Stephanie's Pleasure Read online

  As soon as he stood beside her, his forehead beaded with perspiration from the effort, Stephanie knocked twice on the bedroom door.

  Mrs Olivia Branchman had been waiting and opened the door quickly, knowing what to expect.

  'Well...' she said as her eyes feasted on Andrew. 'Now that's quite a sight right enough. He's sure not going to run anyplace, is he?' Her accent was American but soft and cultured, which suited her light and very feminine voice.

  'I thought you'd approve.' Stephanie indicated that Andrew should lead the way into the room, and both women watched him critically as he shuffled past. Olivia closed the door behind Stephanie.

  'Stop,' Stephanie ordered as Andrew reached the middle of the room. He obeyed immediately. The room, like all the guest suites in the castle, was comfortable and luxurious, a thick, dark blue carpet toning with a lighter blue in the silk panelling of the walls. A large double bed was positioned so that it gave a view from the great windows out on to the lake.

  'Well,' Olivia Branchman repeated, taking a tour around the new attraction. To put not too fine a point on it, Mrs Olivia Hortense Branchman was fat; short and fat. Everything about her was fat, with the exception of her face which was petite and small featured and topped with short blonde hair that bounced as she moved. The extraordinary thing about her bulk was that it did not wrinkle and sag and hang from her body in great spare tyres. It was firm and rounded and gave off a peculiar glow of health. In a way her body looked as though it had been attached to an air line and inflated. Her breasts were great round balloons of flesh, as were her buttocks, her belly, and her thighs: spongy cushions where it looked as though a man could drown.

  It was easy to see the details of her weight as she was wearing nothing more than a thin transparent veil of white chiffon tied around her neck with a white satin ribbon. While this billowed out over her body like a tent, a pair of white stiletto heels gave her a couple of extra inches in height.

  'Would you like me to stay?' Stephanie asked. Mrs Branchman had been to the castle before. In fact, according to Devlin, access to the castle, and more particularly to its cellars, was the sole reason Mrs Branchman kept supplying Devlin's companies when she could have got a better price elsewhere. The castle was her first port of call on her annual European holiday.

  'Oh yes, please do. I'm not shy. We can both enjoy ourselves.'

  She stood in front of Andrew and clutched his harnessed cheeks in her two hands, squeezing them together so his mouth was forced into an odd shape. Then she ran her hands all over his body. She followed the lines of his tortured arms and ran her hand down the inside of both his thighs without touching his cock. The effort of walking from Stephanie's bedroom had made his erection shrink. Olivia's fingers caressed his buttocks right down to where the metal tail curled into his anus.

  'Guess he knows who's boss,' she said. 'We're going to have to lose this.' She was indicating the chain that linked his elbows to the hook on the head harness. 'And this,' she flicked the chain under his balls.

  'Of course,' Stephanie agreed, kneeling and quickly undoing the tiny hook that held the cock-chain so tight.

  The effect of freedom on his cock was dramatic. It sprang up, the blood having been held back for so long, pumping wildly into the shaft. His erection was rock hard in seconds and throbbing visibly - so visibly that, for a moment, Stephanie thought he was going to come. But he did not. Instead, a tear of fluid escaped his urethra and ran down his glans.

  'Well just look at that,' Olivia said as Stephanie got to her feet and released the elbow-chain too. As soon as he was able to lower his elbows again she felt a shock of relief course through his body. He moaned out loud, unable to stop himself. He moaned again as Olivia scooped his balls into her hand and fingered them as carelessly as if they were a bunch of grapes.

  'Oh, how rude of me,' she said, letting Andrew go. 'I didn't offer you a drink. I'm on bourbon rocks. Would you like something?' There was a selection of drinks on a tray, sitting on a chest of drawers beautifully crafted from solid burr walnut. Olivia had picked up her glass and filled it from a bottle of Jim Beam, taking more ice from the bucket on the tray.

  'The same,' Stephanie said. She would have preferred champagne, but did not want to waste the time it would take to uncork the bottle.

  Olivia handed her the crystal tumbler and touched her own glass against its lip.

