Stephanie's Castle

by Susanna Hughes

  Devlin was out of the bath more quickly than she'd have believed possible and she felt his cock now nuzzling her arse. It did not take long before it found the way opened by his toe. Her cunt was still dry. He pushed the tip of his cock forward but her cunt was unyielding.

  'I want it, Devlin. Push harder,' Stephanie said. She didn't want foreplay. She wanted his cock to produce her wetness.

  He pushed again.

  'Do it for me,' she whispered.

  He slipped his hand down to her clitoris but she pushed it away. She pushed back on to his cock. Suddenly she felt the first hint of her juices and his cock slid home a fraction. She pushed back again and this time she felt her wetness explode over the tip of his cock, like a sudden rush of water from a tap. His cock rammed home riding the back of this wave. The pleasure as she was stretched in every direction shot through her body once again. She couldn't believe she'd ever get used to it.

  He reached forward and took her pendulant breasts in his massive hands. She looked down between her legs, as she had the first time Devlin had fucked her, to marvel at how much of him still remained outside her body. She supported herself against the bath with one hand and reached down with the other to grasp his balls. She managed to get both of them cupped in her hand.

  'I can take more,' she lied.

  'No.' But he pushed up into her anyway. In effect the movement took him no further forward, as Stephanie's cunt was already stretched to its limit but it was enough to bring Stephanie to the brink of a sudden, sharp, almost painful climax. Two more inward strokes and she was coming, unable to suppress a scream as his penis hammered up against the bottom of her womb. Devlin mistook the cry for pain and withdrew a little.

  'No. More. I can take it,' she hissed.

  She squeezed his balls in her hand as if trying to pump his spunk out of them. She rotated her wet arse on his wet navel so his prick explored new areas of her cunt. She felt his prick pulsing inside her and knew he was coming. She squeezed his balls again, pulling them down away from his body.

  'Do it. Give it to me. I want it,' she cried. And then she felt his prick swell to jet his spunk deep into her cunt as she heard him moan with the most tremendous relief. She looked up into the mirror and smiled at herself. It was over quickly but that was what she had wanted. She felt a real sense of achievement in getting Devlin to come with such comparative ease. She knew what to do now and knew it would work.

  Devlin picked up two of the large bath towels and walked through into the bedroom sitting on the bottom of the bed. 'Come in here and I'll dry you off,' he said. The bathroom floor was running with water from both their bodies.

  Stephanie came out, wrapping a towel around her hair turban style. She stood in front of Devlin who rubbed her quite hard with the towel, concentrating on drying her skin, ignoring the sexual potential rather as a father would a young daughter.

  'Turn around,' he said in a parental tone. He finished the job, drying her back and legs and buttocks.

  'There,' he pronounced. 'Finished.'

  'Like being a little girl again,' and like a little girl she kissed him on the forehead. She felt like a daughter, he a father.

  'About tonight...' The spell was broken. What Stephanie had started was over. The worried frown had returned to Devlin's face, reflecting his concerns.

  'Is Gianni staying for dinner, then?' Stephanie made his name sound like a dirty word.

  'That's what I was going to say. Just help me...'

  'I thought we'd settled that.'

  'That's not what I meant. Just go downstairs and choose one of the English girls. Dress her up for dinner. There's wardrobes full of clothes in the next room. Get her to look really good. Get her to play along. He's got to believe she's really mad about him. It'll take the pressure off you.' He paused. 'I have to let him stay to dinner. Believe me, I wish I didn't.'

  'I believe you,' she said and meant it.

  Stephanie thought for a moment. She looked at Devlin. Whether it was deliberate or not the little schoolboy look had returned to his face and he looked like a twelve-year-old begging to be given extra pocket money to buy the model car he just had to have to complete his collection. What woman could resist? Not her.

  'OK. I'll make her look so good he won't want any dessert.'

  'Exactly,' Devlin beamed. The little boy was going to get his extra pocket money - the trouble was it might not be enough. 'Then we can have the rest of the night together.'

