Stephanie's Domain

by Susanna Hughes

  With most men a hand wrapped around their cock would cover more than half of it: with Devlin at least two thirds remained visible. Stephanie felt a frisson of excitement sing through her body as she felt its heat and hardness.

  Power was an aphrodisiac. So many possibilities, so many things she could do, so many things she could ask for and get by right.

  She let go of his cock and bent to adjust her stocking on her left leg. She unhooked both suspenders and pulled the stocking up tighter before reattaching it. She saw Devlin's eyes following every movement while he tried to pretend he was staring at the floor.

  'You didn't answer my question,' she said.

  'I didn't think...' he stammered.

  'You didn't think what? I don't ask questions for fun, do I?'

  'No, mistress.'

  'So what am I going to do with you?'

  'I don't know, mistress,' he replied quickly.

  'Well I'll tell you then. You're going to give me some pleasure. That's what I'm going to do with you. I'm in the mood to take some pleasure. You're going to please me. You're going to keep the plane waiting until you've given me some pleasure. Is that understood, Devlin?'

  'Yes, mistress.'

  'Good.' She circled him, her stockings rasping against each other as she moved. Coming around behind him she pressed herself into his back, letting him feel the slippery silky material between their flesh, rubbing her body very slightly up and down against his. She reached round to his cock and took it in both her hands, wanking it not at all gently. He gasped with pleasure.

  She released his cock and stood back, legs apart, arms akimbo. 'Take my knickers off,' she ordered.

  He turned to reach for the elastic.

  'Not like that,' she said slapping his nearest hand hard. 'How then, mistress?'

  'With your teeth,' she smiled having only just thought of the idea. What a good idea, she thought. 'Come on, I haven't got all day and neither have you.'

  She could seeing him trying to work out what to do. He dropped to his knees in front of her. Slowly he moved his head towards the triangle of material at the junction of her thighs, puffed up by the thick pubic hair it contained.

  'Come on, Devlin.' She could tell he was trying to work out what to do.

  He leaned forward against her navel and grasped the top of her panties in his teeth. He tried to pull them down. They were very reluctant to leave her waist. He pulled again, sawing his head from side to side. Slowly the panties began to slide down over her iron-flat belly but snagged when they reached her pubic hair. Devlin moved his head to the elastic at the sides and used his teeth to pull them down. By alternating his head from one side of the panties to the other, pulling first one side down an inch and then the other, he gradually worked the black lace over her hips and down her thighs. One side caught on a suspender. He managed to unhook it with his tongue, knowing better than to try and use his hands.

  The crotch of the panties still clung to her sex, the triangular shape of the panties now inverted. He moved his head so he could gather the material in his teeth. He could smell the delicious aroma of her perfume combined with the musky scent of raw sex. As his teeth pulled the lace away he felt his desire surge as the pouting lips of her body were unveiled. The panties fell to the floor.

  'Since you're so good with your mouth...' Stephanie stepped out of the twin circles of lace around her feet. Still wearing the black high heels she lay back on the bed. She opened her legs and bent her knees, the heels of the shoes digging into the counterpane. She arched her back off the bed; angling her cunt to point at Devlin. 'Come on, Devlin, you know what to do.'

  Her cunt seemed to be alive, like an animal, like a cat. It purred and throbbed like a domestic cat, it hunted hungrily like a lion, and devoured like a tiger. It was independent of her, a wild creature needing to be fed.

  Devlin was about to stand up. 'On your knees,' Stephanie snapped. Obediently he crawled forward until he reached the edge of the bed. Stephanie slid forward, wrapped her thighs over his shoulders, her heels digging into his back, and levered her cunt on to his face.

  He ignored the pain in his back as the sharp metal heels gouged into it like spurs, to gain purchase. Eagerly he lapped at her sex, teasing out her clitoris from the forest of pubic hair, tasting her salty wetness as he dipped down to push between her swollen labia, poking his tongue as deep as it would go into the black wet depths of her cunt.