  'Cheers,' she said. 'You've got quite a body on you, young lady.'

  'Cheers. And thank you.'

  'Only true compliment you ever get, from another woman.'

  'Well, you're very...' Stephanie could not think of a word.

  'I'm very fat. It suits me that way. I like to eat. I like to overindulge all my appetites.'

  She took a large swig of her drink, put the glass down on the bedside table and turned to Andrew again. Despite her weight Olivia was surprisingly strong. Taking Andrew by the wrists she pulled him backwards, twisted him round and forced him to his knees facing the foot of the bed.

  'This is going to be fun,' she said with a gleeful look in her eyes. She had already stripped the blue brocade bedspread off the bed, together with all the bedding apart from the bottom sheet, which was pale blue.

  'He looks too cool to me. I think we should warm him up. I like my men hot.'

  Olivia sat on the foot of the bed, her feet on either side of Andrew's knees. She reached forward, grabbed the head harness and pulled him forward into her vast and pliant bosom, her cleavage so deep his head all but disappeared into it. One arm wrapped around the back of his neck held him there as firmly as a vice, while the great pillows of her breasts pushed against the sides of his face.

  'Would you mind...?' Olivia said, indicating the object that lay on the small armchair nearest the bed. It was a whip, but not one of the many available in the castle. This was Olivia's own design. It consisted of five very thin strips of white plastic, each about the width of a fingernail, fused together at the base to form a handle which had been bound in leather. Stephanie picked it up, weighing it in her hand before swishing it through the air experimentally. It made a strange, almost harmonic noise, like wind chimes. She handed it to Olivia.

  'I should order one for the cellars,' she said.

  'Oh yes, they're very effective.' As if to demonstrate the point Olivia brought the plastic switch cracking down on Andrew's buttocks. It hit the meaty flesh of his rump as well as the metal tail and clattered noisily. Stephanie saw Andrew's body jump, his cry of pain muffled by Olivia's tits. Immediately three very thin red welts appeared, much thinner than the welts produced by a normal whip and much more inflamed, seared into his flesh.

  'Lower is better,' Olivia said almost to herself before bringing the switch down hard across the back of Andrew's thighs. Her other arm had increased the pressure on his neck to make sure he could not move away. This time not even Olivia's bosom could suppress the cry of pain. 'You see - much better.'

  Olivia loved that; loved the feeling of holding a man between her breasts, of him struggling and wriggling and crying out in pain as she stroked him with her switch. Three times more she brought the switch down on Andrew's thighs, three times feeling him jerk helplessly under her arm, the hot breath of his pain expelled against her bosom. She aimed the blows well despite the awkward position she was in, each falling on new, untouched nerves, each forming welts, until the back of his thighs looked like an abstract painting: red and scarlet and crimson lines on a pink background.

  It was hard for him to breathe, too, pressed against her like this. She could feel his sweat soaking into the chiffon and running down his cheeks under the harness to drip onto her stomach.

  'That's more like it.' She threw the switch on the bed and leant forward to run her hands over the area she'd attacked. His body jerked against her as her fingers tortured the thin welts. 'That's got you nice and warm. Now it's time for some real loving, baby,' she cooed, like a mother talking to a child.

  Olivia released her smothering grip, allowing Andrew
to gulp in fresh air, and pulled the white chiffon nightdress over her head. Andrew, his vision partly blurred by sweat that had run into his eyes but which he could not wipe away, looked at the woman in front of him. Though she was fat, her bulk was far from unattractive. Her skin seemed to radiate a soft sheen, like silk. Nestling at the top of her plump thighs, almost hidden by the overhang of her belly, he could see a little tuft of blonde pubic hair.

  Olivia sat back on the bed, and the mattress sagged under her weight. With the fingers of one hand she caressed his cheeks almost lovingly, between the leather straps then round along his lips. She forced two, then three fingers into his mouth. He could taste the salt from the sweat that had collected on her hand. He sucked the fingers, hoping it was what she wanted him to do. He would have done anything to stop her using the switch again, the switch that lay so menacingly within easy reach on the pale blue sheet.

