Stephanie's Trial

by Susanna Hughes

  It was obvious that the cellars were completely deserted. When they reached the white tiled shower cubicles Amanda began unstrapping Stephanie's wrists. There was a chance here, Stephanie thought, a chance for escape. If she could overpower Amanda and release Bruno they might be able to get off the island. The speedboat might have been left at the jetty. But what if Andrew had taken its keys? Not only that, but her chances of overpowering Amanda were not good. Her arms were weakened by their constriction. As Amanda released them one at a time she could barely move them at all, let alone use them to struggle against Amanda's considerable strength.

  'Try it,' Amanda said. 'Just try it...' They were getting good at reading her mind.

  With her arms freed, Amanda unbuckled the leather harness from around Stephanie's neck and threw it to the floor. She watched her like a hawk as first she allowed her into one of the toilet stalls and then made her shower, wash her hair and clean her teeth.

  As soon as this was done, and without waiting for her to dry herself, Amanda produced a pair of leather cuffs joined together by a short stout chain.

  'Hold out your hands,' she ordered.

  As she was about to buckle the first cuff on Stephanie's wrist she noticed her Patek Phillipe watch.

  'Well, this is very nice,' she said. She opened the bracelet that held the watch in place and slipped it off Stephanie's wrist and onto her own. 'Very nice,' she said, holding her wrist up to admire her new acquisition.

  Amanda buckled the leather cuffs round Stephanie's wrists. Attached to the link which held the cuffs together was another chain, again like a leash, and by this Amanda tugged her forward.

  'My shoes...' Stephanie protested.

  Amanda thought about that for a moment, then allowed her to go back and wriggle her wet feet into them.

  They progressed through the main door of the cellars, through the racks of vintage wine to the stone staircase that led to the main hall of the castle. Picking their way carefully up the worn steps they emerged into the daylight, Stephanie screwing up her eyes against its power after the gloom of the cell.

  When she was able to see properly she was surprised at how little damage appeared to have been done. The hall looked perfectly normal with the exception of an empty brandy bottle in one of the huge terracotta pots that held the indoor palm trees.

  Amanda headed down the long passage behind the main staircase that led to the office complex, the two women's high heels clacking on the marble floor. The small, ornately carved door at the end was open. Beyond there was a large modern office, the hub of Devlin's business empire when he was staying at the castle. There were three secretary's desks, each with computer terminals, telephones, VDUs and fax machines. The walls were lined with white filing cabinets and shelves stacked with computer tapes and box files. But instead of the neatly arranged order the office usually displayed, there was now chaos. Every single filing cabinet had been ransacked and some had even toppled over onto the floor. There were files and paper everywhere.

  On the far side of the room was Devlin's office. A long picture window had been cut into the side of the stone of the castle walls to reveal the gardens and orchards at the back of the castle. Here, in this office, there were no filing cabinets or computers, just a massive desk carved from a single piece of walnut, a low leather sofa, a leather high-backed swivel chair behind the desk and a single telephone. Stephanie could see that the swivel chair was occupied but as its back was turned towards her she could not tell by whom.

  As Amanda pulled her into the room the desk chair swung round and Andrew put his feet up on the thick walnut of the desk.

  'Sleep well?' he said, his eyes examining her naked body. 'Not very comfortable down there, is it?'

  'She deserves it,' Venetia said. She was sitting on the leather sofa wearing a one-piece Lycra and nylon body suit like a leotard and a pair of tights combined in one garment. It was as transparent as tights, showing every line and curve of her body and her big spherical breasts, though most of these were already displayed by the plunging neckline of the Lycra that reached almost to her navel. The triangle of her belly was hidden under the body suit by a tiny black G-string matching the black shading of the one-piece. Her feet were clad in shiny black high-heeled ankle boots. She looked, whether at her own behest or Andrew's, like a whore in a brothel, a very expensive whore in a very expensive brothel.

  Stephanie looked around. Devlin's private safe, set into the stone wall at floor level, was open and she could see the neat stacks of money inside: Swiss francs, pounds sterling and Italian lire.

