Stephanie's Trial (28 page)

She said
nothing but slapped the whip against the palm of her other hand.
Andrew looked sheepish. She knew. She knew what he wanted, what she
had made him want. He wanted it as badly as he had wanted it that
night when she had sneaked into his cell.

He lay on the
bed and turned over onto his stomach. There was a silent complicity
between them. Master was allowing himself to be the slave.

Stephanie
strode over to the bed, the tops of her stockings rasping against
each other.

'Bruno had
beaten you, hadn't he?' she said, wanting him to remember that
night, to keep it uppermost in his mind.

'Yes,' he
breathed excitedly.

The crop
lashed down on his buttocks. He moaned, his hard cock trapped
between his navel and the sheets. Stephanie raised the whip higher,
brought it down harder, a red welt appearing immediately.

'How many
times? How many strokes did he give you?'

'Six.'

'Six...'

The whip fell
again. Each stroke enflamed a new strip of flesh, created a new red
welt. Andrew thought for a moment he was going to come over the
sheet. The pain from the whip burned into his nerves, and turned to
instant intoxicating pleasure, a pleasure so sharp and intense it
was, in turn, almost like pain.

At the sixth
stroke Stephanie threw the whip down. She went over to the chest of
drawers and pulled out the leather hood. She had found it when she
was looking for the lingerie. She had found the leather strap she
needed too.

Andrew turned around, his arse on fire just as it had been
that night, just as it had been time and time again at the castle,
the fire filling his body with sensations he had never had before
but had wanted, had craved for, ever since. It made his cock burn,
it made his blood race, and it would, he knew, make his spunk jet
from his body in a climax of exquisite pleasure. He had been
whipped twice since he'd been master of the castle and each time he
experienced the incredible feeling again. But that was nothing like
this. This was Stephanie. This was his mistress. This was his wet
dream of pleasure. He wriggled his arse against the sheet,
delighting in the
mélange
of pain and pleasure this created.

He watched as
Stephanie walked back towards the bed, her body divided into areas
of creamy bare flesh and silky black lace. She held the leather
hood in one hand, its laces dangling down. The leather strap was
hidden behind her back.

'Yes,' he said
enthusiastically. That was what he wanted now. To be laced tightly
into the hood, enveloped in darkness, gagged and blinded, able only
to feel, only to moan, only to be nothing but a throbbing, spunking
cock. He was throwing caution to the wind, he knew, but what did it
matter? There was nowhere for Stephanie to escape to, nowhere to
go. They would soon capture her if she tried it and she knew better
than anyone the price she would have to pay for the attempt.

'Take your
last look...' she said, standing over him. And he did, drinking in
the deep cleavage hugged by the bra, the curve of her pubic bone in
the black lace, the long, contoured thighs banded by the lacy
stocking tops, the calves shaped by the high heels.

Stephanie
pulled the hood over his head and darkness descended, accompanied
by the strong aroma of leather. Expertly Stephanie stuffed the
large rubber ball attached to the inside of the leather into
Andrew's mouth, then pulled the hood down to his neck, then laced
it on tightly, pulling the soft leather into the features of his
face, holding the ball-gag firmly in his mouth, cutting out all
light.

Satisfied he
was unable to see, she dropped the leather strap on the bed by his
ankles. She hooked her hand around his cock and he moaned, though
the sound was no more than a muffled murmur. His cock was so hot it
felt like it was on fire. She wanked it slowly.

'Do you
remember how I got astride you that night?'

He nodded
vigorously. In his entire life he didn't think he had ever been so
turned on as he was now. But he had once. That night when Jacqui
Clarke had strung him up and teased him, teased him until he was on
the brink of coming, then pulled away. She did it over and over
again. He begged her, pleaded with her, but to no avail. His cock
was so swollen he thought it would burst. Just as it felt now.

'Fuck me,' he
tried to say but the words could not get past the gag.

Without losing
contact with his cock, Stephanie reached out with her foot and
caught the handcuffs that lay on the carpet where Andrew had
discarded them. She reeled them in until she could pick them up
with her other hand, all without breaking the rhythm she had
started on his throbbing phallus.

