Stephanie's Castle

by Susanna Hughes

  'I tried to explain she's just a...'

  'Don't you?' Stephanie lashed the crop across his upper arm.

  'Yes.'

  'And then it will be forgotten, won't it? Completely forgotten.' Devlin nodded. 'Say it!'

  'It will be forgotten.'

  'That's better.' She paused and walked over to the picture window, standing with her back to Devlin, her legs apart. She knew he would be staring at her arse, perfectly framed at the top by the black leather of the basque, at the sides by the suspenders and at the bottom by the thick black welts of the stocking tops. It would look firm and tight, a ripe peach split in two by the leather thong of the G-string.

  'Well, I think it's time to take a little walk now, Devlin.'

  Stephanie grabbed his tie, a very expensive Sulka silk tie which he would never be able to wear again, and pulled Devlin forward like a dog on a lead. He had to stoop forward as he walked, his head pulled down by the tie. She led him out of the office, through the long corridor and down into the cellars. As he walked she could not help noticing the huge bulge in front of his dark blue cotton trousers. She had certainly improved Devlin's ability to achieve spontaneous erections since her arrival at the castle. She made sure he did not see her smile.

  In the cellars Venetia had been busy. Though most of the slave cells were small, the two at the far end of the brick-vaulted corridor, the end that contained the cellar suite, were slightly bigger - big enough, at least, for Stephanie's plan. Using the authority Devlin had given her over the years and which Bruno had never failed to recognise without question Venetia had ordered Bruno to assemble all the slaves in one of the larger cells. There were nine now that Colette had gone, not including the masked man. He was left in his cell. Stephanie and Venetia had very special plans for him.

  Bruno opened each cell in turn, unlocked the ankle chain from the ring in the floor of the cell and led the slave to the larger chamber. Instead of having all the chains locked to the ring in the floor of that cell, Bruno merely locked the chain of one slave to the ankle-cuff of another so that only the original inhabitant of the larger cell was secured to the floor ring. All the others were secured to him in line. During their time at the castle none of the slaves had experienced any manoeuvres of this sort, but knowing Bruno's attitude to unsolicited conversation and seeing his whip hanging as ever at his side, none of them broke the silence.

  It had taken some time to accomplish the rearrangement. Bruno was still attaching the last chain when Stephanie knocked at the outer door and Venetia let her in.

  'Everything ready?' Stephanie asked, pulling Devlin forward by the tie.

  'Bruno's just doing the last one.'

  'Well Devlin has been very understanding. You're free to help me. Then it'll be forgotten. Right, Devlin?'

  'Yes. Absolutely.'

  'This way.' Stephanie pulled on the tie again and Devlin followed her down to the end of the corridor. Bruno had finished his labours and was tucking the key ring back into his belt. He looked puzzled when he saw Devlin's position, hands cuffed behind his back, pulled along by his tie.

  'Say it,' Stephanie prompted.

  'You can go, Bruno,' Devlin muttered. 'Take some time off.'

  'Out of the cellars,' she prompted again.

  'Out of the cellars,' Devlin repeated.

  Bruno looked uncertain. Stephanie picked the bunch of keys from his belt. Instantly his hand flew out and caught her by the wrist in a vicelike grip.

  'Devlin...' she said, unable to break the grip by herself.

  'Give her the keys, Bruno,' he said. 'Then go. It's all right. Just go.'

  Stephanie could see Bruno trying to work out what he should do. Suddenly he released her wrist, emitted an audible grunt of displeasure, the first noise Stephanie had heard him make, and, with obvious reluctance, sloped off down the corridor. When he reached the main door he looked back as if expecting Devlin to change his mind. As Devlin remained silent he swung the heavy door open and made his exit, slamming it shut after him. The noise echoed through the cellars. Venetia quickly bolted the door from the inside.

  'Now it's just us, Devlin. No one to help you.'

  Pulling on his tie again Stephanie led him into the far cell. The assembled slaves did not react to the sight of their master being led in like a dog. Most of them had been at the castle long enough to know that anything could happen. To them it was just another game, probably devised by the master himself, in which no doubt their collective role would be, as it always was ultimately in the cellars, a form of punishment.

