Stephanie's Trial (24 page)

He had never
come so intensely in his life. He remembered that night as though
it had happened an hour ago, every detail. He had played it through
in his mind like a videotape, over and over again, every detail
burned like a brand on his mind.

Andrew looked
down at his cock. It was reddened and hard, another tear of fluid
running out of the pink slit of his urethra. He opened the bedside
table and extracted the sun oil from the drawer. It was in a large
round jar and looked like cold cream, white and thick. He smeared
both his hands with it.

Amanda had
propped herself up on the bed where she had lain, with Stephanie
beside her. Andrew knelt between the two women, facing Stephanie's
naked back. He started with her shoulders, smoothing the cream over
her scapula, then down into the long concave curve of her back. Her
arse was magnificent. He had always thought so. It rose from the
small of her back precipitously. It was so round and pert, the
canyon that ran between its cheeks so deep. He remembered how he
had fought not to look at it, fought not to feel it, fought not to
notice the thick tufts of hair escaping from between her legs, or
the little gap between the top of her thighs when they were tightly
closed. But inevitably he had not succeeded, it would be a losing
battle, and his erection would strain hopelessly against the metal
pouch, agonisingly painful, unable to swell further, unable to get
the relief Stephanie's body made it want so badly.

But now it was
free. His cock stuck out from his loins as hard as steel, as his
hands massaged the so familiar flesh, the oil making it glisten. As
he worked, his cock would brush her buttocks or thigh and that
would send a pulse through his body like an electric shock as well
as leaving a trail of fluid on her body that dried rapidly to leave
a puckered, transparent spoor.

He worked down
over her buttocks, taking more sun oil from the jar. His fingers
kneaded and gripped the firm, round flesh. He delved down between
her buttocks, his fingers opening them so he could see the
perfectly spherical, corrugated crater of her anus and under it the
first inch of her hairy, thick labia. He massaged oil all around,
allowing his hand to stray over the anus itself, and onto her sex,
something that would have brought instant punishment before.

'Turn over,'
he ordered, his voice almost seized up with passion. As Stephanie
obeyed he looked round at Amanda. She was watching him, propped up
against the pillows, her legs open, one leg up and bent at the
knee. The suspender belt cut across her waist, its long suspenders
taut on the leg stretched flat on the bed and loose and looped out
on the leg she had raised. Her naked flesh over the stockings
seemed, in contrast to the black nylon, creamy and soft. Her hand,
gloved in red suede, rested on the triangle of her belly, with her
middle finger just moving ever so slightly against the nodule of
her engorged clitoris. The wetness there had darkened the suede at
the tip of her finger.

Andrew scooped
another gob of the white cream from the jar and dabbed it on each
of Stephanie's firm, proud breasts. Slowly using both hands, he
started by circling his palms over her nipples, so that was the
only contact. Stephanie could not help but moan. She moaned again
when he changed from this subtle treatment and dropped his hands
onto her full breasts, kneading and fingering them, rubbing the oil
deep into her flesh.

Stephanie's
body was alive. She knew what Andrew was doing and why. Oiling her
naked body had been torture for the slaves. They had all been made
to do it. Occasionally, on a caprice, she would unchain the pouch
and have them fuck her but she had never, never done that with
Andrew. He had been too rebellious. She had had to keep him on a
tight rein. Except the once. Now, she knew, he was fulfilling his
fantasies, doing what he had never been allowed to do before,
except on the day he had arrived.

His hands
moved over her waist, down to her thighs. He lifted each in turn
and massaged the oil with both hands deep into the soft flesh.
Stephanie felt his cock nudging against her side again. She looked
down at it. Another trail of fluid, leaking from his urethra,
slicked over her skin. She looked over to Devlin who was sitting in
one of the armchairs to the side of the bed. He looked depressed
and uncomfortable, but she could see an excitement in his eyes
too.

Andrew
finished one thigh and began to work on the other. Working up from
the knee, she felt his hands brushing her labia. It made her
shudder. Was he going to do to her what she had done to him?
Creating a need and leaving it unfulfilled?

