he's so keen on English women.'

  'You're right. That's exactly what I think.'

  'Stephanie,' he said quietly. 'It's not true.'

  'I'm English-crazee,' she said, mimicking the accent again.

  'I know, I know. I need him, Stephanie. I need him badly. I've got to get him to sign a contract this afternoon. That's why he's here. No other reason. If he doesn't sign...' He let his expression of gloom finish the sentence for him.

  'And you were going to help matters along by introducing him to the cellars?'

  'No. No. It was strictly business. I need that contract signed. Now it's academic.'

  'Why?'

  'Because of you. He doesn't want to talk business. He just wants to talk about you. I don't blame him, I have to say. You looked stunning this afternoon. But I didn't plan it. Believe me, it's the last thing I wanted to happen. I wanted to get the damn contract signed and get him away again. So we could go back to our weekend.'

  'Lust at first sight.'

  'Exactly! I had no idea this was going to happen.' The look of anxious desperation had returned to his face. He looked like a man facing a firing squad. Stephanie felt sorry for him. And she was beginning to believe what he said.

  'You'll work it out,' she said gently.

  'I'll try. Please, let's try not to allow it to spoil what we had.'

  'Deal,' she said, kissing him on the cheek.

  'I need that contract signed. Everything depends upon it.' He paused. He was looking at her but his mind was elsewhere. 'Everything.'

  Stephanie felt he was genuine. 'It's just I don't go to bed with men I don't like, Devlin. I never have. And I don't like him.'

  She could not help a wry smile to herself. She hadn't even known the man who had fucked her this morning in the cellars, nor the masked man on the plane, so perhaps Devlin was justified in thinking her sudden acquisition of principles was rather odd. But, strictly speaking, since she had not known the men, she could hardly dislike them. With this syllogism she squared her moral tone. She knew Gianni, and definitely disliked him.

  Stephanie's anger was assuaged. She turned off the water in the bath and tested the temperature with her hand. Then she went and sat on Devlin's knee and stroked the contours of his face with the back of her hand. As her breast was closer to his mouth than her face, he bent slightly and kissed her nipple, then the top of her breast. He kissed her tentatively as though she might object. Stephanie hugged his face to her bosom. Her feeling of affection for him had returned; for the first time she sensed something in him she had not felt before. He seemed suddenly vulnerable as though the world were about to collapse around his shoulders, where he had carried it for years. Obviously his desire to please Gianni was every bit as serious as he had suggested.

  Stephanie stroked the thick wiry hair on his head. She wondered if she could distract him from his veil of tears.

  'What's Gianni doing now?'

  'Sulking.'

  'Seriously?'

  'He's in the office. He's got some calls to make, if he can stop thinking about you for five minutes.'

  'How long will it take?'

  'An hour, maybe.'

  'Does he need you?'

  'No.'

  'Good. So let's take a bath together. Then you can relax for awhile. You'll feel better.'

  'That would be nice,' Devlin responded with no real enthusiasm.

  He watched in the long mirror that ran the length of the bath as Stephanie undid the buttons of his shirt and stripped it off his shoulders. Still sitting on his lap she kissed each of his nipples in turn, flicking at them with her tongue. Then she took his face between both her hands and kissed him on the mouth, pushing her tongue between his lips until it met his. As she kissed him she kept her eyes open. There was something sexually electric about this man: she could already feel a hard node of excitement tightening in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it was his extraordinary ugliness, the pitted face and bulbous nose, or a chemical response, an over-endowment of pheromones to match his overlarge genitals: whatever it was, the impact was startling.

  'You're so sexy,' she told him honestly.

  'Am I?' he said shyly as though a surprise to him.

  She dropped to her knees and pulled off his shoes and socks. 'Stand up.'

  He did as he was told and she unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. They fell to the floor. She tugged his boxer shorts down to his ankles too and he stepped out of them. His penis was flaccid, as Stephanie had come to expect. With Devlin an erection had to be provoked by something other than nakedness: this afternoon, distracted as he was, this was probably doubly true.

  'Sit in the bath. I'll wash your back.' Again Devlin obeyed meekly. Stephanie soaped his back lavishly, leaning over the bath, her breasts occasionally prodding his shoulder as she worked. She washed the soap off with a big sponge.

  'Nice?'

  'Very.' He meant it.

  'Now the front.'

  She repeated the procedure with his chest. Here the wiry hair meant she had to use more soap to get up a thick lather.

  She climbed into the tub sitting in front of him, her legs spread out to either side. Conveniently the taps were sited in the middle on one side so they both could slide down the bath and rest their heads. She closed her eyes and squeezed her legs together slightly, feeling Devlin's hips between her calves.

  'I went back to the cellars this morning after you'd gone,' she told him without opening her eyes. 'You knew I would, didn't you?'

  'I thought you might.'

  'Don't you want to know what I did?'

  'Yes.'

  'I got one of the slaves to fuck me. I don't think he'd been allowed sex for some time.'

  'He was very... ardent?'

  'Very.'

  Stephanie slipped her foot under Devlin's thigh until she could feel his balls resting on her toes.

  'Do the same,' she said.

  She felt his foot slide under her until his toes were brushing her pubic hair.

  'Put your toe in,' she prompted.

  Devlin pushed forward with no result.

  'It's too dry.'

  'Try again.'

  She felt his big toe push against her labia, searching for an opening. She felt it nudge her clitoris and then work its way lower. She tried to wriggle herself down on to the toe but it was as though her cunt had been sealed over by the water.

  'Won't work.'

  'Push harder.'

  'It'll hurt.'
r />   Stephanie did not reply. She lay back in the water. The toe pressed forward again. It was still not in the right place. Devlin moved down further.

  'There,' she said and he pushed hard, forcing his toe past the dryness of the labia into the heat and wetness of her cunt. Devlin pushed his toe deeper, enjoying the feeling. 'You must have some very imaginative guests, judging from all the equipment you have in cellars.'

  'I told you we cater for all tastes.'

  Stephanie moaned, feeling his toe pushing forward again. The water had washed away her juices, reducing their lubricating effect and making real movement, in and out, difficult. Only the top of his toe, sealed away from the water, was really wet.

  'Do you watch? What do they do? Have the slaves strung up and whipped? What do you like to watch, Devlin? What's your favourite? Tied down on the floor while you wank over them?' She squirmed down on his toe, enjoying the strangeness of the sensation. She was surprised at how it filled her cunt, but then perhaps his toes matched the proportions of his fingers.

  'I've never been toe-fucked before.' She opened her eyes and looked at Devlin. His erection had risen like Excalibur from the bathwater.

  'Can I fuck you properly?' he said.

  By way of answer she climbed out of the bath, feeling his toe pop out of her cunt like the cork from a bottle of champagne. She bent over the side of the bath, opening her legs and thrusting her arse into the air, water running from her body on to the marble floor.

  'Like this?' She looked into the mirror in front of her, staring into her own eyes but seeing nothing.