Stephanie's Castle (6 page)

'You bastards.
You bastards! I'll cut your balls off for this!' She struggled, her
body beginning to sweat with the effort.

'Hold her,'
Devlin commanded. The words clearly thrilled him. His cock
shuddered.

'You're not
putting that thing in me! I can't take it. Please don't. Please.
I'll do anything. Let me go. Please let me go.'

Devlin came
round to the foot of the bed and knelt between her outstretched
legs. He put one of his massive fingers at the entrance to her cunt
then, looking her straight in the eyes, he pushed it home. She
tried to keep the pleasure out of her eyes but the feeling his
finger produced was so intense she didn't know whether she
succeeded. Her memory had not betrayed her; to have a hot finger of
this size inside her was a feeling quite unlike any other. As he
pushed it up into her she could not suppress a moan of absolute
pleasure. After a moment she came, a sharp intense biting orgasm
that racked through her pinioned body.

'You bastard.
Get it out of me!' she shouted, recovering quickly. She fought the
hands that held her, her actions contradicting her words as she
writhed herself down on to Devlin's finger. It was making her come
again. She couldn't control her body, her orgasms. 'You bastard,
you bastard.'

It was all
part of the game she knew. It was a wonderful game, a game that was
thrilling her every bit as much as it was Devlin. She knew what he
wanted and it seemed she wanted it too.

The two men
tightened their grip on her wrists, perhaps at a sign from Devlin.
She looked at them both, twisting her head from side to side, and
saw their greedy eyes taking in every detail of her prostrated
body, the black silk basque, its bra pushed down to reveal her
breasts, the black stockings pulling at the suspenders, one of the
stockings heavily laddered now, and her slim ankles tied into the
leather cuffs, but kicking to be free. Stephanie knew their cocks,
restrained under the tight pouches, must be aching for the space to
spring to erection. And she knew they would not get it, certainly
not with her.

'Hold her
now,' Devlin said again.

His finger was
out of her and he was moving his cock up to her labia. She could
feel its heat radiating like a hot poker.

'No! No! No!'
One final effort, she thought. 'No!' She screamed at the top of her
voice. 'It's too big. Please, please!'

The sound of
her voice turned her on as much as she hoped it did Devlin. His
cock moved into her only an inch at first, but that was enough to
swamp her with feeling. His cock was so wide her cunt was stretched
in every direction. Then he pushed forward and she was suddenly
filled with him, filled so full she could think of nothing but his
cock. She felt another rush of juices flooding from her cunt. She
felt him push again and go deeper. She looked down, straining her
head off the bed, and could see his cock was still not fully home.
She knew she couldn't take any more. Orgasms were ripping through
her body one after another, one continuous orgasm now, as she could
not tell where one ended and the next one began. Devlin was fucking
her. Moving his cock in and out, supporting himself on his arms so
he could look down and see his penetration. Each inward stroke
seemed to be stronger and go deeper. Then he lay on her and kissed
her on the mouth, his tongue probing into her.

She wrested
her mouth away from his and screamed. This was his game and she
knew how to bring him off, wanting to make him spunk inside her,
wanting to feel that spunk jet out of him deeper than any man's had
ever spunked in her. She knew how to make him come.

'You dirty
bastard. You filthy slimy bastard. Get that filthy thing out of me.
I'll kill you!'

She felt his
cock swell even more and knew he was coming. The extra width took
her breath away but she managed to control herself. She felt his
spunk spurt out of him, felt his cock spasming inside her and heard
him gasp with pleasure in a sound wrenched from his heart. Suddenly
she realised her hands were free. She wrapped her arms around his
back and he kissed her lightly on the lips. Her ankles were freed
too, and as he rolled on to his side she nestled up alongside
him.

'You're a
remarkable woman,' he said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw
the two men crawling back through the little door in the wall,
their black pouches still firmly in place. Her mind, not for the
first time this weekend, filled with questions, but she pushed them
aside, wanting only to enjoy the aftermath of her orgasm.

