Stephanie's Trial (3 page)

Stephanie led
the way down the steps, worn by four centuries of use, the Baron
immediately behind her. She wore a functional black Lycra swimsuit
covered by a chiffon wrap, intending to swim once she had seen the
Baron off.

'Well, I hope
you had a pleasant trip,' she said as they arrived at the boat.
'The plane is waiting.'

'Yes, I heard
it come in.'

'And I'm sorry
you missed Devlin.'

'I hope very
much that you will come and visit my schloss in Bavaria. I would
like to see you there. Both of you, of course.' He looked at her
with those steady, unwavering eyes and Stephanie felt a little
shiver of pleasure. Was he imagining what she had looked like last
night?

'That would be
delightful.'

'I too have
some...' He hesitated trying to think of the right word,
'...surprises.'

'Really?'

'Oh yes. I
think you would be most interested.'

He took her
hand and stooped as he brought it to his lips.

'May I say
something to you, my dear?'

'Of
course.'

'I would like
to tell you that you are a most beautiful woman. Most beautiful.
And with exceptional...' He sought for the right word again,
'...talents.'

'Why thank
you.' She looked up into his eyes and felt a surge of excitement.
'You should know,' she added.

'Oh yes, and I
am most grateful for what you allowed me to see.'

'For myself,
Baron, I was sorry that was all you wanted to do.'

The Baron
smiled, an indulgent smile, like an adult smiling at a child.

'I'm an old
man, my dear, set in my ways. Perhaps if you come to the
schloss...' The words hung in the air, his eyes looking out over
the water. 'If Devlin wouldn't mind.'

'I don't
belong to Devlin,' Stephanie said sharply, wondering whether to add
that it was Devlin who belonged to her.

'In that
case...'

The Baron
kissed her hand again and looked deeply and steadily into her eyes.
Again Stephanie experienced a frisson of excitement. The Baron had
a presence about him, an aura of power and masculinity that
Stephanie found wholly attractive.

Bowing
slightly as he relinquished her hand, the Baron climbed into the
boat and the white linen-jacketed servants helped the boatman cast
off the forward and aft lines. Immediately the boat drifted clear
of the big rubber tyres that hung down from the side of the jetty
and the boatman throttled the inboard engine up to a gentle hum and
steered the boat out into the lake. Then he pulled the twin chrome
throttle levers back, the note of the engine changed to a roar that
echoed against the walls of the castle, and the boat surged across
the water.

The Baron sat
on the bench seat in the transom. He looked at Stephanie one final
time, his eyes roaming her body, the swell of her breasts under the
clinging black Lycra, the flatness at the junction of her thighs,
her long slim legs and pinched ankles, remembering what it had
looked like last night, open, exposed and in the throes of passion.
He did not smile. As the boat turned he did not look back
either.

A long foaming
white wake stretched across the calm water in a huge sweeping curve
until the boat was no more than a dot on the horizon and the water
nearest the jetty had resumed its more usual motion, only the
slightest hint of a wave disturbing its sun-kissed surface.

Stephanie
stripped off the chiffon wrap, handed it to the servant who had
brought her a towel, and dived into the shimmering water. The
temperature was cold but she didn't mind that. After a few minutes
of vigorous swimming she would soon warm up. She struck out towards
the centre of the lake, swimming a hard, regular front crawl,
feeling the muscle power in her arms and legs that frequent
exercise built up. She felt also the impact of the Baron's look as
he had watched her from the boat. Would he do more than look next
time? There was one thing that was certain: Stephanie definitely
hoped he would.

After an hour
in the lake Stephanie pulled herself up on to the jetty again and
took the towel from the servant who had waited patiently for her.
She rubbed her hair dry, then headed up the steps to the castle
where a small shower room had been built off the vast entrance hall
with its sweeping marble staircase. Pulling the tight swimsuit down
she stood under the jets of the powerful shower, letting the hot
water cascade off her body. Quickly she washed her long black hair
then stepped from the shower stall. She glimpsed her naked body in
the full-length mirror that lined the shower room door. It always
surprised her. Apart from the fact it was marginally slimmer, the
muscles in her legs and arms more defined, her waist that little
bit more cinched, her breasts slightly higher on her chest, it was
the same body that had stared back at her for all those years,
innocent of the things it indulged in so regularly now. Stephanie
was surprised it had not changed more, it did not look different,
looked as different as it felt, because it felt and behaved and was
different.