  Almost from the first moment that his hot mouth had clamped itself to her, Stephanie felt a sequence begin, the first stirrings, as her body changed gear, began to prepare itself for what would be, now, inevitable. She looked down at herself, Devlin's wiry grey hair framed between her open legs, her thighs bisected by the black welts of the stockings, the suspenders loose at the front of her thigh as her legs were bent but tight and stretched at the side.

  What she said next would thrill her more, and continue the sequence, the words themselves as exciting as their consequence.

  'Use your fingers.'

  Devlin's other physical attribute, besides the size of his cock, was the size of his fingers. His fingers were huge, fat, thick and long, his hand like a hand of bananas. She had noticed it the first time they had met, when he'd taken her hand. Compared with his, her hand looked like that of a tiny child. She would never forget the first time he had thrust a finger inside her either. It opened her, filled her, swamped her. It was an experience she wanted again and again. She wanted it now.

  She felt his hand move up to her thigh. She felt her body tense, the sequence accelerating rapidly, slipping out of her control. His mouth went back to her clitoris as he nosed the tip of his finger between her labia. She was in no mood for gentleness though.

  'Do it, Devlin,' she moaned.

  Immediately she felt him push forward, her cunt filled as comprehensively as if he was using his cock. But his finger didn't feel like a cock. It felt more like a dildo except it was warm and alive. She could not help but squeal with pleasure.

  She spurred her heels into his back again, as if riding a horse, urging him on, levering herself down on to his mouth as his tongue lapped at her hardened clitoris and his massive finger reamed back and forth along the wet channel of her cunt. She had wanted to wait, to delay, to tease herself, hold her orgasm at bay, but her body wouldn't let her. The sensations were overwhelming, his finger and tongue in combination, wringing feelings out of her, feelings she could not ignore, feelings that started the last sequence, making her squirm and moan and cry out as she felt her orgasm peak, crunching her nerves, and she let herself fall into a black abyss.

  It was a long time before she recovered, before she relaxed completely, before her body decided there were no more delicious sensations to extract from the embers of her climax.

  Devlin had not moved, his mouth still at her sex, his finger still inside her.

  'Now it's your turn, isn't it?' Stephanie said in a tone of authority. She sat up and pulled his head back, kissing him hard on the mouth, licking at his lips and tasting her own juices. His finger slid from her cunt. He was going to New York. She wanted to give him something to remember her by. She knew what thrilled Devlin, she knew the source of the secret rivers of passion that ran through this strange ugly man. He would do whatever she commanded him to do and his submission would be excitement enough. But there was more. The rivers ran deep.

  Stephanie swung her leg over his head and got off the bed. Her mood had not changed. She felt energised and alive. She felt wonderfully open and wanton; prepared to do anything. It was Devlin's lucky day.

  'Stay where you are,' she ordered, crossing the bedroom to a large chest of drawers. The top drawer held what she was looking for.

  'I have decided, Devlin,' she said returning to the bed and dropping the items from the drawer on to the now heavily rucked counterpane, 'to punish you.'

  'No,' he said. But his voice betrayed him. It was breathless with excitement as he looked at what lay on the bed.

  She picked up th
e silk blindfold and slipped it over his eyes. She saw his cock pulse as she smoothed it into place.

  'Hands behind your back, Devlin. I shouldn't have to tell you, should I?'

  He obeyed instantly.

  She strapped a leather cuff tightly around each of his wrists. The cuffs were joined by a strong metal ring. She took a plain leather strap, wide and black, and used it to cinch his arms together just above the elbow. He winced. The black leather cut into his soft white flesh. Another tear of fluid wept from his cock. His body betrayed his excitement again.

  'Stand up,' she ordered. With difficulty he struggled to his feet not having his arms available for balance.

  She stood behind him, pressing herself into his imprisoned arms, letting him feel her tits under the tight Lycra.

  Two more plain leather straps. She knelt and bound his ankles together with one strap and his knees, just above the knee joint, with the other. She pulled both straps tight, as tight as they would go. She had made a neat little package.