  He hoped that was not a lie.

  After Devlin had gone Stephanie went back into the bathroom and quickly washed her hair. As she dried it, watching herself in the mirror as she pointed the dryer, her mind wandered back to Devlin. It amazed her that she had been able to take so much of Devlin's cock, not only take it but enjoy it. She was pleased too that she had been able to provoke an erection in him without an elaborate charade. One day, it was possible that she would reach into those trousers and find a ready-made erection. She did not know how near that day was.

  She examined the contents of the bathroom cabinets, looking for the moisturiser and finding an Aladdin's cave of expensive toiletries. She was sure many of these items were not the sort of thing that a man would think to buy for a woman but everything she could possibly need was provided. Devlin had obviously employed a woman for this task. Suddenly Stephanie thought of Venetia again. She had been meaning to ask Devlin about her this morning, but, not surprisingly, it had slipped her mind. Where was she? Stephanie had certainly expected her to be here at the castle. She would ask Devlin over dinner, she decided.

  She massaged moisturiser into her skin, lavishing it on her thighs and breasts and navel. She checked her toenails and fingernails to make sure the polish had survived the rigours of the day. She checked to see that the creases had fallen out of the blue evening dress she intended to wear for dinner. She laid out the blue silk teddy she had worn for Venetia in London, the night she had brought the invitation, and the suspender belt to match. This was definitely the night for sheer black stockings, in spite of the fact that the dress had a split skirt which would fall open to reveal expanses of thigh and therefore the black welt of the stocking top and above it the creamy white band of naked flesh. Let Gianni get an eyeful for all she cared. She was not going to let him spoil her plans. She had practised at home what she was going to wear, what went with what, and she had no intention of changing her mind in order to curb Gianni's ardour.

  Devlin's idea of getting one of the girls from the cellars might work after all, though Stephanie doubted it. She knew which of the girls to use: the tall sullen blonde, her arse marked with the whip, whom she had seen on her lone visit that morning. Assuming from her appearance and colouring that she was English, she should easily be able to distract Gianni. She remembered her long legs, thick thatch of blonde pubic hair and her narrow waist that somehow accentuated her trim, up-turned breasts. She also had a look of disdain and since Gianni had apparently been so instantly turned on by her own disinterest perhaps that was what he would like best about the girl.

  There was another one of Devlin's timid knocks at the door. Stephanie didn't bother to reach for a robe. 'Come in.'

  'Charming, quite charming,' Gianni said as he walked into the room, only too happy to see Stephanie's naked body without the intervening veil of chiffon.

  'Get out of here.' Stephanie picked up the towel Devlin had left by the bed and wrapped it around herself.

  'You just invited me in.'

  'I thought it was Devlin.'

  'Devlin just left.'

  'How do you know?'

  'I was watching... and waiting.'

  'You're supposed to be on the phone.'

  'I can't think of business. You destruct me.'

  'Distract.'

  'Yes. I can only think of you.'

  'I'm trying to get dressed.'

  'Do not let me stop it. These things look delighted.'

  'Delightful,' she corrected again.

  He was fingering the silk t
eddy, rubbing the material between thumb and forefinger, somehow making it look like an obscene gesture.

  'You would look very... delightful,' he said the word deliberately, 'in these.'

  'Then perhaps you will excuse me.'

  'You have the expression "get off with the wrong foot"?'

  'Yes.' She couldn't be bothered to correct him a third time.

  'That is what we did, yes?'

  'No.'

  'No. Not the right expression?'

  'Look, Gianni, I'm sure a lot of women think you're just great. But I'm not one of them. That's all there is to it. Simple.'

  'Yes. See, I'm right. We get off with the wrong foot. I want you to like me very much. I like you very much.'

  'Wanting isn't getting.'

  'Pardon me?'

  'You don't always get what you want, Gianni. That's life.'

  'Oh yes, I understand now. But you will like me.'

  'No.'

  'I will give you reasons for to like me.'

