Stephanie's Domain

by Susanna Hughes

  Terry sat on one of the punishment frames in the corner. Stephanie sat down too, quite content to let Jacqui be the ringmaster of this particular circus.

  Jacqui walked over to the wall of whips aware that Andrew's eyes were following her. With no knickers her ripe arse was unobstructed. He watched the way it swayed as she moved. She unhooked several of the instruments, weighing them in her hand, swishing them through the air, before she made her selection. She chose an old-fashioned cane like the sort that had been used in schools.

  'We like to have them ask to be punished,' Stephanie said. 'So they have a choice.'

  'So ask...' Jacqui picked up the name tag around Andrew's neck, 'so ask Andrew.'

  He said nothing, his cockiness disappearing rapidly as he watched the cane being flexed in Jacqui's hands.

  'Ask,' Jacqui snapped.

  'Or do you want to be sent home?' Stephanie prompted.

  'Please pun...'

  The first stroke landed on his naked arse, immediately followed by a second and a third. Three red welts appeared across Andrew's white buttocks. He wanted to swear at her, curse her, tell her what a bitch she was but, for once in his life, he dared not.

  'Can I take this off?' Jacqui said, tapping the hard metal pouch that covered Andrew's genitals with the tip of the cane. A set of keys were kept in every room of the suite, each key tagged with the name corresponding to the circle of metal around the slave's neck. Stephanie found the right key and handed it to Jacqui who snapped open the little padlock in the small of his back. The pouch fell away. Almost instantly his cock, freed of its long constriction, sprang up.

  Jacqui took it in her hand, examining it as though it were a curious medical specimen. Her other hand stroked the three red welts she had created on his arse, feeling their heat and the way they seemed to throb.

  Stephanie watched her intently. She could see the light and shades of excitement crossing her face like clouds scudding over a bright sun.

  Jacqui let his cock go. She turned her back on him so she could rub her naked arse against the hard erection. By contrast to the tight black basque above it, her buttocks seemed incredibly white and plump. She pushed it back, wriggling it from side to side. Forgetting there was nothing behind him for support, she pushed back again so he was swept off his feet, hanging by his hands, virtually lying on her back, his cock buried in the deep cleft of her arse.

  He moaned with a mixture of pleasure and pain. Pain from his wrists, pleasure from his cock.

  Jacqui moved forward again allowing Andrew's feet to touch the floor. She circled his cock with her hand and started wanking it slowly.

  'Are you going to come for me, Andrew?' Jacqui said.

  'Oh yes.'

  'Good. That's good.'

  Jacqui's hand moved progressively faster. 'Is that nice, Andrew?' she teased.

  'Oh yes.' He felt his spunk coursing into his prick.

  'But Stephanie says you're not to be allowed anything nice.'

  Jacqui let go of his cock.

  'No,' Andrew said in horror, realising what she intended. He bucked his hips, trying to fuck the air.

  'Yes, Andrew. When I was at school I was the number one prickteaser. I had such a reputation. All the boys used to want to get me to wank them. I seemed to have this sixth sense. I could always tell when they were going to come. Then I stopped. I didn't want all that mess over my hands. After the first two or three they stopped pestering me.'

  'I bet,' Stephanie said.

  'It was unerring. Just a knack I suppose you'd say.'

  Jacqui went over and sat on her husband's knee. Terry had watched his wife without saying a word. His cock was hard, as much from her excitement as his own. This was like nothing he had experienced before. There were no rules, no standard behaviour, no guides to what he should or should not be feeling. Just the experience. Jacqui kissed him hard on the mouth, grinding her lips against his, forcing her tongue deep. Her mouth felt hot. He could feel the heat between her legs too.

  'I want you to fuck me so badly,' she whispered so only he could hear. 'I want to make him watch. Is that a good idea, darling? Does that turn you on too?'

  He had no need to reply.

  She got up, winked at Stephanie and went back to the helpless Andrew still bucking his hips rhythmically as though fucking some phantom woman.

