Stephanie's Revenge (7 page)

'Gianni?'
Stephanie said to the astonished woman, who still stood by the open
front door.

'La,' she
said, indicating a pair of double doors to one side of the
vestibule.

'Grazie,'
Stephanie said.

'Prego,' the
woman in black intoned, the response automatic.

Stephanie
strode over to the doors, her high heels clacking on the tiled
floor, and threw them both open. Gianni was sitting in front of a
huge marble fireplace on one of two matching sofas which were
covered in the hide of what had once been a brown and white cow. He
was watching football on a large-screened television.

'Gianni!'
Stephanie said.

'Stephanie?'
His surprise was total.

She stood in
front of him, her legs apart, her arms akimbo. She had chosen her
outfit with great care. The sleeveless, black Lycra cat-suit fitted
her like it had been sprayed on to her body, hugging every curve
and line of her figure from her breasts to her waist, from her
thighs to her buttocks, even, she knew, following the delicate fold
of her sex. The Lycra made the material shiny: it looked slippery,
almost wet. The black high-heeled boots were an equally tight fit,
so tight they almost seemed to be part of the cat-suit. A pair of
elbow-length gloves in the same material as the cat-suit completed
the outfit. The only flesh visible below the neck was the flesh of
her upper arms above the gloves. Somehow, by contrast to the black,
it seemed incredibly white, white and exposed, soft and almost
obscenely naked.

Stephanie
dropped the leather bag she was carrying on to the sofa. It clanked
heavily as it fell.

'What are you
doing here?'

'That's not a
very nice greeting. Aren't you pleased to see me, darling? I'm very
pleased to see you.'

'My wife...'
He used the remote control to turn off the television.

'I saw your
wife leave, don't worry. She won't be back for hours, will she?
Plenty of time. You don't seem very happy to see me at all. And I
chose this outfit especially for you.' She ran her hands down from
her waist to her hips, then up over the shiny black to her breasts,
which she squeezed gently.

'You look
magnificent,' he said, his eyes watching her hands.

'You really
think so?'

She ran one
hand down over her navel and between her legs, caressing the hard
curve there. Gianni's eyes followed her hand.

'Why have you
come?' he said haltingly.

The
housekeeper had come to stand in the double doorway, the
astonishment on her face replaced by her scowl of disapproval.

'Aren't you
going to offer me something to drink?' Stephanie said, looking
towards the door.

'Angelina,'
Gianni said, 'bring some champagne.'

The woman
disappeared immediately. Stephanie slid down on to the sofa next to
Gianni.

'It's so good
to see you,' she lied, gripping his forearm and caressing the front
of his shirt.

'What is
this?' he said, still not smiling. He could feel her heat pressing
into him, and the way the slippery material moved, almost without
friction, against his clothes.

'What do you
think Gianni? Aren't you glad to see me? Didn't I mean anything to
you?'

'You are a
very...'

The
housekeeper appeared with the champagne. She set it on the glass
and chrome coffee table that stood between the two sofas, next to a
copy of the Salvador Dali pocket watch that melted over the edge of
the glass.

'Close the
door,' Gianni ordered firmly.

They watched
the woman retreat. She swung the heavy doors closed. They were
alone.

'Oh Gianni,
you don't know how I've wanted to be with you again.' Stephanie
squeezed his arm.

'I
thought...'

'What?'

He was about
to say he thought she didn't like him, but stopped himself. That
was ridiculous. All women loved him, however he had treated
them.

'You're not pleased to see me. Aren't you English
craz
ee
any more?'
she said, pouting.

'Of course I
am.' He poured the champagne and handed her a glass. He did not
take one for himself.

'I just want
to know for why you are here,' he said firmly, trying to ignore the
warmth of her body and the way she looked.

'For you, you
want the truth, Gianni. What happened at the castle. What you did
to me. Everything you did to me. I have never been so turned on, so
alive, felt so much... You understand?'

'Si.'

She could see
his eyes moving over her body.

