Stephanie's Trial (20 page)

Andrew looked
at his watch.

'We've got two
hours. So why don't you two girls give me a show? Apparently
Venetia here is a lesbian. She's begged me not to put her with a
man. Begged me. But I'm sure you knew all that, didn't you? You're
quite intimate, I imagine. Difficult not to want a body like that,
isn't it?' His eyes roamed Venetia's voluptuous curves, the
body-stocking making them look obscenely ripe. 'So let's see what
you get up to.'

For a moment
neither woman did anything. Then Venetia turned to Stephanie and
pulled her wrists up by the leash, with the intention of unbuckling
the cuffs.

'You don't
need to take those off. Just get on with it.'

Andrew pulled
a chair up to the foot of the bed and sat down as Venetia gently
put pressure on Stephanie's arms so she would sit on the bed.
Strangely, considering the situation, Stephanie felt a flood of
excitement course through her body. She knew what it was. After a
cold sleepless night she was glad of any human contact, the warmth
of another body against her.

She lay back
on the bed without being told. Venetia lay down beside her and
turned to kiss her mouth. Unavoidably their eyes met but Venetia's
were blank, there was nothing there that Stephanie could see, no
feeling, no secret conspiracy of silence, nothing to be read at
all. What was she thinking?

Stephanie
pressed herself against Venetia's body as far as she could with her
hands cuffed in front of her.

Venetia
realised the problem, broke the kiss, picked up Stephanie's arms
and looped them over her head, then immediately rolled on top of
her and resumed the kiss. Their tongues vied for position, each
wanting to explore the other's mouth. After the coldness of last
night the softness and warmth of Venetia's body made Stephanie melt
with emotion. She writhed her body against the slippery feel of the
nylon, feeling Venetia's big breasts squeezing against her own,
their legs intertwined, Venetia's thigh forcing its way between
Stephanie's legs until she could feel her own wetness leaking out
of her labia.

'I've always
wanted to watch this,' Andrew said leaning forward in the chair,
his elbows on his knees.

Stephanie
closed her eyes. Venetia began to slide down her body. She didn't
want to think about Andrew watching them, or about the castle or
the trial or anything else. With her eyes closed she could just
feel, feel Venetia's expert mouth sucking at the tendons of her
neck, feel her tongue licking down to her breasts while her hands
kneaded and squeezed them, presenting their nipples to be kissed
and sucked and pinched with her teeth. Then Venetia's mouth worked
lower down, out of the loop of Stephanie's bound arms, down to her
belly where her tongue lapped at her thick black pubic hair.

Slowly, with
both arms stretched up over her head so her hands could grip
Stephanie's firm breasts, her tongue dipped onto her clitoris. The
first contact was like an electric shock. Stephanie's body started
at the impact. Then the tongue circled the foothills of the tiny
mountain and the shockwave settled down into a regular pattern of
exquisite sensation.

Occasionally
her tongue would dip lower, down into Stephanie's fleshy, thick
labia, wet with the sap from her body, and plunge up into the
recesses of her cunt, as far up as it could go, circling again,
touching the edges of the opening. But always it would return to
the swollen clitoris, nudging it softly, then taking up a rhythm
again, inevitable, remorseless, perfect.

It went on
forever, or so it seemed. It was an escape, the only escape from
her situation, the only way out. To let her body fly free.

Stephanie felt
herself coming on Venetia's mouth as she had so many times before.
But it was different this time. Instead of a big explosive climax,
moaning, screaming almost, for her release, this was an implosion,
smaller, quieter but no less profound. It was as if her
subconscious was trying to keep it private, between Venetia - who
she knew could feel each wave of come on her lips - and herself. A
secret. Not wanting Andrew to see.

But Andrew had
his own ideas. Stephanie felt the bed give beside her and she
opened her eyes. Andrew was kneeling beside her head. He had
stripped off his clothes and was naked, his smooth circumcised cock
fully erect in his hand as he wanked it up and down.

'Lick them,'
he said, swinging his thigh over Stephanie's face. 'Lick my balls.'
He was facing her feet and positioning himself so that his scrotum
was literally balanced on her mouth. It was loose and his balls
heavy. 'Lick them,' he repeated, his voice hoarse with passion.

