'So now you have experienced the Japanese way.'
'Where are the geishas?'
Stephanie stood in front of Kanjii, her naked body inches from his face.
'Why?'
'Don't you think you'd better get them back in here?' She pressed her navel into his face.
'For what reason?' he said, pulling back to look up into her eyes.
'The Seven Samurai is for men.'
'I don't...'
'I'll be the Seventh Samurai this time.' She stroked Kanjii's face. 'Or don't you think I have enough experience?'
'I think it would be most exciting, but I...'
'Just get them back.'
It didn't take long for the geishas to file back into the alcove while Kanjii lay back on the low table. Stephanie found the switch which converted the ceiling glass into a mirror and watched as the image of Kanjii came into view.
Kanjii was not erect. But as soon as the two geishas began to manipulate his feet his cock unfurled rapidly. By the time the third and fourth geishas touched his nipples it was fully erect and throbbing visibly.
The same pattern they had followed with Stephanie, they used on Kanjii. Every detail was the same, a time-honoured ritual. The eldest geisha nodded to Stephanie when it was time to take her position. She slipped under the table and emerged with her head between Kanjii's thighs. As the geishas' mouths sucked and licked at his toes and ears and nipples, Stephanie sucked his big hard shaft into her mouth.
Kanjii's whole body was trembling just like Stephanie's had done. He was looking at himself in the mirror, watching his geishas and Stephanie's long black hair flowing over his thighs as she bobbed up and down on his cock. Her mouth was expert. Had she been a geisha she would have been trained to synchronise her rhythms with the others, but her lack of expertise in this direction was compensated for by her total expertise in the way she licked and sucked and drew his cock back and forth in her mouth.
Stephanie felt his spunk rising. Kneeling under the table, she felt her own sex pulsing again, reminded of how it had been made to feel. She pressed her legs together as she felt a gush of juices on her thighs. Her body was expressing its needs too. The Japanese arts of love were all very well but her body demanded something a little cruder and more direct.
Quickly she crawled out from under the table. The geishas, though not taking their mouths from their allotted tasks, looked astonished. Kanjii raised his head to see what was happening but the ritual forbade him to speak. Stephanie was climbing on the table. With no hesitation she straddled Kanjii's navel, groped with her hand behind her for his cock and held it tightly at the slippery nest of her cunt.
'You want it, don't you?' she said.
Kanjii nodded, making the geishas on his ears temporarily lose their stroke.
In one movement Stephanie dropped down onto Kanjii's cock, impaling herself on him. It took her breath away. It was hot and very hard. Kanjii lowered his head. This was not the tradition but it was exciting. The geishas found his ears again, their tongues inserted deep, taking up the rhythm of the mouths on his nipples and toes.
He moaned as Stephanie began to move up and down on him, her hands pressing down on his navel, bucking her hips up and down. She wanted her own pleasure and ground her clitoris against his hard pubic bone over and over again until her mind was filled with sex, until it replayed images of her stretched out on the table, of her in the other room drugged with scent and fucked, of her now, her whole body beginning to pulse with pleasure as she felt her orgasm break, as her cunt convulsed around the hard shaft deep inside it and she screamed with the sharp ravishing sensations that flooded every nerve.
It was only as she came down from her high that she realised Kanjii hadn't come. She felt his hard cock still inside her. She knew instinctively what he wanted. It was tradition, ritual. She had suggested it after all; she should be prepared to finish it. She had succumbed to pure selfishness; now it was time to do her duty. Quickly she scrambled off the table and knelt under it again, thrusting her head up into the oval aperture. She took Kanjii's cock, sleek with her juices, and sucked it hard. Watching the eldest geisha she tried to match the motion of her head to her own motion, tried now to be the perfect geisha. She felt her own juices leaking from her sex and running down her thighs, and tasted them on Kanjii's cock. But she tried to concentrate. It was not easy. Her mind was still full of images, of everything that had happened to her in the penthouse, all the ways the geishas had washed her and fingered her and held her.
