Devlin opened the door on to the terrace.
'Colette,' he called, for all the world like a headmaster summoning an errant pupil into his study.
Colette glanced at Stephanie, shrugged her shoulders and walked into the castle through the open terrace door. Devlin closed the door behind her, pointedly not looking at Stephanie.
Perhaps she should walk in and tell Gianni he could have her, fuck her, do whatever he pleased with her. Would it be too much to ask? After all that had happened at the castle it wouldn't take much effort on her part, and it would undoubtedly help Devlin to get Gianni to concentrate on the deal they were supposed to be doing. But she was in no mood to make such a gesture. She was angry with Devlin. He had invited her here. He had promised her a wonderful weekend and she, for her part, had given as good as she got. But from the point that Gianni stepped out of the boat - actually from the time Devlin had taken his telephone call - it had been downhill all the way. If she drew the line at sleeping with a man she despised, and his performance at dinner had done nothing to change her mind about him, she saw no reason to reproach herself with that. She should not be apologising to Devlin for her actions; he should be apologising to her. Devlin seemed to have forgotten everything in his headlong desire to please Gianni at whatever cost.
Through the long terrace window Stephanie watched Devlin talking to Colette, who seemed to be shaking her head to refuse whatever he was suggesting. Gianni, his face twisted with anger, took her by the arm, wrenching her round to face him while he shouted something at her. Stephanie could see Colette's skin go white where Gianni gripped her arm. Her head started to nod in reluctant agreement, and Gianni let her go and, with a parting gesture to Devlin which Stephanie could not understand, stormed out of the room.
Devlin took Colette's arm now, but more gently. He talked to her calmly and then both of them moved out of sight.
It was some minutes before the terrace door opened again and Colette stepped out, carrying a tray with a bottle of brandy and three large brandy glasses.
'Devlin thought you'd need a drink.'
'Where is he?'
'He's trying to calm Gianni down. He'll be out in a minute.'
'What was all that about?'
'Oh, just having a go at me,' she lied, avoiding Stephanie's eyes. She poured the brandy and handed Stephanie a glass. 'It's not my fault, Stephanie.'
'I know. You did your best.'
'I'm sorry,' she said with genuine feeling.
Devlin was right. Stephanie felt like a large drink and took a good belt of the brandy. She did not notice that Colette made no attempt to drink from her glass. She just wanted Devlin to come back so they could salvage what was left of the evening. Maybe she could suggest to him that they take Colette up to her room and find ways of forgetting this awful man. She would love to have Colette and Devlin together. His enormous fingers and cock, her long legs, soft mouth and thick thatch of pubic hair. The combinations of delight would be endless. She could tease out Colette's clitoris while Devlin fucked her; she could suck it and lick it and lose herself in it.
A funny thing was happening to the moon. Instead of being round it was melting. All its white centre was melting and pouring itself into the lake like an old advertisement for milk chocolate. A glass and a half in every bar pouring into the chocolate lake. She'd wished she'd eaten the chocolate pudding. It was so delicious. Fresh chocolate from the chocolate lake. But the moon was melting away and it was getting darker and darker as it disappeared. Even the lights on the terrace, round balls of light, were melting away, pouring down on to the ceramic tiled paving. All that light melting away. It was so dark...
She could hardly see Colette now. She was standing right next to her she knew but even in that beautiful red dress she couldn't see her. She'd have liked to be able to see her so she could pull down the front of the strapless dress, pull it down over her breasts leaving them naked, and pull up the skirt over those clever tights that left everything exposed and available. She'd like to have sunk her teeth into those hard nipples, sunk her fingers into that soft hairy cunt, buck her own pubic bone against Colette's as though fucking her, pretending she had a cock. But she could hardly see her it was so dark and what she could see was melting away too just like the moon and the terrace lamps. The large red splotch of colour that was all she could make out of Colette was melting away, pouring into the terrace paving until it had completely disappeared and it was dark. She was all on her own and it was completely dark, pitch black all round her. Not that she was frightened. She felt warm and relaxed and happy. She sang a little song to herself. She lay back on the sofa and sang a little song all to herself.
When she stopped singing she could hear voices but she did not understand what they were saying.
'That was quick.' It was Devlin's voice.
'She drank it quickly. Why are you doing this?'
'Please remember who you are, Colette,' he said sternly. 'Do you actually think I want to do this?'
'Why don't you just tell him to go to hell?'
'Because the contract would go with him.'
'She promised me...'
'Whatever she promised you I'll deliver. Now go and get Bruno to carry her downstairs.'
'Is he so important?'
'Yes,' Devlin said. 'And now he's got what he wants, hasn't he?'
Stephanie gave up the effort to find meaning in these conversations and relaxed. It didn't matter. She let her mind drift to delicious thoughts of Venetia, and Colette, and Devlin. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realised she hadn't mentioned Venetia to Devlin. She would. She'd get round to it. Meantime she felt too good to worry about anything. She thought she felt herself being lifted but as her whole body felt as if it was completely weightless and floating it was impossible to tell for sure. And anyway the temptation to close her eyes - or were they already closed? It was so dark - and let herself fall into the billowing clouds of sleep engulfing her was too much to resist.
