Stephanie's Domain

by Susanna Hughes

  'What!' he exploded.

  'You heard. Fuck me. I need your cock. Look at me for Christ's sake. Look at me. Can't you see how much I need it?'

  'She's just...' he stuttered, his mind telling him one thing while his body reacted differently. The sight of two beautiful women, naked, lying in a pool of sexual passion was too much for his body to ignore. The towelling robe had fallen open. Stephanie could see his erection bulging from the tight material of his trunks. But he still hesitated.

  'You've just been fucked.' He was trying to sound angry, to renew his shock. But the moment had passed. His body was demanding other priorities.

  'Terry... please,' his wife begged. 'Fuck me.'

  His eyes were riveted on his wife's cunt. It glistened with juices, her own and Stephanie's. He had never seen her look so wild, so wanton, so open. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, her mouth slack with passion.

  And there was the other woman. Naked too. Naked and available. Her thickly matted cunt in such contrast to his wife's.

  His body won the internal argument. In a frenzy of movement, he tore off his robe and pulled his trunks down. Belying his appearance in clothes, Terry's body was hard and muscular. His stoutness was the result of muscle not fat, his nascent paunch less noticeable.

  Ignoring Stephanie for the moment, he knelt between his wife's legs and thrust his fingers into her soaking wet cunt. They went right up to the knuckle. Jacqui moaned.

  'You bitch,' he said. Stephanie wasn't sure if he meant her. She made to get up off the bed.

  'No,' Jacqui said immediately. 'Stay, stay please. I want her to watch, Terry. I want her to watch you fucking me.'

  That was the end of his control. He could no longer think of rights and wrongs, of shoulds and should nots, of blame or anger; he could only think of lust, passion, sex. He threw himself down on to his wife's supine body. His cock slid into her instantly, her cunt so wet it created no friction. At once he started to ram it home. There was no subtlety, no finesse. There was nothing but his remorseless need. He would show her what a man could do. No woman could give her this, he repeated in his head. This, this, this, he told himself ramming forward harder and deeper each time.

  Jacqui was crying out, gasping, moaning, fighting to get her breath. His first assault had made her come, and she was coming again and again, clinging to her husband's muscular body as her orgasms broke over the head of his cock. She could feel him so deep he was at the neck of her womb. She wrapped her legs around his back.

  'Oh Terry, Terry...' She managed to open her eyes and saw Stephanie watching, saw lust in her face too.

  'You bitch!' he screamed driving into her as though the strokes of his cock should be a punishment instead of the ultimate pleasure.

  Unconsciously Stephanie began to finger her own clitoris.

  'Terry, Terry...' Jacqui had come enough. 'Save some for her. Don't you want to fuck her? I want to see it.'

  'What?' he said not believing what he'd heard.

  'Fuck her, Terry. I want to see you fuck her.'

  He stopped his rhythm entirely and looked down at his wife's face as though he were looking into the face of a stranger.

  'Have you gone mad?'

  'Yes, yes. For God's sake Terry just do it for me.'

  He looked over at Stephanie. His eyes went from her face down to her tits and over her navel until they rested on the fingers that had teased out her clitoris from the forest of pubic hair. He pulled his cock from Jacqui's cunt. It looked as angry as his face, red and glistening wet, his foreskin pulled right back, the little slit of his urethra leaking a tear of his own fluid. Once again lust won over anger. It was as though he had been plunged into a dream when he'd walked through that bedroom door after he'd listened in the corridor to the moans of pleasure. Plunged into a long wet dream of cunts and tits and unbridled lust.

  Stephanie looked into his eyes. He stared back at her. She would see his confusion but most of all she saw the flames of desire.

  'Are you going to fuck me? I need a cock as much as your wife did.'

  Still on her knees, she turned away from him, pointed her tight sharp arse at him, then leaned forward supporting herself on her hands on all fours, her back straight, her hairy sex opening as she eased her knees apart. Swivelling her head over her shoulder, she looked back at him.

  'Fuck me,' she said unnecessarily.

  'Do it,' his wife urged.

  That was too much for him. If he had any control it was gone now. He pulled away from his wife and sat up on his knees.

  'I want to see it,' Jacqui said.

