There was no pressure, no need to reach a climax, no need to perform. The continual movement of fingertips on swollen tender parts was end enough in itself. The world seemed to be suspended. Thoughts of Colette faded into the reality of Venetia and the little circles she was making around Stephanie's clitoris. Stephanie thought she was coming but it was so gentle and so quiet, so unlike the orgasms that had torn through her body last night, that it was difficult to be certain. Nor did it matter. What was certain was that the soreness she had woken to this morning had been soothed away.
Stephanie had no need to tell Venetia to stop. She had sensed Stephanie's completion and taken her hands away.
'Feels much better,' Stephanie said, smiling and opening her eyes.
'All part of the service.'
Seeing Venetia kneeling in the short nightdress, her breasts tantalisingly revealed by the lace, her long legs slightly parted, Stephanie felt a rush of desire for this beautiful woman who had made her feel so good. She saw herself leading Venetia into the cool bedroom, lying on the bed with her, kissing her hard on the mouth and pressing her body into Venetia's. But she stopped herself. As always from the moment she had stepped on to the plane, the problem to avoid during the weekend had been overindulgence. There would be time for all that later. Stephanie felt a distance between herself and Venetia now, a distance she welcomed. Not taking her to bed now kept that distance firmly in place.
From below the terrace Stephanie heard the gentle rumble of the motorboat engines. She got up and walked over to the parapet to watch as the boatman skilfully manoeuvred the glimmering metal and polished wood of the boat into position on the jetty. Almost as soon as he'd tied the fore and aft lines, leaving the huge engines idling in the water making a noise like distant thunder, Devlin, Gianni in tow, appeared from under the canopy of leaves and flowers that shrouded the stone steps. Stephanie stepped back slightly into the shade, wanting to see but not be seen. She felt the gentle brush of silk on her naked back as Venetia joined her to peer over her shoulder.
They watched together as Devlin shook hands briskly with Gianni while one of the servants stowed his briefcase aboard the boat. Even from their vantage point on the terrace it was apparent that the relationship between the two men had changed. Devlin was no longer holding himself in a way that suggested, as it had yesterday, his subservience to Gianni. Now his body language was confident and assured. He looked relaxed. Gianni on the other hand exuded an air of tension, shifting his weight from one foot to another, clearly ill at ease and anxious to be off. The boatman helped him into the motorboat and he sat unsmiling on the padded leather seat in the transom. He made no effort to return Devlin's cheery wave as the boatman released the lines and used the boat hook to ease away from the jetty. As soon as the boat was clear the big engines were gunned into life, a churning white froth appeared as the propellers bit into the water, and the boat surged out over the lake. In seconds Gianni's sullen face merged into the landscape, and in minutes only the huge swathe of wake could be seen.
'Good riddance,' Stephanie commented in relief. The desire she had felt for Gianni last night had in no way affected her overall dislike for the man and she was delighted to see the back of him. But she had every intention of teaching him he couldn't merely snap his fingers and get what he wanted. Gianni's introduction to the cellars and to Stephanie in particular was something that was going to haunt him. He was on the hook now and she had every intention of reeling the line in. But, she old herself, first things first.
'Devlin looks happy,' Venetia said.
'Well, I'll wipe that smile off his face.' Stephanie was smiling to herself at the prospect.
'What are you going to do?'
'I'll explain,' she said, leading Venetia into the bedroom.
Stephanie hadn't bothered with underwear. She wore only her cream silk dress. It buttoned down the front and so was easy to take off again. In fact, she had considered not dressing at all and staying in the robe or a towel, but by the time she had made up carefully, she opted for the dress is it was lighter and cooler. Looking once again at the face that stared back at her from the mirror, she was surprised how little changed it appeared to be. She looked, she had to admit, and despite the vagaries of last night, remarkably fresh and fit. Nothing in her face betrayed what she experienced or what she had felt. They were to remain her secret.
She had applied her make-up thickly. Once again she knew the impression she wanted to create. She used a red lipstick, a thick eyeliner and a lot of mascara on her long eyelashes. Her dark brown eyes stared back at her from the mirror, bright and deep and stern.
If Bruno's face was capable of registering any expression apart from a sort of gloomy disinterest, Stephanie thought, she might have detected a flicker of surprise as he opened the cellar door in response to her impatient knocking. But he had let her in without hesitation and followed her as she indicated he should.
It felt strange to be back in the punishment room of the cellar suite again, to see the wooden frame where last night she had been strapped and where Venetia had been violated for the first time. But Stephanie was in no mood to dwell on such things. She had come here for a very specific reason. She went to the wardrobes that lined one wall but this time the doors were locked.
'Open them all, Bruno,' she ordered, and Bruno obeyed immediately, selecting one key from the many on the ring he always carried at his waist and opening each in turn.
As Bruno swung the doors back Stephanie could see the clothing neatly arranged in racks of rubber, leather, and oversized women's clothing (clearly intended for the use of men) as well as the drawers of underwear. There were two drawers of bras, two of knickers, two of stockings, and so on. One drawer contained the usual female sizes and one the over-sized versions of the same thing.