  When Devlin reached the centre of the room Stephanie dropped the tie.

  'Take your clothes off,' she ordered.

  'I can't,' Devlin said.

  'Why not?' Stephanie demanded. She reached forward, flicked open the top button of his trousers and pulled the zip of his flies, with some difficulty, over the bulge of his erection which had been maintained all the way down from the offices. The trousers fell to his ankles. His white boxer shorts were not able to contain the length of his cock and it poked out from the vent in the front. 'Why not? Stephanie repeated, sending a swinging cut from the whip to land on the side of Devlin's bare thigh.

  With difficulty he managed to hook his fingers into the elastic at the waist of the boxer shorts at the back and pull them down to his knees. Then he shook his legs until they fell around his ankles, on top of his trousers. His shirttails hid his buttocks but at the front his erection jutted up unencumbered.

  'Come on,' Stephanie goaded him, tapping him with the crop on the back of his knee. The slaves watched impassively as Devlin tried to get his feet extracted from his trousers and shorts without the help of his hands and while still wearing shoes. It was not a dignified exercise but after much effort he managed it. He stood in shirt, shoes and socks.

  Stephanie looked at the slaves for their reaction but if she was expecting them to be showing their amusement she was disappointed. None of them wanted to give Devlin reason for punishments later. Among the faces she recognised Norman, the Rubenesque woman whom she and Devlin had used the first morning, and the stocky man she had used in turn. The two men from her first night at the castle were there too, the only other men among the slaves. The rest were women. As was the practice in the cells the women were all naked, the men naked but for the hard leather pouches locked around their genitals.

  Venetia had found a large pair of scissors and was cheerfully cutting off Devlin's expensive handmade shirt. She cut all the way up the back and through the collar until the shirt fell away in two pieces. She slit the sleeves, each in turn, until the pieces fell away from his arms. Then she knelt by his feet and, as he stood precariously on one foot, unable to use his arms for balance, she slipped off his shoes and socks. Devlin was naked, his massive erection quivering in front of him.

  'On your knees, then,' Stephanie commanded, bringing the crop down hard on his left buttock, making him yelp. He got to his knees again, finding this difficult without the use of his arms. 'Now this is your first lesson. I want you to tell them how sorry you are for the way you treated me. You are sorry, aren't you?'

  'Yes.'

  'Say it, then.'

  'I'm very sorry for the way I treated you.'

  'You don't sound very sorry,' Stephanie said.

  'I am very sorry,' he repeated, trying to sound more penitent.

  'How did you treat me, Devlin?'

  'I don't understand.' He looked puzzled.

  'You treated me appallingly, didn't you?' She lashed out with the whip, hitting him squarely on his naked buttocks.

  'Oh yes, yes. Appallingly,' he said quickly.

  'Now everyone in this room is going to use the crop on you.' As Stephanie said it she heard a murmur from the slaves. 'They are going to remember how they have been abused by you and they are, for once, going to be allowed to get their own back. And you will take no action against them later. Is that understood?'

  'Yes,' he mumbled.

  'They didn't hear you, Devl
in.'

  'Yes.'

  'Yes, what?' she insisted.

  'I won't take any action against them later.'

  Stephanie had not taken her eyes off Devlin during this exchange. A tear of fluid had formed on his cock, an obvious indication of his excitement. She doubted anyone had given him this treatment before, or that he had ever imagined it was something that would turn him on. But clearly it did. His erection, always huge, now seemed massive. His gnarled and rutted cock, each blood vessel and vein swollen and prominent seemed to be alive, twitching and throbbing, eager, no doubt, to be touched and held.

  Stephanie handed the whip to one of the male slaves first.

  'Touch your forehead to the floor, Devlin. And keep it there.'

  He obeyed instantly, even, Stephanie thought, willingly, thrusting his arse into the air. Stephanie nodded for the slave to begin and he lashed the crop across Devlin's prone arse. Devlin moaned but the stroke was not hard.

