Stephanie's Castle

by Susanna Hughes

  Gianni was coming. Stephanie could swear, despite his previous orgasm not minutes before, that she could feel his spunk swelling his cock, getting ready to explode. She desperately wanted Devlin's spunk too and wriggled her cunt on him as if to demand action. He replied by thrusting harder and deeper, knowing exactly what she wanted, knowing instinctively she wanted them to spunk together. Gianni knew too and tried to hold back, not understanding how he could be on the verge of orgasm again so soon, but knowing nevertheless that he was, that Stephanie had provoked him to it and that he could not hold back. His cock started to contract as Stephanie's tongue played with the opening in the glans, trying to force its way in there, and the first jet of spunk came right out over her tongue. Devlin saw what was happening and as new gobs of spunk spurted uncontrollably in her mouth Devlin's cock exploded too. He used both his hands on her hips to ram her down on to him, as he arched his back to drive his cock into her. He had no control, there was no holding back, his only concern to get his spunk into that special place he had found deep inside her.

  Stephanie's orgasm tore through her body too. Like a musical harmony it seemed perfectly tuned to both men's bodies, each note finding a resonance in the others. Their three bodies came together, their convolutions matching and in tune. But Stephanie had an advantage over the two men. Their orgasm was singular, hers multiple. The shattering climax she had experienced as spunk flooded into her mouth and cunt, as two cocks spasmed inside her, was followed by many aftershocks, not as intense as that the double cocks had produced but orgasms nevertheless. She lay back, her body trembling, spunk in every crevice of her body, feeling higher than she had ever felt in her life. The sudden shock of Devlin's cock finally slipping out of her cunt with an almost audible 'plop' made her come for the last time that night, though she would not have believed herself capable of finding the energy needed once again to moan with pleasure as her body vibrated and shook.

  Finally her body was still. The two men lay exhausted, drained, and utterly spent. Wearily, with a great effort, Stephanie got up. She wanted to sleep for what remained of the night in her own room upstairs where there were windows and fresh air. She slipped into a towelling robe (it was Devlin's with the monogrammed pocket) and out of the room. She made her way through the cellars and then up through the deserted castle. Everything was quiet.

  In her room she stood on the terrace for a moment letting the cool air wash over her and listening to the stillness and silence of the night. She started to think about what had happened to her, to go over it all and analyse her feelings, but almost immediately a wave of tiredness swept over her. There would be time enough to think about it all in the morning. Now, above all, she needed to sleep.

  Walking into the bedroom she took off the robe and slipped between the silk sheets of the bed. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to arrive, keeping her mind blank, not allowing it to wander off into recollections of any part of her extraordinary day. In seconds she was asleep, a deep, untroubled and, as far as she would remember, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Stephanie woke to the sound of church bells. Across the lake on the mainland, in two churches, a bell tolled. Both were tuned to a different pitch. Unlike in England they tolled irregularly, with no particular pattern; sometimes the two sounds coming together, sometimes apart, one a counterpoint for the sound of the other. Stephanie lay and listened, the clear morning air carrying the sound in through the open windows, a slight breeze rustling the material of the curtains.

  She got up. Her body felt sore. She was bruised. As she stood under a warm shower she examined the damage. There were bruises on her wrists and ankles where they had been strapped but the straps had been well padded; the bruises were superficial and would soon fade. The weals from the whipping that Gianni had given her had turned from scarlet to deep purple and hurt when she touched them. The one on her inner thigh was the worst, as it was impossible to walk without brushing the other thigh against it. She had good reason to be thankful for Venetia's intervention. Her nipples and clitoris were sore too but that was a different kind of soreness, more a dull ache with not a small measure of pleasure buried in the hurt. They had been pawed and pinched and hammered all day so it was hardly surprising that they felt swollen and sensitive.

  Patting herself dry, careful to avoid the whip marks, Stephanie had only just walked back into the bedroom when there was a knock at her door. Wrapping the bath towel around her body and praying that the visitor was not Gianni or Devlin she opened the door. Her heart lifted when she saw it was Venetia carrying a vast tray of breakfast - coffee, blood-orange juice, croissants and brioches and a plate of sliced melon nestling on a platter of crushed ice.

