With no subtlety he rocked back on his heels and positioned the head of the dildo between her legs, then drove it straight up into Stephanie's cunt, as deep as it would go. She groaned at the sudden intrusion, then writhed her body until the dildo was bedded in her sex just where she wanted it.
Amanda got onto her knees so she could get a better view. This she wanted to see. Stephanie's body was shaking, already sensitised by the oily massage. Her mouth was open and she was making little mewing sounds. Andrew didn't move the dildo up and down, he just held it tight inside her, deep and hard. He turned the little gnarled knob at the end and a faint humming filled the air. Immediately Stephanie's body arched over the sheets, her navel uppermost, her buttocks clear off the bed.
Amanda worked her way up behind Andrew until she could press her naked breasts, her nipples as hard as pebbles, into his shoulder-blades and the hard curve of her pubic bone against his buttocks, while one gloved hand snaked round his chest to locate his right nipple and the other circled his rigid cock.
'Do you want me to wank you?' she whispered in his ear, reaming it out with her tongue as soon as she'd spoken.
He did not reply but she knew the answer. She could feel his cock thrusting in the fist she had made of her hand. The suede made it impossible to slide up and down the shaft easily so instead she gripped the cock tightly and let the underside of her thumb move up and down the rim of his glans, the rough suede rubbing the sensitive skin. Andrew moaned.
They could both see Stephanie come. She opened her mouth and groaned, an animal noise, as her orgasm broke over the head of the vibrating, unyielding dildo that seemed to be jammed up against every nerve in her body, exciting them all at the same time. Her body, like a longbow being strung, arched off the bed still further until only her shoulders and heels were on the sheet and every muscle was locked with pleasure.
Amanda's hand squeezed Andrew tight, her suede-covered thumb working faster. Then she felt something against her knee. It was the riding crop. Stephanie had dropped it by her side as she'd lain down on the bed. Amanda picked it up. With her hand still gripping Andrew's cock, she swung herself around to kneel at his side. As Stephanie's body sunk back onto the bed Amanda slashed the crop down on Andrew's white buttocks. She felt his reaction immediately. His cock surged in her hand, jerking so hard it almost escaped her grasp.
'You want it, don't you?' she said.
'Yes, yes...' He loved it. He remembered how he had felt that first night in the castle, red welts burning on his buttocks as he had been released from the pouch, blindfolded and helpless, as that hot wet cunt had descended on his cock. He remembered how he had spunked, so hard and so long he thought it would never stop. He would never forget that, the crisscrossed welts on his arse powering his orgasm to heights he had never reached before. Or since. Until now. 'Yes, yes,' he cried.
Amanda raised the crop again. One hard, full cut across the buttocks followed another. His cock jerked again as her thumb rubbed the same place, so sensitive it made him squirm, the fire in his arse making it more so, making it impossibly tender. Even through the glove Amanda could feel how hot his cock was. It was boiling, scalding hot. He was coming; she felt his spunk forcing its way through her tight grip. She raised the crop again.
'Yes,' he screamed.
'This is what you want...'
The crop sliced down across the three red welts that had already appeared on his white flesh. It was the hardest stroke of all, burning into him, the pain so close to total pleasure that his cock exploded in her fist, spitting spunk, hot gobs of spunk like a string of pearls, down over Stephanie's tits and navel and into the thick black thatch of pubic hair. Amanda squeezed the shaft, milking it to extract every last drop.
Chapter Nine
It was not a routine but it followed a pattern of sorts. Days passed slowly. Stephanie and Devlin would spend most of their time locked and chained in the cells. Twice a day they would be fed and allowed to use the shower and toilet facilities but not, as far as Stephanie could tell, at the same time each day. They were taken out of the cells as and when it occurred to someone to do it. To further confuse her sense of time the light in the cell was sometimes left on all night and sometimes not. Sometimes it was turned off for short periods during what Stephanie assumed to be the day and sometimes it was left on continuously.
With no way of telling the time, or even mark the passing of a day, time dragged heavily. Days merged into one another, only differentiated by what Andrew devised as a means of using his personal slave.