  'You'd better do it again or I'll use the whip on you,' Stephanie told him.

  The slave stood back, raised his arm in the air and this time lashed the crop on to Devlin's body missing the middle of his arse but hitting the upper region where it joined his back. Devlin screamed. A thin red weal appeared immediately on his white skin.

  'That's much better.'

  Stephanie handed the whip on. Two more slaves laid blows on their master but with no particular enthusiasm. It was when she handed the whip to Norman, the slave who had oiled her on the terrace, that she saw a sign of real pleasure. He obviously remembered a humiliation at Devlin's hands that he was only too happy to redress. He raised the whip high and measured his stroke first, like a golfer practising his drive, before he let the whip fly, whistling through the air to land high on Devlin's rump. The pain made Devlin scream and for a second, though only a second, he rocked back on his haunches, head up, as though not prepared to take any more.

  'Get your head down. I think such enterprise deserves a reward. You get a second go, Norman.'

  Devlin hesitated before resting his head back on the cold stone floor. He touched his forehead to the stone again. If anything, Norman's second attempt was harder, the crop searing into Devlin's flesh, creating a straight line of pain. But it was a pain that Stephanie knew was feeding Devlin's pleasure.

  Each slave stepped forward in turn, their ankle chains clanging against the floor. The Rubenesque woman hit him hard too, putting her weight behind the stroke, her body trembling with the effort. Another of the women slaves delivered a massive blow, perhaps the hardest of them all, and Stephanie had thought she heard the woman murmur 'you bastard' as the crop came down. But though Devlin screamed he did not raise his head again. Ten strokes in all, not counting the first slave's weak attempt. Ten red-hot weals crisscrossed over Devlin's once white arse. Stephanie thought she could feel the heat it was producing. What Devlin would have given to be able to soothe it with his, or somebody else's, cool hands.

  'What do you say, Devlin?' Stephanie prodded him with her foot.

  'What do you want me to say?' he replied, puzzled. She swung the crop, which she had taken from the last slave, and hit his arm held behind his back by the cuffs.

  'Don't be insolent. You say thank you.'

  'Thank you,' he said quickly to avoid another blow.

  'Now you are going to crawl over and lick my boots, Devlin. Lick every inch of my boots for what you did to me.'

  Stephanie handed the crop to Venetia. The bed in the cell was by the door. Stephanie sat on it and crossed her legs.

  'Come on then.'

  Devlin inched his way forward on his knees. It was difficult shuffling along without the use of his hands and the stone scratched his knees, which were bearing all his weight. As Stephanie watched him she was suddenly aware of the level of her own excitement. Her nipples, barely contained in the half-cup bra of the basque, were rigid and tight. Her cunt was so wet that her juices would be only too obvious behind the thin strap of the G-string.

  'Faster, Devlin.' She nodded to Venetia, who let the crop fall on Devlin's already tortured buttocks. Devlin wriggled forward trying to obey, his cock constantly banging against his navel.

  It was not only the sight of his massive cock that was exciting Stephanie. It was not only the knowledge that she could have him fuck her, suck her, wank her or do anything else she desired that was sending her pulse racing. That was part of it, of course. Here in this room there was every imaginable sexual opportunity. She could have herself serviced in ways she had not imagined - and she had a very fertile imagination. She was in control, she was calling the shots, she was in charge. She could make Devlin do whatever she wanted him to do. The power made every part of her body hum like an electric dynamo.

  Devlin reached the bed. He moved to lick the left boot as it dangled in the air, but as his tongue projected from his mouth Stephanie recrossed her legs. He moved to the side to reach the right foot scraping his knees again. Again Stephanie recrossed her legs putting the left foot back in its original position, dangling in midair. Devlin moved back and this time Stephanie allowed his tongue to make contact with the leather.

  'No, Devlin. Lick the soles.' She made no effort to present the soles to his mouth. Venetia used the crop to reinforce the message. He twisted round to get his mouth turned upward on to the sole of Stephanie's boot.

