Stephanie's Pleasure Read online

  Stephanie sucked it in eagerly. It felt like nothing she had felt before: the hard nipple between her lips, the surrounding flesh pressing heavily into her face, against her cheeks, even on top of her eyelids, and all the while Olivia's hand worked artfully between her legs. She knew she was going to come at almost the same moment that the first thrill made her body churn; her orgasm built so quickly, so unexpectedly that it took her by surprise. Olivia's fingers strummed her clitoris. She moved her head to one side so she could see Andrew, suddenly remembering how he had taken her, how he had fucked her relentlessly, how deep and hard that cock had gone and how she'd climaxed over it.

  'Oh, oh...' she moaned, as Olivia's nipple slipped from her mouth. As her body locked, every muscle taut, Olivia pressed her soft breasts against Stephanie's face, then shook them from side to side. Stephanie felt the flesh ripple, its softness in such contrast to her rigidity. It was the last straw: the feeling of soft, warm, spongy tits squirming against her pushed her orgasm to new heights, and her body arched off the bed.

  Gently, not wanting to disturb the aftermath she knew would be playing through Stephanie's body, Olivia moved away, and lay down on the bed next to Stephanie, but not touching her.

  Finally, after what seemed a long time, Stephanie opened her eyes. The orgasm had come as a complete surprise. She hadn't even been sure she was going to enjoy herself with Olivia but, in the end, her body had reacted hungrily.

  She looked into Andrew's eyes. This was his punishment, having to watch her, her of all people, being pleasured. In a way it was worse without the restrainer on his cock. The restrainer gave him pain, but without it his cock could throb and pulse and jerk and remind him of how near it was to fulfilment - near, and yet so far. It would only have taken the lightest of touches, the finest of caresses, the tiniest of kisses to make him spunk: but he knew the touch, the caress, the kiss would never come.

  All he could do was watch and obey. Though every nerve in his body was stretched taut by his need, he could only stand helplessly and watch. That was his punishment.

  Stephanie smiled, knowing what must be going through Andrew's head. The sight of him, broken now, all hint of rebelliousness gone, was fuelling her lusts again. The night was young. He would have a lot more to endure before he was returned to the cellars exhausted and, of course, unfulfilled.

  'Now it's your turn,' Stephanie said, turning towards Olivia. She knelt up on the bed and pointed her buttocks at Andrew, knowing he would be able to see the whole crease of her sex, the tightness of the basque cinched around her waist and the black stockings, their welts pulled into black chevrons on her thighs. She dipped her head and began to lick at Olivia's smooth, open thighs...

  Chapter Three

  'Wake up!'

  She was lying in bed. She opened her eyes. It was still dark, almost pitch black in the room and all she could see was a dark shape looming over the bed. 'Get up, bitch!'

  It was Andrew's voice. A hand tore the white silk sheet from her naked body.

  'Get up. Didn't you hear?'

  Her heart was beating ten to the dozen. She couldn't believe it, couldn't believe it had happened again. How on earth had he managed to escape? She thought they'd taken every precaution. How had he got out of his cell, out of the cellars?

  A hand caught her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. Before she knew what was happening her wrists had been locked into cold steel cuffs behind her back. Her head was pulled back by her long hair and a big rubber gag forced between her lips. It filled her mouth completely. She screamed, but not the slightest murmur got past the gag.

  Now she saw other figures in the darkened room. It was not just Andrew. He must have freed the other slaves too, just as before. Hands grabbed at her body, pinching at her flesh or slapping her. She felt a hand between her legs, another on her breasts. There was laughter. She could not see any faces - it was too dark - but she knew there was at least one woman among the men.

  'Bring her down,' Andrew's voice said.

  They started pulling her forward. She knew they were going to take her to the cellars. She had high heels on now, precipitously high heels which made it difficult for her to walk. They opened the door in the silk panelling. She tried to tell them it was too dark to go down the winding stone steps in these heels, but the gag prevented her. It felt strange in her mouth as she tried to talk, the taste of rubber gone. She had the feeling it was moving, throbbing: as though it were alive, as though it were made of flesh.