  He needed no further encouragement. He twisted round on his knees and nudged his cock, already wet from his wife, into Stephanie's arse. It found the target immediately, plunging into Stephanie's sex so rapidly, it took her breath away. His cock felt like his body, hard and muscular and strong. She pushed her buttocks back at him as he pumped into her, matching his strokes with her own, feeling his navel on her arse.

  'You bitch,' he said. Stephanie knew he meant her this time. Not that she cared. She didn't care about anything now. She was coming, the heat and urgency of his cock too extreme for her body to ignore. He reached forward and around her thigh until his hand covered the delta of black pubic hair and his finger found the wetness of her labia. With no gentleness at all he probed until his fingertip was on her clitoris. Then he began to wank it, hard and fast, like he was strumming the string of a guitar. Stephanie groaned but not with pain. He was making her come, everything he did was making her come.

  Jacqui was not going to be passive. Squirming round on the ruffled sheets she positioned herself so that her head was between her husband's calves. Then she worked herself back until her face was up under his arse, until she could see, inches from her face, his balls banging against Stephanie's bottom as his cock pistoned forward. His balls were big, hairy and sensitive. She knew better than to kiss them yet. Instead she levered her head up off the bed to get her mouth on Stephanie's clitoris, sucking and licking her husband's fingers.

  It was this double action that took Stephanie over the edge. The feeling of Jacqui's hot mouth and tongue working through to her clitoris while it was still being wanked - somewhere deep in her mind did she register the thrill that this was the first time Jacqui had ever done this - sucking and nibbling while Terry's fingers sawed away at it too, and his cock reamed into her cunt.

  Stephanie screamed as she came. There was so much sensation, so much nerve-shattering feeling that she could not tell whether her orgasm broke over cock, or finger or mouth. It was as though she came in all three places at once, her whole body shuddering until she could feel nothing but black ecstasy.

  Jacqui felt her come. Immediately she turned her attention to her husband. It was his turn now. She moved her head down to Terry's balls. At first she just licked them with her tongue, gently, carefully. He reached instantly with a moan but did not stop his rhythm. Slowly the licking turned to sucking. She closed her lips around one drawing it into her mouth. He moaned louder. At home it had been his favourite thing - to wank while she sucked on his balls. He'd knelt above her face. She'd suck at his balls and he'd wank until his hot sperm splattered over her magnificent breasts. They hadn't done that for years.

  Now it was the same thing except he wasn't wanking, he was fucking, fucking another woman. He knew he couldn't hold back any longer. Only his anger had allowed him to go on for so long. Now he had to come. His wife, beneath him, was reeling his other ball into her mouth. When she had them both, she sucked gently like she used to do. It was enough. He looked down at the trembling woman in front of her, her long back, and sharp rounded arse and pushed one last time into her wet tight cunt. He buried his cock deep in the hot tunnel of Stephanie's sex and waited for the spasm that would jet spunk out into the dark cavern he had found. He felt his wife's tongue playing with his balls. It felt like her tongue was inside his cock, right inside it. His mind was full of images. But most of all he saw his wife's face lying on th
e bed when he'd come into the room as the black-haired temptress sucked at her cunt. He saw the look in her eyes as she told him to fuck her. He had never seen her so turned on. He had never felt her cunt so hot.

  His cock spasmed. In his mind he saw his white hot spunk erupting into the slippery walls of Stephanie's grateful cunt. The spasms went on forever. He thought they were never going to stop. So much spunk.

  No one wanted to move. They disentangled themselves slowly. Stephanie rolled on to her side, Terry on to his back and alongside his wife.

  'My God...' he said finally.

  'Don't be cross,' Jacqui said.

  'How could I be cross now?'

  'It was good, wasn't it?'

  'What have we been missing?'

  'Do you want me to go?' Stephanie asked.

  'Of course not,' Jacqui said, touching Stephanie's arm affectionately.

  'I didn't know you were into women,' Terry said.

  'Neither did I.'

  'We were experimenting,' Stephanie tried to explain. 'We were lying out in the sun and it just happened. Your wife is a very beautiful woman. And very sensual...'

  'You're a lesbian?' Terry asked directly.

  Stephanie laughed.

  'If I were do you imagine I'd have let you fuck me? Do you think I'd have come like that?'

  'No. No I suppose not.'

  'Sex isn't a matter of labels. It's what feels good.'

