Stephanie's Trial (18 page)

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Authors: Susanna Hughes

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BOOK: Stephanie's Trial
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'Come on big
boy, come and fuck me,' Amanda said.

But Andrew was
looking around the room.

'What do you
want?'

He saw what he
was looking for. In a stand by the chest of drawers was a selection
of three or four riding crops. He picked one up and tested it by
swishing it through the air as he had done upstairs.

'You're not
using that on me,' Amanda said at once.

'That's not
what I had in mind,' Andrew said.

'On her is
fine with me, as long as you hurry up and fuck me. Can't you see
how much I need it?'

Andrew knelt
on the bed, stripping off the robe and wanking his cock in his
hand. As soon as it was completely hard he slid down onto the naked
Amanda.

'Oh yes,' she
moaned, feeling the tip of his shaft between her labia. Her body
shuddered and she felt a great gush of her own juices flowing out
of her sex. 'Give it to me,' she begged.

Andrew moved
his hips up and back and his cock slipped into the opening of her
cunt. He held it there, savouring the moment, feeling his glans
almost sprayed with her copious juices, she was so wet.

'Give it to me
Andy, I'm so hot.' Amanda squirmed her body underneath him.

'Is this what
you want?' he said, bucking his hips forward, sinking his cock deep
into the recesses of her body.

'Oh God...'
she moaned. 'God, God, God...' she screamed with every inward
stroke he made. 'God, God, God...' like air being forced out by a
hammer-blow to the solar plexus.

As she started
to come she looked down at Stephanie, helpless and naked at the
foot of the bed. The image of her excited Amanda more. They had the
power now, power to do anything. She felt her body trembling. Her
sweat made the movement of their bodies slippery, slipping against
each other, just as Andrew's cock was slippery inside her. As he
plunged down into her she felt her nerves and muscles lock and her
orgasm broke, smashing down on the head of his cock, so hard and so
deep inside her.

He did not
stop his rhythm. He had a different agenda. He knew what he wanted.
He had felt it upstairs with Stephanie. As he fucked her he'd
yearned for the feeling. As soon as Amanda had recovered he slipped
the whip into her hand.

'Beat me now,'
he whispered. 'Beat my arse while I'm fucking you.'

'You want
that?'

'I need it,'
he said. In truth he would have liked Stephanie to whip him as she
had in the past. In truth, he realised now, he had wanked himself
over and over again not only on the idea of fucking his beautiful
mistress but he had made himself hard and throbbing and spunking on
the feelings he'd had from being whipped and from the hot red welts
on his arse where the whip had left its mark. He needed that
too.

'I'll do
that.' The voice was calm and cool. Andrew looked over his
shoulder. Venetia had changed into a black leather catsuit, its
V-neck plunging to reveal the cleavage of her big round breasts,
its leggings so tight they seemed to follow the crease of her sex
itself. She took the whip from Amanda's hand and in one seemingly
continuous movement raised it over her head and slashed it down on
Andrew's buttocks before he could raise any objection.

A line of fire
blazed across his white buttocks, making him plunge his cock into
Amanda's sex and filling him instantly with the pulsing energy of a
pain that turned quickly to breathtaking pleasure.

'Oh yes...' he
groaned. He felt the red welt the whip had caused puckering his
arse, burning hot.

Another stroke
fell, and another. He wanted to look back at the amazon who was
beating him so beautifully but couldn't concentrate on anything but
the sensations boiling in his blood. His cock was on fire, driven
forward harder and deeper by each stroke. This was what it was
going to be like now. His every whim catered for in an instant. He
could feel Stephanie's eyes on him, knew she could see the red
welts appear on his buttocks, see his cock plunging into Amanda's
sex and his balls banging against her arse, and that was all part
of it, all part of the explosion that overtook him, his cock
recoiling against the cavern of Amanda's soaking wet cunt to spit
out hot white spunk for the second time that day.

It seemed a
long time before his cock softened and was expelled from Amanda's
sex, as though in slow motion. They both moaned involuntarily as
the contact was lost. Andrew rolled over and looked up at
Venetia.