  She stood up. There was no hurry. She went to the fridge, which was set into the silk panelling of the bedroom walls and took out a bottle of champagne and a chilled crystal flute. Expertly, she eased the cork out of the bottle; she had drunk more champagne in her months at the castle than in the whole of the rest of her life, and poured the bubbling wine into the glass. Sitting on the oatmeal sofa opposite the bed, she crossed her stockinged legs and sipped at the chilled champagne.

  'Turn around,' she ordered wanting to see Devlin's cock. With diminutive steps he managed to shuffle around. His erection was massive and wet from his own fluid. She had never seen it bigger, more engorged, and veined and ugly. A frisson of excitement leapt from her body, reminding her of the orgasm she had just enjoyed.

  Putting the glass down she unclipped the suspenders on one of her black stockings. When it was free she rolled it off her leg. She could see Devlin listening to the sounds, wondering what she was doing. She got up. She trailed the stocking over Devlin's chest. It was still warm. She let the nylon brush against his cock. It soaked up the wetness, absorbing a tear of moisture and forming a dark patch on the sheer black. Dropping to her knees in front of him Stephanie pulled the stocking under his balls and around the stem of his cock before knotting it into a neat bow. She pulled the bow tight. Devlin's cock pulsed.

  Devlin's body was trembling with excitement. He made little involuntary noises that sounded a little like the word 'please' repeated over and over again.

  'I think we'll use the clips today. To please me.'

  'No,' he said in a tone that meant exactly the opposite.

  The clips lay ready on the bed. Two bright chrome clips, like little bulldog clips but with edges serrated with tiny metal teeth. She picked them up. Opening the jaws, she positioned the tiny teeth over her own veiled nipple. Slowly she allowed the spring of the clip to close. She felt the metal biting into her soft puckered flesh. She felt pain but pleasure too, sharp hard pleasure. Another wave of feeling came as she pulled the clip away.

  Devlin's nipples were as hard as her own. She positioned the clip over each nipple and watched as the tiny teeth sunk deep into the tender flesh. Devlin moaned, a sound of pure passion. She flicked the clips with the tip of her finger. He moaned again, the same sound, the same feeling.

  Stephanie's body had started to churn again, change gear again, moving from objective to subjective. She could still feel the little metal teeth biting into her nipple. She could feel her heart beating faster.

  'I'm going to whip you now,' she said. The words echoed in her mind, feeding her passion. This was no longer a performance. Her body was alive with pangs of arousal, the first harbinger of its needs.

  The riding crop lay on the bed too. She picked it up and in almost the same movement slashed it across Devlin's buttocks. He gasped. His cock pulsed.

  'More?' she said not caring what he said.

  'Yes.' He couldn't lie this time and say no. His whole body ached for more.

  She slashed the whip down on his buttocks again, feeling her own passion, her pulse racing.

  Three more cuts. She had never seen Devlin's cock harder, bigger, its monstrous grid of veins engorged and angry, swollen by the nylon stocking tied at its base. A network of red marks crisscrossed his buttocks.

  Despite her feelings Stephanie was in more control this time. There was no hurry she told herself dropping the whip and picking up the champagne flute. This time she could tease herself, pretend she wasn't going to use that massive cock. She sipped the wine then pressed the cold glass against the tip of Devlin's cock. A little of the moisture there attached itself to the side of the glass. She licked it off. Slowly she put the glass down.

  'Well, Devlin. You are in a state, aren't you?' With the flat of her hand she pushed him hard in the chest. Unable to use his hands or feet to balance he fell back on to the bed, like a roll of carpet, bouncing slightly on the springs of the mattress.

  If she had cared to think about it Stephanie probably came before she threw herself on to Devlin's prostrate body and impaled herself on his cock. As it penetrated into the silky wetness of her cunt her orgasm was already quivering through the nerves of her body. But the arrival of his cock, its size, filling her, choking her, engulfing her, drove her body further, higher - made her come again. Or perhaps not. She couldn't tell and didn't care. Perhaps it was the same orgasm elongated, expanded, intensified. There was no need to analyse. All that mattered was the feeling.

