Stephanie's Pleasure Page 9

  'Does that meet with your approval, madam?' her eyes asked without a word.

  'Very pretty,' Stephanie said in answer to the unspoken question. She wanted to ask several of her own. She would have removed the gag but she could see that the strap securing the moulded leather on either side was secured by a tiny padlock. So, instead, she opened the bedroom door and indicated that Hanna was dismissed.

  Devlin sat on the bed. He had watched her every move.

  'Beautiful, didn't you think?' Stephanie asked, stripping off her jacket before going to look out of the window at the full panorama of the lake.

  'The view or the girl?' Devlin asked.

  'Both,' Stephanie said, smiling, as she unbuttoned her blouse and unzipped her skirt.

  There was a delicate knock at the door.

  'Come in,' Devlin shouted, necessarily since the distance from the bed to the door was so great.

  The door swung open and a girl entered, wheeling a silver trolley in front of her. The girl, her hair a flaming red, was as bizarrely dressed as Hanna had been, and undoubtedly in a great deal more discomfort. Like Hanna, her neck was stretched high in a stiff moulded collar that enclosed her mouth and was strapped over the top of her head. But, at the base of the collar in the front, two long, very thin straps ran down her body, over her big meaty breasts and down over her navel. At the junction of her thighs, where her red pubic hair sprouted thinly, the straps were buckled into two corners of a rectangle of thick leather. This pad then disappeared between her legs, re-emerging halfway up her buttocks. Here, the corners were buckled to more thin straps which ran up her back to be secured into the collar again. Thus the crotchpiece was held firmly in place between her legs. There was very little give in the thick leather and it had not been cut to fit the area it was meant to cover, so it had chafed and reddened the girl's inner thighs.

  Stephanie could just see, under the leather, the base of two black dildos, held firmly in place in both the passages of her body.

  But as she examined the girl more closely another astonishing feature caught her eye. Both the girl's nipples had been pierced and they sported large gold rings. The leather straps running down the front of the girl's body had been passed through these rings, thereby pulling her big breasts inward and agitating the nipples every time she moved.

  The redhead pushed the silver trolley between two high-backed wing chairs sited by one of the windows. She returned to the bedroom door and there, like Hanna, waited to be dismissed.

  Stephanie, now stripped to her white lacy underwear and stockings, was curious to take a closer look at the nipple rings. She walked over to the girl. There was no doubt; the gold rings were not merely clipped to the redhead's big puckered teats, but ran right through them. Stephanie fingered each ring in turn, then pulled them up the long thin strap.

  'Does that hurt?' she asked, feeling her own nipples hardening as if in sympathy.

  The girl shook her head.

  'Not even a little?'

  The girl nodded.

  'How interesting,' Stephanie said, signalling that the girl could go. 'I think we're going to enjoy it here, Devlin. This is my idea of fun.'

  The silver trolley the redhead had brought was laden with a silver wine cooler, containing the precious Bollinger, champagne flutes of a modern design, and an array of tempting morsels all on silver platters. There was a crystal glass bowl filled with caviar, set on top of another filled with crushed ice. There were rolls of smoked salmon and a big plate of Mediterranean prawns surrounding a silver bowl of mayonnaise. On the lower level there was bread, cheese - at least three different kinds - and fruit.

  Stephanie suddenly discovered she was ravenously hungry. Sexual excitement it seemed, always did this to her and, on top of the memories of what had happened on the plane, the sight of the two girls had set her pulse and her imagination racing.

  Posed on the champagne bottle was a thick white card. In neat copperplate writing it read: IF THERE IS ANYTHING ELSE YOU REQUIRE, PLEASE DIAL 9.

  'Yes, I think we'll enjoy it here,' Stephanie repeated, dipping her finger into the caviar to scoop it into her mouth.