Stephanie had not seen Devlin since the day after the trial. Presumably Amanda was using him just as Andrew was her, but they had not been taken out of the cells together and she had not seen him. As well as her own, five other cells were bolted when she was taken out; three for garden overseers, one for Bruno and one for Devlin. All the other cell doors were wide open.
Stephanie was taken up to Andrew's bedroom regularly and always at night. There he commanded her to perform a variety of sex acts, usually with one of the other former female slaves in attendance. He too, it appeared, had discovered what Stephanie had experienced on her first visit to the castle; that power is an aphrodisiac and creates seemingly limitless sexual appetites and the energy to satisfy them. Stephanie had been amazed at her own ability to indulge in sexual encounters and clearly Andrew and, from what she had seen, Amanda, were affected by the same phenomenon.
It was at the end of the first week that Mick and Paul had paid serious attention to her for the first time. Since they had 'liberated' the slaves they had been busy receiving the gratitude of the seven females who had been delighted to engage in sex singularly or in plural with the two men, especially when they had been told that the files on the various felonies they had committed against Devlin had been destroyed. They were in a mood to celebrate their freedom.
But though the women were attractive they were no match for Stephanie or Venetia. Andrew had made it clear that Venetia was out of bounds and as Stephanie was his personal slave she appeared to be untouchable too, as much as they thought about her and what it would be like to have her. It was only when Andrew had suggested that they might like to share her considerable talents, that they had been quick to take advantage of the opportunity.
Paul had come to her cell alone. He had taken to wearing a pair of Devlin's shorts, navy blue and very loose, around the castle and very little else. He was carrying a leather body-harness he had found in the punishment room.
'Stand up,' he ordered. Stephanie had been sitting with her back against the wall. 'We're going to have a little party,' he said, kneeling to unlock her ankle from the metal cuff. The harness was comprised of three thick, wide leather hoops attached to a single, much thinner strap. Each hoop was strapped around the body, one above the breasts and under the arms, one under the breasts and the third across the navel, with the thin strap that held them together running down the spine. The hoops were wider as they got lower, with the one around the navel the widest of them all, covering most of the belly, Paul strapped them all into place tightly.
Each of the hoops had a much smaller loop of leather attached to it on either side. The arms fitted into these, buckled in tightly on the biceps, elbow and wrist, making it impossible to move the arms away from the torso.
Stephanie had seen one of the guests use the harness on a slave but had never experienced its effects. She had been bound before but never as tightly as this. But while her whole upper body, with the exception of her breasts which jutted out of the leather hoops, was completely constricted and her arms held rigid; below her hips, in contrast, she was free and exposed and vulnerable. It was an extraordinary feeling of helplessness. Above her hips even breathing was difficult, below her buttocks, thighs and sex were open and unrestrained.
Paul led her out into the corridor and up the back stairs to what had once been her bedroom.
'Well, look at that,' Andrew commented as Stephanie entered the bedroom through the small doorway hidden
in the silk panelling of the wall. 'What have you been up to, Paul?' He was drinking champagne, sitting on the large sofa opposite the bed. Mick was sitting next to him.
'Found it in the cellars. Pretty, don't you think?' Paul spun Stephanie around so that they got the full effect. The pressure of the hoops above and below her breasts had made them redden.
'What a bird,' Mick said, staring at Stephanie's body.
'What an arse...' Andrew said. 'Come here, darling.'
She obeyed, standing in front of him. The constriction of the body-harness was making her feel odd: she wanted to take a deep breath but couldn't. The leather had no give in it at all.
'I've told my friends what a special woman you are. They were feeling left out so I suggested they should see for themselves...'
'Yes, master.'
Mick, who was wearing a pair of Devlin's Y-fronts, stood up. He pulled the pants to the floor and stepped out of them. His cock was semi-erect.
Whether because of the body-harness or the situation, Stephanie suddenly felt a rush of blood to her head. It was not at all an unpleasant feeling. She felt no fear. After what she had been through in the last months there was nothing these three men could do to her she hadn't already indulged in voluntarily herself. The truth was she wanted them.