'I just
couldn't forget it. My God, I tried. Really tried. Tried to rid
myself of you. But I couldn't. You know how to please a woman. You
know how to handle a woman, what makes a woman come alive. I just
had to see you again, Gianni. For three weeks I've done nothing
else but think about you, what you did to me. I don't just mean
fucking me, but everything. The way you had me in the cellars, all
bound and helpless. My god, it was so exciting. The way you used
the whip on me... I'm sorry, it just makes me hot to think about
it.'

'I
thought...'

'Do you
remember what you did? God, I'm making a fool of myself, aren't I?
I expect you're used to this. Women throwing themselves at you.'
Stephanie's hand had unbuttoned the middle of his shirt and was
feeling inside for his nipple.

'Yes.'

'Do you
remember what you did? I do.' She pinched his nipple, then flicked
it with her nail. She moved closer to him, pushing her long sensual
body against his, moving it against him. She whispered in his ear
now, filling it with her hot breath.

'I remember every detail Gianni, every little thing you did.
How you made me suck your cock, how you made me wait for it, teased
me, made me beg for it, how you wanked... I remember everything
Gianni. It's been driving me craz
ee
.'

She could see
his penis standing hard in his Armani slacks. He turned towards
her, pulling her on to him, his hand on her thigh.

'No,' she said
firmly, pushing his hand away and standing up. 'No, Gianni. I've
come a long way for this. Tonight we do it my way.'

'What
way?'

'I've been
thinking about it for three weeks, what I'd do when we're
alone.'

'What will you
do?'

'Send the
servants away and I'll tell you.'

'The servants?
They won't come in.'

'Send them
away. I want to be able to scream. You're going to make me scream.
You don't want your wife to find out. Send them away.'

'There's only
Angelica and the cook.'

'Do it.
Please, Gianni...'

For a moment
she thought it wasn't going to work, that he'd seen through her
pretended ardour.

'Please...'
she whispered again. She was standing in front of him, her legs
apart. He looked into her crotch, up at her strong pubic bone, as
wide as a fist, but wonderfully smooth except for a single fold
that the slippery material of the cat-suit followed down between
her long, powerful thighs. He was flattered. It didn't occur to him
to question anything Stephanie said; of course she would want him
so urgently. He was a man, a real man. What woman could resist?

He got up from
the sofa, and adjusted his erection by putting his hand in his
pocket and pulling it to one side. 'I give you what you want,' he
said, and slowly started to grin. 'I give you everything you want.'
He walked over to the doors and went out.

Stephanie
sipped the champagne. Phase one successfully completed.
Congratulations were in order. Everything according to plan. And
now Phase Two was about to begin...

It took
fifteen minutes before the two servants, surprised but delighted
not to have to prepare and serve the evening meal, were out of the
house. Stephanie watched them from the window as they walked out of
the driveway, through the imposing columns of the entrance, and off
down the road.

'Well,
English,' Gianni said, closing the door, his broad grin back on his
face, 'now we are alone.'

He came over
to the sofa and sat beside her. He turned his face to kiss her, but
she moved away. She fended off the hand that groped for her breast,
too.

'No. Not yet.
I have something special in mind, Gianni. Very special. I want to
give you an experience like the one you gave me. Special. Something
you won't forget.' At least that was true.

'First I fuck
you.' He groped for her again, but she rolled away.

'Please,
Gianni. I've been thinking about this. Let me—'

'What is this
so special?'

Stephanie
opened the leather bag she had brought with her. From it she
extracted a black silk blindfold, shaped to the contours of the
face and padded so that not the slightest hint of light could creep
behind it.

'Let me put
this on.' Stephanie raised the blindfold to his eyes, but just as
she was about to slip it on, Gianni caught her by the wrist. He
looked her straight in the eyes, staring to try and see what was in
her mind. Stephanie held her breath, and tried to make her eyes
show nothing more than rabid sexual desire. It worked. Gianni's
hand released her wrist. She pulled the elasticated blindfold down
over his eyes, and adjusted it so it was properly placed. As if to
compensate him for his cooperation, she pressed the length of her
body into his, letting him feel her firm breasts crushed against
his chest, her flat belly on his navel, her thigh against his.