  'This time, Andrew. This time you can do it.'

  'Please...'

  'Please what?' Stephanie said.

  'Please, mistress, madam, please.' Andrew had never wanted to come so much in his life, his whole body, his whole existence seemed to be centred on the huge sword of flesh that stood out at right angles to his body. He could see it, red and swollen. But he could not touch it.

  'Pretty please.' Jacqui stood in front of him.

  'Please, madam.'

  'You see you can be good.' Jacqui grasped his cock again. He moaned ecstatically.

  'I'll do anything, anything! Just let me come. Please,' he said desperately.

  'Of course you will. So come for me then.'

  Jacqui wanked him again, a slow even pace. He moaned.

  It was heaven. 'Yes, yes...' he said, his spunk on the point of exploding.

  'That's enough, just now,' Jacqui said, walking away.

  'No!' Andrew shrieked entirely forgetting his subservience. He pulled at his bound hands trying to break away. He was about to call her every name under the sun, to swear and curse her. Something stopped him. He stopped struggling and was silent.

  Jacqui sat on her husband's knee. She kissed his ear, put her tongue inside it exploring the orifice as though it were some strange organ of sex. She blew hot breath into it. She pushed her thigh against the hardness of his cock under the towel.

  Then she went back to Andrew. She felt her excitement surging through her. In a way she was teasing both men. It had all come back to her; she remembered how she loved to tease, how wet it had made her, how she'd had to go to her bedroom and play with herself just thinking about it.

  'This time, Andrew, will I let you come this time?'

  'Please, madam,' he said but he was not really pleading now. He knew she wouldn't let him, that this was his punishment.

  Jacqui's passion flared. Instead of grasping his cock again, she picked up the cane and stroked his arse twice in rapid succession. She saw his cock surge with excitement, harder and redder as the blood rushed to the new welts.

  But he said nothing. His mind was full of things he wanted to say but he remained silent. Jacqui threw down the cane and grasped his cock. It was as hot as a poker left in the fire. Red hot.

  'Not so cocky now,' Stephanie observed.

  'No madam,' was all he dared to say.

  Jacqui wanked him hard, viciously almost. He tried to ignore it, tried to think of something else, but it was impossible. Every nerve in his body begged for release, every nerve on edge, strung out. He wanted to plead with her. He said nothing.

  She left it to the last possible moment, till she knew one more stroke would bring him off, then pulled away, as he knew she would. He moaned but did not speak. He had learned the lesson of the castle. Why had he been so stupid, he asked himself? It wasn't worth this.

  Jacqui dipped her hand between her legs. Her cunt was liquid. Now it was her turn. She had created her need with all the teasing. She could feel her juices seeping down her thighs.

  She stood in front of her husband and pulled the towel away from his loins. Straddling his lap she had no need to guide his cock into her sex. It slid in as though part of a machine, right up to the hilt, until she could feel it at the neck of her womb while her clitoris was crushed by his pubic bone. There was no time for thought now, only action, man and woman joined in a mutual and desperate need. Jacqui rode up and down on the shaft of flesh, no subtle progression, starting slow and gradually; just hard, fast, frantic strokes. She had never come so quickly in her life. In seconds that hot cock inside her was bringing her off, taking her over the edge. Inside her she felt as thou
gh her waters had broken, a flood of her juices cascading over his prick and down her cunt to match the flood of sensation that hit every nerve in her body.

  Its intensity made her scream. It was so wet. So hot. And then she felt the cock spunking too. Hot spunk jetting into her. She swore she could feel it, feel each pulse of his cock as it spate the spunk into her. She could see it in her mind's eye, the spunk hitting the walls of her cunt. She would never have believed she could go any higher but the spunk set her off again, an orgasm more shattering than the first, an orgasm that felt like it touched every nerve, nerves already raw with feeling.

  'Darling,' she managed to whisper as the waves of sensation ebbed away.

  'Oh Jacqui,' was all that Terry could say.