Venetia arrived as Stephanie began rifling the wardrobes for the outfit she had in mind. She had changed into a duck-blue tracksuit.
'How about this?' Stephanie asked, unhooking a red leather basque from the rail.
'Black's better on you,' Venetia said. She rummaged around until she found the identical item in black. Then she helped Stephanie off with her dress.
'Let's see.' Stephanie held the cold leather against her naked body and looked into one of the mirrors that lined the wardrobe doors. She noticed Bruno still standing by the door, his arms once again folded over his chest, his eyes firmly fixed on her body. She wondered, momentarily, if whatever accident he had suffered had after all left him completely disinterested, as Devlin had seemed to believe.
'I'll do it up.' Venetia came round and started hooking up the long row of fastenings at the back. 'Breathe in,' she said as she got to the tight sculptured waist.
The basque fitted perfectly. The soft leather moulded itself to Stephanie's body, the half-cup bra giving a tantalising glimpse of her firm breasts and more than a hint of nipple, the pinched waist emphasising the flare and curve of her rounded hips and buttocks. Stephanie found a pair of knickers, no more than a G-string, made from the same soft leather. She stepped into them, then sat on the wooden frame and rolled a pair of sheer black stockings over her legs, smoothing them out before clipping them into the suspenders of the basque.
'Find me a pair of boots with high heels,' she said as the first stocking was clipped into place. She watched Bruno's eyes following her hands as they unrolled the sheer nylon over her creamy flesh.
'How about these?' Venetia asked, holding a pair of black boots.
'Not high enough.'
'These, then,' Venetia said. They were perfect, the heels adding four inches to Stephanie's height. She would tower over Devlin now.
'What shall I wear, then?' Venetia pulled off her tracksuit.
'The red basque. It's better with your hair.'
Venetia pulled the red leather around her body while Stephanie hooked her into it. It was a little small for Venetia, the half-bra especially struggling to contain her voluptuous breasts. Her outfit was completed by red stockings, a p
air of silk knickers and red high-heeled shoes rather than boots. Stephanie made Venetia change the first pair of shoes she tried, as they made her taller than Stephanie and she didn't want that. Not today. Not for what she had in mind.
It took Stephanie a few minutes to choose a whip from the display on the wall. She noticed that the one Gianni had used on her the night before had been replaced in its mounting. Trying several for weight and balance she swished them through the air inches from where Bruno was standing impassively. He did not flinch. Finally she chose a heavy riding crop with a plaited leather handle tipped with a broad loop of black leather.
'Shall I try it out on you?' she said to Venetia, unable to keep a slight tone of menace out of her voice. She realised she would actually have liked to use it on Venetia, to see the other woman bend down, her arse unprotected by the thin string of the knickers, and watch as the crop whacked against her soft plump flesh. After all, she could do precisely what she wanted to do with Venetia. She was a slave too. Perhaps her eyes betrayed what she was thinking. Venetia was suddenly cold and frightened.
'You can if you want to,' she said reluctantly.
'I know,' Stephanie said frostily. For a moment they were not two equals, but mistress and slave.
The moment passed. Stephanie decided she must not be distracted. As ever that was the problem with the castle, too many possibilities, too many indulgences. This morning Stephanie could so easily have taken Venetia to bed. The idea of feeling that long body pressed into hers was so tempting. And now, seeing Venetia dressed so provocatively, she could easily have had Bruno tie her down to one of the punishment frames. She could have used her and abused her and enjoyed every minute of it. But it was a question of priorities and the number one item on the agenda today was Devlin. Stephanie had no intention of forgetting that. No one, however rich and powerful, was going to treat her like an object, a piece of property to be used at whim, whatever the financial stakes. That was the lesson she was going to teach Devlin and one he would never be allowed to forget. Everything else could wait.
Chapter Twelve
The clatter of high heels on the marble floor of the long hall at the top of the cellar steps echoed through the castle. A white-coated servant appeared to see if he might be of service, only to scurry away at the sight of the two formidably dressed women striding purposefully into the main reception room. Apart from him, however, the castle appeared to be quiet and seemingly deserted. There was no sign of Devlin in any of the reception rooms.
'He's probably in the office,' Venetia volunteered, leading the way back into the hall and down a long passage Stephanie had not noticed before, behind the main staircase. Once again the clatter of heels on the polished marble, like the staccato sound of machine-gun fire, sounded out through the building.
At the end of the corridor Venetia stopped in front of a small wooden door delicately carved with ornate gothic panels.
'In here,' she said.
'OK. You go and arrange things downstairs,' Stephanie instructed, adjusting the whip in her hand. 'You know what to do.'
'I'll be ready.'
She was about to turn and go when Stephanie's voice stopped her.
'Venetia...' She let the name hang in the air between them.
'Yes?'
'I want to spend some time alone with you later. Just the two of us.'
'I'd like that very much.'
Stephanie leant forward and kissed Venetia fleetingly on the cheek before her attitude of authority returned.
'Off you go then.'
As Venetia returned to the cellars Stephanie turned the handle of the office door as quietly as she could and tiptoed into the room beyond. She found herself in a large office lined with white filing cabinets and shelves of computer tapes. There were three secretaries' desks, each with computer terminals, telephones and VDUs, but none was occupied. In one corner of the room Stephanie could see a glass door and beyond another office which clearly belonged to Devlin.
