Stephanie's Pleasure

  STEPHANIE'S PLEASURE

  by

  SUSANNA HUGHES

  Stephanie's Pleasure first published in 1994 by Nexus. Published as an eBook in 2012 by Chimera eBooks.

  ePub ISBN 9781780801636

  mobi ISBN 9781780801643

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Chimera (ki-mir'a, ki-) a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy.

  New authors are always welcome, or if you're already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex.

  This work is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright Susanna Hughes. The right of Susanna Hughes to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chapter One

  A faint knock on her bedroom door broke the silence. Stephanie was already awake, though she had made no attempt to get up; instead, she lay gazing out at the view of the lake through her terrace windows, her long black hair spread out on the white linen pillowcase like a mantle. Though it was late autumn and there was a distinct chill in the air, the sun still shone over Lake Trasimeno and this morning the sky was blue and cloudless.

  'Come in,' Stephanie said, sitting up and propping herself against the headboard of the large bed. She was wearing a pure silk and lace nightdress coloured the subtlest shade of cream, its neckline a plunging V, her firm breasts cupped by the lace's intricate webbing.

  Venetia opened the bedroom door a little awkwardly, her hands grasping Stephanie's breakfast tray, then came over to the bed and set the tray over Stephanie's lap.

  'Good morning, glorious morning,' she said.

  'I've just been looking at it. What's this? Personal service? You didn't need to do this!'

  'It's my last morning. Special treat.'

  'For you or for me?' Stephanie smiled, looking up into Venetia's beautiful face: her perfectly proportioned nose, her high cheekbones, and her large, fleshy lips. Her long fair hair was brushed out and fell over her shoulders. It made her look younger. She was wearing a peachy coloured silk negligee over a matching nightdress; the nightdress was short and, with the negligee open, revealed most of Venetia's long, finely contoured thighs.

  Without answering her question, Venetia poured them both coffee from the Georgian silver coffee pot. She sat on the edge of the bed while Stephanie tore a piece off the lightly warmed croissant and chewed it enthusiastically before dunking a second piece in her coffee cup.

  'So you're really going?' Stephanie said.

  'Yes.'

  'I'll miss you.'

  'You'll see me in London.'

  'I know. It won't be the same...'

  'What, you mean now I'm not your slave any more?' Venetia said it with no anger. She was smiling.

  Stephanie laughed. 'In that respect it will be better, won't it?'

  'Well, different anyway.'

  'Devlin's done what he promised?'

  'Everything he promised. I've got my own business now. Free and clear.'

  If it hadn't been for Venetia, Stephanie mused, it was likely that she would not have been seeing the sun rise over the lake. She would still have been down in the cells, chained to the stone floor, at the mercy of her slaves.

  Most of the prisoners in the castle had entered willingly. After all, they had committed crimes - fraud, embezzlement, theft - against the business empire of Stephanie's associate and lover, Devlin. If they did not accept punishment at the castle, they faced prosecution in the courts. But some could not bear the prolonged discipline and sexual humiliation, least of all Andrew Harlock, the man who had recently led a rebellion against the castle's keepers.

  'You deserve it,' Stephanie said.

  'The plane's coming for me in an hour,' Venetia said, looking at her watch. It was a Cartier, another present from the grateful Devlin.

  'The plane can always be made to wait,' Stephanie said. That was the advantage of private jets.

  'I thought...' Venetia said hesitantly.

  'Thought what? That I wouldn't want to say goodbye properly?'

  'After what happened...'

  'That's all over now, Venetia. Forgotten. Andrew will have to pay the price. I'll see to that. But it doesn't mean...'

  Stephanie stroked the silk of the negligee on Venetia's shoulder. It felt incredibly soft against the tips of her fingers and she could feel the warmth of Venetia's body underneath.

  'Take the tray away,' she said, then corrected herself. 'Sorry, old habits...' Venetia wasn't her servant any more. She had to remember that. She quickly got out of bed herself and put the tray aside.

  'I'd have done it—' Venetia said.

  'I know you would.'

  The V of lace that formed the neckline of the cream nightdress was repeated lower down, another wide V sewn into the silk in such a way that its apex matched exactly the apex of Stephanie's belly underneath. It revealed the thick black curls on Stephanie's mons.

  'One last time, as equals,' Stephanie said, feeling her body pulsing with anticipation. Venetia had been the first woman to teach her the delights of lesbian love; the first woman to touch her and move her and use her body to achieve pleasures she would never have dreamt she could enjoy. She had experienced other women since, but looking at Venetia, being with Venetia was always going to be special.

  'Not the last time - just the last time for now,' Venetia corrected.

  'Yes. That's what I meant.'

  Stephanie slipped the wide lace shoulder strap of the nightdress off. It fell over her upper arm. Slowly she flicked the other strap aside and the nightdress slid off her body, the silk whispering against her flesh, the material cascading to the floor and blossoming outwards. Stephanie put her hand to her left breast. Her nipple was dark in contrast to the lighter brown of her areola. With the very tip of her middle finger she circled the little bud of flesh and immediately felt it pucker and send tiny sensual signals through her nerves. She raised her right hand to her right breast and repeated the process so that both nipples vied with each other: a competition to see which was the most sensitive.