The dream was not vivid, not like the sort of dream where everything is so vivid it's difficult to believe it's not real. This dream had only feelings and emotions and sensations. Stephanie could not tell where she was. She knew she was naked but she could not see her body. She felt naked. And she knew her body was being manipulated, expertly handled and touched and explored. She felt herself being caressed and kissed. She felt lips sucking at her nipples, she felt fingers circling her clitoris, and then the soft wetness of a hot tongue licking her clitoris before plunging deeper between her legs and pushing into her cunt itself, deeper than she'd ever felt a tongue before. Everything was perfect, every touch exactly what she would have wanted, no need to ask for anything, no need to interfere. Everything she'd dreamt she'd wanted from a lover, this lover was doing in her dream.
After his hands and tongue had probed and touched her weightless body - she knew instinctively it was a 'he' - her legs were opened and she arched her back to present herself to this phantom. Then she felt cock, hard and hot, pressing into her, filling her, taking advantage of the expert preparations. In her dream she knew it was not Devlin's cock. This was a dream cock, the perfect cock, fitting her cunt exactly as she'd dreamt a cock should do, nudging all the right places, the whole cock inside her so she could feel her clitoris grinding against the very base of it as it started an insistent tempo. Out almost all the way, until she could feel the heat of its tip between her swollen labia and then back in again, buffeting the very top of her womb and the knot of her clitoris at the same time. On and on and on. She felt no physical exertion. She felt only the sensation of sex, her whole body reduced to the feelings from her cunt.
She could feel her orgasm. It was not sharp and quick but part of a dream, long and slow and intense. It was like a dam about to burst. Every stroke of his cock building the pressure of the water against the dam, knowing the dam would burst, watching its structure crumble away, knowing it was inevitable but somehow wanting to hold back for as long as possible. At the same time she
could feel his pressure growing too, the dam inside his cock about to burst, the pressure from his spunk building until it would be too great to resist. His cock was swelling inside her, filling with spunk. She could feel his spunk, feel it hot and white waiting for release.
Her orgasm broke the dam, surrounded and enclosed her. She could feel nothing but the cock inside her and her body's reaction to it. In her dream she could see the cock, see it pushing up between the folds of flesh in her cunt, pushing for release. As she felt his cock jerk and spasm inside her she could see the little oval slit in his glans open and shoot spunk deep into her, pulse after pulse of white spunk. And that completed her orgasm, burst through the last stones of the dam, and she felt herself drowning in a sea of sexual ecstasy, wet with spunk and cunt juice and emotion. It was the perfect orgasm, in a perfect dream.
She wanted to thank him now. But she couldn't find him. She was looking for him knowing he was still there but she couldn't find him. Where had he gone? She searched and then, somewhere in the distance she saw him. Immediately she felt a rush of excitement. They could do it all over again. Burst the dams again. Feel and touch and suck and fuck again. That's what she wanted. Desperately wanted. This man had given her so much pleasure.
She was running towards him. She could see him clearly and in her mind she knew she recognised him. She knew him. He was fully dressed but had his back to her. She stood behind him and she heard herself telling him that she had never had such beautiful sex, that he'd made her feel wonderful, alive, open. But he still didn't turn round.
'Kiss me,' she heard herself saying.
She took him by the shoulder and he turned round. In the dream he turned in slow motion. He turned and lifted her into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth and she kissed him back hard with feeling. She didn't care now that the man she was kissing was Giancarlo Gianni.
Chapter Ten
At first she thought it was another dream. Like the first dream it was difficult to establish where she was and she still had the sensation that she was not awake, that she was still floating above it all and that any moment she would sleep deeply and dreamlessly again. She caught glimpses of faces she recognised, Devlin and Gianni and Bruno. Why was Bruno in her dream? She didn't want to have dreams about Bruno. And where was Colette? And why was she worrying about these things if she was dreaming? It didn't matter if it was a dream.
She felt a hot pulse of sensation from her clitoris, the sensation of someone wanking her, rolling their finger over the rigid knot of flesh with perfect rhythm, the perfect amount of pressure, the sort of wanking that made her come quickly, easily. She could not see who was doing this to her and didn't care. It was a dream, another erotic dream. All she had to do was lie back and enjoy it, enjoy the feelings that her subconscious was creating for her.
It was her orgasm that woke her up. This was not the orgasm of pure sensation that she had had in her dream. This was hot and strong and real. It made her arch her back with pleasure, every nerve alive. It made her want to wake up and open her eyes. But she was already awake and her eyes were already open. It was not a dream after all. It was reality, though with no sharp edges, blurred and indistinct like a picture photographed through layers of gauze.