  'It felt wonderful,' Jacqui said, then turned to her husband. 'But it made me want cock. I don't think I've ever wanted cock more in my entire life. God I was hot, wasn't I?'

  'Yes.'

  'Are we going to get our sex life back, Terry?' Jacqui said, quietly pressing herself into her husband's body, one of her large breasts resting against his chest, its nipple still erect.

  'I hope so,' he said kissing her on the cheek.

  Terry got up off the bed. 'I need a drink,' he announced looking round the room.

  'There's a bar set in the panelling over there. Next to the fridge,' Stephanie said pointing to the silk panelled door that concealed all the accoutrements of a bar.

  Terry poured himself a brandy and soda. Knowing his wife's taste, he made her a gin and tonic. He got ice from the fridge.

  'Do you want anything?' he asked Stephanie. Stephanie shook her head. Terry handed his wife her drink. She sipped it eagerly.

  'Well,' Jacqui asked, 'what other surprises have you got in store for us?'

  'Other surprises?' Terry echoed.

  'Stephanie says there are all sorts of things in the castle we might want to get into.'

  'What sort of things?'

  'After dinner,' Stephanie said firmly.

  'I can't wait,' Terry said.

  'And is this all part of Devlin's weekend?' Jacqui asked.

  'Only if you want it to be,' Stephanie replied.

  'I think we do, don't we darling?' Jacqui turned to her husband who had sat himself on the edge of the bed.

  'If you want a sensible answer you'll have to ask me again in a while. When I've come down. I'm still floating.' He let himself lie back on the bed, his glass balancing precariously in his hand.

  'So what am I going to wear for dinner?' Jacqui asked. 'That's what I came in here to find out.'

  'Oh yes, I forgot.' Stephanie smiled. So much had happened since Jacqui had knocked on her bedroom door. 'You can wear anything you like, as dressy as you like.'

  'Great. I feel like getting dressed up to the nines.' Jacqui got up from the bed. Her heavy tits bounced firmly. Then she had another thought. 'Can you lend me a pair of stockings and something to hold them up with?'

  She saw the look of surprise on her husband's face. 'Black preferably,' Jacqui said looking into her husband's eyes. 'And very sheer...'

  She saw her husband's cock stir.

  'I think we're going to go to our room now and have a little lie down before dinner. Don't you, darling?'

  'What a good idea,' Terry said reaching for a towel to cover his growing enthusiasm.

  Chapter Three

  The powerboat nosed its way into the jetty for the second time that afternoon. As it approached Stephanie could see Mrs Agnes Bloom sitting in the transom on the striped canvas padding that formed a long bench seat. She was not smiling. A broad-brimmed straw hat and a pair of elaborately decorated sunglasses covered most of her face.

  The servant, who waited on the jetty with Stephanie, tied the boat's forward line to the cleats in the dock while the boatman secured the aft line.

  'Welcome,' Stephanie said holding out her hand to help Mrs Bloom ashore. 'I hope you had a good journey.'

  'No, I didn't as a matter of fact,' Mrs Bloom said, taking Stephanie's hand to steady herself as she stepped from the bobbing deck of the boat. Her hands were both bejewelled with rings, every finger ringed, some with two or three rings. The fingers were long, thin, bony. 'The Italians, everything is domani, domani. I don't know why I bother to set foot outside the States. Europe is so damn inefficient.'

  Mrs Bloom set off up the stone steps. She knew the way. She had been to the castle many times before. Stephanie followed in her wake as the powerboat was quickly unloaded and untied, to return to the mainland for another cargo.

  Inside the castle Mrs Bloom walked determinedly into the main salon, very much as if the castle was a hotel. 'I need a drink,' she said.

  Stephanie summoned a waiter.

  'Dry martini,' Mrs Bloom instructed as though speaking to a small child. 'Very dry. Secco. Comprehende?'

  'Si, signora,' he said and scuttled off.

  Mrs Bloom took a pack of Lucky Strikes from her Hermes handbag and lit one with a Cartier gold cigarette lighter. She inhaled the smoke deeply, then blew it out in an unwavering straight line.

