Stephanie's Castle (27 page)

'And of
course,' Devlin said sheepishly, 'when I can get away from running
the business...'

'Yes?'

'I
would...'

'Say it,
Devlin,' Stephanie said sternly.

'I would want
to be one of your slaves too.'

She laughed
and got up out of the bath, the water running off her body. The
water ran down into her thick pubic hair which funnelled it into a
single stream running off her body between her legs. It looked as
if she was peeing.

'Would you
now.' She used his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped out of
the bathtub then handed him a towel. 'Dry me then. At least you're
good at that.'

He immediately
set to work as before, rubbing and patting her dry in a purely
utilitarian way. Neither of them spoke. Stephanie was thinking of
his offer. Devlin was amazed that even this non-sexual activity had
caused his penis to stir to erection again. Whatever effect
Stephanie had had on him it seemed to be permanent.

When he was
finished she walked through into the bedroom. She found the more
functional of her two swimsuits and stepped into it, pulling it up
her body and slipping the straps over her shoulders. Devlin watched
as she adjusted the elastic between her legs and eased the
material, better to accommodate her breasts.

'I thought I'd
take the motorboat out on the lake. It's such a beautiful
afternoon,' she said. 'Will you come?'

'I'd love
to.'

'Good.'

'And my
offer?'

'I'll think
about it.'

'Oh, come on,
don't keep me in suspense.' It was the voice of the old Devlin, the
confident powerful businessman annoyed at a minor colleague's
behaviour, not the anxious voice of the humble and humbled
slave.

'What did you
say?' For some reason, unconscious no doubt, Stephanie had brought
the riding crop up from the cellars. It was lying on the bed and
she picked it up. 'What did you say?'

'I meant you
can give me your answer whenever you like. Whenever...' he mumbled
watching the tip of the crop and feeling anew the soreness of his
arse.

'Whenever
I
like?' she emphasised.

'Whenever
you
like,' Devlin repeated obediently.

Stephanie
raised the rising crop. She used the thick leather loop at its tip
to stroke Devlin's cheek. He made no attempt to move. Then she
noticed the large bulge protruding from the front of his trousers.
She prodded it with the whip.

'Well, what
have we here?'

'My erection,'
he said quietly, his head bowed.

'There was a
time when you found it very difficult to get spontaneous erections,
wasn't there?'

'Yes.'

'So what's
happened?'

'You,' he said
simply.

She hooked the
leather under his chin and made him raise his head.

'Look at me,
Devlin,' she ordered.

He looked into
her eyes as the leather crop pressed into the flesh of his throat.
Stephanie could see a flicker of fear in his eyes but it was
combined, she could see clearly, with a look of hungry
anticipation. This was new territory for him. He wanted more. The
master had become the slave.

Stephanie was
in no rush to make her decision. Before dinner on Sunday night she
called her boss at his home in London and told him she wasn't
feeling well and wouldn't be in on Monday and maybe not Tuesday
either (she didn't add, or ever again). Even though she hadn't
bothered to use an ill-sounding voice he sympathised with her and
hoped she would get well soon. As she was speaking she had a sudden
image of him - he was seriously overweight with a paunch the size
of a pregnant woman - bent over one of the punishment frames in the
cellars, his naked arse striped with marks from the crop, popped
into her head. She had to work hard to suppress the sound of
amusement in her voice.

She spent a
great deal of time getting ready for dinner, deciding to wear a
strapless number she had spotted in the next-door wardrobe when she
had been searching through them with Colette. The lemon yellow
suited her black hair and though it clung to her body like a glove
the material was thick knobbly silk. She wore stockings and her
highest heels.

At her request
she'd asked Devlin for Venetia to join them at dinner. So Devlin
sat, at the glass-topped table, between two women, a sumptuous
blonde and an elegant brunette. Venetia was wearing black, a
halter-necked dress that left her back completely naked and made it
impossible for her to wear a bra. Both women had tied their hair
up.

Devlin was
charm itself, attending to their every wish and treating Venetia as
an equal. Clearly he was anxious to hear Stephanie's answer but did
not prompt her in any way. And, of course, there was still the
unfinished business to deal with.

'The masked
slave, Devlin. When does he go back?'

'The early
flight tomorrow.'

'Well, that
only leaves tonight then,' Stephanie mused.

'What do you
mean?' Devlin asked tentatively.

'Devlin, you
can't possibly imagine he is not going to have to pay for what he
did to Venetia?'

'Oh...' was
all Devlin could think of saying. It would be pointless to defend
the man.

'And Devlin,
there's something else I want from you.'

'I told you,
you can have anything.'

'Venetia and I
will be paying Gianni a visit tomorrow. Not a visit I think he will
enjoy. You will arrange it. Make sure he's at home. I'm sure you
can do that. Naturally we want to make it a surprise so you'll have
to think of some excuse to keep him in.'

'I'll
certainly do that,' Devlin said smiling. The thought of Gianni
being made to suffer was something that delighted him. And it would
do no harm to remind him of his visit to the cellars. He felt sure,
after Stephanie's visit, that after his 'punishment' Gianni might
well want to return to them again quite soon, and that would be
helpful in future business transactions. After the way Gianni had
behaved this weekend Devlin would have no compunction in exploiting
any advantage over him.

'Where is he
based?' Stephanie asked.

'Rome.'

'Oh, well, we
can do some shopping while we're there, can't we? A stroll down the
Via Veneto.'