  Andrew had followed her eyes. 'Venetia has been most helpful,' he said.

  Stephanie glanced at her but again she refused to meet her eyes. She knew Venetia had acted to protect herself but now it appeared she was prepared to go further. Stephanie had found it difficult to imagine that Venetia would betray her or Devlin but she was beginning to believe that was precisely what she was doing.

  'However,' Andrew continued, 'we need your access code to the computer.'

  'What are you going to do?' Stephanie asked.

  'We're instructing the computer to destroy the files,' Venetia said, standing up. Her bizarre costume made her magnificent body look even more attractive; her big breasts trembled under the nylon, her breasts and buttocks stretching the weave of the material and therefore making the shading lighter, giving them an impression of whiteness in contrast to the less stressed areas where the denier was denser and blacker.

  'Show her,' Andrew said, getting up from Devlin's chair. He was wearing jeans and one of Devlin's handmade white shirts.

  The four filed into the outer office. Andrew was unable to resist the temptation to stroke Venetia's curvaceous arse. She greeted the touch with a shudder of distaste and slapped his hand away immediately.

  'I thought we had an agreement,' she said.

  'We do,' he replied. 'Doesn't stop me wanting.'

  'As long as that's all you do.'

  The nearest computer terminal was turned on and Stephanie read the instructions telling the mainframe to erase a whole list of files. At the bottom of the screen a message flashed in bright green capital letters: PLEASE TYPE SECURITY ACCESS CODE.

  'Do it,' Andrew said, pushing Stephanie forward.

  Stephanie did not hesitate. What was the point? She had no doubt what they would do to her if she tried to resist. She typed in four numbers and pressed the ENTER key. The screen went blank. One word, also flashing, appeared: SURE? Venetia moved Stephanie aside and typed in the word YES. The screen went blank again before, in micro-seconds, it read: FILES ERASED.

  'Which leaves the hard copies...' Amanda said.

  Venetia was already typing out instructions. 'This will go to Devlin's office in London. They will destroy the files.' She pressed the enter button.

  Stephanie's heart missed a beat. She tried to remember what Venetia knew. The security arrangements had all been changed. Did Venetia know that no file would be destroyed without a security access code different from the one she had already given? They had made the change three months ago but had they told Venetia about it? Surely she must know, she knew everything about the computer system? If she did then she had not revealed it to Andrew and Amanda and knew perfectly well the files would not be destroyed. Which meant she was clearly still trying to act with Devlin's interests at heart. But what if she didn't? Then she was betraying them, totally prepared to do anything to save herself from Andrew, Mick and Paul or any of the male slaves. Perhaps she had not been told because it did not involve a computer program, just an instruction about files which had nothing to do with the computer. Stephanie tried to remember but couldn't.

  'Are you sure they'll do it?' Andrew asked.

  'Positive,' Venetia said, once again ignoring the look Stephanie was giving her. 'Look...'

  The screen read: INSTRUCTIONS RECEIVED.

  That seemed to satisfy Andrew. He turned to the wall and ripped out the sockets connecting the computer to the phone lines. H
e ripped out the telephones and the fax lines too. The main terminal for all the phones into the castle was a small grey box on the wall by the door. He kicked this hard until it fell apart, a tangle of coloured wires. 'Are there any other phones? Private lines?'

  'No. They all come through here.'

  'Good. Don't want to be disturbed, do we?'

  'So now we just need to know when Devlin arrives?' Amanda said, staring at Venetia.

  'I told you I don't know,' Venetia said quickly.

  'We know it's today. We called his office. They were very helpful,' Andrew grinned. That was how they knew when he was coming back. 'But when?'

  'I don't know. He didn't specify a time. We send the boat out when we hear the plane. The driver would do the same. That's normal.' Stephanie thought that sounded like a convincing lie. Devlin was expected at two. There was just a chance they might not get there in time if they waited until they heard the plane circling. There was normally time for the boat to get to the jetty by leaving when they heard the plane, but they would also have to get into the car and find the landing strip. There was a slim chance that Devlin might be alerted if the car was late.