  'I thought you'd like breakfast on your terrace this morning,' Venetia said. She looked fresh but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

  'You must be psychic. I don't think I'm ready to face Devlin just yet.'

  Venetia carried the tray out on to the terrace and laid its contents on the table, starting with a well-starched white linen tablecloth. She laid two places and poured steaming black coffee for them both. She was wearing a cream silk negligee over a matching nightdress. The nightdress was short, revealing most of her thighs, and a deep inverted V of lace at the front did little to hide her full breasts.

  Stephanie, still wrapped in the towel, sat and drank the coffee eagerly, pouring herself a second cup the moment she had finished the first.

  'I needed that,' she said. She discovered she was hungry too and applied butter and jam to a croissant.

  'We've got a lot to catch up on,' Venetia said. Stephanie looked into Venetia's green eyes. She looked uncertain, as if not sure where last night had left their relationship or indeed what their relationship was. Their experience in London could have been as nothing more than a sexual fling. Stephanie had felt it was more than that but until now there had been no opportunity to discuss it. And what had happened last night had clearly added a new dimension.

  'I wanted to...'

  'Can we...'

  They both spoke at once, both wanting to clear the air.

  'You first,' Stephanie said.

  Venetia was about to say, 'No, you,' but stopped herself. 'I just wanted to say, about last night. I was glad you were there. It helped me,' she said instead.

  'Is that true?'

  'Yes.'

  'I thought I should have tried to stop them.'

  'There was nothing you could have done. Nothing.'

  'But you tried to help me. If you hadn't...'

  'That was different. Devlin had no right to do that to you. You were his guest.'

  Stephanie wanted to be honest.

  'Venetia, I wanted to see what they were going to do to you. I wanted to see it.'

  'I know. I saw it in your eyes. It doesn't matter. It was bound to happen sometime. I've been lucky so far. And I've only got myself to blame.'

  'You're a...' Stephanie could not bring herself to use the word.

  'I'm a slave like the rest of them. Did Devlin tell you?'

  'Only in general.'

  'I worked for his export business. I'm very good with computers. I was in over my head. I'd taken a big mortgage to buy this apartment in Docklands. It had everything. Wooden floors, view over the Thames, jacuzzi in the bathroom, swimming pool and gym in the building, private security, car park. I could manage the mortgage but then I got a bill for the first quarter's service charges. They were ten times what they'd said they would be. I couldn't cope. So I found a way to divert incoming funds from abroad into my bank account through the computer. It was foolproof. I got away with it for a year.'

  The sun had rounded the corner of the castle wall and for the first time that morning Stephanie felt the gentle morning heat on her face.

  'And Devlin found out?'

  'I got overconfident I suppose. It was too easy. I started taking more than I needed to cover my costs. I bought a new car, new clothes, silk underwear, Gucci handbags. I went comple
tely wild. And someone at work started to take notice. There was this guy who'd always been after me - little weasel with bad breath and crooked teeth. Well, he followed me home one night. Told me if I didn't let him in and sleep with him he was going to tell the managing director where the money came from for all my perks.'

  'So what did you do?'

  'I threw him out. Next morning I went to see Devlin. I'd never met him. Never even seen him. But I knew he was the overall boss. Chairman of the group that owned our company, all that. So I rang his office and asked if they were expecting him that day. Fortunately they were. I put on my best Valentino dress, best tights, Bally shoes, make-up, the works, and went up to his office. I sat in reception pretending to wait for a friend. I knew they'd never let me in to see him. I had to wait all morning before he finally came out on his way to lunch. I followed him down in the lift and when his chauffeur opened the door of the Rolls I got in ahead of him. Just sat in the back of the car. He was astonished. Then I told him.'

  'Told him what?'

  'That I'd stolen approximately £750,000 from his company to date.'

  'That much?'

  'Perhaps a little more. And I told him Bill Giles, the little weasel, wanted to fuck me in return for keeping quiet.' She paused.

  'And?'

