Stephanie's Trial

by Susanna Hughes

  STEPHANIE'S TRIAL

  by

  SUSANNA HUGHES

  Stephanie's Trial first published in 1994 by Nexus. Published as an eBook in 2012 by Chimera eBooks.

  ePub ISBN 9781780802237

  mobi ISBN 9781780808826

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Chimera (ki-mir'a, ki-) a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy.

  New authors are always welcome, or if you're already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

  This work is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright Susanna Hughes. The right of Susanna Hughes to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chapter One

  The Baron liked to watch. He was a big man, very tall and with an aura of physical power that belied his sixty years of age. He looked precisely what he was, a Prussian military man, his back as straight as a ramrod, his almost totally bald head held high and proud. But despite the infinite combinations available on the sexual menu at the castle, all the Baron had wanted to do was watch.

  Stephanie had kept him well supplied with spectacle. The castle was designed to cater for every conceivable sexual taste and the Baron's voyeurism was no exception. There was a room specially constructed for the purpose. It was small, just big enough to contain a double bed and bedside tables. There was no other furniture. The bed was covered with silk sheets and piled with cushions and pillows. The walls on either side of the bed were made entirely of two-way mirrors from floor to ceiling. Each could be curtained off at the touch of a button on the bedside table. The view on one side was of a stone-walled dungeon, its brick vaulted ceiling hung with chains and pulleys, its walls thick with iron rings, bolts and chains and all manner of devices to fetter and restrain. On the other side the glass revealed a normal luxuriously appointed bedroom, dominated by a large double bed. The occupants of either room could only see a wall of mirror from their side. On the dungeon side there were even fixing points in the mirror itself and Stephanie once had ordered one of the female slaves spread-eagled against the glass, her breasts and belly pressed against its surface, writhing against it as she was punished for misbehaviour, the sweat from her body smeared on the mirror.

  But tonight was the Baron's last night at the castle and Stephanie wanted to give him a special performance, something he'd remember. Though this was his first visit to the castle he was an old friend of Devlin's and an immensely wealthy man whom Devlin had done business with for many years. It was important that he enjoyed himself, especially as Devlin had been called away on business. But if she was truthful with herself it was not only a question of looking after an honoured guest; she found herself strangely attracted to this big man. It was something in his eyes, a stillness there, a deliberateness, a suggestion of power, that made her feel the first pangs of sexual excitement whenever she saw him.

  Stephanie sat naked on the bed, the black lingerie beside her. She was facing the mirror, looking straight into it. She knew, of course, the Baron was on the other side of the glass. She knew he would be watching her, had already watched her strip out of her yellow sun-dress, white bra and tiny white panties, revealing what she hoped he had wanted to see all weekend.

  She picked up a black nylon stocking and rolled it into a pouch around the toe. She raised her leg and pointed her foot, fitting the nylon over her toes, slowly rolling it up over her ankle and calf, the translucent material engulfing her creamy flesh until its black welt bisected her slim, contoured thighs. She used the palms of both hands to smooth and stretch the nylon flat against her leg. The Baron would be able to see the slit of her sex covered with her curly black pubic hair. He might even be able to see her labia and a slick of wetness there because, she knew, her juices were already oozing from her body.

  Picking up the second stocking, Stephanie repeated the process. The nylon rolled out from her fingers, encasing her leg in a shiny, slippery, seamless smoothness like newly applied gloss paint. Again she leant forward to iron out any wrinkles with the palms of her hands, her firm breast touching the top of her thigh as she did so.

  She lowered her leg to the floor when she was satisfied the stocking was completely smooth, and picked up the garment she had laid out next to the stockings. The black lace cami-suspender was as sheer as the stockings, a deep bra with its bottom edge scalloped at the front and side into angular crescents of material at the apex of which was the long finger of a suspender. Stephanie slipped the silky nylon over her head and down over her breasts, pulling its cups into place so they fitted snugly. She clipped the black suspenders into the tops of the stockings and fastened them securely. The black nylon welts formed thick chevrons on her thighs. The material of the cami-suspender made an arch over her navel, her belly-button exposed, the triangle of her pubic hair framed by the suspenders on each side. The lacy cups of the bra did not hide her breasts but only shaded them; her nipples and the darkness of her areola were still clearly visible.

  Stephanie stood up. The tight suspenders pulled at the black lace covering her breasts and in turn on the straps of the bra on her shoulders. She enjoyed the feeling of tightness it gave her, like subtle bondage.

  Looking directly into the mirror she slipped her feet into a pair of high-heel shoes. They were shiny black leather, the heels so high the top of her foot was arched out. Apart from the long black fingers of the four suspenders from the waist to the welts of the stockings she was naked, the creamy flesh in between somehow made to look softer, more alluring by contrast with the sheer black nylon that surrounded it. The high heels shaped the muscles of her calves and tilted her firm apple-shaped arse into a distinct pout. She turned her back on the mirror and examined herself over her shoulder - just as the Baron was examining her, no doubt. The two creases of her flesh where thigh met buttock were bisected by the deep cleft of her arse; it was dark in there, a darkness full of promise. Between her legs, even with them firmly closed, there was a space between her thighs, a diamond-shaped hollow immediately under the plane of her labia.

