Stephanie's Castle

by Susanna Hughes

'Not that whip. It'll cut her,' the female voice was saying pointedly.

  That was enough to get Stephanie to focus on the object in Gianni's hand. It was a riding crop but not with the usual thick leather loop on the tip. This crop had a thin woven tassel obviously intended to cut rather than merely slap.

  'Get out,' Gianni snarled at the hidden woman.

  'I'll get her wet this time,' the voice pleaded.

  'I do what I want,' Gianni insisted.

  Gianni swung the whip and a hot line of pain shot across the top of Stephanie's thigh. The injection of adrenaline that followed instantaneously cleared the remnants of the drug from her system. She saw Gianni's hand rise to deliver the second blow and struggled to free herself as the whip flew through the air and down on to her breasts, barely missing her nipples.

  'I give what she deserves,' Gianni grunted as he aimed the third blow. Stephanie could see him clearly now, his erect penis swaying with the movement of his body, sweat already breaking out on his forehead. She could see Devlin too, at the end of the room, not able to watch what was happening. The third stroke landed in the same place as the first and this time the pain made Stephanie scream into the gag. Only a muffled moan came out. She writhed against the leather straps but they held firm.

  Gianni was standing by her head now. Stephanie could see his naked buttocks as he raised the whip again, this time aiming it downward to hit the delicate folds of flesh between her open legs.

  'No,' the woman's voice shouted. She leapt forward and caught Gianni's arm wrestling the whip from his grasp. 'You can't whip a woman there.'

  'Give me the whip. I do what I want.'

  He tried to pull the whip out of her hand but she held it firm. With her free hand she slapped Gianni's face so hard the blow knocked him to his knees. Before he could recover she slapped him backhanded on the other cheek. The smack echoed through the room.

  'You bitch,' Gianni snarled, getting to his feet. He snatched for the whip again but the woman backed away. She had stepped into Stephanie's line of vision now and she saw immediately why she had recognised the voice. It was Venetia. She stood defiantly in front of Gianni, dressed in high-heeled black boots and a black Lycra catsuit that clung to every curve of her body.

  'Give it to him, Venetia,' Devlin ordered, his voice hard and angry.

  But before she could refuse Bruno stepped forward and pulled the whip from her hand, giving it back to Gianni. Then he caught Venetia around the waist and held her firm in a vicelike grip. Gianni raised the whip again and aimed. It hit Stephanie a glancing blow, missing her clitoris and labia and hitting the soft flesh at the top of her inner thigh. The pain was intense.

  Gianni's penis was thick and harder than it had ever been.

  'You want more?' he said, staring down into Stephanie's face. She shook her head as best she could, trying to make him understand with her eyes what she could not tell him with her lips. She hoped her cunt would tell him, hoped it was wet and pliant at last. She did not want another blow from the cruel whip while she lay there unable to protect herself or do anything but watch the whip fall.

  Gianni thrust a finger into her. She was wet. He was not interested in finesse now. He stuck another finger alongside the first, and then a third. The penetration made her shudder. Her cunt swallowed the fingers hungrily, coating them with her juices.

  'That's better,' Gianni said.

  That's better, Stephanie thought.

  The whip marks on her body were throbbing and hot, as if they were on fire, especially the one on her inner thigh, not an inch away from her open cunt. But they were not throbbing with pain. It was a different sensation. The heat they produced was like the most urgent itch needing desperately to be scratched, scratched by sex, by Gianni's cock thrusting into her cunt. Only that would quench their fire.

  Stephanie arched her whole body off the frame to try to tell Gianni of her need, using it to beg him to take her. 'Please, please, please,' she wanted to say.

  Her cunt had never felt more in need. Her mouth felt slack, her breathing slow and heavy. The gag wasn't helping either; it reminded her too much of a cock thrust between her cheeks. She sucked on it as though it were a cock and that made her need still greater.

  Gianni was smiling. He understood. Her body had delivered the message at last. He saw the desire in her eyes. It was a message he easily understood.

  'I make you wait now,' he said looking into her eyes. 'You made me wait. I make you wait.'

  He circled his cock with his fingers and pointed it at her face, wanking it slowly.