  The big grandfather clock in the lobby struck seven. The Baron, wearing dinner dress and a black tie, was waiting for them when they appeared on the stairs. Stephanie had taken a great deal of trouble over her appearance. She wore a full-length red dress sewn with a regular pattern of sequins that left her arms and back bare but wrapped around her neck in a little halter. This covered her bosom at the front but allowed for glimpses of breast at the sides. The skirt extended down to her ankles, tight and clinging, perfectly outlining the shape of her pert buttocks and the firm contours of her thighs. Her red court shoes, their toes decorated with a diamond of diamanté, could just be seen below the hem.

  She had pinned her long black hair up into a neat chignon and had applied rather darker make-up than usual. She had emphasised her eyes with a heavy eyeliner and shadow, hollowed her cheekbones with blusher and used a much darker, redder lipstick, matching its colour on her finger- and toenails.

  Devlin followed behind her, his black tie and dinner dress set off by a brightly coloured cummerbund.

  The Baron's eyes sparkled his approval as she walked down the last few steps.

  'Bravo!' he said. 'Simply magnificent, my dear. A triumph.' He took her hand and kissed it again. 'You are a very lucky man, Devlin.'

  'I don't belong to Devlin,' Stephanie reminded him sternly.

  'No, of course,' the Baron said. 'I meant to imply only that he was lucky to be able to see you so often, to live with you.'

  'And I am,' Devlin added. 'Very lucky.'

  They walked through into the reception room where the big fire was still consuming logs at a rapid rate. A waiter in a white tail coat, white bow tie and velvet breeches waited to pour the champagne, another bottle of the exceptional Bollinger brought up from the Baron's well-stocked cellars.

  'Champagne?' the Baron asked, in case they preferred something else.

  'Yes, thank you.' She saw the bottle. 'It was delicious this afternoon.'

  Devlin agreed with a nod of his head.

  'I thought we would have dinner, and then I'd show you the...' he tried to think of the right word, '...facilities.'

  'It's a beautiful house,' Devlin said.

  'Actually built by Leo von Klenze in 1826. I had the interior redesigned but my sense of history won't let me touch the exterior, however extreme it may appear.'

  'It's fun,' Stephanie said as she took the champagne flute from the tray presented to her by the waiter.

  'There's plenty of space, that's the main thing. Plenty of room for all the activities.'

  'And what are those?' Stephanie asked.

  'I think it is better that you see for yourself. Prosit.' The three raised their glasses and drank the champagne, its bubbles almost gone but its colour clear and crisp like the golden tones of autumn.

  'Wonderful,' Devlin said.

  'Yes. Unfortunately, like all good things, it has come to an end.'

  They moved through into a small intimate dining room, one of three of various sizes, the Baron explained. It was a completely circular room with no windows, its interior lavishly pleated in a dark blue material that rose over their heads like a tent. The centrepiece, above their heads, was a rose ruched in a different material but in the same blue. Hanging from this central rose was a small chandelier; illumination from this spilt down on to a circular table underneath, set with white linen, silver cutlery and sparkling gold rimmed crystal glasses. Three high-backed sculptured chairs that might have been Charles Rennie Mackintosh originals surrounded the table.

  The Baron explained that he had asked his kitchen to prepare German specialities and serve German wines. They ate white asparagus and wild boar with Spatzel and apple cake. The sweet Eiswein served with the cake Stephanie thought particularly good and said so.

  'Yes, it is gathered at midnight after the first frost, hence "ice-wine".'

&nbs
p; The waiters brought coffee and tiny petits fours in chocolate, each one bearing the Baron's coat of arms. 'And so. We are soon ready for the evening's entertainment I think. I have an establishment like yours, but with some essential differences.'

  Stephanie had been eager to ask about the two girls.

  'Those girls this afternoon - they are slaves?'

  'No. Not in the sense you mean.'

  'What then?' Devlin asked.