  Stephanie took a hairbrush from the bedside table and walked up to within a foot of the huge mirror. She had pinned her rich black hair up to the back of her head. Now she let it fall free, brushing it out, long full strokes of her arm from the crown of her head out to the very tip of her hair, brushing out to the side, holding the hair out almost horizontally. The movement of her arm made her breasts tremble under the transparent lace, the hard buttons of her nipples pressed into the complex web of material that imprisoned them.

  She thought of the Baron, a few feet away. What was he doing? The red drapes would be closed on the other wall, the dungeon side. The lights in the room would be dimmed. Was he lying naked on the bed, his big body stretched out, his cock throbbing and erect as he watched her perform? Or was he still dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, those hypnotic eyes staring at her quietly in the way they had of seeing and seeing through her at the same time? What was his cock like? Was it as big and powerful as he was?

  Stephanie's body shuddered involuntarily. She felt her sex pulse.
She knew it was wet. Reversing the hairbrush in her hand she ran the handle, a slim black lacquered handle, down the front of her body, down between her breasts, over the sheer black lace to the creaminess of her navel, down until it nestled in her pubic hair. She parted her legs slightly, then pushed the hairbrush down into the narrow gorge of her sex, its polished and lacquered surface immediately making contact with the hard knot of her clitoris. The contact made her groan. She leant forward, bringing her other arm up to rest against the mirror at head height, then resting her forehead on her lower arm. She stared down at her body, seeing it and its reflection at the same time. She moved the black handle in tiny circles and felt her clitoris throb like a thing apart from her, like a little animal come to life. Looking down she saw the way the long suspenders were arched out from her body, holding the stockings taut.

  She could see her feet in the high heels, covered by black nylon, her legs well apart. The handle of the hairbrush would make her come, she knew, if she continued what she was doing. Wanting to delay the inevitable a little longer, she moved the handle lower, bending her knees slightly to allow it to slip up between the lips of her cunt and into her sex. There was no resistance. She was soaking wet.

  She raised her head and looked straight into the mirror as though trying to see through it. In her mind's eye she saw the Baron standing on the other side of the mirror, his erect penis pressed against the glass exactly opposite her cunt, his hands groping at the image of her body, caressing it, squeezing it as his cock, slimed with its own secretions, left a wet sticky trail on the surface as it slid up and down, wanting to come.

  Stephanie could wait no longer. She pulled the handle of the hairbrush from her body. It glistened with the sap from her sex. She brought it up to her mouth and licked it hungrily like a child licking an ice-cream. It tasted good, she tasted good. She had come to love the taste of her own body. She had tasted it many times now, on men's mouths and cocks, on women's mouths and fingers, cocks and mouths and fingers she'd sucked hungrily as she did now with the smooth glossy finish of the hairbrush. Then she threw the brush aside and turned her back on the mirror. Resting the full curves of her arse against it, she bent over.

  It was exciting. She knew this would expose the whole of her sex to the Baron's view, from the neat puckered crater of her anus to the particularly fleshy slit of her outer labia, and inside, the delicate inner oval like a vertical mouth, wet and pink and crinkled like the pistil of some exotic carnivorous flower. Using her hands to spread her buttocks, she pushed back until she could feel the cold glass against her sex. Was the Baron on his knees in front of the mirror now, looking right up her cunt, into the black depths, examining every detail? She felt a strong pulse of pleasure emanating from her clitoris. This was a performance the Baron wouldn't forget.

  Stephanie straightened herself up and walked over to the bed. The mirror was marked where her sex had been, almost like the marks lipstick makes after a kiss.

  Now the pulses in her body were too strong to ignore. Now it was her turn, the mistress of the castle had to have her pleasure. It was a pity that the Baron, the big, powerful Baron only wanted to watch. Stephanie would have loved to be crushed under that heavy body, loved him to have stepped through the glass now and use his cock - the hard, erect, throbbing cock she could see in her mind's eye - on her, thrusting it up her and in her.

  But at least she had a substitute. She pressed a small button on the bedside table to indicate she was ready, then lay back on the middle of the bed, bending her legs at the knee and opening them wide, the heels of her shoes digging into the pale peach-coloured sheets, rucking them around their tips. She raised her head and looked down her body, down the black lace and naked flesh underneath it. The suspenders on top of her thighs were hanging loose, not stretched by the position of her legs but the wide black welt of the stocking still formed a perfect chevron on her thigh. She let the fingertips of her right hand graze the black nylon of the welt, slipping to and fro, feeling the contrast between the shiny material and the soft warmth of her flesh. Then she let her hand drift down past her navel to where her pubic hair waited impatiently for attention, the animal impatiently waiting to be petted.

