Stephanie's Castle

by Susanna Hughes

  'Can we get on with it?' Gianni said irritably. He leant forward in his chair.

  'Bruno,' Devlin said, indicating Venetia.

  Bruno stepped forward and caught Venetia by the upper arm. His other hand ran down the front of the shiny Lycra catsuit and grabbed the material that covered her crotch. He held her by this, released her arm and fumbled in his black tunic with his free hand, coming out with a wicked-looking hunting knife. Venetia immediately started to struggle, trying to free herself from Bruno's grip.

  'Devlin,' Stephanie said quietly, clutching Devlin's arm in panic.

  'Don't worry,' he said. 'He's not going to hurt you, Venetia. Keep still.'

  Venetia obeyed but kept her eyes on the knife.

  Bruno pulled on the material, pulling it as far away from her body as the tightness of the Lycra would allow. Then he simply sliced around the cloth he had gathered in his hand with the razor-sharp blade of the knife. The Lycra sprung back into place, leaving Bruno with the handful he had sawn away, and Venetia's body exposed from the top of her pubic triangle to the cleft of her arse. Using the same technique Bruno pulled on the material covering each of her large breasts until each in turn was exposed by ragged holes in the black Lycra.

  'Bellissima!' Gianni cried, applauding Bruno's invention. Unable to ripen fully, the masked man's erection strained against the hard pouch. His eyes were on Venetia now that her body was exposed, gazing on her thick heavy breasts in such contrast to her slim waist and slender hips. The wisps of her meagre pubic hair barely covered the joining of her labia. She was a stunningly beautiful creature and it was obvious to the man what he had been brought here to do. As if to confirm it, Bruno had sheathed the knife and was unlocking the small padlock that held the genital pouch in place. As it fell away the masked man's erection sprung free.

  'No, Devlin,' Venetia begged quietly, as though trying not to let anyone else in the room hear. 'Please, Devlin. You know I've never had a man, please...'

  'She's a virgin!' Gianni had heard her perfectly. 'Well, now, this is better and better.'

  His greedy eyes looked at Venetia with renewed interest. The masked man had heard too. With the incident on the plane and now this, Devlin was certainly orchestrating a weekend for him that he would never forget.

  'Devlin...' Venetia begged again, looking straight into Devlin's eyes. For a moment Stephanie could see he was tempted to let her off. But he had no choice. Gianni was paying the piper.

  'Get on with it,' he said with no conviction.

  Bruno took the masked man by the arm and led him towards Venetia. She made no attempt to move. The masked man looked back at Devlin as if for reassurance that this wasn't some elaborate game and that he had misunderstood his role. He had visited the castle many times and knew there were many games and many rules and that the price for breaking the rules was paid in pain. Caught in a trough of indecision, his feelings for Venetia weighing heavily on him as she continued to beg with her eyes not to commission this act, Devlin did nothing.

  'Tomorrow is the sixteenth, my friend. You need me to remind you of this? The day your loan runs out.' Gianni's voice was ice cold. His eyes did not leave the glories of Venetia's body as he spoke. He would get what he wanted. Power over a man of Devlin's wealth was a rare commodity and he was determined to use it while he could. Tomorrow, with the contract signed, Devlin would not be so malleable.

  'What are you waiting for?' Devlin growled at the masked man.

  He needed no second bidding. The man's erection and his balls ached for relief. He pulled back his foreskin over the head of his penis and felt an instant jolt of pleasure. It was the first time he'd been able to touch himself since he was put on the plane. A tear of fluid had already formed in his excitement. He was three or four feet in front of Venetia. She had given up the attempt to influence Devlin and now her bright green eyes were watching him closely. The man edged forward and she backed away. There wasn't far for her to go. In two steps her manacled hands were pressed into the stone wall of the cellar.

  The masked man advanced slowly. Venetia moved sideways, away into the farthest corner of the room. The man followed, his erection bobbing out in front of him. She reached the corner and pressed herself into it. He stood in front of her. Their eyes met. Hunter and prey. Venetia tensed her body. With her hands cuffed behind her back there was little she could do to defend herself but she was going to make it as difficult for him as she could.