  'I see.' Andrew was thinking. 'Well, I think we'll lave to organise a little surprise party for Mr Devlin. There's no way he can be here before one. Then we'll sit and wait for him. Be prepared... isn't that right, mistress?' Once again he sneered at the word "mistress".

  'If you say so.'

  'But I do.' Andrew smiled broadly, coming right up to Stephanie, his face inches from hers. 'So let's go and see how our other preparations are getting on,' he said, catching the leash that hung from her wrists and jerking her forward.

  Andrew led Stephanie out of the offices with Amanda and Venetia following. They walked down the long passage and out under the stairs into the main reception room. If Stephanie had any illusions that the slaves were not causing chaos in the castle, they soon disappeared. The living room and dining room were a total mess. Pictures had been ripped and torn from the walls, objets d'art smashed and red wine sprayed everywhere. All the bookcases had been ransacked, the books lying in heaps on the floor, and the priceless rugs cut into pieces.

  In the dining room the massive glass table had been shattered into a thousand pieces and the glass display case containing English Georgian silver lay on its side, its contents gone.

  In the living room a space had been cleared in front of the gothic fireplace, where a wooden table looted from one of the other rooms had been set up with two dining chairs behind it. To one side of the table and in front of it, two leather wing chairs had been placed side by side. Opposite these, on the other side, a smaller table and chair had been arranged. The rest of the space had been filled with a selection of chairs set in two rows.

  'Excellent,' Andrew declared.

  Mick and Paul had been supervising the work, each wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts - Devlin's shorts - belted with one of his silk Sulka ties. Three of the male slaves had been helping them, and one of the females. The males were clothed from Devlin's wardrobe too, Savile Row-tailored trousers and Jermyn Street shirts, their sleeves rolled up and their tails knotted at the navel. Stephanie recognised the black silk teddy the female was wearing as her own.

  There had been five men and seven women in the cellars when they arrived but there was no sign of the others.

  'Well we've got one defendant. Now we need the other,' Amanda said.

  'Where are the others?' Andrew asked.

  'Oh, they went to get the garden overseers. Seemed to think they had a score to settle...' Paul said.

  'We do,' the female slave said eagerly. 'They're taking them down to the cellars...'

  'Sounds like fun, I think I'll watch.' Mick grinned broadly.

  'Well, it seems we've got a little time for a diversion,' Andrew said. 'Let me see. What shall we do now? Order some coffee while I'm thinking,' he said to Venetia.

  'The servants have gone,' she replied.

  'What!'

  'They ran off this morning.'

  'How could they? I locked the boat up in the boathouse myself. I've still got the keys.'

  'There were two rowing boats down by the orchard.'

  'Did you know about this?' Amanda turned to Venetia menacingly.

  'No, no, of course not. You can't expect them to stay with all this going on. Anyway, there's plenty of food in the kitchen. We can cook it ourselves.'

  'True,' Andrew said.

  'Can we go back to the cellars now? We don't want to miss the fun,' one of the male slaves asked.

  'Sure. Do what you like until the trial starts. Give them one for me.' Andrew remembered how the overseers had reacted to any hint of slackness in his work rate.

  'I'm going too,' Amanda said as the slaves headed for the cellar door. 'I think this needs my personal attention.'

  'Well, I've got an idea, since we've got time on our hands,' Andrew said as the slaves with Amanda and Mick headed for the cellars.

  'I want to eat,' Paul said, his sexual appetite still satiated from the excesses of last night.

  'Well, that just leaves me, doesn't it?' Andrew picked up the leash on Stephanie's cuffs and started to lead her out of the room. Venetia stayed where she was. 'Come on darling. You're going to play a part in what I've got in mind... And I don't want to leave you behind anyway, do I?'

  Venetia caught up with him and slid her hand round his arm. 'Still don't trust me?' she said, her semi-nude body looking so sexy under its sheen of nylon Lycra.