Stephanie
opened her mouth and tongued his balls. She could feel his hand
wanking the shaft of his cock up and down from top to bottom.

'Harder...'

Last night had
been full of erotic spectacles. The night had been spent in an orgy
of sensual indulgence, so great he could hardly remember who he had
fucked or sucked or wanked in what order. There was cunt and tit
and arse everywhere but there had not been a greater erotic
spectacle than the one in front of him now. Venetia's fair hair
bobbed between Stephanie's thighs, her fine long back sheathed in
sheer shiny nylon, Stephanie's breasts gripped tightly between her
fingers. They were breasts and thighs he knew so well. He had oiled
them, stroked them, massaged them not only in reality out on the
terrace in the sun or here on this bed, but over and over in his
dreams. He looked down at his cock and saw his balls being sucked
down into her mouth. He wanked himself harder, increasing the pace
of his hand. Both balls were between her lips now and she was
flicking them with her tongue, pulling the skin of his cock tighter
still, stretching his glans as his fingers passed over it, making
it more sensitive, making him come. His cock jerked wildly and
spunk sprayed out in a high arc into the air, landing over
Stephanie's tits and Venetia's hands on them, and even splashing
into Venetia's hair.

The plane
circled the lake. The dark clouds of yesterday had not entirely
cleared and the sun was continually being shaded by big fast-moving
grey cirrus scudding across the sky. The Learjet, an identical
model to Devlin's own plane, banked to the left, straightened up
and descended smoothly, its airbrakes extended, perfectly lined up
on the long concrete runway built especially for the purpose.

Amanda sat in
the back of the Mercedes with Stephanie, the big hunting knife
unsheathed on her lap. They had dressed her in a blue silk blouse,
just enough to make her look normal from the plane. But apart from
the blouse she was naked, her hands cuffed behind her back, her
ankles bound too by a thick rope in case she had thought to run and
warn Devlin. Andrew and Paul sat in the front seats with Andrew at
the wheel. Mick was outside, leaning against the bonnet. Devlin
would assume his regular driver was sick. He wouldn't imagine
anything was wrong with Stephanie sitting in the back.

It was hot in
the car despite the fleeting clouds. Whenever the sun was out it
beat down on the metal relentlessly and Stephanie could feel sweat
running down her back and sides. As the noise of the plane
increased overhead her heart beat faster. In minutes she would know
if Devlin had come prepared or if, as she suspected, he was going
to walk straight into a trap.

The plane
landed in a squeal of tyres and the roar of jet engines thrown into
reverse thrust. Braking at the far end of the runway the plane
turned round and slowly - painfully slowly as far as Stephanie was
concerned - taxied back towards the car. She saw Devlin's face at
the window. He smiled. That meant nothing, she thought. The plane
could be packed with men from his security company...

Amanda moved
the knife from her lap to Stephanie's, the blade gleaming in a
momentary shaft of sunlight. As the plane had approached, Andrew
and Paul had ducked beneath the level of the doors.

'Smile,'
Amanda said, twisting the knife slightly. She did not bother to
duck. Another woman was no threat. She was just one of the slaves.
Perhaps Stephanie had brought her along to amuse Devlin on the boat
trip back to the castle: another of Stephanie's inventive little
games.

The door of
the plane opened and the landing ramp descended. Again its progress
seemed impossibly slow. Stephanie had to force herself to breathe.
She saw that Devlin's face had disappeared from the window but no
one appeared at the open door. It remained empty, a black hole. It
was impossible to see anything or anyone inside. Perhaps that was
Devlin's plan, Stephanie thought, her pulse racing with hope, to
lure them inside one by one and overpower them.

But then
Devlin appeared, smiling broadly and carrying his briefcase. A
tall, neatly uniformed stewardess appeared too, shaking his hand
and, though the words could not be heard over the roar of the
engines, obviously wishing him a 'nice day'. He walked down the
steps as a steward emerged from the back of the plane with two
leather cases.