  Stephanie saw her guests out of the cells. They were both elated and exhausted by their experience and asked not to be woken until late. Stephanie was tired too but there were still things to be done.

  Back in the bondage room Andrew still hung from the pulley.

  'Well, Andrew, I hope you have learnt your lesson?' Stephanie said.

  'Yes mistress,' he replied. There wasn't the slightest tone of sarcasm in his voice. He did not look at her.

  Stephanie unwound the rope from the metal cleat on the wall and lowered the cuffs that held his hands above his head. She unbuckled the cuffs and he rubbed his shoulders and wrists energetically.

  'Put the pouch back on,' she ordered.

  If his rebelliousness was going to flare again it would be now. But without a word he picked up the pouch from the floor and drew the chains back into place around his thighs and waist. His erection had diminished sufficiently for this not to be too difficult as the metal shell slotted over his cock. Stephanie tightened the chains and snapped the tiny padlock into place.

  She led Andrew out into the corridor. All the other slaves had been returned to their cells. Bruno waited patiently outside the suite door. Stephanie watched as he took Andrew to a cell.

  'Goodnight, Andrew,' she said for no particular reason.

  'Goodnight, mistress,' he said still not looking at her, his voice quiet and subdued.

  Stephanie opened the door to the private staircase to her room and began to walk up the stairs. She realised that nothing had been done about Amanda and her insolence in the gardens. But it was too late now. It would have to wait until tomorrow. Another thought occurred to her. She stopped and smiled to herself. A secret smile.

  The door of the cell swung open. Andrew lay on his bed, his ankle attached, like all the slaves, to a ring in the floor by a long chain. The cell was dark, the only light from the corridor outside.

  This was some new torture, he thought.

  Bruno grunted, indicating with sign language for Andrew to sit up. Andrew obeyed. Bruno held a leather hood in his hand. He quickly pulled it over Andrew's head. There was a long opening for the mouth but none for the eyes. It was laced on tight, the leather pressing into Andrew's cheeks. He could see nothing now. He heard Bruno walk out and the cell door close. In the blackness behind the leather he thought there was a slight lightening as though the cell light had been turned on.

  He heard the cell door swing open again and then close. There were footsteps but whoever had come into the room was not wearing shoes. He thought he could smell perfume but it was difficult to distinguish it from the aroma of the leather hood.

  A smooth hand touched his arm. It wanted him to turn over, lie on his stomach. He obeyed. He heard a key inserted into the tiny padlock at the top of his arse and felt the pouch being pulled roughly away. The hand caressed the welts on his buttocks. It felt deliciously cool. His cock surged to erection on the mattress. It was another torture, another teasing torture.

  The hand wanted him to turn on to his back. He shuffled round. His erection was so hard it was painful, his balls ached too. His mind filled with images of what he had seen, of the two women, of what had been done to him.

  Suddenly he felt his body being straddled. He felt the rasp of nylon against his skin. In the same second he felt himself impaled in a cunt, a wet, hot cunt. He heard a gasp of pleasure. He felt himself being used, the woman riding him, fucking him, taking him. He could feel her thighs at his side, feel the soft flesh above the tops of the nylon. Most of all he could feel the incredible heat as the woman's body shuddered to a climax, moaning with pleasure as she pushed herself down on his cock until it would go no deeper.

  He lost control, he spunked with her, at long last allowed to vent his lust, into the silky wet body he could not see. He could not see her smile either. A secret smile.

  Chapter Six

  It was going to be a hot day. At this time of year the temperature varied more than when Stephanie had first come to the castle, as the sun was lower in the sky, but today the weather was coming from the south, from the continental heat of Africa, and it was going to be hot.

  Stephanie had woken late, showered and rang down to the kitchen to say that she would taken her breakfast on the main terrace with guests. According to the staff, none of them had surfaced yet.