  How had he got free? She heard the question going around and around in her mind. How could it have happened? She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand the thought of being Andrew's slave again. After everything she'd made him suffer over the last weeks she couldn't imagine what he'd do to her in return.

  'Please don't, please let me go,' she said, though she wasn't sure why. Of course, not a sound was produced.

  'Tie her up, tie her up tight, the bitch,' the woman's voice said, and Stephanie knew it was Amanda. 'Yes, really tight.'

  'Tie her tight.'

  They were in the cellars, in the punishment room where all the bondage frames were kept. She was being laid on the one that looked like a slatted wooden bed. She felt her limbs being stretched out, spreadeagling her; felt herself being tied securely to each corner.

  'Tighter.'

  'Yes, tighter.'

  She had used the device herself. The leather cuff at each corner was attached to a pulley so that it could be tightened. She felt her limbs being pulled apart, her thighs opening, her sex exposed. She was stretched so tight she could feel her clitoris escape the protection of her labia. It was swollen and throbbing.

  'Look at that,' Amanda said, and even though she could not see her face, Stephanie knew what she was talking about.

  She could see the whip though: a riding crop with a leather loop at the end. Amanda flicked it against the clitoris. It was an easy target to find even though the room was dark. Each flick made Stephanie's body jerk against its bondage, and each was harder than the last.

  Why didn't they put the lights on?

  The gag was pulled out. A man knelt behind her head and she felt a cock being thrust into her mouth. It felt exactly the same as the gag. She sucked it hard, hoping it would spunk. She wanted to taste spunk.

  Another cock was thrust into her right hand and one into her left. She closed her fingers around them and they began moving back and forth using her fists as makeshift vulvas. Their cocks were greasy, as though they had been oiled. Stephanie could feel them throbbing.

  The whip stung her thighs, flicked at her breasts, stroked the side of her hips. She writhed against it, but felt no pain; only the emptiness of her sex. She badly needed it filled, filled with cock.

  'Aren't you going to fuck me?' she said, but the words were only mumbled against the hard cock in her mouth.

  The three men were coming, spunk pumping into their shafts, ready to spurt out. The whip went back to her clitoris. She could feel pain now, except it wasn't pain, it was a hot flush of pleasure, each stroke making it hotter. She was coming. The men were coming.

  'Fuck me!' she screamed on to the cock. She struggled to get it out of her mouth so she could make them understand what she needed so desperately, but it only thrust deeper down into her throat, muffling every effort she made to speak. She arched her body off the bed, pushing her sex up at them, trying to make them see what she wanted.

  The cock in her mouth began to spasm. The cocks in her hands did the same. As spunk lashed out against her throat, more hot white milk sprayed over her body, over her breasts, her navel, even over her thighs. She thought she could even feel it splashing on her clitoris. She was coming too, shaking, writhing.

  The three men stood over her, their cocks in their hands, each of them hard and rigid still, each of them, she knew, just about to spunk again.

  'My slave...' Andrew said. 'My slave again.'

  They all started laughing as their hands worked up and down their cocks. The la
ughter bellowed through the room, echoing, booming... so loud it woke her up.

  The Lear jet circled the island, gradually losing height. It was about to make its approach to the landing strip Devlin had constructed on the mainland. It was a beautiful bright day, the winter sun low in the sky but bathing everything in its weak warmth and making the numerous birds sing happily in the hope of an early spring.

  Stephanie sat on the terrace of her bedroom watching the plane come in against the background of the cloudless sky. A silver coffee pot sat on the table in front of her together with a large bowl of fruit, some of which she had eaten for her lunch. She poured herself another coffee and contemplated what she would wear for Devlin that afternoon.