  'My friends, my acquaintances. They come here as my guests. It is entirely voluntary. But once they are here, they must spend two-thirds of their time as slaves and one-third as masters. That is the strict rule. If they cannot agree to that then they do not come. If they find they cannot obey as a slave, then they must leave the Schloss immediately and without question; and, naturally, they would never be allowed to return. As an incentive to good behaviour that seems to be quite adequate. Many of my guests wish to return regularly.'

  'Do many disobey?'

  'No. Usually they find that any inconveniences they may suffer are outweighed by the many delights. Of course, if you are of a submissive nature in the first place, we do not insist that you become a master. Fortunately, it seems, there are always more people of that persuasion.'

  'Oh definitely,' Stephanie said, looking at Devlin.

  'So, would you now like the tour?'

  'Absolutely.'

  Stephanie felt a pulse of anticipation as the Baron came up behind her. He swung the dining chair back as she stood up.

  He took her hand and looked deep into her eyes. 'I can see your excitement,' he said, stressing the word 'see'. At her castle, despite the endless opportunities offered in the cellars, Stephanie had been unable to tempt the Baron to do more than watch. To cater for his predilection she had organised a series of spectacles for him, and on his last night had herself been the main exhibit in a sexual tableau. When he looked at her now, was he remembering how she had looked, her body clothed in black lingerie, her sex open for his inspection? Or how she'd responded to being fucked by one of her slaves, or sucked by one of the women, her legs spread open, her sex angled at him through a two-way mirror?

  'You've seen more than that,' she reminded him.

  'And I hope I will again.'

  Devlin watched the exchange with no jealousy. His relationship with Stephanie allowed him to feel no emotion other than the physical needs she provoked in his body. She aroused him totally, and as long as she continued to do so he really didn't care about anything else. He was, after all, fundamentally and above all else, her slave; it was not for him to question her. Their relationship was unequal, one-sided. He owed her total obedience; she owed him nothing.

  The Baron led them through the house. Not wanting to destroy the facade of the building, he had built four pavilions into what had once been the stable block, applying the same rococo style von Klenze had used on the original. These pavilions were connected to the original Schloss and to each other by means of Perspex tunnels running from the back of the house on the first floor.

  At the door to the passageway, after they had walked the length of the house and up a narrow staircase, the Baron paused.

  'There are four pavilions,' he explained. 'Each have a different theme. Each guest is shown all four themes by means of a viewing gallery, and then may choose which they prefer. Are you ready?'

  Stephanie felt her pulse surge again as the Baron punched a combination of four numbers into the computer lock on the heavy metal door. It swung open with a hiss of hydraulics, and he ushered them through. The Perspex tubing which formed the passage was dotted with snow on the outside, and ice crystals had formed in lacy patterns. Stephanie could see the lake and the mountains, and, under her feet, a piece of formal garden.

  The passage veered to the right and they were confronted with another metal door. As they approached, the door swung open, activated by a photo-electric cell set in the Perspex.

  The Baron led the way through the second door on to a metal gantry above a large rectangular hall. Immediately below the gantry was a sheet of what looked like glass.

  'This,' the Baron said, indicating the glass, 'can only be seen through from above. From below it looks like a normal ceiling.'

  Stephanie looked down through the 'glass'. Below, perfect in every detail as far as she could tell, was a Roman villa of the first century A.D., spacious and meticulously built, complete with a patio leading out to a swimming pool. As she walked further along the gantry she saw a large living room and three bedrooms, all furnished with Roman artefacts and drapes corresponding exactly to the period.

  But it was not the authenticity of the surroundings that most attracted Stephanie's attention; far more interesting was what was going on inside them. All the rooms were deserted apart from the largest, where all the inhabitants of the pavilion were gathered. There were perhaps twenty people in total, with slightly more women in evidence than men. A rostrum supporting a Roman throne had been erected at one end of the room, on which was seated a rather portly man. His hair was combed forward in the Roman fashion, his body clothed in a white toga, and his feet in leather sandals. Seated at his feet on either side of the throne were two almost identical blondes wearing very short togas, their long blonde hair brushed neatly over their shoulders.