  Stephanie was losing her patience.

  'Your English is clearly not as good as you think it is. You seem to be having trouble in understanding me.'

  'No problem.'

  'Really?'

  'I understand.'

  'Good. Then understand this. Go away, Gianni. I don't like you. I don't want you. Past tense, I did not like you. I did not want you. Future tense, I will not like you. I will not want you. Clear?'

  'I like this.' He laughed loudly.

  'Go away.'

  'Yes, yes. I like this. You are very amusing.'

  Suddenly, without warning, he leapt at her. He was fast on his feet but somewhere in the back of her mind Stephanie had had the feeling that he was going to do something like this and had kept herself alert. When his lunge came she executed a neat sidestep, leaving his grasping outstretched hand holding nothing more than her towel.

  'I told you to get out.'

  'You're so beautiful. I know you like me.' He was circling her now, the towel in his hand like a matador's cape. 'Please, I beg you. I know what you're like now. I want you so much.'

  Stephanie assumed 'now' meant now that she was naked.

  'This is very boring,' she said making no attempt to hide her naked body again.

  'Please let me fuck you. Please.'

  'No.'

  'Yes. I will pay you.'

  'I'm not a whore, Gianni.'

  'One million lire.'

  'No.' She had no idea how much one million lire was. 'Not for a million pounds.'

  Gianni sat on the bed and pulled off his shirt, his socks and his shoes. He stood up and took off his trousers and the tiny black briefs he was wearing.

  'I have a good body, yes?' He looked down at himself and breathed in.

  Compared with Devlin his body was more athletic and more muscled but, of course, there was no comparison when it came to the cock that hung down between his legs, though even in its current semi-erect state it was by no means small.

  Stephanie had no idea what to do next. She was not prepared to let this man have sex with her but, on the other hand, she didn't want to make him so cross he would take it out on Devlin and not do whatever deal he had been brought here to complete. Gianni was advancing towards her again, ready to lunge. She circled to the left. He moved to the left. She went right. He moved to the right which happened to be in the same direction as the bedroom door. Seeing the key in the lock, Gianni took the opportunity of locking the door, taking the key out and holding it up triumphantly, like a hunter bagging a lion.

  'The key to paradise,' he said, grinning from ear to ear.

  Stephanie retreated again. Gianni advanced. Then he lunged. This time, despite Stephanie's reflexes, she was not quite quick enough and he caught her by the wrist.

  'Come on, Gianni, you don't want me this way, do you?' She let her wrist go limp in his hand.

  'Anyway. You make me crazee.'

  'It would be rape.'

  'No. You like me.'

  His arrogance made it impossible for him to understand that a woman, any woman, would actually not want to sleep with him. He was just not capable of believing it.

  He started to pull her towards him, reeling her in like a fish on a line. She could see his penis was beginning to harden, obviously excited by the prospect of coming into contact with her body at long last. As he pulled her in he released her wrist so that he could wrap his arms around her waist, but this was a mistake. As he snaked his arms around, she ducked out of the embrace and was free again. Backing away from him she suddenly realised that the bathroom door would lock from the inside. At least being trapped in the bathroom would be better than being raped by Gianni, and sooner or later Devlin would come looking for her. Fortunately, the bathroom door was nearer to her than it was to Gianni.

  Gianni saw her escape route and knew he could not reach it before her. From having her in his arms she had now virtually escaped. Life was so unfair.

  'Do you want me to beg? I beg, please, I beg?' He said it in his most pathetic voice.

  But as he spoke he made one last despairing and, for him, disastrous effort, leaping forward with all his energy. Unfortunately the toes of one foot caught in the trailing edge of the bedspread which was fringed with an open-worked crochet that effectively netted his toes. The force of his leap carried him forward, for a split second suspended in midair a foot in front of Stephanie's startled face before his entrapped foot and gravity brought him crashing down to the floor, flat out on his stomach. As if this wasn't bad enough, in the various manoeuvres around the bedroom one of his shoes must have been kicked from where he had taken it off at the side of the bed to a position where now, as he fell, it was turned up and lying directly under his genitals. As he crashed to the floor his balls made contact with the rather large heel of the shoe. He screamed in agony, doubling up on the floor.