  As the mists of her passion cleared she opened her eyes. Devlin lay beneath her open thighs, bound and blindfolded the nipple clips like little jewels decorating his chest. She eased herself off his cock. It stood straight up at right angles to his body. As he felt the wetness slide away he moaned what sounded like 'no'.

  Kneeling at his side, she picked up the whip again from where she had dropped it on the bed.

  'Count,' she said. She aimed the little leather loop fixed to the end of the crop at the base of his cock where her black nylon stocking bound it tightly. It was a delicate flick, no more, but she knew that was enough.

  'One,' said Devlin, his voice hoarse with pleasure.

  She aimed again, this time higher up the huge stem.

  'Two,' he intoned obediently. His cock was taut, stretched to the absolute limit, like every nerve in his body, straining for release. In the blackness behind the blindfold his fantasy had become reality. It was what Stephanie did for him. No other woman had ever understood. The blackness was full of images, her body, the tight black girdle, her labia; the feel of her panties in his teeth...

  'Three...' He couldn't complete the word. His spunk jetted into the air like a firework, splashing down on to his hairy body in great white gobs. His cock spasmed uncontrollably, spitting out its load. Then, as the tension lessened, the spunk oozed out, white pearls slipping over the wet glans.

  When there was no more, when Devlin's body went limp, Stephanie pulled the bow she had made with her stocking and released his cock from its constriction. Using her hand she squeezed the cock to milk the last drops of spunk out of it, as Devlin lay, wallowing in the final tremors of his volcanic eruption, rocking himself slightly from side to side, the only movement his bondage would allow.

  Stephanie smiled to herself. This was definitely not an experience Devlin would forget.

  Chapter Two

  'So I'll be back in a week. Not more than a week,' Devlin said. He was dressed again, his silk Sulka tie neatly knotted, his Huntsman suit perfectly tailored for his oddly shaped body, his hair as tidily brushed as its wiry stubbornness would allow, the air of business and money wrapped around him again like a heavy cloak. There was a bruise, to remind him of the encounter when he undressed for bed in New York, on his upper arm where the leather strap had bitten into his flesh as he'd fallen back on to the bed. It was hidden under the suit. It hurt slightly when he moved his arm. His buttocks hurt too. They felt tender, abused.

  Stephanie had pulled on a black one-piece swimsuit and a
light chiffon wrap and was walking him down the wide marble staircase, her arm in his, intending to swim as soon as she'd seen him off.

  'And the Clarkes are arriving when?' she asked.

  'This afternoon. The car's driving them up from Rome. They should be here about three. I've told them I've got to be away...'

  'Don't worry. I'll look after them.'

  'I don't know what they like.'

  'Don't worry.'

  'It would be very good if...'

  'If?' Stephanie prompted.

  'If they had a...' he searched for the right word, 'satisfying weekend.'

  'They've never been here before then?'

  'No. I've asked them before. This is the first time they've accepted.'

  'Are they happily married?'

  'As far as I know. I've done business with them for years. They're efficient, reliable. If I'm going to expand my textile business they'd be ideal partners.'

  'And?'

  'Well so far they've resisted all my approaches. They want to remain independent, or so they say.'

  'And you can't buy them out?'

  'No. Not unless they agree. They're a private company. If they were public it would be a different matter.'

  They walked out through the thick wooden doors of the main castle entrance past the cobbled courtyard, littered with huge terracotta pots containing orange and lemon trees, and down the stone steps, worn by four centuries of use, to the sturdy wooden jetty that projected out into the still waters of the lake. The powerboat waited, its varnished wood and polished brass glittering in the sun.

  Looking down into the clear water, Stephanie watched the shoals of tiny fish, blue and yellow and deep red, swimming between the wooden piles, darting energetically from one direction to another for no apparent reason.

  'So you want to show them the advantages of being associated with you,' Stephanie said.

  'The less obvious advantages. Of course, they may not regard them as advantages at all.'

  'I'm sure I can find something to tempt their fancy,' she replied smiling almost to herself. It was an interesting thought. A challenge.