But that was
not what he had in mind, apparently. As he finished her other thigh
he leant across her body now gleaming with oil. He squirmed his
chest against her breasts and his hard cock against her belly. He
was reaching over her to get into the bedside drawer. He wanted the
dildo he had seen there as he'd got the sun oil out. It was big and
black, a perfect replica of a circumcised cock.

With no
subtlety he rocked back on his heels and positioned the head of the
dildo between her legs, then drove it straight up into Stephanie's
cunt, as deep as it would go. She groaned at the sudden intrusion,
then writhed her body until the dildo was bedded in her sex just
where she wanted it.

Amanda got
onto her knees so she could get a better view. This she wanted to
see. Stephanie's body was shaking, already sensitised by the oily
massage. Her mouth was open and she was making little mewing
sounds. Andrew didn't move the dildo up and down, he just held it
tight inside her, deep and hard. He turned the little gnarled knob
at the end and a faint humming filled the air. Immediately
Stephanie's body arched over the sheets, her navel uppermost, her
buttocks clear off the bed.

Amanda worked
her way up behind Andrew until she could press her naked breasts,
her nipples as hard as pebbles, into his shoulder-blades and the
hard curve of her pubic bone against his buttocks, while one gloved
hand snaked round his chest to locate his right nipple and the
other circled his rigid cock.

'Do you want
me to wank you?' she whispered in his ear, reaming it out with her
tongue as soon as she'd spoken.

He did not
reply but she knew the answer. She could feel his cock thrusting in
the fist she had made of her hand. The suede made it impossible to
slide up and down the shaft easily so instead she gripped the cock
tightly and let the underside of her thumb move up and down the rim
of his glans, the rough suede rubbing the sensitive skin. Andrew
moaned.

They could
both see Stephanie come. She opened her mouth and groaned, an
animal noise, as her orgasm broke over the head of the vibrating,
unyielding dildo that seemed to be jammed up against every nerve in
her body, exciting them all at the same time. Her body, like a
longbow being strung, arched off the bed still further until only
her shoulders and heels were on the sheet and every muscle was
locked with pleasure.

Amanda's hand
squeezed Andrew tight, her suede-covered thumb working faster. Then
she felt something against her knee. It was the riding crop.
Stephanie had dropped it by her side as she'd lain down on the bed.
Amanda picked it up. With her hand still gripping Andrew's cock,
she swung herself around to kneel at his side. As Stephanie's body
sunk back onto the bed Amanda slashed the crop down on Andrew's
white buttocks. She felt his reaction immediately. His cock surged
in her hand, jerking so hard it almost escaped her grasp.

'You want it,
don't you?' she said.

'Yes, yes...'
He loved it. He remembered how he had felt that first night in the
castle, red welts burning on his buttocks as he had been released
from the pouch, blindfolded and helpless, as that hot wet cunt had
descended on his cock. He remembered how he had spunked, so hard
and so long he thought it would never stop. He would never forget
that, the crisscrossed welts on his arse powering his orgasm to
heights he had never reached before. Or since. Until now. 'Yes,
yes,' he cried.

Amanda raised
the crop again. One hard, full cut across the buttocks followed
another. His cock jerked again as her thumb rubbed the same place,
so sensitive it made him squirm, the fire in his arse making it
more so, making it impossibly tender. Even through the glove Amanda
could feel how hot his cock was. It was boiling, scalding hot. He
was coming; she felt his spunk forcing its way through her tight
grip. She raised the crop again.

'Yes,' he
screamed.

'This is what
you want...'

The crop
sliced down across the three red welts that had already appeared on
his white flesh. It was the hardest stroke of all, burning into
him, the pain so close to total pleasure that his cock exploded in
her fist, spitting spunk, hot gobs of spunk like a string of
pearls, down over Stephanie's tits and navel and into the thick
black thatch of pubic hair. Amanda squeezed the shaft, milking it
to extract every last drop.