  'You're new,' she said sitting on one of the large sofas and crossing her legs. She was wearing a white suit, the jacket heavily decorated with two rows of bright gold buttons bearing some sort of Roman insignia. Her legs, in common with the rest of her body, was over thin and over tanned. Too many years of strict diet and concentrated sunbathing had left her bony and hard with a skin as dark as a tanned hide of leather. Her hair was blonde, a whitey blonde, brittle and coarse, the bleach bottle taking its toll on the natural sheen of the hair.

  She dumped her hat and sunglasses on the sofa beside her. She had light green eyes. Her face was attractive, symmetrical and well-proportioned; only her nose was slightly too big for the rest of her features.

  'I've been here for awhile now,' Stephanie said, sitting in a chair opposite.

  'So what? You're the brothel keeper now? What happened to Bruno? He been pensioned off?'

  'He's still here.'

  'Well you sure look good. If I were into women I'd want to fuck you myself.'

  'I take that as a compliment,' Stephanie said finding it hard to like Mrs Bloom.

  'But I'm strictly into cock.'

  The waiter came back with a silver tray on which was perched a triangular martini glass, frosted with condensation. He set the glass down on the table in front of the American. She sipped it tentatively.

  'Well at least you can mix a decent martini, Gino,' she said. 'Now go and be a good boy and get me another, pronto.'

  Bowing slightly to indicate he understood, the waiter went to get her second drink. By the time he'd gone the first had all but disappeared.

  'So what? You're one of Devlin's pack of thieves are you? On the take and got caught?'

  'No,' Stephanie said calmly, her dislike for the woman growing by the minute.

  'No, I thought...'

  'I'm a free agent, Mrs Bloom,' Stephanie said sharply.

  'Okay, okay. Don't get antsy with me. I'm only asking. I like to know where I am, is all. So what time's dinner?'

  'Eight. We have two other guests. Mr and Mrs Clarke.'

  'Well I'm sure you've got enough to go round. I want two of the best sent up to my room right after dinner. Right?'

  'Anything you want,' Stephanie replied.

&n
bsp; 'And make sure they're real athletic. They're going to need to be.'

  The waiter returned with the second martini and removed the empty glass.

  'So what's the story?' Mrs Bloom continued.

  'What story?'

  'With you?' You've got your hooks into Devlin have you? I don't blame him, you're a real piece of work.'

  Stephanie didn't reply. Mrs Bloom downed the second martini.

  'So what. Keep it to yourself. I should care. I'm not here for the conversation. You can show me to my room now. I'm done here.'

  She stubbed the cigarette out in the large glass ashtray on the coffee table and stood up. She brushed cigarette ash off her suit.

  Stephanie led the way up the sweeping marble staircase and down the corridor to the room that had been prepared for Mrs Bloom. Fortunately it was on the other side of the castle from herself and the Clarkes. She wanted to have as little to do with Agnes Bloom as possible.

  By the time she got back to her room Stephanie could hear the powerboat approaching across the lake again. Mrs Bloom had not been the only passenger aboard Devlin's Lear jet flown in from London that afternoon.

  Stephanie had worn a tracksuit to greet Mrs Bloom. Stripping it off, she went to the wall of wardrobes to find an outfit a little bit more suitable for her next visitors. It did not take her long to find what she was looking for. She had bought it in Rome at the special shop she had found. The jodhpurs were made from leather, with a blouson type leather blouse worn on top. The blouse had long puffed sleeves and a high collar.

  Stephanie sat on the bed and pulled the jodhpurs up over her legs. They were a tight fit. She buttoned up the leather blouse and found a pair of short high-heeled boots which she zipped on to her feet. Gloves were essential too. She found a pair that matched the dark brown of the rest of her clothes.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. A picture of authority she thought smiling back at her own reflection. Her black hair streamed over her shoulders. She brushed it quickly and tied it loosely at the back.

  For some reason, when the castle had been built a staircase had been constructed that led directly from this room down into the cellars. What purpose this served the original fourteenth-century proprietors Stephanie could only guess at - perhaps they had gone to watch enemies and religious heretics tortured as a prelude to a night of sexual excess - but whatever the reason Devlin had had the staircase restored and, on occasions like this, it was ideal. Remembering the first time she had opened the small door hidden in the silk panelling of the room, on the first night she had spent with Devlin in the castle, she picked her way down the circular steps, holding on to the rope that formed a handrail, and going slowly in the high-heeled boots.