Stephanie's Castle (14 page)

'And?'
Stephanie asked.

'Devlin told
me I had an alternative to his going straight to the police with
all the evidence. He told me about this place. He told me that I
was a very beautiful and desirable woman and that if I came to the
castle as a...' she hesitated.

'Slave?'

'Yes. Well, if
I did that the evidence would be destroyed and I'd be free.'

'For how
long?'

'Twenty-six
weeks.'

Stephanie
could not help a whistle of surprise. Devlin had said six months
was the maximum. 'You must have cost him a lot of money.'

'I did.' For
the first time a smile crossed Colette's face.

'So you
agreed?'

'Being here is
better than prison, isn't it?'

'You don't
seem to remember that very often.'

'I remember it
when it counts.'

'Well, I've
got a proposition for you.'

'You don't
have to threaten me to get what you want.'

'I'll get
Devlin to let you leave in twenty weeks.'

'In exchange
for what? If you want to fuck me, just say so. I'll do a good job.
I like it.'

'That's not
what I want.' Well, not at the moment, Stephanie thought.

'Pity. You're
very attractive. It would have been a pleasure.'

'I want you to
charm an Italian over dinner tonight. Really charm him. Make him
want you.'

'That's
all?'

'Just get him
off my back.'

'And let him
have his wicked way with me?'

'Let him do
anything he wants with you.'

'But he can
have me in the cellars. Anyway he wants. Whether I like it or not.
You know that.'

'Shall we say
he requires a more subtle approach. He wants to feel he's made a
conquest.'

'So I've got
to pretend to be a free agent?'

'Exactly.'

'Fifteen
weeks.'

'Nineteen.'

'Eighteen.'

'All right.
Eighteen.'

'I'll need
some clothes. And underwear. And make-up.'

'I've got
everything you need.'

Colette
suddenly reached out and touched Stephanie's shoulder.

'How much time
do we have?'

'Enough.'

'Could we go
to bed first? You're so attractive, Stephanie. You turn me on. I
haven't had a woman since I've been here. I think Devlin knows
that's what I'm into. He's very clever about these things.' Her
hand slipped down to Stephanie's breast and squeezed it gently.
'Don't tell me you don't want it. I could see by the way you looked
at me in the bathroom.'

'No...'
Stephanie said with no conviction.

'Yes...'
Colette said strongly. 'Have you got a dildo? I love being fucked
with a dildo. They go so deep. Really fill you up. Then I could
lick you. I'm very good at that. I know just where to lick. Only a
woman knows...'

'Stop it.'

Colette's hand
was still working on Stephanie's breast. 'Why? If I touched you now
you'd be wet, wouldn't you?'

Colette's hand
slipped into Stephanie's lap and started to pull up the material of
her skirt inch by inch. 'I bet you're hot too.'

Stephanie
grasped her wrist.

'If you're not
wet I'll stop.' The hand was poised on Stephanie's knickers now.
Colette's fingers probed down between her legs. 'You see,' she
said. The knickers were hot and damp.

'Don't,'
Stephanie pleaded, but so softly Colette did not hear what she
said.

'You're so
hot, so wet.' Colette was standing over her now, sawing her finger
up and down the little white crotch of the knickers. 'I'm wet
too.'

She pulled the
towel off her body. Her nipples were hard. She put her own hand
down into the thick thatch of pubic hair and found the opening of
her cunt.

'You see? All
for you,' she said, extracting a wet finger from between her legs
and licking it hungrily.

For the whole
time on the island Stephanie had been the dominant one. Even last
night, spreadeagled on the bed by the two men, she had known that
she was in control of the situation. Now, as Colette took her hand
and led her into the bedroom, she felt, for the first time,
submissive. She wanted this beautiful woman to control her, to take
her, to be in charge. She stood by the bed and let Colette unbutton
her dress, making no attempt to help her or hinder her. She was
completely passive, wanting only to surrender herself. She let
Colette pull the dress off her body, unhook her bra and tug her
knickers to the floor. She let her press her back on to the bed and
suck voraciously at her nipples, biting them, hurting them even
while her hand kneaded the firm flesh of the breast. She made no
attempt to open her legs. Colette had to lever them apart as she
moved her head down over Stephanie's flat stomach. When Stephanie's
cunt was exposed Colette dipped her head down between Stephanie's
legs and lapped at her cunt through the curly black hair as though
she wanted to lick up all her juices. Stephanie lay there, making
no attempt to reciprocate. She wanted to be used.