'Well, maybe
we can trust her.'

'Don't be so
sure,' Amanda said more cynically. 'She's staying in the cells
tonight. I won't sleep with her on the loose.'

'No, it's all
right, she can spend the night with me. I'll handcuff her to the
radiator.'

'As long as
she's secure. Don't take any chances until Devlin turns up
tomorrow.'

That remark
startled Stephanie. How did they know Devlin was due tomorrow? She
hadn't mentioned it and neither had Venetia.

Andy was
untying the leash from the bedpost.

'Time for bed
then, we've got a busy day tomorrow.'

He pulled
Stephanie to her feet and out into the hall. He unlocked the outer
door with the key and they were back in the main cellar. Some of
the orgy had come to an end but other elements, Paul in particular,
were still far from finished. He lay on one of the mattresses with
his legs wide open and three girls taking it in turn to suck his
cock. One had her finger inserted in his anus, the second held his
balls in the palm of her hand, jiggling them up and down, while the
third used her fingernails to pinch his nipples with one hand,
using the other to hold the shaft of his cock and share it out
between their three hungry mouths. Saliva dripped from their chins.
As Stephanie watched, Paul's body tensed, he stretched out to his
full length like someone waking from a deep sleep, and spunk oozed
rather than jetted from his cock. Meticulously the three women
shared it out between them, passing it from mouth to mouth, so they
all had a taste.

The main
cellar door was open as well as the smaller door to the back
staircase, and many of the freed slaves had disappeared, no doubt
to play and sleep in the comfort of the rooms upstairs. Stephanie
could imagine the havoc they would cause. The cellars themselves
were already littered with debris.

Andrew pulled
Stephanie into one of the individual cells. Though the cellars of
the castle were very old they had been rebuilt from stone quarried
on the island to meet Devlin's particular requirements: twelve
cells no more than eight feet by four, constructed under the
vaulted ceiling. Each cell had a heavy wooden door with an
observation port, a single overhead light and an iron ring set into
the flagstone floor, to which a chain was attached by a metal link.
At the end of the chain was a metal cuff.

Andrew had
chosen the cell for Stephanie deliberately. It was the one he had
been forced to use. Normally each cell had a mattress but the one
for this cell had been dragged outside by the revellers.

'Sleep well,'
Andrew said, snapping the metal cuff around Stephanie's ankle just
as it had been secured every night around his.

'Don't leave
me without...' Stephanie said, then stopped herself. She was about
to beg him not to leave her like this, her arms tied into the small
of her back, with nothing to sleep on, but she knew it was useless
to plead with him. She had been hoisted on her own petard and she
had just better get used to the idea.

The cell door
slammed shut and the overhead light went out. Apart from the light
that leaked under the door, the cell was completely black.
Tentatively Stephanie sat on the floor. The chain leash from the
collar hung down between her breasts, swinging against her nipples
as she completed the difficult manoeuvre. She rested her arms
against the wall which, with her wrists strapped up in the harness
as they were, was not at all comfortable. She shifted around so
that she rested her upper arm only against the stone but this was
not much of an improvement in terms of comfort. It was going to be
a long night.

Laughter and
voices came from the corridor outside but finally died away and the
cellars were quiet. The walls were too thick to hear any noise from
the rooms above.

Stephanie
closed her eyes, not because she thought she would sleep but
because there was nothing to see. She suddenly felt a wave of
exhaustion overcome her. There was no escape. It would be a miracle
if Susie had managed to connect Devlin in Moscow. She might have
tried the plane he was chartering but how would she know which
company he was using? Even if the main office knew, there was no
guarantee they could contact the crew, what with the difficulties
of communications in Russia and the fact that they probably didn't
know which city Devlin was in. If she did manage it then of course
there would be a rescue. Devlin would find a way. But if she did
not, when Devlin landed tomorrow, suspecting nothing, it would not
be the usual driver who met him but Andrew and Amanda. He would be
trapped, subjected like her to whatever wild plans Andrew had
devised.