As she felt Kanjii's cock swelling in her mouth she remembered how it had felt as it had swollen inside her, bound tightly inside her so it could not move, how she had felt his spunk spraying from his body. She suddenly thought of what that would be like with Devlin, with Devlin's monstrous cock spasming inside her. She shuddered, trying to put such thoughts aside and think only of what she was doing.
Kanjii's cock twitched hard in her mouth as she timed her movement to coincide with the sweep of the tongues she could see at his ear. She knew what he was feeling. She knew how those tongues felt, hot and wet and so close to the brain they felt as though they were inside it.
It swelled up one more time, Kanjii moaned, a low animal moan, a sound produced deep in his body, and his cock began to spasm, jerking against her tongue and her lips as it spat spunk down into her throat, his moan continuous, his body rigid.
There was too much spunk for Stephanie to swallow. Some escaped from the corner of her mouth and dribbled down into Kanjii's pubic hair.
The geishas withdrew one by one until they were alone again. Stephanie finally released his cock from her mouth and came out from under the table.
'I spoiled it,' she said, standing looking down at him.
'No. No. It was wonderful. Wonderful. I think I make it part of the ritual for the next four hundred years.'
'Do I get to be an honorary geisha?'
'Of course. I will confer the honour myself.'
'And no doubt that involves another ritual.'
Kanjii laughed. 'Oh yes. A long and arduous one, I fear.'
'But not tonight.'
'Definitely not tonight.'
Chapter Five
Venetia supervised the luggage being loaded into the boot of the Cadillac. Stephanie's two cases had increased to four as the result of her purchases in Bond Street and at Vivienne Elson's boutique. With Devlin's return from Moscow, it had been decided that Venetia should go to the castle with Stephanie as Devlin had a considerable amount of work to catch up on from the various corners of his empire, which Venetia could help him sort out.
It was a beautiful autumn morning. The sun shone in a clear blue sky, the temperature a crisp chill, the scent of autumn as heavy as any perfume. The trees at the front of Devlin's house were mottled shades of brown and the driveway was already covered with a sprinkling of dried leaves that cracked underfoot.
The chauffeur stood with the rear door open as Stephanie came out of the house.
'All done,' Venetia said, closing the boot.
'We're off then.' Stephanie climbed into the car. She was wearing black high-heeled boots and a red wool dress with a knee-length skirt and full-length sleeves. She had combed her hair out and it tumbled onto her shoulders, clean and shining with health.
As soon as Venetia sat down beside her on the long leather bench seat, her slender body and big breasts well served by the black one-piece tailored suit she wore, the chauffeur closed the passenger door and got behind the wheel. Starting the engine, he headed the big car out of the driveway and into the road.
'Well, that was a very pleasant interlude,' Stephanie said, contemplating her five days in London. Kanjii and Vivienne, not to mention Venetia and Devlin's recording equipment, had made it a fascinating experience. Kanjii in particular had given her food for thought. What the geishas had done had not only thrilled her but provided her with a fund of ideas for ways of entertaining the guests - and herself - at the castle. She looked forward to enacting the ritual
she had been taught, especially as Kanjii had promised he would send her one of the aroma boxes he had used on her first visit.
The Cadillac glided effortlessly through the traffic and Stephanie relaxed. Though she had enjoyed her time in London, it would be good to get back to the castle and particularly good to see Devlin again. She realised she had missed him. He'd called her once from Moscow but the line was so bad she had had little opportunity to say much to him other than to confirm their plans. He had decided it would be easier to charter a plane from Moscow rather than get the Learjet to pick him up. It would be quicker, he'd told her, and he was anxious to get back to the castle as soon as possible.
Venetia said nothing, sitting quietly, her long legs crossed.
'I think I'd like a drink,' Stephanie said.
'Champagne?' There was a bottle of champagne in the silver wine-cooler recessed in the walnut cabinet, as ever.
'Why not? I didn't indulge last night, after all.' The excitements of the geishas had left Stephanie drained. She had spent yesterday quietly recovering. After a visit to a health club where she had done an hour's aerobics and had a long swim, she had gone out to dinner with Venetia but had drunk only mineral water. She had slept alone, her sexual appetite for once satiated.