'On your knees,' Andrew ordered, clearly relishing his position of power.
'I can't, master,' Stephanie said. With the harness making it impossible to move her upper body, she would have fallen over if she tried to kneel without help.
Paul saw the problem and held her by the shoulders as she lowered herself to her knees. Mick immediately took her by the back of the head and fed his thickening cock into her mouth. As she sucked on his uncircumcised cock the strange feeling of excitement she felt increased. She could feel her labia were already wet and was afraid the sap from her body might start to run down her thigh.
Mick was not content with her mouth for long. As Paul pulled his shorts off too, Mick pulled Stephanie up to her feet again. He was a big man, his belly round and fat, his thighs meaty, but it was obvious he was also strong. He picked Stephanie off her feet easily, as if she were an eiderdown, and carried her over to the bed, throwing her down into the middle of the mattress.
That produced a shock of pleasure so intense, so absolute, that for a moment she thought she would faint. It was the helplessness, the feeling of being no more than a plaything, a pawn in their game of sexual pleasure that was doing it to her, she knew. She had experienced it before. The natural dominant was also a natural submissive.
Mick had jumped onto the bed too. In seconds he had rolled on top of her and was spreading her legs apart, his cock pressed down into her labia.
'She's soaking wet,' he said. 'It's running down her legs.' Encouraged, he plunged his cock home and groaned as he felt it sink into the warmth and wetness of her sex. He drove forward like a man possessed, his hand grabbing at her breast between the hoops of leather. She was his at last, the beautiful figure, the haughty looks, the long elegant legs and pert arse, wrapped round his cock. He found her nipple and pinched it between his fingers as his cock powered into her.
She moaned. The constriction of the harness made her nipples extra sensitive. But so, it seemed, did the lack of constriction below her hips. Her labia throbbed. Mick's body, the hard curve of his pubic bone was driving forward right onto her clitoris. Perhaps it was his big belly flattening her navel so her clitoris was more exposed, perhaps it was just her incredible excitement, but she knew she was going to come.
Unfortunately for her, they were not there for her pleasure. Mick pulled out of her and Paul took his place, kneeling between her legs. The shock of his withdrawal sent Stephanie's body into spasm, as Paul leaned forward. His cock was more gentle. She whimpered as it entered her churning sex. Mick's cock was short but wide, Paul's was longer and went deeper. As she felt it slide up into the depths of her sex, slowly in comparison to Mick's speed, Stephanie felt her body contract and her orgasm start again. She could hardly breathe. She panted for oxygen, straining against the leather, but knew that was part of her pleasure too. The spasm caused by Mick's withdrawal had turned into a convulsion of orgasm as her nerves erupted. The constriction of the harness increased the feeling. It was as though the orgasm was unable to escape from her shuddering body, was held in by the straps and instead of dissipating, echoed again and again through her nerves.
She had no idea how many times she came. Her mind was almost blank of everything but feeling. Her cunt and clitoris and her nipples bombarded her with sensation as Paul and Mick took it in turns to fuck her. She found it impossible to do anything but feel. Her cunt seemed to be the centre of her body but she knew, somewhere at the back of her mind where reasoning was still able to work, that it was the feeling of being used, of being had, of being the slave, that was bringing her these exquisite sensations.
In the end she had felt Mick take over from Paul. As he'd pushed inside her she could feel he was about to come. His cock was throbbing and after the third or fourth stroke he stopped, finding his place in the clinging wet walls of her sex. Immediately his cock spasmed and his spunk rocketed out of him, and into her. She tried to hold him there, using all her strength to milk the last drops of come, to keep him sucked up in her. Eventually he slipped away.
The mists of lust had cleared a little. Stephanie opened her eyes to see Paul standing by the bed, his cock, wet from her juices, in his right hand.
For a moment the old Stephanie returned despite her bondage. 'Come on. Give it to me. I want it.'
Paul looked hesitant.
'You want me to suck you?' she said.