  The man lunged forward but Venetia was ready for him. As he tried to grab her shoulders she ducked down and pushed passed him knocking him off balance as her shoulders slammed into his hip. He sprawled on to the cold stone floor, only just managing to break his fall with his hands.

  Gianni was laughing and applauding. 'Bellissima bella,' he cried, reminding Stephanie of a man applauding the first pass of a matador.

  Venetia was in the middle of the room now, able to dart in any direction to escape her pursuer. Only the various items of bondage apparatus, the chairs, whipping stools, and punishment frames, were in her way. The masked man had picked himself up from the floor and advanced towards her again, angry at her now. But Venetia made sure she did not get herself cornered and always circled to the centre of the room. The cat-and-mouse game continued for some minutes, with neither the masked man's appetite nor his erection in the least diminished by the game.

  Gianni watched fascinated, his eyes constantly roving over Venetia's body so wantonly displayed by the holes cut in the black Lycra and accentuated by the sharp high heels of her boots. But Devlin wanted it over.

  'Bruno...'

  Bruno was standing behind Venetia. Before she could react to the new threat he had jumped forward and caught her around her waist.

  'No, not fair,' Gianni shouted in mock complaint. But he did not want Bruno actually to release her.

  The masked man stood in front of Venetia and took one of her large breasts in his hand. Venetia struggled against Bruno's grip but it was as though his arms were made of steel. The hand squeezed and pummelled at the soft flesh of her tit, then the fingers took the nipple and squeezed and pinched this too. The masked man repeated the process with the other breast, all the time looking straight into Venetia's green eyes to see her response, the tip of his penis nudging the wispy hair of her pubis. Venetia's nipples were hard now, her body betraying her, though her eyes betrayed nothing.

  His hand pried between her legs. She clasped them together tightly but not enough to prevent his forefinger finding the tight node of her clitoris. As she felt him manipulate it she renewed her struggle against Bruno but this only provoked him to hold her around the neck and clamp his hand on her chin, making it impossible for her to move her head. The finger pried deeper, despite the resistance of her thighs, and wanked her clitoris. Against her will Venetia could sense some wetness beginning to lubricate her labia. The masked man felt it too.

  As if she weighed nothing, Bruno picked her bodily off the floor. The masked man's finger never lost contact with her clitoris for a second, clamped there as it was by her thighs, as Bruno laid Venetia down on one of the wooden frames. As she felt the rough material of the thin mattress that covered the frame on her back Venetia realised the inevitable. Resistance was impossible. With her hands still manacled behind her back her weight rested on them forcing her to arch her back, angling her cunt up as if in invitation.

  She felt the masked man's hand pushing her legs apart. She did not resist. She did not cooperate either. She lay passive and hoped it would be over quickly. She tried to imagine she was somewhere else. She cursed herself for ever getting into this position, for stealing from Devlin and for imagining he would not, sooner or later, exact this punishment on her. She had been his special slave. Now her luck had run out.

  Bruno knelt by the frame, his hand gripping her throat. The masked man pressed two fingers into her cunt, feeling the soft wet walls of it, pushing as far as his fingers would go then pulling out again, imitating the movement his cock would make very soon n
ow.

  Venetia strained her head to look around the room. Gianni sat on the edge of his chair his eyes fixed on her body. Stephanie sat watching too. Only Devlin appeared not to be able to bring himself to look.

  'Fuck her then,' Gianni prompted. She could see his robe had fallen open and he was stroking his own semi-erect cock.

  The masked man needed no further encouragement. He climbed on to her body and felt her shudder as his cock lay on her navel. He half expected her to start to fight again, to try to buck and twist him off her. But she lay still, seemingly accepting the inevitable. Slowly he raised his buttocks and aimed his cock down between her legs. He could feel the soft flesh of her labia on his cock already wet from his own excretions. He pushed it down farther until it was at the entrance to her cunt. He looked down at her magnificent body, the black Lycra clinging to every inch of her that was not already white and exposed. Then in one smooth movement he buried his cock up to the hilt in her wet cunt knowing he was the first man who had ever penetrated her.