Venetia opened the bottle and expertly poured the fizzing wine into a flute.
'Aren't you going to join me?' Stephanie prompted.
Venetia poured herself a glass too.
'Here's to our return. It's been nice to see London again but the cold's beginning to get to me.'
They clinked their glasses together and sipped the wine. It was then, as she had turned to face Venetia, that Stephanie noticed the car through the back window. It was a dirty brown Ford Sierra. For some reason she had seen it before. The odd sensation she had had in Sloane Street returned: she had the feeling she was being followed.
'What's the matter?' Venetia asked, seeing the colour drain from her face.
'That car... have you seen it before?'
Venetia looked out of the window. 'No, I don't think so. It might have been parked outside the house. No. No, I think it was another one...'
'Are you sure?'
'Not positive.'
'I've had this funny feeling I've been followed.'
'Really?'
'It's just paranoia, I suppose.'
As she said it, the brown Sierra took an opportunity of a gap in the traffic and surged passed the Cadillac, instantly calming Stephanie's fears.
They were on a dual carriageway to the west of London now, and the morning traffic was light. The Sierra had gone completely and by the time they pulled through the gates of the private airfield, the sudden fear that had gripped her had evaporated, helped no doubt by another glass of champagne. The chauffeur drew the Cadillac up right outside the landing ramp of the Learjet, which stood ready on a taxiway, and ran round to open the passenger door. As Stephanie and Venetia mounted the steps of the plane he began unloading the luggage.
Susie stood at the top of the ramp, her Kheong-Sam reminding Stephanie of recent pleasures.
'Morning, madam,' she said with her usual lack of enthusiasm.
'Good morning Susie,' Stephanie said, sitting in one of the large leather armchairs in the main cabin, while Venetia sat opposite her. From the window she saw the chauffeur taking her cases to the rear of the plane and the ramp that led directly to the cargo hold.
'Would you like anything to drink?' Susie asked.
'No thank you, we had champagne in the car. Later perhaps.'
'Yes, madam. Don't forget to fasten your seatbelt. We'll be taking off in five minutes. We have radar clearance from air traffic control.'
'That was quick.'
'Yes, sometimes we are lucky.'
Susie walked back to the forward cabin, the split in the Kheong-Sam revealing her shapely thigh. She closed the door in the bulkhead behind her.
'I thought we'd have a longer wait,' Stephanie said.
'I told the car to be there at twelve, just in case,' Venetia said.
'Good. We'll lunch on the terrace.'
'They said the sun was out.'
'That's definitely what I need.'
The twin jets set either side of the tail began to whine and the plane nosed forward down the taxiway. Stephanie noticed, rather strangely she thought, that the Cadillac had not driven away. The driver was sitting at the wheel. It looked as if he had fallen asleep. Must have had a late night, Stephanie thought to herself, smiling.
The plane turned onto the runway.
'Good morning ladies.' It was the captain's voice over the tannoy. 'We have permission to take off in one minute. Estimated time of arrival at the lake will be twelve-ten. We'll be cruising at 29,000 feet at a speed of 590 mph. I hope you have a pleasant flight.'
Almost immediately the engine noise rose to a crescendo and the plane shot forward. In seconds they were airborne. As Stephanie gazed out of the window at the ground below she saw a sight that filled her with horror. Parked well out of sight behind one of the Portakabins was a brown Sierra.
Just as Stephanie was about to tell Venetia to look down, the rear cabin door was flung open. Three men and a woman burst into the main cabin. Two of the men carried knives, big wicked-looking hunting knives, their edges serrated, their blades glinting. Before either Stephanie or Venetia had time to react, before they could even flick the clips of the seatbelts, and with the plane still climbing steeply, the men had jumped astride their bodies and held the knives to their throats.
'Don't make a sound,' the man on Stephanie hissed, his face covered, like all four of them, by a woolly ski-mask that had been sewn up to leave just the opening for the eyes.
The third man and the woman had positioned themselves beside the door to the forward cabin.