  'Love me, baby,' she said, extracting her fingers and pulling his head down into her lap. She looked at Stephanie and winked broadly, then opened her thighs. She leant back on the bed and raised one foot over his shoulder until the sharp stiletto heel dug into his back just below his shoulder blade. 'Come on...' she urged.

  The flesh all around him cut off most of the light. He groped forward with his tongue until he felt her long, rather wiry pubic hair, then followed it, like a trail, until he was on the puffy labia. Like everything else about the woman, her labia were fat, swollen and thick. He tried to get his tongue between them, to push his mouth forward, but it was impossible.

  'Love me... come on.' Even though her voice was muffled by the thighs pressed tightly over his ears he could hear her impatience and feared for its consequences. He tried again, tried pushing his tongue up to her clitoris, but knew he hadn't succeeded. If he could have used his hands he would have parted her thighs, but his hands were bound securely behind him. Suddenly she lifted her other leg up over his shoulder, digging a second heel painfully into his back and opening her thighs as a flower opens to reveal its stamen. In front of him the furrow of her sex blossomed and he took his opportunity, plunging forward until he felt his tongue make contact with the little lozenge of her clitoris, hot, wet, and engorged.

  'Oh darling...' he heard her say.

  He attacked his target aggressively, wanting to please her. He sucked the whole thing up between his lips, then used his tongue to find the hard central bud and manoeuvre it from side to side. He felt her body contract, little jerking spasms at each stimulus. Then, just as he was increasing the tempo of his strokes, he felt her massive thighs closing around his head. Total darkness descended. Her thigh muscles began to tighten, squeezing his head between them, cutting off his air. She was strong, very strong. He struggled, fighting for air, but he could not move his head an inch: not up nor down, nor from side to side. His lungs felt ready to burst. He bucked and squirmed to escape, tried to straighten his legs, but only succeeded in making her thighs hold him tighter and burying himself deeper. He was rubbing his face against her sex, the last of his breath panted out against her labia.

  'Oh, oh...' Olivia cried in delight, enjoying her favourite game.

  Suddenly the thighs parted. Andrew gasped in air. Just as quickly they snapped shut again, enveloping him in flesh.

  'Love me, baby,' Olivia cried.

  Her sex was pulsing, he could feel it. It was wet too, copious juices running down her labia, over his mouth and harnessed face. He managed to tongue her clitoris, hoping against hope she'd realise he needed air to continue and open her thighs again. But she didn't. Instead he felt her muscles tightening, much more slowly this time, inexorably crushing his face against her sex, making it impossible for him to do anything but squirm to be free.

  This was what she wanted, of course. This was her pleasure. The helpless head writhing, trapped between her thighs, its mouth open, panting and gasping for breath, making her nerves jangle: this was what she needed.

  It was longer this time, much longer. He thought he was going to pass out, be drowned, drowned in pliant, spongy flesh. Desperately he tried to free his arms but he could get as little movement from them as he got from his head. He used every muscle in his body to try and thrash around, but produced practically no discernible effect. Only Olivia appreciated it, as his mouth wriggled against her sex. The effort used up even more of his air supply.

  The thighs opened again. He gasped in air, but suspected his ordeal was not yet over. He was right. The fleshy walls snapped shut like the jaws of a whale, and he was trapped once more. Then a new element entered his nightmare. The heels of the shoes had slipped down his back till they rested on the top of the tail of the metal girdle. They pushed inward, between his buttocks, forcing the phallus deeper into his anus. He gasped, letting more precious air escape. But the action of her feet had loosened the pressure on his face slightly. There was a gap, a small gap admittedly, but enough for him to work his mouth forward onto her clitoris and for his nose to breathe. This was his chance. He tongued her clitoris fiercely, trying all he knew to make her feel good. If he could make her want him, if he could set her on the road to orgasm, make her need him to continue, she wouldn't torture him again.

  It worked. As he licked frantically, manipulating the hard lozenge of her clitoris, tonguing it, sucking it, kissing it, he felt her body change gear. The tautness disappeared, and slackness and looseness set in as more pressing demands took over from the desire to tease. He could feel her whole sex melting under him, juices pouring from her labia. She wouldn't close her thighs on him now. In fact she was opening them, using her heels to dig the phallus into his body, deeper and deeper, spearing him; then she opened herself further so his mouth could go deeper and deeper into her sex.