Taking the
clean white towelling robe with which the shower room was always
supplied and wrapping her wet hair in a small white towel
turban-fashion, Stephanie walked through to the terrace outside the
dining room. Though the sun was only just high enough to clear the
rich foliage that surrounded the terracotta-paved terrace, it was
warm enough to dry her hair and Stephanie pulled the towel off and
sat at one of the white wrought-iron tables. She ordered a pot of
coffee and the English newspapers that had been flown in
yesterday.

The white
linen-jacketed servant (the slaves were never used for domestic
duties at the castle other than labouring in the orchards and
extensive gardens) was soon back with a tray of white china and a
silver coffee-pot. The papers were tucked under his arm. He also
carried a cordless telephone.

'
Signor
Devlin,
signorina
,' he said, handing her the phone.

Stephanie
pulled the aerial of the phone out of its socket as the waiter
scurried away. 'Devlin...'

'Darling.'
Devlin's voice sounded as though he were speaking from the bottom
of the Atlantic Ocean.

'I can hardly
hear you.'

'The lines are
all terrible.'

'So how's
Moscow?'

'Cold. But
business is booming. I'll be back on schedule. I just called to see
how you got on with the Baron.' Every other word disappeared into
the ether. It took Stephanie a moment to gather what he was
saying.

'I can hardly
hear you, Devlin.'

'I can hear
you perfectly.'

'The Baron was
fine. He's an interesting man...'

'I thought
you'd think so.'

'He's invited
us to his schloss.'

'Oh...
would... an experience. Did... entertain him?'

'Oh yes. I
think he was suitably impressed. I gave him my personal
attention.'

'Good...
back... week. See you... and... tell me... about it.'

'Devlin, I
thought I'd go to London for a few days to do some shopping.
There's no one expected here, is there?'

'No... good...
Have a... time. Call Venetia.'

'Did you think
I wouldn't?'

'No...'

'Devlin.'
Stephanie snapped his name out this time.

'Yes...'

'Yes
what?'

'Yes,
mistress.' Even over the crackling line she could hear his voice
change tone just as hers had done.

'Can you hear
me?'

'Yes...
tress.'

'When I get
you back here, Devlin, do you know what I'm going to do with you?'
She wanted to give him something to think about, something to lie
in bed at night and remember. 'I'm going to have you strapped down
to my bed, Devlin, strapped down so tight you can't move a muscle,
not an inch. Are you listening?'

'Yes...
mistress.'

'Then I'm
going to make you watch.'

'Watch
mistress...'

'Watch. Watch
me as I take off all my clothes. A tight, clinging silk dress. My
strapless bra. My little black panties, the tiny ones that barely
cover my sex. You know the ones I mean, don't you?'

'Yes,
mistress.'

'I'll pull
them down over my thighs, very slowly.' Stephanie's hand slipped
inside the white towelling robe, she pinched her nipple then
dropped her hand into her lap. 'But I'll leave my stockings on, and
my suspender belt. And my high heels. I'm going to put one foot up
on the bed and smooth the wrinkles out of the nylon. You know how I
like my stockings to be tight against my legs, don't you?'

'Yes.'

'One leg then
the other, so you'll see my pussy, won't you? If I allow you to
look, that is.'

'Please let
me...'

'Then I'm
going to kneel on the bed over your cock.'

'Yes...'
Devlin's voice was reedy and strained. She knew he would be wanking
himself by now.