  'He took me to lunch at the Savoy Grill. A very good lunch actually. He asked me how I'd done it. He asked me if I could write a computer programme to prevent it being done again, from any of his companies, since they all used the same mainframe. Then he asked me why I'd come to him direct.'

  'And why had you?'

  'Because if I was going to be fucked by anyone, especially as I had a preference for women and had never been fucked by a man,' her voice faltered but then she carried on, '...it seemed to me it should be him. He thought that was very amusing, I remember. He couldn't stop laughing.'

  'So what happened?' Stephanie was intrigued by the story.

  'Well, first he fired the little weasel.'

  'And then?'

  'He told me I wasn't the first. And that he had devised a rather unusual alternative to prosecution and jail.'

  'But you didn't go to bed with him?'

  Venetia was quiet for a moment remembering things she would rather have forgotten.

  'He was involved with a French woman at the time,' she continued. 'She was older, maybe sixty, it was hard to tell. She had one of those tough suntanned faces, wore gold jewellery, not an ounce of fat on her body, long painted fingernails, low-heeled shoes, you know the type. Anyway, she had Devlin exactly where she wanted him. He took me to his house...' She couldn't help shuddering at the memory.

  'She took you to bed?'

  'Devlin watched. She was all hard and bony. Not soft like most women. She hurt me. She hurt me more than a man ever could. She wanted to make me pay for what I'd done. And Devlin watched it all. Night after night. It was a long time before she was bored with me.'

  'Then you came here?'

  'I think Devlin was sorry for me. We came to a sort of agreement. I'd deal with the women and be a sort of roving assistant. That's why I was sent to you.'

  Stephanie looked at the beautiful woman who sat in front of her at the table, her long blonde hair flowing over the silk negligee, her breasts half exposed by the lace.

  'London was a special experience for me,' Venetia was saying. 'I wouldn't want you to think I did it all the time.'

  'I didn't. It was special for me too.' But as she said it Stephanie realised her feelings for Venetia had changed. The events of the last two days had changed them. She still felt affection for her but it was not as complex as it had been when she had ridden down in the lift on Friday expecting Venetia to be outside waiting. Perhaps it was the revelation that Venetia was a slave that was subtly changing the way she felt.

  Stephanie sipped more coffee. The early morning sun was surprisingly hot but it was soothing too. 'So why didn't you pick me up on Friday?'

  'I wanted to. Something came up.'

  'To do with Gianni, no doubt,' Stephanie said, allowing a bitter tone into her voice as Gianni's presence seemed to have changed so many plans for this weekend.

  'Devlin was in trouble. He overreached himself on a property deal. Borrowed too much to buy it because he thought he had a certain sale worked out. The sale fell through and he was left with all the property and the colossal interest charges. Gianni offered to take the whole thing off his hands. The loans are called in tomorrow. If Devlin can't produce the money...'

  'And Gianni came through?'

  'Apparently.'

  'So Devlin's off the hook?'

  'And swears he'll never do anything so foolish again.'

  'How much did Gianni pay?'

  'I don't know exactly.'

  'About?' Stephanie persisted.

  'A hundred million sterling. Plus all the charges.'

  Stephanie laughed. 'Well if I am going to be treated like a whore, then at least no one can say I was a cheap whore.'

  Feeling hot in the sun Stephanie stood up and unwrapped the towel from her body. The weals from the whip were all too visible in the bright sun.

  'Do they hurt?'

  'This one especially,' Stephanie said, parting her legs to show the mark on her inner thigh.

  'There's some cream in the bathroom that'll help. I'll get it.' Venetia went inside as Stephanie lay out on the double-width lounger after swinging it out to get the full force of the sun. She touched the two weals on her breasts so close together they were impossible to distinguish, and felt a sting of pain. The pain was in direct proportion to her anger at Devlin.

  Venetia returned carrying a jar of expensive-looking unguent. She stripped off her negligee and knelt on the lounger beside Stephanie.