  It was the first time he'd left her alone at the castle since the rebellion and he had been reluctant to go, despite her assurances that she would be all right. Indeed, most of the time she had been - apart from the graphic nightmares like the one that had woken her the previous night. They took some getting over, and twice after such dreams Stephanie had got up to check, in the cellars, that Andrew was still securely chained in his cell. But, considering her ordeal, she imagined that she had got off lightly if the only after-effect was one or two nightmares and an odd start if someone opened a door unexpectedly.

  It would take roughly half an hour from the time the plane landed for Devlin to get to the castle. And Stephanie wanted to be ready for him. She had already made arrangements to entertain him tonight in the cellars, but that was different. This afternoon they would be alone.

  Taking a final sip of coffee as the plane straightened up on its final approach, she went inside to prepare herself. The thought of Devlin's strange body had started a sequence of excitement in her; she felt her pulse thicken, each beat suggestive of another rhythm.

  Her feelings towards Devlin were tender but she knew that was not what he would want from her; not initially at least, after a week's absence. The fact was that for all his authority and power in business, despite his control of a huge international company, Devlin wanted to be a slave, not a master. He had made Stephanie the mistress of the castle and had given himself to her totally as well. As much as any of the indentured slaves in the cellars Devlin was hers to do with as she chose. Above all else it was that aspect of their relationship that he would want to be reminded of.

  The thought brought a smile of pure pleasure to Stephanie's lips. It was, after all, what she enjoyed most, too.

  As she stood under the shower she thought of ways to please him by pleasing herself. Here, in the castle, there were so many possibilities. She could get one of the slaves from the cellars and order them to perform any number of variations on a theme. But she had already worked out a programme for this evening with Amanda - who, like Andrew, had always been a difficult slave, but was now broken and compliant - so this afternoon she decided on a more singular approach.

  'Come in.'

  She had waited in her bedroom for him to arrive. He had knocked twice on the door timidly. Now he opened it and advanced hesitantly into the room. He never knew what to expect, what mood she would be in.

  'You're late.' Her voice was ice-cold. Her performance had begun.

  'I'm sorry...'

  'Sorry what?' she snapped like the crack of a bullwhip.

  'Sorry, mistress. I had to...'

  'I don't want your excuses. Get on your knees.'

  Devlin obeyed immediately, his eyes not daring to look up at her. The position of prayer was also the symbol of submission, of subjugation.

  'Come over here, then,' she said impatiently.

  He shuffled forward on his knees until he knelt in front of her. She was sitting with her legs crossed on one of the big cream-coloured sofas opposite the bed. All he could see was her feet, the toenails painted bright red.

  'You may kiss my feet.'

  He kissed the foot that dangled in mid-air immediately, licking and sucking the bare toes.

  'And the other one.' Her tone was still cold but his mouth produced a delicious feeling that made her tremble with pleasure.

  His mouth dropped to the carpet where her other foot rested flat. His tongue explored the upper surface minutely.

  'You interrupted me,' Stephanie lied. 'Can't you see I was getting dressed?'

  'Sorry, mistress,' he said between licks.

  'Oh, you will be. Get your clothes off so you can be punished. That's double punishment, being late and interrupting.'

  'Yes, mistress.'

  Eagerly Devlin started to pull his shirt off.

  'Idiot. Not here. In the bathroom. Do you imagine I want to watch you undress?'

  'No, mistress.'

  He shuffled over to the bathroom on his knees and closed the door after him.

  'Be quick,' she shouted, standing up.

  Stephanie was naked apart from a pair of black panties made from leather so thin and soft it was like silk. It clung like silk too, following every curve of her spectacular buttocks.

  She went over to the bedside table and picked up a pair of what looked like earrings, though they were not for her ears. Positioning the spring-loaded clip over her already erect nipple - the conversation with Devlin had been enough to see to that - Stephanie felt the delightful shock of pain as the clip bit into her tender, puckered flesh. The second clip soon followed. She had had them specially made in Rome to her own design. The tension in the clips was adjustable so that they could deliver just the desired amount of feeling: light, as now, or much tighter and much more painful. Stephanie had designed the front of the clip too. It was a metal hemisphere, attached to which was a silver chain about three inches long. At the end of the chain was a silver pendant in the shape of an elongated tear. Like the clips, the tears could be adjusted; the light pendants could be replaced with much heavier weights. The heavier the weight, of course, the more pressure on the clip, and the more it bit into the nipple.