'Don't you
want me to rub your arse with my nice cool hands?'

He replied by
rolling back onto his stomach. He wanted that very much. She had
done that too on that incredible first night at the castle. He
could remember exactly how her cool hands had felt after she'd
freed him from the metal pouch, soothing the welts that were
burning across his arse.

Stephanie laid
her hands on his buttocks, crisscrossed with red welts. They were
radiating heat. She smoothed her palm over them and heard another
muffled moan of pleasure and pain. She pulled his left hand up into
the small of his back. He did not resist. This was it. This was the
moment. She reached for his right hand. Again he did not resist as
she pulled it backwards until both hands were behind him. He did
nothing but wallow in the sensations prickling from his tortured
buttocks.

This was it.
Stephanie readied herself, her whole body tense. In one smooth
movement she dropped the open loops of the handcuffs onto his
wrists and clicked them shut. Instantly, before he realised what
had happened, she picked up the thick leather strap on the bed by
his feet and sat astride his legs with her full weight, winding the
leather around both ankles tightly and buckling it, just as he
began to realise what was happening and tried to buck her off.

It was
useless. He was hers. Helpless, captive. She ran over to the chest
of drawers that contained the bondage equipment and pulled out a
tangle of leather straps. In minutes she had wound them around his
body, round his knees and elbows and around his chest. He was hers.
Bound, gagged and blindfolded. A neat package.

Stephanie's
heart was beating ten to the dozen. She tried to calm herself down.
She had done it. She had done it. Now it was up to Venetia.

For the moment
Andrew had stopped struggling. He lay quiet, trying to hear what
she was doing. But the leather hood made it difficult to hear
anything above the throbbing of his own pulse.

Stephanie went
to the bedroom fridge and looked inside, needing a drink to stop
her heart beating with such ferocity. There was no champagne left
but there was a bottle of brandy on the tray with the glasses. She
poured herself a stiff tot and drank it down in one.

She thought
she had heard the speedboat return some minutes before but couldn't
be sure with the terrace door closed. The boat must have returned
in any event because it was too dark to navigate the lake by now.
She sat and waited nervously while Andrew began to struggle against
his bindings again, disconcerted by the silence. For all his
efforts he only managed to rock his body slightly from side to
side.

It was
probably only ten minutes later that Stephanie heard footsteps but
it seemed like hours. They came up the corridor to the bedroom.
Some instinct, some unconscious recognition, told her it was not
Venetia. This time she listened to her instincts. Jumping onto the
bed she rolled Andrew on to his back and buried his cock in her
mouth, swinging her body over his so her buttocks were over his
hooded face.

The bedroom
door opened and Amanda strode in. It was the last person Stephanie
expected to see. What on earth had happened? Had she turned the
tables on Venetia, discovered her plot, had her taken down to the
cellars?

With no
urgency, Amanda walked over to the bed. She was wearing a yellow
silk dress - one Stephanie did not recognise - belted at the waist
but with a very full pleated skirt and matching yellow leather
gloves.

'You're having
a good time, then?' she said. 'Don't mind if I watch.' She sat in
an armchair opposite the foot of the bed.

Stephanie
tried to concentrate on what she was doing while her mind struggled
with the new situation. What on earth was she going to do now?
Despite his position, or perhaps because of it, Andrew's cock
hardened again in her mouth. She lowered her buttocks onto his
face, the silky lace rubbing against the leather hood. While she
sucked and tongued his cock she tried to think. Where was Venetia?
What had gone wrong? Clearly Amanda wouldn't have been so relaxed
if she'd discovered Venetia's treachery.

Andrew was
coming. If he came Stephanie would have to pull away and she
couldn't justify keeping him tied up. She tried to put less
pressure on his cock, but at the same time appear to be doing a
good job. She felt the shaft tense, and squeezed his balls in her
hand in an effort to delay him. Unfortunately this had the opposite
effect. His cock spasmed and spat spunk out into her mouth. Equally
unfortunately there was too much spunk for her to contain. She
tried desperately to swallow it all but there was just too much and
it dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and down into his pubic
hair.