  Venetia screamed once, a long thin piercing scream. She tried to take her mind away, tried to think of other things, of being in another place, tried to pretend she could not feel this man inside her body, fucking her, but it was impossible. He was thrusting in and out, the relentless rhythm of his cock and the constant hammering of her clitoris against his pubic bone making it impossible for her to be anywhere but in that room feeling what he was doing to her and knowing what was coming, that for the first time a man was going to spunk inside her. She was fighting herself too she began to realise. Almost involuntarily she tried to squirm away from the cock that was giving her a feeling she didn't want, a feeling of pleasure. But the rhythm was irresistible, unyielding. She did not know whether the masked man was a good lover, she had nothing to compare him with, but his thrusts seemed never ending and the force and power of his cock overwhelmed her.

  Her tits ached from the treatment he had given them, but it was not real pain. Her cunt was stretched by the sword of flesh ramming into it. It was not like a dildo, not like the dildos she had used and had been used on her, cold and dead. His cock was hot and alive, swelling with its load of spunk.

  She fought the pleasure, determined she would not let it take her over. Her body was betraying her again. Then Bruno was gone and Stephanie knelt in his place. Instead of his iron hand holding her throat Stephanie was stroking her face, her neck, even her eyelids. Stephanie was there as the cock relentlessly forced her to orgasm. It was Stephanie's hand stretching down her body, running her fingers down her open thigh, so tender, that brought her off, opened the nerves of her body. It was Stephanie's kiss and Stephanie's tongue in her mouth as though wanting to touch her orgasm and be part of it that made Venetia feel she would never stop coming, made her whole body quiver and shake under and over and around a man for the first time in her life.

  The masked man had managed not to spunk. He waited. He waited as he watched Stephanie walking towards the frame, watched her stroke her friend and kiss her friend. He waited as he felt Venetia's orgasm rake through every nerve in her long beautiful body. Then he knew it was his turn. As Venetia subsided beneath him he knew it was his turn. He looked at Stephanie, remembering what she had done to him on the plane, as she got to her feet, naked but for her tautly suspended stockings and high heels. He knew what she was going to do before she did it. He even knew why - because she wanted him finished with her friend. Then her hand was down between his legs to where he was coupled to Venetia, down in all the heat and wetness, down cupping his balls, pulling them away from his body, squeezing them with just the right amount of pressure, making sure his spunk was in his cock. Her fingers wrapped themselves around his cock now on his outward stroke and tightened around it and that was the last thing he felt before he surrendered himself to his climax, before he bucked into Venetia and spunked, spunked so hard and so long his body seemed out of his control for what seemed like forever, wanting only to get the last drop of spunk out and into her.

  Stephanie had been unable to sit and watch passively. She had seen the change in Venetia; she had watched the tense resistance of her body, fighting every touch, change to passivity, then relax slowly and change again, as passivity had given way to desire, as Venetia's body had started to crave and want what the masked man was giving her. Only with her eyes did Venetia express her true feelings. Stephanie had wanted to watch what was going to happen to Venetia. The idea had turned her on, had increased the sexual arousal she was already experiencing, twisting another notch higher on the ratchet of her desire.

  At first she had stood up only to get a better view as Venetia was laid on the frame. She had done it unconsciously, enthralled by the spectacle before her eyes. In the same way she had moved closer, only dimly aware of Gianni's eyes on her near-naked body. She had watched as the masked man thrust his cock into Venetia and heard Venetia's heart-rent scream. But Stephanie was not content to watch, her body and her temperament needed something more. Without asking Devlin, or Gianni - the ring-master of this particular circus - for that matter, she knelt beside Bruno and pulled his hand from Venetia's throat. Bruno acquiesced after a nod of approval from Devlin. He got to his feet and walked away. Stephanie caressed Venetia's throat where the strong fingers had left an impression on her white skin, and their eyes met. She felt the sexual electricity that Venetia's body was generating; she stroked her body, her neck, her face, her thighs, then kissed Venetia's mouth. As her tongue penetrated her mouth she felt the orgasm rocking through Venetia's body, and knew she, and not the man, had given her that release. She could see it in Venetia's eyes, her gratitude and a plea. She knew immediately what Venetia wanted. Venetia wanted this man out of her, wanted it to be over.