'But as much
as you want to, I'm not going to let you fuck me. I'm going to make
you watch me wank, I'll make you watch me bring myself off and you
won't be able to do anything about it. You won't be able to get
your cock into me because you'll be so helpless, tied up and
helpless. And I'll come. I'll come on my own hand and my cunt will
be all soaking wet...' It occurred to Stephanie that in Moscow the
telephone exchange had old-fashioned operators and open lines. That
was why the line crackled so much. They were all listening, all the
foreign operators with smatterings of English. 'I'm going to turn
round, then, with my bum towards your face, inch my way up your
body...' Stephanie's hand slipped between her legs and up into her
cunt. It was already wet, '...until I'm sitting on your face. Then
you can lick me out, can't you?'

'Yes
mistress...' Devlin groaned.

'And if you
don't please me I'll have to have you whipped. Won't I?'

'Oh
mistress...'

'Whip you
until you beg me to stop.'

'Please,
please...' Devlin's voice was only a whisper.

'Are you
wanking now?'

'Yes,
mistress. I can't help it...'

'Then come. I
give you permission. Come for me, Devlin. I order you to.'
Stephanie penetrated herself deeper, two fingers inside now and the
thumb of her hand grinding against her clitoris. Suddenly she heard
a loud groan, like a cry of pain. 'Have you come?'

'Yes,
mistress.'

Stephanie
smiled to herself. Even two thousand miles away Devlin was her
slave, putty in her hands.

'Remember,
Devlin. I always keep my promises. As soon as you get back here
that's what I'm going to do.'

'Yes please, I
can hardly wait.'

'Call me in
London.'

'I will.'

Stephanie put
the phone down and withdrew her hand from her sex with only the
slightest hesitation. She was still smiling broadly. She would
enjoy acting out that little scenario when Devlin came back next
week just as much as Devlin would enjoy thinking about it over his
next few days in Moscow. With Devlin's international commitments
taking him all over the world Stephanie had got used to turning him
on over the telephone. She knew him so well now, all his fantasies,
all his proclivities, his whole sexuality, that it was not
difficult to fuel his sexual fires until they burned out of
control. Not that it didn't fuel hers as well. What she had
conjured up on the phone excited her as much as it did him. The
pleasure she would get from turning fantasy into reality would be
as great for her as it would be for him.

She had no way
of knowing that the circumstances of his return would be far from
what she expected.

The Learjet
banked in a long wide turn out to the east of London. Stephanie
stared out of the window at the vast expanse of blue skies and pure
white cloud for the last time as the plane began to descend and the
windows were soon enveloped in thick, featureless grey. She could
not suppress a shiver. After months of Italian sun on the island
the prospect of the damp and cold of an autumnal London made her
feel suddenly thoroughly chilled.

But despite
the temperature difference she was looking forward to four or five
days in the city. There would be lots to do, shops and restaurants
and exploring the mysteries of Devlin's London house. The latter in
particular was an interesting prospect, considering what she had
found there on her last visit.

She had never
quite got accustomed to travelling on the private Learjet. Its
interior was roomy with four big leather armchairs, a large leather
sofa and a bar at one end. There was a fully equipped shower room
and a galley big enough to prepare most meals. It was definitely
the way to travel.

With the
English climate in mind she had used the shower room to change from
the light linen suit she was wearing to a black wool skirt and a
creamy cashmere sweater.

'We're coming
into land, madam.' Susie, the Malaysian flight attendant on
Devlin's private jet, had appeared from the forward cabin. As usual
she was wearing a rough silk Kheong-Sam, high to the neck but split
to the thigh, this one in a jade green that matched her eyes. Her
jet-black hair was parted down the middle of her head and cut
short, a style that perfectly suited her rather oval face. 'Do you
wish for anything else?'

Stephanie had
made it a little tradition to have a vodka martini whenever she
travelled on the Lear. Susie made them very dry and very cold but
one was quite enough today. 'No thanks, Susie.'

'Very
well.'

Susie left the
main cabin without a smile. Since Stephanie had been introduced to
Devlin's ménage her relations with Susie had been frosty. On her
first trip on the jet Stephanie had refused to accept Susie's
prohibition against interfering with a human cargo the plane was
carrying and ever since Stephanie had felt that Susie regarded her
with disdain.