  Stephanie tried not to laugh as he lay on the floor, every movement bringing another wave of pain. As he got his breath back the pain from his balls seemed to increase. There was pain from his toes too; he had broken at least one. And he'd fallen on his hand and now his wrist felt swollen.

  Once Stephanie had managed to control her desire to laugh, she pulled on a robe and tried to help Gianni to his feet. He was not going to be a threat now, that was certain. The effort of getting up seemed to bring on more pain and he moaned in agony once again. He showed absolutely no interest in Stephanie and merely shook his head when she asked if he needed a doctor. Still naked and looking extremely sorry for himself, he limped out of the bedroom. He had tried to put on some of his clothes, but had discovered his swollen balls were too tender to tolerate being crammed into the tiny black briefs the sales assistant in Rome had assured him were the latest fashion.

  Watching him struggle to unlock the bedroom door and then limp from the room, clothes slung over his arm, Stephanie only just managed not to laugh. But as the bedroom door closed, the effort proved too much for her and she collapsed on to the bed, rolling from side to side, tears of laughter streaming down her face. She recovered temporarily, enough to get to her feet, but the sight of Gianni's hapless shoe, still lying up-turned on the carpet, brought on another bout of helpless mirth.

  Chapter Eight

  The sun was well down on the horizon and the cool provided by the lengthening shadows was welcome.

  Stephanie, wearing the practical cotton dress she had travelled in, had been shown through a series of rooms, corridors and stairways to the other side of the castle, the side farthest from the lake. Now, from the top of a stone staircase, she surveyed the scene. Here stretching out for many miles she could see farmland, neat orchards - cherry and peach trees, she thought, certainly apple and pear - all impeccably kept. Nearer to the castle was about an acre of kitchen garden surrounded by an ageing red-brick wall. Inside the wall there were sheds and greenhouses as well as neatly arranged plant beds. She could see several men and women carrying out various gardening jobs, most on the north side of the compound where
a small vineyard had been planted.

  Dismissing the servants who had shown her through the maze of corridors, Stephanie walked down the steps, enjoying the cool breeze that blew lightly into her face. The air was heavily scented here too, this time from the climbing roses that had been used to decorate much of the wall of the garden. A tall wrought-iron gate surmounted by a brick arch led through the wall into the garden itself. Stephanie was in no particular hurry and wandered happily among the immaculately cultivated vegetables, the soft fruit bushes, the long rows of salad plants and the beds of flowers obviously intended to provide a constant supply of cut blooms for the castle. The rows were laid out with military precision, completely free of weeds, the result, she thought, of hundreds of hours of backbreaking manual labour.

  She noticed a large modern greenhouse devoted to nothing but orchids and remembered the beautiful orchids Venetia had delivered to her with Devlin's compliments that night in London. So Devlin had grown them himself.

  As she passed one or two of the labourers she thought she recognised a face or two from the cellars, but they kept their heads bowed and did not look up at her. They were all fully dressed in working clothes, which made them even less familiar. Among the neatly planted rows there were two or three figures dressed entirely in black. As they did little work themselves but wandered up and down watching the labourers, Stephanie imagined these were some sort of supervisors. She'd half expected them to be carrying whips.

  It took Stephanie some minutes before she found the girl she was looking for. She was working on the vines pruning each vine back to the root. It was hard work and the girl was sweating profusely. As she approached her one of the supervisors, who had been watching her progress through the garden from the moment she had stepped through the gate, hurried forward.

  'Can I help you?' he said. His English, though spoken with a strong Italian accent, was perfect, but his voice was high-pitched and reedy. Though he was clearly not mute, Stephanie couldn't help wondering if he had been a victim of the same 'accident' that had befallen Bruno.