  'Perhaps I wank on your face instead,' he teased.

  Stephanie screamed into the gag what was meant to be 'No!' Only a dull moan escaped. Stephanie needed that hot spunk inside her, the way it had been inside her in the dream. The idea of it going to waste was more than she could stand. She squirmed against her bonds, trying to be seductive, trying to make him see what he would be missing.

  He looked down at her superb body stretched out on the frame, the black stockings pulling at the taut blue tongues of the suspender belt, serving to emphasise the creaminess of her thighs and the openness of her cunt, her firm breasts quivering with her movement, the nipples rigid like ripe cherries and almost as red. While he still wanked his cock with one hand, he used the other to touch the red weals raised by the whip on her breasts and thigh. Stephanie moaned from behind the gag. The weals were hot, long red streaks of sensitivity. His cool hand provoked them, renewing their effect on her, stoking their fires, making her try again to use body language to communicate her desperate need.

  Gianni knew what he was doing. He ran his hand down to the weal between her thighs, the most sensitive mark of all. It felt to Stephanie as though she suddenly had another clitoris as all the nerves in the weal responded to his touch.

  'You bastard,' she would have screamed. 'Fuck me, don't torture me.'

  But all she could do was beg with her body and her eyes.

  Almost unconsciously she was thrusting herself rhythmically off the wooden frame, undulating her buttocks and thighs. Gianni grinned broadly. He climbed on to the frame and knelt, not between her legs but over her chest, her nipples digging into the bottom of his thighs.

  'I wank for you,' he said.

  His hand started to move faster down his shaft. Stephanie could see a little tear of moisture develop as it worked on the hard inflamed flesh. She tried to buck him off her, she tried to plead with him with her eyes. She felt as though her cunt was so wet her juices were running out of her and down between her buttocks. She swore she had never wanted a man more and this bastard was going to make her watch him wank.

  But Gianni had other ideas.

  'Take her gag out,' he said to Venetia. Bruno released her immediately and she came to stand behind Stephanie's head, unstrapping the leather gag and pulling it clear of her mouth. Before Stephanie could utter a word Gianni had leant forward and pushed his cock between her lips. His penis felt hot in her mouth. Gianni grabbed Venetia's hand and pulled her towards him.

  'You're going to help me,' he said.

  He moved to kiss her on the mouth but she turned her head away. He made a grab for one of her large breasts through the clinging Lycra but she caught his hand before it reached its target.

  'Not me,' Venetia said angrily, shaking free from his grasp.

  His anger returned. He pulled out of Stephanie's mouth. He glared at Devlin, his eyes full of reproach. For a moment he rested on his haunches looking down at Stephanie's face. It was as though he was deciding what to do, punish Venetia or fuck Stephanie. Then he made his decision. He eased himself down Stephanie's body until he was positioned with his cock so close to her labia she could feel its heat. He did nothing then, looking straight into her eyes.

  'You want?'

  'Yes, oh yes.' Her voice sounded strange to her, at least an octave lower than normal.

  'You want?' he repeated.

  'Yes,' she screamed. 'Yes, yes, yes!'

  He plunged his
cock forward, ramming it into her body. Stephanie almost came on his first stroke as she felt what she had craved for so long slide up her soaking wet cunt, right up till she could feel his balls knocking against her arse. He pulled back and bucked forward again and again and again. Each stroke seemed to be harder and stronger, pushing farther and farther into her, laying her open, splitting her. There was nothing she could do to stop herself from toppling into orgasm, feeling sensations from her clitoris and nipples that were familiar, and new sensations from the red weals he had inflicted on her body throbbing with the same intensity as her cunt, reflecting and amplifying her pleasure. She could hear herself screaming 'yes, yes, yes,' she could hear herself moaning. He was coming too. She could feel his penis swell inside her, feel her cunt squeezing on it involuntarily as his spunk jetted into her. She could not tell whether this had brought her off again or whether his spunking at that moment had merely intensified the orgasm she was already having. It didn't matter. Only the feeling mattered.