But then she could read in his face what he wanted, she could read it in his eyes as they looked down at her body. He didn't want to use her cunt. He wanted to use her other passage. She laughed. Didn't he know she loved that too? Didn't he know they had made her so high on sex, her body pulsing with sensation, that she would do anything, want anything?
Fighting the bonds that held her so firmly and with a supreme effort she rocked herself from side to side until she gained momentum and rolled over onto her stomach.
'There,' she said triumphantly, sweating from the effort, her tender breasts smarting from contact with the sheet and further increasing her sexual temperature. 'Now give it to me. Come on, give me what I want, damn you.' She managed to get to her knees and thrust her tight apple-shaped arse out, her legs apart. He could see the target above the thick fleshy labia, puckered and inviting.
Stephanie wriggled her bottom from side to side. 'Give it to me, damn you,' she repeated.
And, while Andrew and Mick watched, their eyes following every movement, that was precisely what Paul did.
The pattern continued day after day. It was impossible to keep track of the days that passed because Stephanie was never sure, when they came to feed her or take her to the showers or up to Andrew, whether it was once a day or two days or just a few hours. Time passed so slowly that the slightest noise, the slightest disturbance became a major event. In fact there was little of either. For most of the day, it appeared the cellars were deserted, the slaves enjoying the more comfortable accommodation upstairs.
It was four or five days, Stephanie thought, after the experience with the three men, that Amanda strode into her cell. She looked beautiful. Perhaps it had been sunny outside, either that or Amanda had discovered the castle's solarium, but whatever the cause, she looked tanned and fit. She was dressed in a brown leather outfit Stephanie had commissioned from a special shop in Rome, a tight leather body like a leotard with a plunging neckline and a short leather skirt, equally tight but covering no more than three or four inches of Amanda's muscular thighs, and supplied with matching leather boots with high heels. Her breasts created a deep cleavage in the low neckline. Her hair had grown slightly and she had shaped it into soft waves. She carried a riding crop in her leather-gloved hand.
'Well, how are you enjoying the accommodation?' she asked, striding aro
und the bare stone cell.
Stephanie said nothing as Amanda unlocked the metal cuff from her ankle.
'I asked you a question,' Amanda snapped.
'I'm not.'
'I'm not, what?'
'Mistress,' Stephanie added hastily.
'Follow me.'
Amanda turned on her heels and walked out of the cell, her shoes echoing against the stone. Waiting outside in the corridor was Venetia. Stephanie was surprised to see her. It wasn't that she'd forgotten about her but she hadn't seen her at all since the trial. What she had been doing during the endless days since, Stephanie had no way of knowing. She assumed that, having thrown her lot in with the rebels, she had been helping them run the castle, showing them where to get food and fuel for the boat and all the other things they would need to know. As for her sexual favours, so far Amanda had not appeared particularly interested in intimate activities with any of the women at the castle, at least not in Stephanie's presence, so Venetia's expertise in this department had probably not been called for.
To what extent Venetia had been given her freedom was also a question Stephanie had no means of answering. Clearly she had not been held in one of the cells. She was much too elegantly turned out to have been suffering the indignities of the cellar ablutions and she was wearing her own clothes. Stephanie recognised the short black dress Venetia wore. It clung to her body, emphasising the spectacular curves of her opulent body. It was sleeveless but with a full polo-neck that had been slit from throat to waist, revealing tantalising glimpses of Venetia's unencumbered breasts. Its skirt, even shorter than Amanda's, covered only an inch or two of thigh, exposing the rest of her long legs sheathed in nylon Lycra, a transparent black with a slippery-looking sheen. Her height was increased by silver high-heel shoes and the fact that her long hair was pinned to the top of her head.
As Stephanie emerged from the cell Amanda was heading along the corridor to the punishment room. Stephanie seized the opportunity and caught Venetia by the hand, forcing her to look straight into her eyes, trying to rekindle something - loyalty, friendship, she didn't know what - between them. But Venetia looked away, slapped her hand down, grabbed her upper arm and marched her along the corridor. Whatever had been between them, Stephanie thought glumly, had gone.
Stephanie's Trial Page 18