  Her clitoris was swollen, engorged by her excitement. Stephanie teased it out from the forest of her pubic hair, nudging it with her finger not at all gently. She wasn't in the mood for gentle. She felt a sweet surge of pleasure. She could easily, so easily, have brought herself off on the idea of the Baron's greedy eyes staring at her, naked and open. But she wanted to wait. What she wanted now was cock, and she wanted it urgently.

  And what Stephanie wanted Stephanie got. That was the way of the world and had been since she arrived at the castle and was begged, by Devlin, to take over. She was used to getting her own way in everything. Another moment's delay and she would have started to get angry, but just as she was beginning to think what she would do in the morning to express her wrath, the bedroom door opened.

  The man was naked, his muscular body glistening with oil just as Stephanie had specified it should. His cock was oiled too and erect. That was not unusual among the slaves. In the cellars under the castle where the slaves were kept the men were all forced to wear tight leather-covered metal pouches over their genitals, chained and padlocked in place. Freedom from this constriction was so rare it produced instant bone-hard erections. Not that this cock was entirely free. A black leather harness was strapped fiercely around the base of it and under his balls. It separated each testicle and held them high on either side of the big, veined shaft. The harness was strapped on so tightly the leather bit deeply into the flesh, reddening it and increasing its size further.

  Stephanie had selected the slave personally. His body was strong and hard. He was well-trained and well-behaved. He responded well to instruction. Being allowed to fuck the mistress of the castle was a rare treat. Not that he deserved it. None of the slaves in the cellars did, male or female. They were all thieves when it came down to it, all caught with their hands metaphorically in the many tills of Devlin's companies. They had all chosen to come and serve at the castle rather than be prosecuted in the courts.

  'Get over here,' Stephanie ordered imperiously, finding it hard to concentrate on anything else but her, physical need. The words increased it: the knowledge of her absolute power gave another twist to the spiral of her desire.

  The slave did not need any second bidding. He stood at the foot of the bed between Stephanie's open legs. She used her foot, sheathed in the black nylon, to prod at his cock. All the slaves wore name-tags, etched metal circles hung by a thin chain around their necks. The name on this slave's tag was JAMES.

  'Well James... You know what you're here for, don't you?'

  'Yes, mistress,' he said at once. He looked down at his feet, fearing that looking at her naked body would be a punishable offence.

  Stephanie opened her legs wider and arched her buttocks off the bed, pointing the long slit of her sex at him. 'You may look at me, James...'

  His eyes went straight to her cunt. She saw his cock twitch against his leather bindings.

  'Do you like what you see?'

  'Yes, mistress,' he said, thinking of a thousand other things he could say but not daring to go any further. She wanted to provoke him, to make him cross the barrier of his obedience. She rolled her hips and clenched her thighs, making the lips of her sex move as though sucking some invisible cock into her body. She took both nipples in her fingers and pulled them up away from her body until her breasts were like pyramids on her chest and her nipples hurt, a hurt that turned instantly to the heat of pleasure.

  James felt his cock spasm again. He had never felt it so hard, so hot. He could see into her sex, see her labia parting like the gills of a fish breathing and he could stand it no longer. He launched himself at her, falling on her, devouring her, his oiled body slipping against hers, his arms wrapping around her neck, his cock slipping effortlessly straight up into the tight, hot, wet cavern of her cunt. He star
ted hammering it into her as he felt her legs curling around his back, the shiny nylon rasping against his skin, as she used the leverage to get her cunt further down on him, impaling herself on the rod of his cock.

  The feelings were too strong to do anything else but give in to them. His cock was big and very hard. It filled her completely. She managed to raise her head once to look over his shoulder, down over his plunging buttocks and into the mirror beyond. What was the Baron doing? He would be able to see everything, see the slave's cock ploughing into her, his balls strapped tightly in black leather, its shaft running with her juices. He would see the way her cunt, the lips of her cunt made thin now by being stretched, closed around the cock, just like a mouth, sucking it in. He would see her legs, up-ended, the suspenders pulling at the nylons, her feet still crammed into the black high heels. Was he wanking while he watched, bringing himself off in time to James's strokes? The idea sent another thrill coursing through Stephanie's body and she let her head fall back onto the bed.

  'Fuck me,' she said unnecessarily, just wanting to hear the words.

  She could think of nothing but her pleasure now. The engine of her orgasm had started to turn, a giant flywheel moving slowly at first but inexorably, gathering momentum until it spun faster and faster with unstoppable power, propelling her down deeper and deeper into her own body and her own senses, until all she could feel was herself and there was nothing in the world but the exquisite sensations of her climax.

  As she came she felt the head of James's cock buried against her womb, hammering at it relentlessly, the curve of his pubic bone hard against her clitoris, the neat package of his strapped-up balls tight against her arse. It all made her come, driving her orgasm on and on, extending it, making it go on for so long she thought it would never stop.