  'This will hurt a little at first,' she said, dipping her finger into the jar and then spreading the thick white cream as gingerly as she could on to the weals on Stephanie's breasts. Stephanie winced and tears welled up in her eyes, but as Venetia's fingertips worked the lotion into her skin the initial stinging effect miraculously gave way to a warm soothing sensation.

  'I'm not going to let him get away with it, Venetia,' Stephanie said as the soothing fingers moved from breast down to thigh. 'I'm going to get my revenge.'

  'Your revenge?'

  'For drugging me. Using me. Who the hell does he think he is?'

  'He had no choice.'

  'Don't be ridiculous. I'm his guest. I'm not one of his thieving slaves.' As she blurted the words out she realised at once what she had said. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean...'

  'That's all right. It's true, isn't it?'

  'Yes. I just...'

  'I have to live with what I did, Stephanie.'

  'I suppose you do. But it doesn't change what he did to me. I can't pretend I didn't enjoy it in the end. Ahh...' she winced as Venetia's hand massaged cream into the weal on her inner thigh. 'But I wasn't given any choice. And I told him I was not going to let Gianni near me. Then there's what he did to you. You were only trying to help me. If you hadn't intervened I'd have been covered in these things. No, Venetia, he's going to pay.'

  'What can you do?'

  'I know exactly what I'm going to do.' Stephanie smiled. Gianni was out of the picture now. It was just her and Devlin. She knew exactly how she was going to make him pay for what he had done to her - payment in kind.

  'Open your legs a bit more,' Venetia requested. Stephanie obliged and felt the cream being spread down along her inner thigh. She looked at Venetia's elegant body, hardly covered by the silk and lace of the short nightdress, her fair hair brushed out and free flowing, shining with health in the sun. She remembered last night and how she had looked in the cellars. She remembered how she had screamed, that thin haunting scream, as she had been penetrated by a man for the first time. Of course, she was right. She had only herself to blame. What had happened last night was her punishment, for interfering with Gianni certainly, but ultimately for what she had done in stealing from Devlin in the first p
lace.

  'What happened to Colette?'

  'Devlin sent her home. There was a flight this morning first thing.'

  'For helping to drug me, I suppose?'

  'She didn't have any choice.'

  'Oh, I don't blame her. She reminded me of you. I'd like to have spent more time with her.'

  'Did you sleep with her?' There was no hint of jealousy in Venetia's voice.

  'Briefly. I was trying to use her to get Gianni off my back.'

  'He only wanted you.'

  'I know. Well, perhaps I'll be able to get my revenge on him too,' Stephanie mused. Devlin was first on her list of priorities, however. Gianni would have to wait.

  Venetia took another pat of cream from the jar and directed it to Stephanie's clitoris.

  'This is sore too isn't it?'

  'Emm... That's nice...' Venetia's fingers massaged the cream deep into her labia, into her clitoris, right down to the puckered rosebud of her arse. The tender flesh was immediately soothed and relaxed, every hint of soreness smoothed away by Venetia's gentle fingertips and the miracle cream. The warmth of the sun helped too.

  'Better?'

  'It feels so good.'

  'Just enjoy it. Tell me when you've had enough.'

  Stephanie reached up to touch Venetia's breast under the cream lace of the nightdress. She could see her nipple through the lace and it was already hard. But Venetia took her hand and put it back by her side, kissing Stephanie lightly on the cheek and whispering:

  'This is all for you. Lie back and enjoy it. Don't think about me.'

  Stephanie closed her eyes. For a second she had a vision of Colette and wished she had not been sent away. Venetia was applying the cream to each breast in turn, avoiding the weals and massaging the plump flesh and hardening nipple with one hand while the other was circling the knot of Stephanie's clitoris. Stephanie thought of Colette lying on the bed using the dildo on herself, her eyes locked on Stephanie's face. The thick glutinous cream made the contact of flesh on flesh almost frictionless. Venetia's fingers touched her so lightly, so carefully, so tenderly Stephanie almost wanted to cry with delight. This was not the rough wild pleasures of last night, but, by contrast, the pleasure only a woman knows how to give another. Stephanie's mind was full of Colette. She wished she'd taken the dildo, used it on Colette, felt it penetrating her soft wet cunt.