  She saw Venetia's eyes roaming her naked body, looking at her breasts, her slim waist, the way her hips flared out from her middle and, most of all, the triangle of her belly where, even with her legs closed, there was a diamond of space between her thighs and under her labia.

  'You're beautiful,' Venetia said quietly.

  'So are you.'

  Stephanie stepped out of the circle of silk the nightdress had formed but did not pick it up. She came closer to the bed, within inches of Venetia, and put out her hand to stroke her long hair. Venetia's hair was as soft as the silk of her negligee. Stephanie stroked from the crown of her head down to her shoulders and down again. With her other hand she ran the tips of her own fingers over her belly, her fingers aimed at the very apex of her thighs. Combing through her thick pubic hair she found the furrow of her sex, her labia plump and spongy. As her finger nudged against the nut of her clitoris she felt an electric thrill course through her body. She looked down at Venetia and saw her eyes riveted to what she was doing. She stroked Venetia's hair and the lo
ng furrow of her sex with the same rhythm. She felt the sticky sap leaking from deep inside her.

  Venetia got up. She pulled the negligee from her shoulders. The silk nightdress she was wearing barely covered the tops of her thighs. Supported by long thin spaghetti straps on her shoulders, the material rose to accommodate Venetia's big round breasts. Her nipples were clearly outlined under the peachy silk.

  'You're turning me on,' she said.

  'That was the idea,' Stephanie replied, climbing on to the bed and lying on her back.

  Venetia did not take off the nightdress. As she got up on to the bed to kneel beside Stephanie the material seemed to float over her body like gossamer, caressing her rich curves. Stephanie glimpsed Venetia's belly and the plain of her sex, so sparsely covered with fair short hair that every detail of her labia, every crease and cranny, was open and exposed.

  Venetia leant forward, her ripe breasts almost escaping their silky confinement, and put her lips to Stephanie's thighs. As delicately as possible she kissed the creamy soft flesh from knee to belly and back again, her tongue occasionally darting out to lick, just as lightly, between the kisses. Stephanie moaned as the mouth moved to her other thigh, awakening all the nerves there as they had on the first. As her mouth slid up and down, Venetia extended her hand to Stephanie's breasts, one after the other. It concentrated on the nipples, touching them as though her finger was a feather, scaling the firm flesh from one side up to the summit of the nipple then down the other.

  There was no hurry. Both women felt their bodies pulsing with sensual delight but neither wanted to begin the rhythms that would, once started, only be stopped by the inevitable climax of orgasm.

  Venetia's hands gently parted Stephanie's thighs, so her mouth could work along the inner surface where the skin was softest of all. Again she moved from the knee upwards until her lips were tickled by Stephanie's pubic hair and she could see the labia glistening with the sap oozing from her body. But though the temptation to kiss Stephanie's nether mouth was strong, the desire to plant her lips firmly there and delve inside with her tongue, she did not. Instead, she moved down along the other thigh back to the knee.

  Stephanie ran her hand along Venetia's back, feeling the softness of the skin covering her long spine. She moved her hand to Venetia's buttocks, feeling the roundness and subtleness of their shape, before burrowing deeper into the cleft that divided her cheeks. There, as Venetia eased her knees apart to allow her access, she found her treasure: the almost hairless labia, throbbing and hot and already moistened by excitement. Stephanie stroked gently, as gently as Venetia was kissing her, letting one finger just graze the long furrow from one side to the other, feeling it pulse, feeling its heat and wetness. Like Venetia, Stephanie was tempted too; tempted to drive into the dark wet cavern with two fingers, then three, as she had done so many times before; tempted to plunge in and out wildly and take her friend down the long road to absolute pleasure.

  But she didn't. She waited, just as Venetia waited, letting the anticipation build up in their bodies, letting their nerves tingle with pleasure, letting the sensuous energy accumulate in their minds until it became irresistible. They stroked each other in tandem, the rhythm of Venetia's mouth on Stephanie's satin-soft thighs the same as that of Stephanie's fingers brushing the margins of Venetia's sex.

  Without disturbing Venetia's rhythm, or her own, Stephanie sat up and used her other hand to slide the spaghetti strap of the nightdress off Venetia's shoulder. Immediately, the silk spilt one of her large spherical breasts from its confines. Venetia's breasts, though full and luxuriant, did not sag; in fact, they were so proud on her chest that her nipples pointed upward. It was the nipple that was Stephanie's target. She licked her finger and used her saliva to make the contact between her fingertip and Venetia's hard corrugated nipple frictionless. Venetia moaned as Stephanie circled the button of flesh, still stroking her labia relentlessly.

  Like a barrel of water under a tap, the pool of their sexual desire was filling rapidly now, up to the point where only surface tension prevented the water from gushing over the edge. Stephanie stopped the progress of her fingers as Venetia's mouth once again reached the top of her thigh and she could feel the hot breath against her sex. With the tip of one finger, wet from Venetia's own moistness; she positioned herself at the crater of Venetia's rear, then pushed forward until her finger was buried to the first joint. It was enough: enough to send the water flowing over the side.