  Looking down at the silver ornaments, Stephanie could see the pendants swinging slightly and felt another frisson of pleasure arc through her body. She felt her sex, nestling under the thin leather, respond too, ever willing to join in. As if to comfort it, she stroked her hand over the leather that covered the flat wide plain of her sex.

  The bathroom door opened and Devlin entered, naked and on his knees. His cock was standing erect.

  Stephanie had drawn all the curtains and dimmed the lights.

  'Over here,' she ordered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  'Yes, mistress.' The reply was unnecessary; he spoke because he loved the sound of those two words. There had been a time in his life when he could only get an erection under very special circumstances. Stephanie had changed all that. She had discovered, almost by accident, what made him tick. Now he could feel himself harden just at the sound of her voice - his mistress's voice.

  'Do you like my nipple clips, Devlin?'

  He dared to look up at her breasts. 'Oh yes, mistress...'

  His cock throbbed at the sight. Stephanie had never seen a cock like Devlin's. Not only was it huge, long and thick, it was also gnarled and misshapen, its veins standing up like string, knotted and twisted around the shaft. The sight of it had always given Stephanie a unique feeling in the pit of her stomach, a strange mixture of anticipation, memory of what it had felt like deep inside her, and sheer awe that she had managed to accommodate it at all. The idea that she had had it buried in her sex - though never all of it, that was too much for any woman - made her squirm.

  Leaning forward, she swung her breasts gently from side to side. The silver tears on the end of their chains swung in unison. She positioned herself so that one struck the glans of Devlin's monstrous cock. He started, his whole body jumping. The impact stopped the swing, so Stephanie shook her breasts again to produce another blow.

  'Ah...' he moaned, not from pain but from pleasure.

  'You like that?'

  'Yes mistress.'

  She pulled herself back on the bed and lay flat, opening her legs and bending her kne
es.

  'Kneel up here,' she said.

  Quickly he scrambled on to the bed and knelt at her side.

  'I need some attention, Devlin. You've neglected me. Use your finger...'

  He was looking at her body. The silver tears had fallen on each side of her chest to rest on the sheets. He stared at the curve of her pubic bone smoothly covered in soft black leather, dimpled slightly over the mouth of her sex as though sucked in by it. He put out his hand and pulled the leather to one side, before wriggling his finger between her labia. Stephanie felt a surge of passion. Devlin's fingers, like his cock, were massive, each the size of a banana. Having one - no woman could take two - thrust inside her, filling her completely, as completely as any cock, was a pleasure only Devlin could give her and one she relished.

  'Do it,' she said as she felt his finger poised between her nether lips. She didn't need any preparation. Just looking at him, performing for him, subjecting him to her will, was excitement enough. She was already wet.

  The finger slid home on the tide of her juices, up inside her, so deep, so far she could feel it against the neck of her womb. She didn't think she would ever get used to the feeling of being so thoroughly penetrated by warm, animate, bony flesh, flesh that could bend and move and stroke right in the very depths of her.

  By now he knew what she liked. He pulled the finger down until it was almost out of her, then pushed it up again, then wriggled his top knuckle in a circle against her clinging, silky sex. She moaned and he felt her whole vagina contract around him. He hesitated.

  'Do it,' she cried.

  And he did. In and out, opening her up, probing her, reaming her, feeling her whole body impaled on his single finger. She shook and squirmed, the nipple clips on her breasts biting tightly. It did not take long before she was out of control, her body rigid, her nerves begging for release. Then release was theirs, as the softest of cries escaped her lips and a muted, gentle orgasm trembled through her body.