Stephanie's
heart fell. It had only been the slimmest chance that Susie or the
pilot would manage to contact him, but it had been a chance. Now
there was no hope. Devlin was blithely unaware of what awaited him.
Mick took the two cases from the steward, who walked back to the
plane.

'Smile,'
Amanda repeated, twitching the knife against Stephanie's bare
flesh.

If she cried
out now, told him to run, he might just make it up the steps of the
plane, but it was unlikely. Anyway, with the engines still running
it would probably be impossible for him to hear her.

The steward
was back in the plane and the landing ramp began retracting. Devlin
walked towards the car with Mick behind him carrying the two cases.
The plane door closed with a clunk that could be heard over the
engine noise and the plane immediately began to roll forward,
turning on its nose wheel to head to the take-off point. Now it was
too late for anything. As the plane moved away the noise abated a
little.

'Darling,'
Devlin said as he got to the rear door of the Mercedes. He saw
Stephanie's smile disappear at the same time he saw the nakedness
of her thighs, the knife in her lap and Andrew and Paul bob up in
the front seats.

'Don't do
anything silly,' Mick said, dropping the cases and coming up right
behind him.

The plane had
reached its take-off position. As its engine roared to full
throttle the tableau at the car was frozen. Stephanie glimpsed the
pilot's face in the cockpit as the plane sped by. He wasn't looking
at the car. In a mist of exhaust fumes and heat haze the small jet
lifted into the air, the last chance gone.

'What is
this?' Devlin said as soon as his voice could be heard.

'Shut up,'
Andrew said, getting out of the car. Mick grabbed Devlin's arms and
they marched around to the boot.

Two minutes
later, Devlin's cases abandoned on the grass by the tarmac, the
Mercedes pulled away with Devlin locked in the boot.

'You did
well,' Andrew said, looking at Stephanie in the rear-view mirror as
he drove.

'You bastard,'
she spat.

'Not very
nice,' he mocked. 'I think you're going to have to learn
politeness.'

The rest was
simple. They arrived at the jetty and Devlin was bundled out of the
boot, handcuffed with his hands behind his back and marched onto
the boat. Stephanie's ankles were freed and she too was put aboard,
sitting next to Devlin on the long bench seat in the transom.

They put the
Mercedes in the small lean-to that had been built alongside the
jetty and locked it up. All four were in a festive mood.

'Mission
accomplished,' Andrew said triumphantly as he gunned the engines
inexpertly and headed the boat out across the lake.

'Bring the
defendants into the dock.'

It was dark
now and all the lights had been turned on in the reception rooms
where the 'court' had been created. Mick and Paul sat behind the
table that had been arranged to form the 'bench'. They had found
two wigs, relatively short black wigs, and wore these balanced
precariously on their heads, with black sheets draped around their
shoulders to form robes.

Andrew sat
behind the small table to one side of them and all the former
slaves were arrayed in the various chairs set out in front. There
were bottles of spirits and wine everywhere.

Stephanie had
not seen Devlin since they had got back to the castle, nor been
able to exchange a single word with him. She had been taken down to
the cellars as soon as they'd got back and locked in her cell all
afternoon. Devlin had been taken upstairs by Amanda, and it was
Amanda, wearing a tight gold-sequinned leotard and matching
leggings, who had come to collect her from the cell. Once again she
had allowed her to shower and use the toilet under Amanda's eagle
eye but this time she had been allowed to dry herself.

'Put this on,'
Amanda commanded.

They had
selected something deliberately lewd. It was a black leather
leotard with full-length sleeves but with round cut-outs to expose
the breasts and a similar arrangement for each cheek of her
buttocks, seemingly spreading and separating them obscenely.

As soon as she
had wriggled into the garment Amanda had produced a hood, also in
black hide, which she pulled down over Stephanie's head. It laced
tightly at the back, the soft leather stretching over the contours
of Stephanie's face and taking their shape. There were small oval
openings for her eyes but none for her mouth. As soon as she was
satisfied the hood was in place Amanda used two straps to secure
Stephanie's arms behind her back, one at the elbow, which forced
Stephanie's exposed breasts forward, and one at the wrists.