  Venetia centred her mouth between Stephanie's labia and pushed her tongue out to lap at her juices. It snaked higher, until she could feel the tiny knot of Stephanie's clitoris throbbing under the tip of her tongue. She circled it, licked it, nudged at it, as she felt Stephanie's finger penetrate her further.

  They had both started now, the mainspring of their orgasm beginning its slow but inevitable winding up, the tension slowly increasing.

  Stephanie lay back on the bed, pulled Venetia's thigh gently to one side and inserted her head under the short tent of peachy silk until her mouth was below the wide plain of Venetia's sex. She could see the silk floating out from her body too, front and back, and the flatness of Venetia's navel in such rich contrast to the swell of her buttocks.

  As Venetia's tongue probed the centre of her sexual being, she lowered herself on to Stephanie's willing mouth. She did it slowly, agonisingly slowly. Stephanie could see every detail, the pinkness of her clitoris, the puffy crinkled outer lips, the delicate inner ones, and the puckered roundness of her rear. What she saw was a perfect accompaniment to what she felt; the waves of sensation Venetia's tongue was whipping up in her body matched the beauty she saw with her eyes.

  Opening her mouth, Stephanie pushed out her tongue to meet the descending sex. Almost immediately she tasted Venetia's juices: a taste she knew so well. As Venetia rested herself on Stephanie's mouth, her tongue sought out the clitoris and found it instantly, knowing as she did all the contours of her lover's most intimate parts.

  And then they were joined. A harmony building to a crescendo. Each feeling, each breathtaking sensation mirrored exactly in the other's body. The feel of one mouth on the other's sex exactly the same for both of them. They took the same rhythm, made the same movements, each tongue circling the tiny mountain of sensitivity then dipping lower to tongue the portals of the inner sheath. They moaned together, hot air expelled in synchronised passion, making them shiver and tremble and spasm.

  Stephanie worked her fingers around the back of Venetia's thighs until her fingertips could touch her labia on either side, pulled them apart, spread them open so her mouth could stretch wider and her tongue could plunge in deeper. Venetia did the same.

  So close were they, so together that Stephanie was not sure whether the first hard throb of orgasm belonged to her or to Venetia. She felt it in her own sex at exactly the same moment as she felt it in Venetia's. The soft, satiny labia were vibrating. To Stephanie it felt like a butterfly flapping against her mouth and she knew Venetia was feeling the same thing because she could feel her own sex trembling too. But they did not break their rhythms or their pattern; their tongues circled then dipped, pushing deeper into the dark caverns now that they were spread open.

  The waves gathered, each wave bigger than the last, the gaps between them longer as they took time to build higher and higher. At exactly the same moment the biggest wave yet broke on the shore of both of their mouths and they stopped, unable to do anything but feel. Suddenly they were engulfed, washed up in the undertow, dragged back helplessly like driftwood, unable to resist. They felt themselves being collected up into another big wave, floated higher and higher until it crashed down again, and the process began anew. They were both whimpering, moaning, making little animal noises against each other's sex. It went on and on and on. It was like an orgasm that had been doubled, doubled because they could hardly distinguish between what they felt themselves and what the other felt. Even their nipples, pressed into each other's bodies, seemed to throb in unison.

&
nbsp; Eventually it was over, though little ripples of delicious shock still tingled in their bodies as Venetia rolled off Stephanie and came round, to kiss her mouth. They wanted that: to taste themselves on the other's mouth. It was a long time before the kiss was broken, before they finished savouring the delicious taste of sex.

  'I shall miss you,' Stephanie said at last, getting off the bed to sip at the orange juice on the breakfast tray. 'I owe you a lot, Venetia.'

  'Because I helped with Andrew?'

  'No. No. You've taught me what it could be like with a woman. I'd never had a woman before you - well, not on my own...'

  'I know.'

  'I never thought it would be like this. I mean, I'd fantasised about it. But I didn't think it would feel like this.'

  'You're a very good lover.'

  'You've taught me.'

  'No, you just had all the right instincts.'

  It was true. Stephanie had been thrilled by her experiences with Venetia right from the beginning. And subsequently, her experiences with other women, some less attractive and less skilled than Venetia, had been just as satisfying. She had been relieved to discover that her new-found delight in the female body had not interfered with or decreased her interest in men. It had in no way diminished her desire for cock: it had only created another desire, a desire she needed to satisfy as fervently. Which she preferred was an academic question which she did not care to debate with herself, as both were equally available and accessible to her.

  'I hope I will see you in London,' Venetia said.

  'You will.'

  Venetia picked up her negligee and slipped into it, flicking out her hair with her fingertips. 'Take care, then,' she said.

  'And you.'

  They kissed on both cheeks and Venetia left. Thirty minutes later Stephanie saw the speedboat racing across the calm waters of Lake Trasimeno, making a long curved wake as it disappeared into the distance. She could just see Venetia sitting on the transom and thought she saw her wave.