  As she felt his body relax, all the thrusting gone, her natural instinct was to wrap her arms around his back. But in the heat of her passion she had forgotten her bonds. The sudden jolt of restraint as she tried to move sent another shudder of pleasure through her body, like an aftershock of an earthquake. Deliberately she flexed her ankles against the cuffs, trying to close her legs, wanting the feeling of restraint to provoke another wave of emotion. It made her feel helpless, open, available. It made her feel she had been used. It brought back memories of the intense excitement she had felt the first time she had experienced bondage. It made her feel unbelievably wanton, her open cunt the centre of her being. And despite what had just happened it made her feel incredibly turned on. She wanted more.

  Gianni did not wait for his cock to shrink. He pulled out of Stephanie and stood up, his cock glistening with her juices and, no doubt, some of his own. As her view was no longer obstructed by Gianni's body Stephanie could see Devlin again, standing by her feet. He had stripped off his tie and the jacket of his suit, and undone the top button of his shirt. He was looking at her, staring at the long slit of her sex, her pubic hair matted and wet, a dribble of Gianni's spunk already running out of her. She recognised the look in his eyes; she had seen it before during this weekend. It was a look of unabated lust. Quite deliberately she pushed her cunt up off the frame towards him, as much as the bonds would allow, taunting him with it.

  He came up to her and touched the side of her cheek with his hand.

  'I'm sorry,' he whispered, not wanting Gianni to hear. 'It was the only way. I had to do it.'

  She looked into his eyes but said nothing. She was furious with him rationally and in due course she would make him pay for what he had done to her. But, at the moment, it was other feelings, the feelings in every nerve in her body, that dominated her consciousness. Her sexuality was too strong, too aroused to stop for rational analysis now. That would come later, much later.

  Gianni had slipped into one of the ubiquitous towelling robes provided by Bruno. He pointed at Venetia. Devlin knew what was coming next.

  'I want her punished, Devlin. You see what she did?'

  'Yes.' Devlin sighed. He'd hoped Gianni would be satisfied and go. He turned to Venetia. 'That was a very silly thing to do. You shouldn't have interfered,' he said quietly.

  'I want to see her punished.'

  'Couldn't we...?'

  'No. She's one of your whores, isn't she?'

  'He was going to whip her cunt, Devlin,' Venetia spat the words out. 'You can't do that to a woman. Not with that whip.'

  'I thought we had, what you say, a deal?' Gianni said.

  'She was trying to help me, Devlin,' Stephanie added.

  'Don't interfere. You don't understand. Venetia's a slave like all the others, a thief. I have to punish her.' He whispered this into Stephanie's ear while he stroked her cheek tenderly.

  'Untie me, Devlin,' Stephanie said forcefully.

  'Not if you're going to interfere.'

  'I won't,' she said and meant it.

  Devlin nodded to Bruno who quickly unbuckled the straps at Stephanie's wrists and ankles. She sat up on the frame massaging the circulation back into her limbs.

  'I thought we had an agreement, Venetia,' Devlin was saying. 'I thought we had an understanding. Haven't I always kept my part of the bargain? Haven't I? I've never asked you to do anything you haven't wanted to do, have I?'

  'No, but...'

  'I've always respected your preferences, haven't I?'

  'Yes,' Venetia said quietly.

  'And then when it's most important, the most important, you let me down.' Devlin sat down on the wooden frame next to Stephanie. 'You see, my dear, Venetia likes only women. When she first came here she begged me not to make her have men. And since she begged so prettily and I am naturally a soft understanding person and had quite a few women associates with the same preferences, I saw no reason not to accommodate her. A bargain I have always kept until now.'

  Bruno grabbed Venetia from behind, his arms circling her waist and enclosing hers. Venetia made no attempt to struggle. He clipped one cuff of a pair of handcuffs on to her left wrist, then twisted the right behind her back to be manacled together. He had clipped them tight, and the cold metal was biting into her flesh.

  'Don't hurt her, Devlin,' Stephanie whispered.

  'I have to,' Devlin replied.