  In front of the throne was a stone slab about three feet off the floor, roughly the size of a single bed. All the other participants stood around this slab. Stephanie could see the portly man's lips move, but could not hear what was being said.

  'Can we hear?' she asked the Baron.

  The Baron nodded. He took from his pocket a small unit resembling a remote control for a television, and pressed one of its dozen or so buttons. Immediately sound filtered into the gantry: not natural sound, but relayed from some speaker system.

  'What do you have to say for yourself?' Stephanie heard the man on the throne saying.

  'Nothing, master.' The words came from a petite auburn-haired girl who was being held by two burly men at each arm.

  'Then you will have to be punished.'

  'No, master, please don't punish me. I did nothing—'

  'You have to be punished until you learn to obey. Slaves must obey.'

  The master nodded to the two men. With a minimum of effort they stooped and grasped her ankles, then lifted her bodily onto the stone slab. Four metal rings were set in each corner of the stone. With leather thongs the men quickly bound the girl's wrists and ankles to the rings, spreading her across the slab. The assembled crowd looked on eagerly, examining the girl's naked body.

  'The candle...' the master said.

  While one of the men busied himself with stretching the woman's body out more tightly, retying each leather thong in turn, the other picked up what looked like a small but heavy stone basin and placed it squarely on the bound woman's navel. Sitting in the middle of the basin was a large thick white candle, which the man lit. He then blew on the flame until it burnt brightly. As the captive woman breathed in and out, the round bottom of the basin rocked and the candle moved from side to side. Once there was enough hot wax, this movement spilt the liquid over the woman's body, making her writhe in pain, which in turn increased the oscillation of the bowl and sprayed more wax over her.

  'The quieter you are, the less you will feel,' the master explained, getting up from his throne to stand by his captive's head. 'Try to breathe deeply, try not to move,' he counselled, stroking her cheek then dropping his hand to her naked breast. He squeezed it hard, making her try to buck him off, but this only caused the bowl to gyrate more wildly, causing hot wax to fly all over her thighs. 'See,' he tutted.

  With a click of fingers directed at the two blondes, he strode back up on to the rostrum. One of the blondes immediately loosened the leather belt that held the toga at his waist while the other came up behind him to part the loose white material and slip it off his body. Under his considerable paunch his cock was beginning to swell.

  One of the blondes fell to her knees in front of the
master and gobbled the growing erection into her mouth. The other stood behind him with her hand snaking down between his buttocks to find his anus.

  The master's action seemed to be a sign for the rest of the room to dissolve into sexual activity. The group divided up into couples, threesomes, foursomes. Men and women began to kiss and fondle each other, lying down on the floor or across the Roman-style benches that littered the room.

  The woman on the stone slab had managed to bring her breathing under control and the candle remained more or less vertical. But one of the men had decided that, of all the available women in the room, the auburn haired captive was his target, and so he began running his hand up her thigh. Desperate not to have more hot wax splash her body, the woman tried to remain passive as the man's hand reached her belly. His fingers artfully descended into the folds of her labia, sparsely covered with wispy auburn hair. As his finger circled her clitoris, he grinned down at her, knowing perfectly well what he was doing. The feelings he was generating in her sex made her pulse rise, her breath shorten and her navel flutter. Instantly the bowl swung, the candle gyrated and a shower of hot wax, more than before as it had pooled for longer, stung her naked flesh.

  Her tormentor laughed, withdrew his hand, and went to join a threesome of two women sitting astride a man, one on his cock and the other on his face. The newcomer hauled the woman on the man's mouth over to one side and replaced the tongue that had licked inside her with his rampant and throbbing cock.

  On the rostrum, the master's cock was thrusting into the blonde's mouth at an ever increasing rate. The other blonde had also sunk to her knees and had replaced her finger in his anus with her tongue. Unfortunately for her, that was not all the master could feel.

  'Stop!' he shouted. 'You bitch, you bit me!'