Stephanie's
first orgasm was muted, brought on by the gentle but insistent
rhythm of Colette's tongue on her clitoris. For some reason she
suppressed her moan of pleasure. The sensations felt remote, as if
the ripples of pleasure were being felt by some other body not
related to hers.

She had no
idea where Colette found the dildo. Perhaps all the castle bedrooms
were equipped with such things. She neither knew nor cared. She
knew only that she loved the feeling that it produced as the cold
hard plastic was driven mercilessly into her cunt. The feeling of
remoteness disappeared. Colette's gentleness was gone too. She was
using the dildo like a man's cock, forcing it home to the hilt.
Stephanie's second orgasm was stronger, harder, produced by the
hard dildo ramming into her ceaselessly while Colette's finger
wanked at her clitoris. The second orgasm belonged to her, the
feelings intense and centred. But she did not want a third.

'No more,' she
said, closing her legs and making Colette pull the dildo away.

Colette lay
back on the bed and pushed the dildo, glistening with juices from
Stephanie's cunt, deep into her own body. Using both her hands she
pushed it as far up as it would go, arching her back off the bed,
pointing herself at Stephanie so Stephanie could see every detail
as the dildo plunged in and out. She writhed on the bed, squirming
down on the hard plastic to get it just where she instinctively
wanted it. Freeing one hand she pinched viciously at her own
nipple, then wanked her clitoris. Her orgasm started to overwhelm
her, spreading out from the top of her cunt through her body to her
nipples and clitoris until it rocked every nerve she possessed. But
more than any feelings the dildo produced it was, Colette knew, the
look in Stephanie's eyes as she watched, riveted, Colette's
masturbation that made her climax explode.

They decided
on the red dress. It was strapless, tight and short, clinging to
every inch of Colette's body, showing off her faultless figure and
long legs, the red a perfect complement to Colette's blonde hair.
It had taken them some time to decide on this dress from the
selection they had found in the wardrobes of the bedroom next to
Stephanie's. How many thousands of pounds worth of designer
dresses, most admittedly evening dresses, hung in these wardrobes
Stephanie dared not imagine. She had not been able to resist the
temptation to try one or two for herself.

For a while the two women had been like young children let
loose in a toy shop. Parading in front of mirrors in one
exotic
haute couture
creation after another, matching shoes, and little evening
bags, which they had also discovered in large numbers. But in the
end Stephanie had not changed her mind about what she was going to
wear - the dark blue dress Devlin had provided in London - and the
tight red dress was definitely the most alluring for Colette. It
presented a problem however. The material was too tight and
clinging to wear anything underneath it. Even the briefest G-string
would show. And stockings and suspenders were definitely out.
Colette was quite happy to wear nothing but Stephanie insisted she
would not look her best without something on her legs. Tights
seemed the only answer and not a very satisfactory one. There was
something distinctly work-a-day and unappealing about tights,
Stephanie knew, however shiny and sheer they were.

It was Colette
who discovered the solution. In one of the drawers of the
wardrobes, as packed with designer underwear as the hanging rails
were with dresses, she found packs of crotchless tights. They were
very sheer and fine with a superb, almost shimmering lustre, but
around the area between the legs a carefully seamed oval shape had
been removed, leaving the whole crotch exposed. Colette had quickly
tried them on and Stephanie had to admit they were surprisingly
sexy. Somehow the fact that so much of the leg and backside was
covered in silky sheer nylon made the crotch itself seem more
exposed and available.