  And Stephanie knew what to do. She had become expert now. She knew she could milk this man, take his balls in her hand and milk the spunk out of him. She knew she could make him come instantly and Venetia's punishment would be over and Gianni satisfied. She had felt down between his legs, felt his balls wet with Venetia's juices. She squeezed them, pulled them, felt his cock swell with spunk. She circled his cock with her fingers putting greater pressure on it than Venetia's cunt could do. And that had taken him over the edge, made him shoot his spunk, unable to hold back any longer. Stephanie had made him come too.

  'Bravo! Bravo!' Gianni was shouting, Caesar satisfied with the fate of the gladiators, both thumbs turned up.

  The masked man was led away, Bruno attaching the chain to his leather collar and taking him out of the room, his cock still half erect and wet. Stephanie had found the key to the handcuffs and made Venetia roll on to her side so that she could free her from the steel hoops. When they were off she helped her massage the deep red marks on her wrists where the metal had bitten into her flesh as they were forced to bear the weight of two bodies.

  'Go and get some rest now,' Stephanie said.

  'I'll be all right.' Venetia touched her hand to Stephanie's cheek. 'Thank you,' she added.

  'Go.' Stephanie insisted. 'We'll talk tomorrow.'

  No one interfered as Venetia got unsteadily to her feet and walked out of the room.

  Stephanie's concern for her friend was fleeting; her concern for herself was taking precedence over everything. It was becoming overwhelming. What she had just done and felt had further cranked up her sexual arousal. Her whole body seemed to be alive; the red weals from the whip were throbbing with a sexual pulse that was spreading through her. It was as though her body had turned into one huge erogenous zone. Venetia's touch, gentle and soft, was transposed by Stephanie's fevered body into the most intimate of caresses.

  It was not only her body, Stephanie knew. It was what was going on in her mind. She was in control again. She had enjoyed the sensation of submission but in the end it was control that was her turn-on. That was what she had discovered last night with Devlin and this morning with the slaves. It was not something she would have expected of herself but it was something she was perfectly happy to exploit. As she sto
od in this strange room surrounded by sexual paraphernalia of every sort, she knew she was in charge. She had become the ringmaster, she was in command. And it was this that thrilled her and gave an extra dimension to her sexual awareness.

  She walked towards Gianni, slowly and deliberately looking steadily into his eyes, demanding that his gaze did not drift down, as she knew he wanted it to, to take in the sensuous movement of her stockinged legs as nylon rasped against nylon and the dark hairy pubic triangle. She dared him to look down, dared him to disobey her. Gianni was in her thrall.

  Pulling him to his feet she kissed him hard on the mouth, pushing her tongue between his lips and allowing him to do the same with her. She ran her fingers under the towelling robe until she could reach his back, then she gouged it viciously from top to bottom with her long fingernails. He winced.

  'Delicate little thing, aren't we?' she mocked. 'You're going to fuck me again, Gianni. And this time I won't be tied down.' She wanted his cock inside her. But that was not all she wanted. She turned to Devlin. 'And so are you.'

  She turned on her heels and walked out of the stone-walled punishment room, her words still hanging in the air. For a moment her anger at the way Devlin had treated her, at what he had done and allowed to be done to her and to Venetia, was pushed to the back of her mind. She would make him pay for that undoubtedly, but now other priorities took precedence over revenge.

  She walked down the soft-carpeted corridor of the cellar suite where she had been this morning and where, presumably, Bruno had carried her, drugged and unconscious, some hours before. She found her way to the bathroom, turned on the shower to full power, stripped off her stockings and suspender belt and stood in the invigorating cascade of water. She towelled herself dry and wandered into one of the bedrooms of the suite. The one she chose was decorated in blue tones, silk pastel blue wall coverings and a dark blue carpet similar to the one in her bedroom upstairs. She pulled the toning blue counterpane off the bed and lay on the cool silk sheet underneath. For a while she did nothing, enjoying the comfort and softness of the bed after the hardness and discomfort of the wooden punishment frame. Then she opened her legs, spreading them wide apart, bending her knees so she could see the smooth curves of the muscles in her thighs. Her long lithe legs were definitely her best feature. She looked down at her body, at her breasts, flattened slightly by gravity, her tight corrugated nipples, her dark pubic hair newly fluffed up by the towel, and was pleased at what she saw.