For the first
time since she had come into the bedroom she was aware of the
gentle lapping of water on the shore of the island and the scent of
bougainvillaea from the terrace. It had been the most extraordinary
day of her life, from the chauffeur-driven limousine to the private
plane and now this. What tomorrow would bring she did not know, but
she had the feeling it would be quite as exciting as today.

As she lay
there on the silk sheets drifting off to sleep against Devlin's
warm body, her mind replayed the scene that had just taken place.
Stephanie knew that though she had been, for all intents and
purposes, the helpless object in Devlin's rape fantasy, the fantasy
that had brought him to erection and orgasm, she had not been in
the least helpless. In fact, she had been the centre of his
passion, she had created the fantasy for him, controlled and used
it to bring him off when she had so desired. In a strange way it
had given her a feeling of power over him and, she realised, it was
a feeling she savoured. All the exquisite sexual feelings she had
experienced that night in the game of rape had undoubtedly turned
her on; but she knew also that the fact she had used that game to
manipulate a man like Devlin, with all his wealth and power, to do
what she wanted when she wanted it, was what had thrilled her
most.

Stephanie woke
feeling relaxed and rested. She was alone in the bed. Whether
Devlin had gone in the middle of the night or first thing in the
morning she did not know; he had certainly not disturbed her sleep.
She stretched out in the bed and immediately felt a stiffness in
her cunt and nipples. Considering the exertions of the night it was
no surprise. She stroked her pubis rather as one would stroke a cat
and after a few minutes it felt better. Her nipples were a
different matter: they were positively sore.

At dinner last
night she remembered Devlin had said she should swim in the lake in
the morning. Now she couldn't think of anything she would rather do
so, slipping on the practical swimsuit Devlin had provided, and
pulling on one of the fluffy white towelling robes from the
bathroom, she took a towel and wandered down through the castle and
the flower-draped stone steps to the jetty. Not a soul appeared to
be about. Hanging the robe on one of the wooden posts she dived
into the water. It was a wonderful sensation. The water was warm
and silky and when she opened her eyes underwater she realised she
was swimming among scores of fish. She turned on her back and
floated, her face picking up the heat of the morning sun. Then she
flipped over on to her stomach and swam fast in an effortless front
crawl, wanting to stretch and work her muscles.

After thirty
minutes of this exercise she felt refreshed and extremely hungry.
Pulling herself on to the jetty she was surprised to find one of
the servants standing, her robe in his hands, waiting to help her
into it.

'Mr Devlin
asks if you will join him for breakfast,' the man said in English
flavoured with an Italian accent.

He turned and
walked up the stone steps and Stephanie followed, using the towel
she had brought to dry her hair as she walked. On the other side of
the small courtyard by the main doors was a small flight of steps
up to a large open terrace, once again garlanded with flowers and
terracotta pots, and tiled in what she imagined to be local
ceramics. Here Devlin sat in front of a circular table laid for
breakfast with white linen napery.

'Good morning,
my dear. The swim was a good idea, was it not?' Devlin rose and
kissed her on both cheeks.

'Wonderful.
The water is so soft. It's like silk. And all the fish.'

'Yes.
Surprisingly they seem not to regard man as any threat.'

A basket of
croissants and brioches was set on the table with honey, jam,
butter, a plate of sliced melon, and glasses of blood-red orange
juice. A servant brought large cups of steaming espresso coffee.
Stephanie ate with abandon as Devlin watched. Now, she thought,
would be a good time for some of the questions that had crowded
into her mind last night.

'Our chef
makes the croissants. He tells me it is quite an art.'

'They're
delicious.' And they were.

'I hope you
didn't mind me leaving you this morning. There were one or two
calls I had to make.' He looked genuinely concerned that she might
say yes, she minded a lot.

'You didn't
wake me,' she said instead.

'Good.'

'There's
something I wanted to ask you, Devlin,' she said, taking the bull
by the horns.

'Anything.'

'Your private
plane...'