It was not a
routine but it followed a pattern of sorts. Days passed slowly.
Stephanie and Devlin would spend most of their time locked and
chained in the cells. Twice a day they would be fed and allowed to
use the shower and toilet facilities but not, as far as Stephanie
could tell, at the same time each day. They were taken out of the
cells as and when it occurred to someone to do it. To further
confuse her sense of time the light in the cell was sometimes left
on all night and sometimes not. Sometimes it was turned off for
short periods during what Stephanie assumed to be the day and
sometimes it was left on continuously.

With no way of
telling the time, or even mark the passing of a day, time dragged
heavily. Days merged into one another, only differentiated by what
Andrew devised as a means of using his personal slave.

Stephanie had
not seen Devlin since the day after the trial. Presumably Amanda
was using him just as Andrew was her, but they had not been taken
out of the cells together and she had not seen him. As well as her
own, five other cells were bolted when she was taken out; three for
garden overseers, one for Bruno and one for Devlin. All the other
cell doors were wide open.

Stephanie was
taken up to Andrew's bedroom regularly and always at night. There
he commanded her to perform a variety of sex acts, usually with one
of the other former female slaves in attendance. He too, it
appeared, had discovered what Stephanie had experienced on her
first visit to the castle; that power is an aphrodisiac and creates
seemingly limitless sexual appetites and the energy to satisfy
them. Stephanie had been amazed at her own ability to indulge in
sexual encounters and clearly Andrew and, from what she had seen,
Amanda, were affected by the same phenomenon.

It was at the
end of the first week that Mick and Paul had paid serious attention
to her for the first time. Since they had 'liberated' the slaves
they had been busy receiving the gratitude of the seven females who
had been delighted to engage in sex singularly or in plural with
the two men, especially when they had been told that the files on
the various felonies they had committed against Devlin had been
destroyed. They were in a mood to celebrate their freedom.

But though the
women were attractive they were no match for Stephanie or Venetia.
Andrew had made it clear that Venetia was out of bounds and as
Stephanie was his personal slave she appeared to be untouchable
too, as much as they thought about her and what it would be like to
have her. It was only when Andrew had suggested that they might
like to share her considerable talents, that they had been quick to
take advantage of the opportunity.

Paul had come
to her cell alone. He had taken to wearing a pair of Devlin's
shorts, navy blue and very loose, around the castle and very little
else. He was carrying a leather body-harness he had found in the
punishment room.

'Stand up,' he
ordered. Stephanie had been sitting with her back against the wall.
'We're going to have a little party,' he said, kneeling to unlock
her ankle from the metal cuff. The harness was comprised of three
thick, wide leather hoops attached to a single, much thinner strap.
Each hoop was strapped around the body, one above the breasts and
under the arms, one under the breasts and the third across the
navel, with the thin strap that held them together running down the
spine. The hoops were wider as they got lower, with the one around
the navel the widest of them all, covering most of the belly, Paul
strapped them all into place tightly.

Each of the
hoops had a much smaller loop of leather attached to it on either
side. The arms fitted into these, buckled in tightly on the biceps,
elbow and wrist, making it impossible to move the arms away from
the torso.

Stephanie had
seen one of the guests use the harness on a slave but had never
experienced its effects. She had been bound before but never as
tightly as this. But while her whole upper body, with the exception
of her breasts which jutted out of the leather hoops, was
completely constricted and her arms held rigid; below her hips, in
contrast, she was free and exposed and vulnerable. It was an
extraordinary feeling of helplessness. Above her hips even
breathing was difficult, below her buttocks, thighs and sex were
open and unrestrained.

Paul led her
out into the corridor and up the back stairs to what had once been
her bedroom.

'Well, look at
that,' Andrew commented as Stephanie entered the bedroom through
the small doorway hidden in the silk panelling of the wall. 'What
have you been up to, Paul?' He was drinking champagne, sitting on
the large sofa opposite the bed. Mick was sitting next to him.