'Well, look at
that,' Amanda said, getting up and coming over to the bed. She
pulled on Stephanie's shoulder to make her sit up, then stooped to
kiss her full on the mouth, savouring the taste of spunk. 'Tastes
good,' she said finally.

Reluctantly
Stephanie climbed off Andrew's trussed-up body. Amanda reached for
the laces that held the hood in place.

That was it,
Stephanie thought, the whole plan wrecked. She was so desperate, so
depressed at having her freedom snatched from her when it was so
nearly in her grasp she acted without thinking. Amanda was picking
away at the tight bow which held the lacing in place. She had
managed to loosen it a little. The top sheet of the bed had fallen
on the floor with all the activity and Stephanie picked it up.
Behind Amanda's back she held it with both her arms extended and
looped it over Amanda's head, bringing it down to her waist so she
was enclosed in a tent of material. Her arms had been drawn into
the sheet too and Stephanie held it tightly around her middle.

Amanda started
to struggle. Stephanie felt the strength in her arms pulling the
sheet out of her grip. She felt Amanda's powerful legs kick out and
a searing pain erupted from her calf. She would never be able to
hold on, let alone wrestle Amanda to the floor and overpower
her.

Suddenly
Stephanie felt rather than saw another presence. Arms linked around
the sheet, holding it down against Amanda's efforts to pull it up.
It was Venetia.

'Get a strap,'
she shouted.

Stephanie let
go of the struggling package while Venetia clung on. The tangle of
straps she had not used on Andrew were still on the floor by the
bed. The first one she pulled free was big enough. She looped it
between Venetia and Amanda and cinched it as tight as she could,
binding Amanda's arms inside the sheet. As soon as they released
her she fell to the floor.

It took them
nearly twenty minutes to get Amanda secured. Just as she had done
to Andrew, they swathed her body in straps then cut the sheet away
with scissors from Stephanie's dressing table.

'You bitch...'
she screamed at Venetia when the sheet was pulled from her eyes. 'I
told Andrew not to trust you... you wait, I'll...' But the rest was
lost as they forced a ball-gag into her mouth.

'We've got to
be quick,' Venetia said.

'What
happened?'

'Paul insisted
on coming on the boat with me. Quick...' Venetia began to lift
Amanda's feet, '...take her shoulders.'

Together they
manoeuvred Amanda onto the bed. 'Put her on top of him so it looks
like they're doing it. It won't look so suspicious if someone looks
in.'

'Good
idea.'

They rolled
Amanda on top of Andrew. With two more straps around both their
bodies they were held firmly in place. Even if they rolled over it
would look as if they were still engaged in some form of sexual
bondage. In the castle, that shouldn't seem unusual.

'Come on,'
Venetia urged.

'What are we
going to do?' Stephanie calmly undid the Patek Phillipe watch from
Amanda's wrist and clipped it back onto her own.

'The boat's
still at the jetty. We've got to get to it before Paul decides to
put it away. I don't know where they keep the keys.'

They decided
it would look better if Stephanie remained as she was. A dress
would look suspicious after she had been kept naked for so long. If
they were stopped, Venetia would say she was taking Stephanie down
to the cellars. To complete the picture they found a collar and
leash amongst all the equipment stored in Stephanie's bedroom.
Quickly buckling it around Stephanie's neck, Venetia took the leash
in her hand and led the way out of the bedroom.

As they walked
through into the corridor and down to the stairs Stephanie, who had
only seen her own bedroom since the trial, always having been
brought up the back stairs, saw the house had been wrecked. The
slaves had used every guest room.

Though Andrew
had kept Stephanie's room tidy none of the others appeared to have
bothered. Open doors revealed unmade beds, uneaten food and
half-empty bottles everywhere. Clothes and lingerie littered the
floors. Paintings had been torn and ornaments smashed.

They got to
the marble staircase and began to walk down it. As they did, Mick
appeared from the main reception rooms with one of the females, a
rather dumpy redhead dressed curiously in a black one-piece
swimsuit.