Threading her way silently past the fax machine, paper shredder and desks she walked towards the glass door. Through it she saw that the second office was very differently arranged. There were no filing cabinets, no computers, no files, just a massive desk carved from a single piece of walnut, a long low leather sofa of an ultra-modern design, and two other chairs, one in front of the desk and one behind. On the desk there was a single telephone and very little else. A small cabinet underneath it probably held other office items neatly stored away. Devlin was obviously a very tidy man.
A long picture window had been cut in the solid stone and Stephanie could see the view of the castle's walled gardens and orchards on the other side of the island where she had been yesterday. The sun was still at the front of the castle so most of the walled garden was in shade.
At first this office too appeared to be deserted. Stephanie was right in front of the glass door now and suddenly heard Devlin's voice. It took her a moment to realise that he must be sitting in the desk chair swivelled around to face the window, its leather back completely obscuring him from view.
Stephanie took a deep breath and strode into the office.
'Everything's organised,' Devlin was saying into the phone. 'It's all taken care of. You can stop worrying. No problems, Bob. Check with the bank as soon as they open. The money'll be there.'
'Put the phone down,' Stephanie barked, surprised at how hard her voice sounded.
Devlin swung the chair round. He put his hand over the mouthpiece while his eyes surveyed her body with obvious delight.
'Just a minute...'
'Now!' Stephanie commanded. In a fluid movement she brought the riding crop down to slap across the desk. It missed Devlin's fingers by a quarter of an inch. He put the phone down without a word.
'That's better.'
'My darling, you look magnificent. As always you surprise me. You are a most remarkable woman.'
'I am not your darling. Not after last night.'
'I know, I know. I was just coming to talk to you about it. It was unforgivable, unconscionable. I invited you here as my guest. I hoped we'd have a wonderful weekend. But this thing with Gianni... I was in terrible trouble, my dear.'
'I don't want your excuses.'
'It's all over now. I will make it up to you.'
'Shut up.'
'Anything, Stephanie. My God, you look so wonderful...'
'Shut up, I said!' The second blow of the crop hit Devlin squarely on the hand. He yelped like a little dog. 'Come over here,' she said, indicating a space in front of the desk.
Devlin got up slowly; he seemed to realise that this was not some new game - there was genuine anger in Stephanie's eyes. He rounded the desk and stood in front of her. In the heels she was a foot taller than him.
'Turn round,' she ordered. He obeyed.
She'd kept her left hand behind her back since she'd entered Devlin's office. She hadn't wanted him to see the handcuffs she'd brought up from the cellars.
'Put your hands behind your back.'
Again he obeyed. She quickly snapped the cold steel around his wrists, not caring that he winced as she clamped them too tightly in place.
'That's better.' Stephanie walked around the desk and slid into the high-backed leather chair, putting her boots up on the desk and rocking back in the chair.
'Very comfortable. This is where you wheel and deal, is it? This is where you get yourself into trouble. Venetia tells me Gianni paid quite a high price for the privilege of using me. Is that right?'
'It wasn't really like...'
'Is that right?' Stephanie slapped the crop down on the desk again, making Devlin flinch.
'Yes.'
'Good, because I'm going to make you pay a high price too.'
The heels of her boots were pointed straight at Devlin. Stephanie could see his eyes furtively darting over her body, her long legs, the taut suspenders, her half-exposed nipples and the diminutive crotch of the G-string knickers which, she knew, did little to conceal the th
ick pubic hair at the slit of her sex. She wanted him to see it.
'You are very beautiful,' he said tentatively.
'I don't want to hear what you think. Keep your mouth shut.' Her voice was angry; she felt cold and calculating. She was in control. She was going to use her anger. If what had happened to her last night had not, overall, been such a sensual experience, she would have felt very differently. Her anger would have been hot and uncontrollable. As it was, she could allow herself to feel just sufficient outrage to make her anger at Devlin real and nasty, while at the same time knowing what he had done to her was no more than an extension of what she had allowed to happen, with her full consent, on Friday night. She was certainly not going to tell Devlin that, not now and maybe not ever. Now she was going to thoroughly enjoy the moral high ground. With his hands cuffed behind his back and her high heels giving her new authority she could enjoy the physical high ground too.
'We're going down to the cellars,' she announced, swinging her legs off the desk and getting up. She walked around the room poking at the various objets d'art, picking up the little pieces of sculpture that served as Devlin's executive toys. 'You're going to make sure Bruno doesn't interfere and then, Devlin, I'm going to make you pay the price for treating me as if I was one of your thieving little slaves. Because you don't seem to think there's any difference, do you?'
Devlin did not reply. Stephanie, who was a few feet behind him now, lashed out with the crop. It caught him a stinging blow across the top of his thighs and he cried out in pain.
'Do you?'
'No.'
'And there is one other thing, Devlin. You are to take no action against Venetia. She tried to help me last night and you punished her for it. Well, I think she's entitled to a little revenge too, don't you?'
Stephanie's Castle Page 17