'Now all you
can do is feel, feel all the things I am going to do to you,
Gianni. Stand up.' The order was issued with the air of command
Stephanie had learnt at the castle. Gianni obeyed, seemingly having
decided to trust her, to let her play her harmless sexual game.

Stephanie
unbuckled his Gucci belt and unzipped his trousers. His erection
immediately forced its way between the jaws of the zip. She pulled
his trousers down until they were around his ankles, then pulled
his boxer shorts. His penis was poking through the fly of the
shorts. As she pulled them down it was pulled down too - she had no
intention of freeing it with her hand - until it was pointing at
his feet and slipped out of the material trap, springing back up
painfully.

'Ah,' Gianni
called.

'Don't be a
baby,' Stephanie scolded.

Trying to make
sure they did not clank, Stephanie extracted a pair of handcuffs
from the black leather bag.

'Hold your
hands out, darling,' she said, trying to make it sound
innocuous.

'Out
where?'

'Out in front
of you.'

He obeyed
hesitantly. Once the handcuffs were on, Stephanie knew she could
drop the pretence - he would be relatively helpless. Until then,
she had to let him think this was all an elaborately planned sexual
frolic. She caressed his wrists.

'Can you feel
that?' she said, moving his hands together, running her fingers all
round the joint of his wrists as though trying to discover a new
erogenous zone.

'Yes...'

'And this?'
She moved behind him, pressing herself into his body, hoping to
distract him.

'You're very
hot,' he said, feeling her body undulating against him, moving as
though she were fucking him.

'And this?'
She took the open cuffs and used them to caress his wrists where
her fingers had been.

'It's
cold.'

'Yes. Hot and
cold. And this—'

With a quick,
fluid movement she snapped both cuffs simultaneously over his
wrists, the metal loops clicking firmly into the non-return ratchet
that locked them in place. Doing it so quickly locked the loops
much tighter on to the bone of the wrist, making them
uncomfortable.

'Hey!' Gianni
protested at once, trying to move his hands away and finding them
bound together. 'What you do this for?'

He groped with
his hands, trying to catch Stephanie, but she had already moved to
one side. With one hand she pushed him hard in the back. He managed
to take a half-step forward, but then his leg was caught in his
trousers around his ankle and he stumbled, pitching on to the
sofa.

'Basta! Basta!
What you do?'

Stephanie
mounted his back as if he were a horse, her knees either side of
his chest, but facing his feet. She pulled a wide leather strap
from the leather bag and strapped it quickly around his knees. He
was bucking like a rodeo pony trying to get her off, his naked bum
pummelling the air. She was going to gag him, but realised there
was no point. No one was going to hear him. The nearest neighbour
was a thousand yards away.

Climbing off
him, she pulled off the blindfold. The rest of the proceedings she
definitely wanted him to see. She stood back to admire her
handiwork. Gianni's face was beetroot-red with rage. He cursed her
in Italian and English. He screamed and shouted and pulled at the
handcuffs. He tried to get to the buckle of the belt at his knees,
but hard as he tried he couldn't get his fingers in a position
where they could undo it. He was sweating with his efforts; his
hair, usually so carefully groomed, all over the place; his eyes
fiery with anger.

Calmly,
Stephanie stepped over him and took a large masonry hammer from the
black leather bag. As soon as he saw it in her hand, his struggles
stopped and the expression in his eyes turned from anger to
fear.

'Oh, don't
worry,' Stephanie said, laughing, 'it's not for you. I'm going to
punish you for the way you behaved at the castle, but nothing quite
so drastic. I think you'll agree the punishment will fit the
crime.'

Looking around
the room, Stephanie searched for an appropriate wall. To the left
of the fireplace was an ornate, gilded mirror. Taking one of the
occasional chairs that dotted the room, Stephanie hauled it over to
the mirror and stood on it so she could reach and lift the mirror
from its hook. Then she examined the hook. The mirror had been
heavy, but the hook was too flimsy for her purpose. It didn't
matter. She had come prepared.