'I'll have it
all arranged.'

'Perfect,'
Stephanie said.

At the end of
the meal Stephanie got up and took Venetia's hand.

'Come on,
we've got work to do.' They headed for the door, then Stephanie
paused. 'And when we get back from Rome I'll give you my decision,
Devlin.'

'Thank you.
Ah, Stephanie...' Devlin hesitated.

'Yes?'

'Can I come
and watch?'

'Can I come
and watch. I think you better ask properly if you want something in
future, don't you, Devlin?' Stephanie said in her sternest
voice.

'Can I come
and watch, mistress?' Devlin said quietly.

'That's
better. Remember it.'

'Can I,
mistress?'

'Yes.'

Stephanie
strode down to the cellars, Venetia and Devlin following in her
wake. Later that night she wanted to lie with Venetia, feel that
long soft body next to hers again, caress and be caressed, use and
be used. But first things had to come first.

The masked man
dropped to his knees in the prescribed position as soon as Bruno
unlocked the cell door. He was still wearing the tight black mask
he had worn the night before. He was not surprised to see the two
women walk into his cell though he had no reason to expect it. The
two women in their fine couture evening dresses, elegant shoes and
sheer hosiery contrasted starkly with the stone walls and floor of
the cell and the thin stained material of the mattress. The scene
looked like an outré set-up for a fashion photographer with
Stephanie and Venetia modelling the latest evening wear.

'The question
is,' Stephanie said, 'what exactly are we going to do with
you?'

Devlin
shuffled into the cell. Whatever had happened since last night,
when Devlin had been giving the orders, it was quite clear from his
whole posture and attitude that he was in no position now to
command or interfere with anything. He was here as a spectator.

Nor was it
difficult to work out who was in control. The masked man could see
it in the way the woman from the plane, he did not know her name,
stood and from the way her whole presence exuded an air of
authority. He had seen it on the plane when the stewardess had
challenged her, seen her ability to take charge: but now her power
seemed to have grown. Her confidence was absolute, her assurance
complete.

'I think we
should make the punishment fit the crime. Some sort of poetic
justice.'

Stephanie
unhooked the halter of the black dress from Venetia's neck so the
front fell away to reveal her large plump breasts. Stephanie
stroked them both, taking each in turn to feel its weight.

'Beautiful,
aren't they?' The man in the mask nodded, as the question was
clearly addressed to him.

Stephanie
unzipped the skirt of the dress at the back so that it too fell
away. Venetia stepped out of it and stood in only a pair of
high-cut black satin knickers pulled tight on to her hips and sheer
black hold-up stockings, spun with Lycra to make them shiny and
slippery-looking, her high heels shaping her calves and thighs in
sculptured curves.

The masked
man's penis pushed hopelessly against the hard leather pouch trying
to come to erection but cruelly restrained. His balls and cock were
in agony. The more his excitement grew the greater the hurt. The
pressure made it impossible for him to stand up straight, and he
crouched, trying to ease the pain.

'So as you
gave Venetia an experience she hadn't had before, it only seems
fair that she should do the same to you.' Stephanie's voice was
hard and callous.

The man knew
immediately what she meant. As Venetia left the cell he knew
precisely what she was going to fetch. He wanted to explain that he
was only obeying orders, that it was Devlin's fault, that he had no
choice, but the gag prevented him. He tried to say it with his eyes
and ask for mercy. But he knew, even if he could have pleaded his
case it would have done no good. Not with this woman. She was
implacable, her eyes sparkling, her enjoyment obvious. There was
nothing that would change her mind.

Stephanie
smiled to herself as she waited for Venetia to return. She had no
intention of telling Devlin yet, but in her own mind Stephanie had
made her decision. In fact, she had made it moments after Devlin
made his offer. It was the obvious extension of everything she had
felt and experienced over the last three days. Her life had
changed. There was a lot to be done, a lot to work out. She was
going to make sure Devlin never got into another mess like the
situation with Gianni. She would become the mistress of the castle,
and, though he did not know it yet, the mistress of a great deal
more. She would insinuate her way into his business and his life.
Devlin's castle would become hers. Her castle. Stephanie's
castle.

-oOo-

Enjoy
Stephanie's continuing BDSM adventures, all exclusively published
as eBooks by us and available to download now from your favourite
online bookstore, with the third in the series...

Stephanie
's Revenge

Stephanie stepped out of the shower. She ran
a thick comb through her long hair to untangle it, and examined her
body in the mirror that ran the length of one wall of the white
Carrara marble bathroom. The three whip marks on her thighs had
almost entirely disappeared. But the one on her inner thigh, the
one from the cut of Gianni's whip that had so narrowly missed the
soft folds of her sex itself, still displayed a slight bruising on
her otherwise flawless tan. The welt across her breasts, from the
same source, was also distinctly visible - an angry red scar across
the top of her breasts in the middle of their soft, opulent
curves.

The beautiful and sensuous Stephanie is
settling into her new role as mistress of Devlin's castle. She has
everything she could desire: money, luxury, a lover who can satisfy
all her erotic needs and a bevy of slaves over whom she has
complete control. But being mistress of the castle is not enough:
she has a score to settle with Gianni, the Italian businessman who
humiliated her.

But the wily Gianni has more tricks up his
sleeve and Stephanie finds herself entrapped and enslaved. She has
to use all her skills to teach him a lesson he will enjoy - but
never forget.

-oOo-

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