  'You're getting there,' he said, eyeing her body as they walked up the marble staircase.

  Stephanie's bedroom was a mess too. All the wardrobe doors were open and all the drawers of the chests pulled out. There were clothes and lingerie and sexual equipment everywhere: panties, basques, whips, dildos, nipple clips, leather harnesses and gags strewn around the room as though a hurricane had torn through it. The bed had been slept in and the sheets were still ruffled.

  Andrew looked at his watch.

  'We've got two hours. So why don't you two girls give me a show? Apparently Venetia here is a lesbian. She's begged me not to put her with a man. Begged me. But I'm sure you knew all that, didn't you? You're quite intimate, I imagine. Difficult not to want a body like that, isn't it?' His eyes roamed Venetia's voluptuous curves, the body-stocking making them look obscenely ripe. 'So let's see what you get up to.'

  For a moment neither woman did anything. Then Venetia turned to Stephanie and pulled her wrists up by the leash, with the intention of unbuckling the cuffs.

  'You don't need to take those off. Just get on with it.'

  Andrew pulled a chair up to the foot of the bed and sat down as Venetia gently put pressure on Stephanie's arms so she would sit on the bed. Strangely, considering the situation, Stephanie felt a flood of excitement course through her body. She knew what it was. After a cold sleepless night she was glad of any human contact, the warmth of another body against her.

  She lay back on the bed without being told. Venetia lay down beside her and turned to kiss her mouth. Unavoidably their eyes met but Venetia's were blank, there was nothing there that Stephanie could see, no feeling, no secret conspiracy of silence, nothing to be read at all. What was she thinking?

  Stephanie pressed herself against Venetia's body as far as she could with her hands cuffed in front of her.

  Venetia realised the problem, broke the kiss, picked up Stephanie's arms and looped them over her head, then immediately rolled on top of her and resumed the kiss. Their tongues vied for position, each wanting to explore the other's mouth. After the coldness of last night the softness and warmth of Venetia's body made Stephanie melt with emotion. She writhed her body against the slippery feel of the nylon, feeling Venetia's big breasts squeezing against her own, their legs intertwined, Venetia's thigh forcing its way between Stephanie's legs until she could feel her own wetness leaking out of her labia.

  'I've always wanted to watch this,' Andrew said leaning forward in the chair, hi
s elbows on his knees.

  Stephanie closed her eyes. Venetia began to slide down her body. She didn't want to think about Andrew watching them, or about the castle or the trial or anything else. With her eyes closed she could just feel, feel Venetia's expert mouth sucking at the tendons of her neck, feel her tongue licking down to her breasts while her hands kneaded and squeezed them, presenting their nipples to be kissed and sucked and pinched with her teeth. Then Venetia's mouth worked lower down, out of the loop of Stephanie's bound arms, down to her belly where her tongue lapped at her thick black pubic hair.

  Slowly, with both arms stretched up over her head so her hands could grip Stephanie's firm breasts, her tongue dipped onto her clitoris. The first contact was like an electric shock. Stephanie's body started at the impact. Then the tongue circled the foothills of the tiny mountain and the shockwave settled down into a regular pattern of exquisite sensation.

  Occasionally her tongue would dip lower, down into Stephanie's fleshy, thick labia, wet with the sap from her body, and plunge up into the recesses of her cunt, as far up as it could go, circling again, touching the edges of the opening. But always it would return to the swollen clitoris, nudging it softly, then taking up a rhythm again, inevitable, remorseless, perfect.

  It went on forever, or so it seemed. It was an escape, the only escape from her situation, the only way out. To let her body fly free.

  Stephanie felt herself coming on Venetia's mouth as she had so many times before. But it was different this time. Instead of a big explosive climax, moaning, screaming almost, for her release, this was an implosion, smaller, quieter but no less profound. It was as if her subconscious was trying to keep it private, between Venetia - who she knew could feel each wave of come on her lips - and herself. A secret. Not wanting Andrew to see.