'Does this call the stewardess?' he asked, indicating the call button located on the side of the bulkhead by the window. Stephanie nodded. There was something familiar about his voice but she could not place it.
The man pressed the call button. They waited. After a minute Susie swung through the cabin door.
'Yes, mad...?' Before she could finish the question the man behind the door clamped his big hand over the Malaysian woman's mouth as his arm held her firmly around the waist. She struggled but made no impression on his hard muscular body.' The woman closed the door and locked it.
'Well, that's better,' the man kneeling on Stephanie said.
'What the hell do you want?' Stephanie said, fearing she knew the answer.
'I think it's time for introductions.' Without taking the knife from her throat the man used his free hand to reach to the top of the ski-mask and pull it off his head. Stephanie recognised him immediately. During her time at the castle one or two of the slaves had been uncooperative and difficult. Despite the continual threat of being returned to England to face prosecution for their crimes they continually railed against the life at the castle and were constantly having to be punished for insolence and misbehaviour. The face that grinned into hers now was one of the worst offenders. 'So now the boot's on the other foot, eh mistress?' he sneered.
'Andrew,' Stephanie said quietly.
He took the knife from her throat. 'And I'm sure you haven't forgotten my friend.'
The woman pulled her mask off. Again Stephanie recognised her immediately. Amanda had been one of the most difficult of all the slaves: like Andrew she had been punished countless times.
'Oh, I'm sure she remembers me,' Amanda said. 'I certainly remember her.'
'What do you want?' Stephanie repeated.
Amanda went back into the rear cabin and came back with a nylon holdall which she unzipped.
'Well now,' Andrew said, 'that's a good question, isn't it Amanda?'
'Certainly is,' she replied.
Stephanie looked into Andrew's face. He had short, very curly blond hair with a sallow complexion and light blue eyes. He was not tall and, she remembered, his body was far from athletic, but he was slim and could
definitely be described as attractive. Amanda on the other hand was a brunette, her hair cut short, her eyes an unusual light brown colour. She was not tall either and her body gave the impression of being plump, though Stephanie knew this was misleading. Under the dark slacks and shirt she wore - in common with the other three - her body was hard with muscle, her breasts full and firm, her buttocks long and meaty, her waist particularly narrow.
'First,' Andrew said, 'I think we want revenge for the way we were treated at your hands. After that, well I think we'll have to decide that when the time comes, won't we?' He turned his attention to Susie. 'Can you speak to the cockpit from in here?'
'Yes sir,' she replied.
'Tell them the mistress here doesn't want to be disturbed. And don't be tempted to say anything else.'
Susie picked up an intercom phone mounted on the dividing wall and relayed the message. She knew the captain would not be surprised. Since he had been flying the Learjet for Devlin nothing surprised him, especially when Stephanie was aboard.
'Well now, I don't want to be rude. I'd better introduce my two friends, hadn't I mistress?' He said the word "mistress" with special emphasis. The man who had held Susie removed the ski-mask. He was balding, with irregular teeth and a crooked nose that made him look as if he had once been a boxer. His shirt bulged with a considerable paunch. 'This is Mick.'
The man kneeling over Venetia pulled his mask off too. His face was tanned, his hair a curly ginger and his appearance swarthy. His chin was shaded with what was obviously a rough beard. His eyes were a dark green. Stephanie recognised him too: it was the man in the suede blouson who she had seen in Knightsbridge.
'And this is Paul.'
'She's seen me before.' Paul could see the recognition in Stephanie's eyes.
Stephanie gazed up at Andrew with contempt. His blond hair made him look younger than he was. His mouth, still spread in a grin, showed his regular capped teeth.
'How did you find us?' Stephanie asked. The precautions Devlin took against just this eventuality Stephanie had always regarded as paranoia, but they were extremely thorough. The slaves were never even allowed to see the interior of the plane, let alone the direction they were travelling. From the temperature they might have guessed the castle was in the Mediterranean but there was nothing to suggest it was in Italy, let alone where in Italy. But somehow Andrew had beaten the system.
Stephanie's Trial Page 10