Stephanie's Trial (2 page)

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 started 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.

And just as
she thought it was subsiding she felt James's body tense, his
muscles lock, arching his body like a bow to get his cock even
deeper into her as his spunk suddenly spat uncontrollably from his
spasming shaft. The feeling of his spunk filling her renewed her
orgasm, made it peak again, threw her nerves into yet another rigor
of pleasure.

Eventually,
after what seemed like forever, her body released its grip on her
mind, sensation gave way to thought, and she opened her eyes.
James's cock had softened and was squeezed out of her cunt. Its
departure produced a shudder in her, an aftershock, an echo of the
shattering orgasm she had just experienced. It was extraordinary,
she thought as James rolled off her, how her sexuality had grown
and developed. Before she had started to plumb the depths of her
sexual psyche, not having the slightest idea of how fathomable it
would be, before she had strangely, unaccountably decided she must
take a journey through the highways and byways of her own
sexuality, a personal odyssey, she had had virtually nothing to do
with sex. She had experienced it, but it had not moved her or
bothered her or even interested her for much of the time.

All that had
changed, changed suddenly and dramatically through two men. Martin,
whom she had wanted more than any man in her life up to that point,
had shown her that sex was more than a physical act and introduced
her for the first time to an undergrowth of sex, to fantasy and the
pleasures of the imagination. With Martin she had experienced
pleasure she had never even dreamt of. Like the lightning that
brought Frankenstein's monster to life, Martin's mind as well as
his body had shocked Stephanie into sexual awareness. But if it had
been Martin who'd opened the door for her, it was Devlin who had
given her the means and the opportunity to explore the corridors
and passages that lay beyond, the passages that led to where she
was today.

Devlin had
brought her to the castle and the cellars. Devlin had allowed her
into his life and, in the end, wanted her to control it. Though he
had built the castle, though he had constructed the cellars and
staffed them with slaves from his vast empire, it had been
Stephanie, Stephanie's imagination, that had for the first time
given Devlin the sexual pleasure he craved. Stephanie was mistress
of the castle now and Devlin, for all his wealth and power, was her
hopeless, fawning slave.

What Stephanie
had discovered for herself, on her sexual odyssey, was that she
seemed to have an infinite capacity for sex, for excitement, for
fantasy, for extending the boundaries of her own - and other
people's - sexual awareness. She had, it appeared, an instinct, a
sixth sense when it came to other people's sexuality; an ability to
read their deepest sexual desires and, with the facilities of the
castle, fulfil them. But at the same time, at precisely the same
time she had also discovered that her own sexual feelings could be
roused to fever pitch by impulses she had no idea she possessed, by
the impulse to dominate, to have power, to command obedience and
punish defiance.

In the last
six months Stephanie's life had been transformed. Here at the
castle she lived in complete luxury, her life spent in catering for
Devlin's needs and the needs of the guests who were flown to the
castle, customers and business associates like the Baron, their
access to the castle an inducement to continue a productive
relationship with Devlin's companies. But best of all, better than
all the luxury and wealth and the incredible beauty of the lake and
the island, was that in satisfying Devlin and others like the
Baron, she was above all satisfying herself. The orgasm she had
experienced tonight, so sharp, intense and long, was all part of
that, all part of knowing and controlling, of being at the centre.
Knowing the Baron was watching had brought her off but it was the
idea that she had constructed and orchestrated the spectacle that
was really at the root of her sexual enjoyment.

The thought of
the Baron reminded her that the plan for the evening was not yet
complete. 'Is Molly ready?' she asked James.

'Yes mistress,
she's waiting outside in the corridor.'

'Well, you'd
better get her to come in.'

'Do you want
me to stay, mistress?'

'No James,
just tell Molly to come in and then go back to the cellars.' James
was still lying on the bed. 'Now,' Stephanie prompted with a snap
in her voice.

James immediately scuttled to the door. Stephanie smiled to
herself. She had thought of presenting the Baron with a threesome,
having Molly lick at James's balls while he was fucking his
mistress, but she thought the Baron would appreciate more intimacy.
He had seen orgies of sex over the weekend. Now she wanted him to
watch her. That was the point. She wanted him to be excited
by
her
body,
her
reaction,
her
sex. And that, in turn
of course, would excite her.

A small,
petite blonde, her hair cut in a short bob, her eyes a radiant
blue, came through the bedroom door. Though not tall she was
perfectly proportioned except for her big, full breasts that
threatened to burst the confines of the white lacy underwired bra
she wore. Her legs were sheathed in very white holdup stockings,
their welts, fashioned in thick bands of white lace, reaching so
far up her thigh they almost touched the crotch of her panties.
These were white and cut very high on the hip, so high in fact that
the strip of material between her legs was not wide enough to cover
all the flesh between her legs and managed only to conceal the
central slit of her labia. Thin, wispy pubic hair was exposed at
each side.

'Well, Molly,'
Stephanie said. 'You know what you are going to do, don't you?'

'Yes,
mistress,' Molly replied.

'Do it
then.'

At once Molly
knelt by the foot of the bed, the metal tag bearing her name
bouncing on top of her deep cleavage.

Stephanie
liked Molly. Molly had a fleshy, soft mouth and a long, probing
tongue. She had used Molly before. A thrill of pleasure made
Stephanie shudder unexpectedly. She scrambled down the bed and
hooked her black-stockinged legs over Molly's shoulders and around
her back, the heels of the black shoes digging cruelly into her
back. Molly's mouth was inches from Stephanie's wet labia.

'Lick it,
Molly... Lick the spunk out of me.' The words thrilled Stephanie
because she knew the Baron could hear them. She dug her heels into
Molly's back to urge her forward.

As she felt
the singular pleasure of a woman's mouth lapping at the entrance of
her cunt, her tongue delving inside to scoop out the white gobs of
spunk that had already run down the slippery passage, she looked
straight into the mirror. Can you see me, Baron? Can you see my
pleasure? It was a pleasure she'd never dreamt she would enjoy.
That was something else she had discovered about herself. It had
never occurred to her that she would come to enjoy the pleasures of
a woman, of sex with a woman, as much as the pleasures of sex with
a man. But she did. As if to prove it again she felt her body
shiver and her cunt contract. The giant flywheel was starting to
turn again and it would not be long before the Baron saw her come
again, this time on the ministrations of a woman. Would he come
again too?

The speedboat
was tied to the wooden jetty at the bottom of the stone steps that
led from the front of the castle. The lush growth of climbing
plants that overhung the steps were no longer flowering but still
scented the area with a fragrant perfume. Though it was autumn the
morning sun, hanging low over the calm waters of Lake Trasimeno,
where the castle sat on an island, still warmed the air, although a
heavy dew on the foliage was much slower to evaporate than in the
heat of summer when Stephanie had first set foot on the island. The
varnished wood and polished brass of the boat gleamed as it rocked
gently in the very slight swell, the boatman standing ready as the
servants, in smart white linen jackets, loaded the Baron's cases
aboard.