  Pulling on a towelling robe she walked out on to the terrace of her bedroom and stood by the stone parapet to gaze over the calm waters of the lake. The sun reflected off the surface making the water look as though it were a sheet of polished gold. Yesterday, she thought, had proved a success. She could not imagine the Clarkes would turn down the opportunity of being associated with Devlin after what they had experienced. From what Jacqui had said it looked as though their sex life had needed the spur of adventure that the castle had provided.

  As she watched a flight of grebes winging their way across the water towards the mainland, flying into the sun, like the final touch to complete a perfect landscape painting, Stephanie remembered what her life had been like before she had known all the beauty stretched out before her. It seemed a long time ago. Another life. In the last year her life had changed completely. Of course the change in her circumstances had been dramatic but the most fundamental change was in her attitudes and most particular in her attitude to sex.

  She remembered George, good old dependable George.

  She hadn't thought of him for months despite the fact that they had gone out together for nearly two years. Another life. She saw herself lying underneath him, watching his buttocks rise and fall as he sawed into her as he conscientiously tried to make her come. He had rarely succeeded. If she was in a good mood she'd fake an elaborate orgasm for him; if she was not she'd do nothing, letting him use her as a receptacle for his spunk. Sex had been so unexciting, so dull.

  That was before Martin. That was before she'd bought the first book, the first of her library of books: books that described a different world of sex, a world of imagination, a world where sex was not ordinary, limited, routine. The books had opened her eyes and then she had met Martin. If she wanted to believe in fate meeting Martin was a prime manifestation. Fate had provided her with a man who knew how to tap into her sexual psyche, to release an energy, a huge well of suppressed sensuality, a whole section of her mind that, until she met him, had been as dormant as an extinct volcano. But once he'd released it, once the heat in its depth had found a route to the surface, there had been no turning back: the hot lava flowed, melting and burning everything in its path.

  What if she hadn't met him? What would she have done? Would she have lost interest again; stopped reading the books and buying new ones? Or would she have gone out to find someone? Perhaps unconsciously she had gone out and found Martin, sensed what he was capable of? In which case it was not fate at all.

  In her mind's eye she could see every detail of the hotel room where he had tied her to the chair in her white silk underwear. She could feel the coarse rough tweedy material of the seat of the chair on her bottom, feel the leather straps binding her arms to the arms of the chair, her ankles to its legs. She could feel the woman's mouth on hers, the woman Martin had brought to the room, feel her hands kneading her breasts, her fingers exploring her clitoris. The first time
she had been kissed by a woman, touched by a woman. And she remembered being freed, the straps falling away, to release her into a tangle of cock and cunt and tits, a living sculpture of raw sex. She would never forget it; not a moment of it.

  She felt herself shudder at the memory. It would always produce that reaction, she thought. It was, after all, the beginning Martin had lead her to Devlin, to Devlin who, when she had first met him had only been able to fuck her in his bedroom so he could see a huge oil painting dominated by a woman with a crimson cunt. Only that made him hard, only then could he come.

  Devlin had brought her to the castle. And just as Martin had tapped her sexual depths, so she, in turn, had tapped into Devlin's, tapped deep, where no one had been before. Instinctively she had found a key, and released a sexuality he was completely unaware of. She had turned the master into a slave, her slave.

  Stephanie felt a pang of hunger breaking into her reverie. She walked back into the bedroom to change for breakfast. But as she pulled on a white sleeveless leotard to be worn with a pair of skintight white leggings, her mind was still full of memories. How Gianni, the first guest she had encountered at the castle, had persuaded Devlin - whose whole business empire appeared to be precariously balanced on the success of a deal with Gianni - no, had forced Devlin, to let him use and abuse her. That too had been an extraordinary experience. It too sent a shiver of pleasure through her body.

  She had got her revenge. Ultimately. She could not help smiling. In fact, she laughed out loud as she always did when she thought of what they had done to Gianni, the indelible marks they had left, literally, on him.

  Smoothing the leotard over her body and adjusting the leggings she combed out her long hair leaving it to flow loosely on her shoulders. Her hunger was too great to ignore now and she headed down to breakfast.