'Oh yes. I
understand you had a good look round.'

'I'm not
stupid enough to believe you weren't told exactly what
happened.'

'I was.'

There was a
pause as though that was all there was to be said on the subject.
But Stephanie had no intention of leaving it there.

'Who was he?'
she said, getting to the point.

Devlin smiled
broadly but did not reply.

'Is he here on
the island now?'

'My dear, I
wanted to give you the best possible weekend you could imagine. One
of my staff thought that the plane could carry another passenger.
It was not part of my plan. If you'd remained in the cabin, of
course, you would have been none the wiser...'

'But I
didn't.'

'No.'

'Your
stewardess used the expression "on punishment". What did that
mean?'

'You don't
miss much, do you?' Devlin sighed. 'Why don't you just forget it?
Let's enjoy our weekend together.'

Stephanie
looked Devlin in the eyes. 'I want to know,' she said firmly but
quietly.

'It is a very
delicate matter.'

'I can be
discreet.'

'You may be
shocked.'

She smiled
broadly. 'I thought I'd convinced you last night that I am not
easily shocked.'

'Well, you'd
better see it all for yourself then. If that's what you want.'

'It's what I
want,' she said emphatically.

'As soon as
we've finished breakfast, then,' Devlin conceded. There was no
arguing with the determination in Stephanie's voice.

Stephanie
drank her coffee slowly. She was in no hurry. She had won her
point. Devlin looked distinctly uneasy about revealing whatever
secret the castle held but she knew he was committed now and would
not go back on his word. The sun was getting hotter and it felt
strong on her face. She pulled off the robe and let the sun dry her
swimming costume as she saw Devlin's eyes moving over her body, no
doubt remembering the glories of last night.

She chose a
thin white suspender belt, matching bra and lacy French knickers
with sheer white stockings. Over this she wore a silk dress in
creamy white that buttoned down the front, and white shoes with
heels not quite as high as those she had worn last night. She
brushed out her long black hair and then pinned it up rather
severely. As she had a long neck and good, firm chin, the absence
of hair falling to her shoulders always somehow made her look
taller and more in control.

She joined
Devlin in the sitting room where, in one corner, he had a large
desk and shelves and cabinets of papers and books.

'Ready,' she
said smiling.

'I've never
seen you with your hair up,' he commented.

'Well?'

'I like
it.'

'A lot?'

'Yes.'

He got up from
the desk and led her by the arm out into the marble lobby. Beside
the main staircase Devlin pulled aside the corner of a large modern
tapestry, draped over much of the wall, to reveal a small thick
wooden door which he unlocked with a key from his key-chain. Behind
the door Stephanie felt a rush of cool air and saw a flight of
steep winding stone steps leading down into the cellars of the
castle. She shivered slightly.

'Be careful,'
Devlin warned.

He indicated a
thick rope looped to the wall along the length of the stairs before
leading the way down. She grasped the rope and started down after
him, wishing she'd worn the flatter heels. The steps were narrow,
the stone worn away by centuries of use. They led to a broad,
vaulted brick chamber lined on all sides with racks of wine. Devlin
made no comment. Stephanie knew little about wine except that this
amount must represent a considerable investment in financial
terms.

Devlin was
standing at the far end of the long chamber now, in front of
another strong-looking wooden door set into the stone wall.

'Are you sure
you want to know?' he asked, though he knew what her answer would
be.

'Yes,' she
said immediately. 'Don't look so worried. I'm a big girl.' She
patted him gently on the cheek.

Devlin rapped
twice on the door. After a moment Stephanie heard a lock turn and
the door swung open. A man stood in the doorway dressed for all the
world like a medieval executioner: black tights, black tunic, black
boots. All that was missing was a black hood. He was a big man with
the physique of an all-in wrestler.

'This is
Bruno. He's a mute, so I'm afraid he can't say hello.'

'He's clearly
not a fashion victim.'

'Oh, I dress
him like that for my amusement. Just a little joke.'