  He licked the dry leather sole over and over again. Though Stephanie could feel no physical contact through the leather, the pace of her arousal had quickened appreciably as she watched Devlin strain to keep his mouth in position. She had never seen his erection so hard.

  Stephanie recrossed her legs and presented her right boot for treatment. Devlin resumed his work immediately, Venetia standing over him, waiting to punish any slackening with the whip. The whole of his buttocks were red now, the whip marks beginning to turn scarlet. He was moving his arse from side to side, perhaps trying to get some comfort from the cooling effect of the air. It clearly wasn't helping much.

  The slaves were all watching intently, knowing now that this was not a game and especially not a game of Devlin's devising. One of the women slaves had her hand between her legs and was stroking herself, unconscious, probably, of what she was doing. None of the male slaves with their tight leather pouches had any such relief available to them.

  Devlin continued to lick. When Stephanie ordered him to lick the little steel heel of the boot he did so. When she ordered him to take the whole heel into his mouth and suck it he did so. When she relented slightly and allowed him to lick the softer leather of the upper boot he did so again, now able to see the length and curves of Stephanie's crossed legs. He would be able to see her crotch clearly, bisected by the strap of the G-string, the pubic hair matted and wet.

  Stephanie moved her boot from Devlin's mouth on to his shoulder and pushed. He went sprawling on to the floor.

  'That's enough.'

  She lay back on the bed and pulled the G-string down her legs and off. She unzipped the boots and threw them on the floor.

  'You are not allowed to come, Devlin. Is that understood?'

  'Yes,' he said uncertainly.

  'Good. Now lick my cunt.'

  As he scrambled to his feet his erection jutted from his body.

  She opened her legs and imagined she felt a rush of juices escaping from her open labia, where before they had been pressed together. As Devlin struggled to position himself between her legs Stephanie dipped a finger into her cunt. It was soaking wet. She used the same hand to pull Devlin's head down on to her cunt and hold it there. Kneeling as he was, his hands cuffed in the small of his back, it was difficult for him to get his mouth into the right position but with a few adjustments he managed it. His tongue felt good, thick and rough against her clitoris. The first contact was enough, in her state of arousal, to make her gasp with pleasure. But that was only the beginning. As she thrust her hips up off the bed to give Devlin better access to her sex she nodded at Venetia who immediately brought the crop down on D
evlin's exposed rump. His scream was gagged by Stephanie's cunt but she felt it, felt the hot air explode from his mouth. Venetia hit again, and again the scream was felt but not heard. None of Venetia's strokes were faint: this was her revenge and Stephanie could see in her eyes she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

  Stephanie had never felt a hotter mouth and tongue on her cunt. It was as though he was breathing fire. His saliva mixed with her copious juices. The third lash made her come as another scream was muffled by her cunt. She came over his face, feeling as if she was spraying his face with her juices. Devlin could hear Venetia preparing for a fourth blow.

  'Please, no more. I can't take it,' he begged, pulling his mouth away from Stephanie's cunt far enough to get the words out.

  'I like to hear you beg,' Stephanie said, the aftermath of her orgasm still rolling through her body. 'Let them all hear.'

  'Please, no more. Please!' Devlin cried.

  'Again.'

  'Please, please, please,' he begged.

  She pushed his mouth back down on to her cunt. She could feel herself coming again. Hearing him beg was making her come. She wanted that hot rough tongue on her clitoris. But she wanted those huge fingers inside her too and that massive cock. She wanted to feel everything now, to see and feel everything, to take herself, even by the standards of this weekend, to heights she had never been to before. Her second orgasm was sharp, almost painful, as these thoughts and Devlin's tongue brought her off.

  'Uncuff him,' she ordered. Venetia found the key and quickly released his hands. 'Now wank me Devlin.'

  There was no time to massage his sore wrists. He rolled on to his side, avoiding any pressure on his whipped and smarting arse, and pushed his finger deep into Stephanie's wet cunt, grateful at least that his shoulders were no longer restrained by the cuffs. He could see Venetia pulling her tiny red knickers down her long stockinged legs and stepping out of them. She too was already wet, her sparse pubic hair revealing glistening labia.