  A strange sensation swept over Stephanie as he said it. Suddenly she knew she wanted to see what was going to happen to Venetia. She wanted it because she knew it would turn her on, knew it would feed the fire of sexuality that burnt in her body. She was so turned on, so hot, she thought almost anything would serve to increase her heat and pleasure. Her mind was full of images and feelings. She thought of herself spreadeagled under Gianni, his cock poised above her as he teased her, making her beg to be taken, and could not suppress a shudder of pleasure.

  'What are you going to do?' she asked, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. Devlin had given Bruno his instructions.

  'You know, don't you, Venetia?'

  'Don't. Please,' Venetia said, knowing he would not be swayed.

  'This I like to see,' Gianni said from where he sat in a high-backed chair usually used for bondage, sipping a brandy provided by Bruno.

  Stephanie could see the edge of excitement in his eyes. Whatever Devlin wanted from him she was sure, after tonight, and promises of other nights, it would be delivered. He had the air of a man who was discovering pleasures he had never dreamt of, pleasures he intended to repeat. The castle was the bait. However the fish was hooked, however it squirmed on the line, as Gianni had done, once it had taken the bait it would never escape. It would want more and more of what only Devlin and the castle could provide. Gianni was ensnared now, there was no question of that.

  And in a different way Devlin and the castle had ensnared Stephanie too. There was no doubt as to what she was feeling now. Her body quivering with excitement, stretched taut with sexual tension as surely as if she had still been tied to the frame. Despite the fact Venetia was going to be punished for trying to help her, Stephanie wanted to see what was going to happen next, wanted to be part of it. Perhaps she would have felt differently had Devlin not told her Venetia was, in fact, a slave. Perhaps.

  'Please, Devlin...'

  But Devlin nodded to Bruno who immediately left the room to follow Devlin's whispered instructions. Venetia stood tall in the black catsuit, her hands manacled behind her back, her full breasts thrust out. For a moment there was silence, the room still. A sense of expectancy hung heavily in the air.

  The price of Gianni's cooperation was high. He had demanded Stephanie, a woman who had given Devlin unprecedented sexual spontaneity. After the failed attempt to distract him with Colette, Gianni had been so angry that he had threatened to leave the island, taking the unsigned contract and Devlin's future with him. Fortunately, his infatuation with Stephanie was so complete, despite its suddenness, that when Devlin suggested
an alternative means of achieving his ends he had suspended his usual need for conquest and had been tempted down to the cellars. And now Venetia, the only woman he had caught whom he had ever really cared for and come to trust, had to be sacrificed as well. He did not blame her for trying to protect Stephanie. He knew Stephanie had a way of provoking an unusually strong sexual response and in London, Venetia had told him, this is precisely what she had experienced. Her experience with Stephanie had affected her deeply; she had never had such feelings with a woman. But what Gianni wanted, Gianni got. There was no other way of dealing with the situation until the contract was signed. Then, and only then, the deal would be done. He would never allow himself to get into this financial position again. He had too much to risk. He had been taught a lesson he intended never to forget.

  The heavy wooden door swung open and Bruno entered, leading the masked man into the room rather as he would a dog, by a chain attached to a studded leather collar around the slave's neck. He was no longer wearing the bright carnival mask Stephanie had seen this morning and on the plane; Bruno had replaced it with a hood made of tight black elasticated material which covered the whole head apart from the eyes. There was no opening for his mouth and, presumably, as he had been on the plane, he was effectively gagged. Whoever the man was his desire to remain anonymous was being well respected - Bruno was certainly in no position to spill the beans. And no one here would recognise him in this hood. On his left ankle he still wore the metal cuff that had been used to chain him to the floor of the cell. As with all the male slaves, he wore a hard leather pouch chained over his genitals.

  Bruno unclipped the chain from the leather collar. The eyes staring out from the black mask were fixed on the near-naked Stephanie. They were more in evidence than they had been behind the carnival mask on the plane. They were the very grey blue eyes, she thought, of a man older than his body would suggest. He stood upright, his body firm and muscled. Obviously this was a man who looked after himself and exercised regularly. Stephanie noticed that the black pubic hair escaping from under the leather pouch was dotted with grey hairs. It ran up to his navel in ragged clumps before it petered out. His chest was hairy too but again only in clumps, it was not like the carpet of hair Devlin had. This hair too was beginning to grey.