  'Yes,' she moaned. 'Oh yes...'

  He was beating his tongue against her clit now, regularly, rhythmically, and feeling her response. Suddenly he felt her body contract, every muscle lock, her thighs once again clasp around his head. He felt as though he was being sucked up into her. He felt her shudder and heard her moan and then, to his enormous relief, she collapsed back on the bed, her heels sliding to the floor, her thighs releasing the gin that held his head.

  'I think he enjoyed that,' Olivia said, raising herself on her elbows and looking at Andrew's face; it was wet with her juices. Between his legs his cock was standing up vertically, its own fluid smeared across the glans.

  'He's not supposed to enjoy anything,' Stephanie said sternly. She picked up the plastic switch and Andrew flinched involuntarily in response.

  But the focus of Olivia's attention had changed. She was looking at Stephanie, her eyes examining the body so sleekly displayed in its black basque and sheer stockings.

  'You're a very beautiful woman,' she said.

  'So you said earlier.'

  'I did, didn't I?'

  Stephanie had seen that look before in other women's eyes - the look of desire - and after witnessing Olivia come so profusely, her body ached for attention too.

  'Would you let me...? I know you're not available...' Olivia said tentatively.

  'Available?'

  'One of the slaves.'

  'I think I would like that,' Stephanie said, immediately feeling a thick pulse of sensation kick up from her sex. If she was honest with herself, she wasn't at all sure whether she did find Olivia attractive; but she had learnt not to make judgements on the basis of first impressions. She was certainly willing to experiment.

  'Stand up, Andrew,' she ordered, not helping him.

  He struggled to obey, the manoeuvre a little easier now the chain from his head to his elbows had been removed. His cock was rigid as Stephanie stood in front of him, letting the very tip of it graze against her pubic hair. Teasingly she rolled her hips so it glided across her thighs from one side to the other, over the black suspenders and back again, leaving a little trail of wetness.

  'Wouldn't you just love to?' Stephanie asked.

  'Yes mistress,' he replied at once.

  'This is your punish
ment, Andrew. It's what you deserve, isn't it?'

  'Yes, mistress.' Andrew's voice was barely a whisper.

  Olivia had worked her way back into the centre of the bed. She kicked off her shoes and lay with her legs open, her big breasts pulled by gravity over to the sides of her chest. Her long blonde pubic hair was plastered to her thighs by a combination of Andrew's saliva and her own juices.

  'Now, Andrew.' Stephanie tapped his cock with the switch, and saw it jerk upward. 'I want you to watch a little private show, just for you. And if I catch you looking away, this is not all you'll get.' She smacked the switch down firmly against the base of his cock. He groaned. 'Understood?'

  'Yes, mistress.'

  'You'd better hold this for me then, just in case.' Stephanie planted the handle of the switch in Andrew's mouth, until he could grip it securely with his teeth. 'Don't drop it,' she added menacingly.

  Having dealt with her slave, Stephanie turned her attention to Olivia. She knelt on the bed between Olivia's open legs and, with both hands, began caressing the inside of her thighs all the way up until she could feel the wetness of her pubic hair and the wetness of her labia. She could see the mouth of Olivia's sex, open like the trumpet of a flower in crimson red. She could even see her clitoris, swollen and exposed, its pinkness in sharp contrast to the deeper red below.

  Stephanie replaced her hands with her mouth, beginning to lick the softly rounded flesh of Olivia's thighs. But Olivia had other ideas. She sat up, wrapped her big arms around Stephanie's back and pulled her down onto the bed on top of her, rolling over so Stephanie was underneath, swathed in the mountainous folds of her body. Her hand dived down between Stephanie's thighs and, with no fumbling or searching, found the bud of her clitoris instantly. She pressed it against the pubic bone behind, then, moving her finger from side to side, Olivia worked her way up on to her knees.

  'Take this,' she said, using her other hand to feed the nipple of her huge breast into Stephanie's mouth.