Stephanie's
arms ached and the leather collar cuffed around her neck bit into
the underside of her chin whenever she tried to lower her head a
little. The strain on her elbows and arms forced into an awkward
position by the harness made her want to cry. But that was one
thing Andrew would never get the satisfaction of seeing. She found
if she arched her head right back she could pull the leather strap
between her shoulder-blades down slightly and ease the pressure in
her arms but it was only temporary relief as the position soon made
her neck ache instead.

For some time,
since sleep was impossible, she allowed herself to wallow in
despair. It could be a very long time before Andrew and Amanda and
their friends tired of the delights of the castle. Clearly the
female slaves were suitably grateful for their freedom. The impact
of being released so unexpectedly from the extreme discomfort of
the cellars had been immediate. The male slaves, deprived of their
ability to have sex at all for so long, had reacted predictably and
were still, no doubt, enjoying their new-found freedom in the
bedrooms upstairs. Any promises Andrew had made his friends were
being fulfilled in spades.

And in her
despair Stephanie thought about Venetia. She remembered, with a
chill that ran through her whole body, how badly she had treated
her in London, how she had teased her and abused her. Was that why
she had joined forces with Andrew so easily? Had she meant what she
had said about being used like the other slaves? Stephanie had
treated her like a slave in London, it was perfectly true, but she
had also treated her like an equal. Well, almost. But was almost
enough?

If Devlin
walked into the trap that had been set for him tomorrow, Venetia
was the only hope that something could be done to turn the tables
on Andrew and Amanda. Perversely, though it was the middle of the
night and cold, Stephanie felt a glimmer of hope.

 

 

Chapter
Seven

 

In the cellars
there was no way of telling day from night. Stephanie woke to find
herself lying on her stomach on the stone floor without the
slightest idea how long she had been asleep. She had no feeling in
her arms until she sat up, when agonising pins and needles
indicated the blood starting to flow again. Her optimism of the
small hours had evaporated. She was dirty and cold and every muscle
in her body ached. She was also hungry.

How long it
was before the cell door was flung open and Amanda entered,
Stephanie had no way of knowing. Her watch - the Patek Phillipe
that Devlin had given her - was still on her wrist but her wrist
was twisted up into the small of her back.

Clearly Amanda
had been through Stephanie's wardrobes. She was wearing one of her
wild silk dresses, belted at the waist. She had used Stephanie's
scent liberally too, the rich aroma of Givenchy filling the
cell.

'Get up,' she
ordered.

Stephanie
struggled to her feet. As soon as she was up Amanda grabbed the
chain leash hanging down between her breasts. She had managed to
extract her feet from the high heels during the night and Amanda
saw them lying on the floor.

'Put those on
again,' she ordered.

Stephanie did
as she was told. As soon as she had accomplished the task, so
simple and yet impossibly hard with no hands to use for balance,
Amanda tugged hard on the leash, almost making Stephanie
stumble.

Out in the
corridor the debris from last night lay everywhere: discarded
clothes, bottles and the black leather-covered pouches littering
the mattresses. At the end of the cellar, towards the main door, a
block of toilets and showers had been installed. It was here that
the slaves were made to scrub each other down every morning and
evening after their day in the gardens. As Amanda marched her down
to the showers Stephanie noticed that only one of the other cells
was still bolted; there, she imagined, was where Bruno was being
kept.

It was obvious
that the cellars were completely deserted. When they reached the
white tiled shower cubicles Amanda began unstrapping Stephanie's
wrists. There was a chance here, Stephanie thought, a chance for
escape. If she could overpower Amanda and release Bruno they might
be able to get off the island. The speedboat might have been left
at the jetty. But what if Andrew had taken its keys? Not only that,
but her chances of overpowering Amanda were not good. Her arms were
weakened by their constriction. As Amanda released them one at a
time she could barely move them at all, let alone use them to
struggle against Amanda's considerable strength.

'Try it,'
Amanda said. 'Just try it...' They were getting good at reading her
mind.

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