With the red
dress on, its skirt covering no more than a few inches of Colette's
long thighs, these tights could not help but offer tantalising
glimpses of what lay naked underneath, as tantalising, Stephanie
hoped sincerely, as the tautly suspended black stockings that her
skirt would undoubtedly and occasionally reveal.

Back in her
own room, leaving Colette to apply the finishing touches to her
make-up, Stephanie fastened the dark blue suspender belt around her
slim waist and sat on the bed to pull the black stockings on.
Pointing her toe she watched the material sheath her flesh, like a
thick liquid painted on from between her hands. She clipped the
suspenders into the welt of the stockings back and front and
adjusted the straps so the stockings were held taut, pulling the
nylon into little triangles on the smooth skin of her thigh. She
stepped into the matching silk teddy, pulling its thin spaghetti
straps over her shoulders and clipping together the three studs
down between legs that held the silk of the crotch in place.

She sat at the
dressing table and went to work on her make-up and hair. Looking at
Colette in the red dress and tights she couldn't imagine that
Gianni would be less than enthralled. Or was she being too
optimistic? She could have quite easily thrown Colette on to a bed
herself and continued where they had just left off. Surely Gianni
would feel the same? She did not apply her make-up as heavily as
she had the night before.

Her experience
with Colette, and with Dolly this morning, she thought, as she
applied her eye-liner with a steady hand, did not alarm her in the
least. She had no feeling that she was beginning to want women more
than men. Before she had met Venetia, Martin had arranged, at her
own explicit request, her first experience with a woman. It had
excited her. It had thrilled her. But it had been part of a ménage
à trois. The experience with Venetia had been different. They had
been alone, one on one. She had realised then that a woman was
capable of giving her as much sexual pleasure as a man. It was a
different pleasure, of course, and in the end not as satisfying,
but an enormous pleasure nevertheless. What Colette had confirmed
this afternoon, especially the desire and excitement she had felt
at seeing Colette's magnificent body in the bathroom, and like the
desire she had felt for Dolly, was that women were not just a
passing phase in her sexuality. They were, and would be, a
permanent feature.

With this and
the discovery of her enjoyment of dominance and power, her weekend
had become a voyage of self-discovery. She had explored new islands
of feeling. They were islands that lay beyond her known world; new
territory unmapped and lying in uncharted waters.

A few minutes
ago, in the next-door bedroom, Colette had paraded in the short red
dress. She had bent down to pick up a discarded shoe and Stephanie
had seen the whole of the long slit of her sex exposed and framed
by the tights, from the little puckered hole in her arse to the
pulpy labia amply covered by the thick pubic hair. It was a sight
that had provoked a rush of visceral pleasure in Stephanie. But
that did not mean she was not equally excited, for instance, by the
sight of Devlin's cock ramming deep into her cunt as she had bent
over the bath, or of the masked man on the plane, his cock
straining for the release she had, eventually, given him.

The truth was,
she knew, as she applied lipstick with a brush, that she wanted it
all. She wanted the fantasies and the realities. She wanted men and
women. She wanted dominance and she wanted submission. She had
stumbled into a world of sex that she had only ever read about
before, and it had thrilled her. She could not believe her body
capable of producing the depth of feelings, the heights of passion
she had already experienced. For whatever reason, at this moment in
her life, she was completely receptive to this new sexual domain
into which she had wandered. She did not fear it, she was not
inhibited by it, she was not in any straitjacket of psychological
repressions or suppressions. There was nothing holding her back.
There was nothing between her and her feelings.

Why then, she
thought, had she resisted Gianni so vehemently? To have a man who
she disliked and despised, who made her flesh creep
(ever-so-slightly creep, she had to admit) take her and fuck her
would be another island of feeling to explore. She would feel used,
abused. Would it be so different from the other experiences she had
already willingly encountered?

For the moment
the answer was definitely yes. Despite all that had happened the
thought of Gianni did not provoke the slightest sexual arousal. He
was quite simply a turn-off. How long that feeling would last she
did not know, but at the moment it was a fact.