She tried to force herself back into full consciousness but it was like trying to fight her way out of a room filled with cotton wool. She tried to move her hands but something prevented her. She twisted her head around and saw her wrists were secured above her head by padded leather cuffs attached to either side of a sturdy wooden frame. As she could not move her legs either and they were splayed apart, she imagined they were tied in a similar manner but, as yet, the edges of consciousness were still too blurred for her to see that far. The padded leather cuffs stirred a memory. She had seen them and felt them before. But where?
A wave of tiredness hit her again. She closed her eyes and for a moment almost let herself surrender to the woolly darkness that appeared so inviting. But from somewhere she found the energy to fight against it and struggled to raise her eyelids again even though they each felt weighed down by several leaden balloons. She had to keep awake and work out where she was and what was happening to her. She could hear voices now.
'She's awake.' It was Devlin. His voice sounded tense and distant.
'I want her awake.'
'See for yourself.'
Suddenly Gianni's face appeared above Stephanie. Quite extraordinarily it provoked a rush of passion in her. Her dream had been so erotic, so tangible and so totally associated in her mind with this man that she could not stop herself from being swamped with a feeling of desire for him. Her subconscious had laid out for her a perfect presentation of her sexual needs. It was a total reversal. She remembered that this had happened to her once before: a man she had strongly disliked had become an object of passion after she had experienced the female equivalent of a wet dream with the man as the main participant.
'OK,' Gianni was saying. She saw his lips move but the words seemed to come later, like a movie dubbed into a foreign language.
'So you've got what you want.'
'Yes, my friend, and in exchange I have given you what you want, so we both have satisfaction.'
'You won't regret it.'
'I know that.'
The gauze was being removed from the lens of the camera. The picture was clearing, shapes no longer merging into blocks of colour. Stephanie could distinguish edges now, though some of the corners remained indistinct.
She looked around to try and see where Devlin was but she could not raise her head up off the frame by more than a few inches bound as she was. She recognised the room as part of the cellar suite, the room furnished with all the bondage equipment. She had been strapped down to one of the punishment frames about the size of a small double bed, a slatted wooden frame covered with a thin mattress. She was naked except for her sheer black stockings held up by her dark blue suspender belt. For some reason, as she could see and feel her feet now, she was still wearing her high-heeled shoes.
She felt no fear or panic. She knew she must have been drugged and brought down here. Actually she wanted to tell Gianni that as far as she was concerned her feelings for him had undergone a drastic change. She wanted him. She would only be too delighted to have him. She wanted the dream to become a reality, wanted to know whether her subconscious was right to transpose villain to favourite. The trouble was that she couldn't seem to form any words. It was some minutes before she had worked out that she was gagged as well as bound.
'Wake up!' Gianni was saying, taking her cheeks in his hand and shaking her head. She'd thought her eyes were open. Admittedly it was not always easy to focus them. That required a little too much effort at the moment. She knew Gianni was naked because she could feel his erect penis prodding her waist as he leant over her. She felt excitement again, wanting his penis in her cunt or mouth. She remembered her distaste for him, how badly he'd behaved but now she didn't care. Now nothing mattered but her desire.
'Now I give you what you want,' Gianni said and Stephanie only wanted to say, please, please do, please give it to me now. He took her left nipple in his fingers and pinched it, then did the same with the right, then alternated between the two. Stephanie felt his penis twitch against her waist, growing harder. He ran his hand down her body until it reached her black pubic hair where it delved down to find her clitoris.
'Yes, yes,' she wanted to say.
'Such a big one,' Gianni said, tapping the knot of pink flesh with his finger.
Then he slipped his finger down between her open legs to push up between her labia. But his fingers met resistance. Stephanie was dry. She could not imagine why. She wanted him totally. She felt wet, she wanted to be wet. She wanted to make it easy for him to slide that wonderful cock deep into her as he had already done in her imagination. Instead she was dry. Rationally she knew it was probably a side effect of the drug. She was sure if he just rubbed her clitoris for a little longer her cunt would soon reward his pe
rsistence.
But Gianni was in no mood to be patient. Stephanie's dryness was another slap in the face of his masculinity. He was furious.
'What's the matter with you? You not like men?'
He got up on to the wooden frame and lay on top of her, pushing his penis between her labia where his fingers had been. He caught one of her breasts in his hand and squeezed it then pushed forward again with his cock. Still her body refused to lubricate.
'OK. I give you what you like. I know how you get hot.' He climbed off the frame. After a moment he was holding something in front of Stephanie's face but not long enough for her to get her eyes to focus on it.
'See this? This is what you like.'
She wanted to tell him to work on her, to make her wet, that her body was betraying her because of the drug. She managed to produce a moan through the gag and struggle a little up towards him, but he misinterpreted her message.
'You don't get away from this,' he said.
'Let me wank her again.' It was a female voice. Stephanie recognised it but could not think who it belonged to. She looked around the room as far as she was able but could not see anyone else but Bruno standing by the wall, his arms folded over his chest, and Devlin standing by her feet.
'It didn't work last time.'
That was true, Stephanie thought. How could she be so dry after that delicious orgasm? Her body was concealing her emotions though, she thought, somewhere in the back of her mind, it served them right for drugging her.
Stephanie's Castle Page 12