Stephanie's Trial

Stephanie's Trial
  Zoom
Our Price:  £3.99Earn 3 Loyalty Points
+
Preferred Format:  

ISBN:  9781780802237
Author:  Susanna Hughes
Word Count:  69,704
Format:  eBook

Availability:  

  

Stephanie's CastleStephanie's Castle
Stephanie's RevengeStephanie's Revenge
Stephanie's DomainStephanie's Domain
Stephanie's PleasureStephanie's Pleasure
The Slaves of New YorkThe Slaves of New York

Stephanie faced his cold unwavering eyes. For once he had the power over her, total power. He could do anything with her and she knew he would. He had been her slave, now she was his.

Stephanie has taken a holiday: a shopping expedition in London to indulge her taste for sophisticated decadence, and to be reunited with her lesbian lover, Venetia. Her sexually inquisitive nature leads her into an exquisite encounter in a penthouse apartment, as she discovers the art of ministering bondage - Japanese style.

Keen to try out her newfound skills, she attempts to return to the castle. But things have changed. Her two most rebellious slaves have broken free and want revenge for their humiliation. The tables have turned on Stephanie's position as mistress of the castle as she and Devlin are incarcerated in the dungeon. An elaborate trial is arranged, with the slaves as the jury and sexual servility as the punishment. Can order ever be restored?

It was four or five days, Stephanie thought, after the experience with the three men, that Amanda strode into her cell. She looked beautiful. Perhaps it had been sunny outside, either that or Amanda had discovered the castle's solarium, but whatever the cause, she looked tanned and fit. She was dressed in a brown leather outfit Stephanie had commissioned from a special shop in Rome, a tight leather body like a leotard with a plunging neckline and a short leather skirt, equally tight but covering no more than three or four inches of Amanda's muscular thighs, and supplied with matching leather boots with high heels. Her breasts created a deep cleavage in the low neckline. Her hair had grown slightly and she had shaped it into soft waves. She carried a riding crop in her leather-gloved hand.
   'Well, how are you enjoying the accommodation?' she asked, striding around the bare stone cell.
   Stephanie said nothing as Amanda unlocked the metal cuff from her ankle.
   'I asked you a question,' Amanda snapped.
   'I'm not.'
   'I'm not, what?'
   'Mistress,' Stephanie added hastily.
   'Follow me.'
   Amanda turned on her heels and walked out of the cell, her shoes echoing against the stone. Waiting outside in the corridor was Venetia. Stephanie was surprised to see her. It wasn't that she'd forgotten about her but she hadn't seen her at all since the trial. What she had been doing during the endless days since, Stephanie had no way of knowing. She assumed that, having thrown her lot in with the rebels, she had been helping them run the castle, showing them where to get food and fuel for the boat and all the other things they would need to know. As for her sexual favours, so far Amanda had not appeared particularly interested in intimate activities with any of the women at the castle, at least not in Stephanie's presence, so Venetia's expertise in this department had probably not been called for.
   To what extent Venetia had been given her freedom was also a question Stephanie had no means of answering. Clearly she had not been held in one of the cells. She was much too elegantly turned out to have been suffering the indignities of the cellar ablutions and she was wearing her own clothes. Stephanie recognised the short black dress Venetia wore. It clung to her body, emphasising the spectacular curves of her opulent body. It was sleeveless but with a full polo-neck that had been slit from throat to waist, revealing tantalising glimpses of Venetia's unencumbered breasts. Its skirt, even shorter than Amanda's, covered only an inch or two of thigh, exposing the rest of her long legs sheathed in nylon Lycra, a transparent black with a slippery-looking sheen. Her height was increased by silver high-heel shoes and the fact that her long hair was pinned to the top of her head.
   As Stephanie emerged from the cell Amanda was heading along the corridor to the punishment room. Stephanie seized the opportunity and caught Venetia by the hand, forcing her to look straight into her eyes, trying to rekindle something - loyalty, friendship, she didn't know what - between them. But Venetia looked away, slapped her hand down, grabbed her upper arm and marched her along the corridor. Whatever had been between them, Stephanie thought glumly, had gone.
   The punishment room was full of people. Andrew wasn't there but Paul and Mick were, and six of the former slaves. As at the trial all were semi-dressed, two of the men again in Stephanie's panties, their faces, this time, crudely made-up with eye-liner and lipstick. Both men's cocks were being stroked by females. One of the women, naked but for a black bra and high heels, was sitting in the lap of one of the men with his cock buried in her sex. Bottles of booze abounded. The finest clarets and Napoleon brandy were being swigged like soft drinks.
   Devlin stood naked in the middle of the room. His hands had been strapped into padded leather cuffs suspended from a rope over a pulley set in the ceiling, and were stretched above his head. His nipples were clamped into a pair of nipple-clips, little springs like bulldog clips but with serrated edges and joined together by a chain plated with chrome. His feet were spread apart about two feet, ankle-cuffs strapped around his ankles and chained to metal rings in the floor.
   It was no surprise to Stephanie that Devlin's massive and ugly cock was at full erection. She had discovered Devlin's sexual tastes, unlocked his private fantasies. She had made him her slave. For the last however many days, he had been performing the same role for Amanda: it would not have been something he had to suffer. Devlin's submission was absolute. It was what he craved. The greater his subservience, the more he was excited. That was clear now as his erection throbbed visibly in front of his tormentors.
   'Come over here,' Amanda said to Stephanie.
   Stephanie obeyed. She looked into Devlin's eyes. For a moment the world stopped. She had had no human contact for so many days, no exchange of emotion, apart from sex, no kindness or concern, that the look of love she could see in Devlin's eyes, a look that spoke of his worry for her, of his despair that all this had happened, a look that told her this was all his fault and that he was so, so sorry, hit her like the headlights of a car on a dark night. She felt a wave of emotion flood through her. She hadn't quite realised before what Devlin, this ugly, misshapen man, meant to her.
   'Take this,' Amanda commanded. She handed Stephanie the riding crop. 'He is to have twelve strokes...' The audience cheered at this news, '...and you will administer the punishment. Do you understand?'
   'Yes.' It was the last thing Stephanie felt like doing to him even though, in the past, she had whipped him many times and knew it was no punishment at all. As if to confirm her thoughts a little tear of fluid formed on the slit of his urethra.
   'Yes what?' Amanda said, slapping Stephanie's buttock hard with her gloved hand.
   'Yes, mistress,' Stephanie intoned.
   Amanda took Devlin's cheeks between the fingers and thumb of her hand, squeezing his mouth into a distorted pout. His cock brushed against the hem her short skirt and the fluid leaked onto the brown leather. 'And you count each stroke, out loud.'
   Devlin nodded.
   With studied calculation Amanda picked up the chain of the nipple clips and pulled it up towards his chin. The serrated edges bit deeper into the corrugated flesh. His cock twitched so much against the leather skirt that for a moment Stephanie thought he was going to come.
   'Get on with it,' the man with the woman on his lap called impatiently.
   'Yes, come on...' one of the women agreed.
   Amanda stepped back. 'Begin,' she said, standing behind Devlin's back.
   Stephanie spread her legs slightly and raised the whip. Without hesitation she stroked it down on Devlin's arse, her long black hair streaming out over her shoulders, her naked breasts trembling with the effort. She saw Devlin react, saw the pain turned to profound pleasure as it always did. There was still sorrow in his eyes, but it was sorrow not for what was being done to him, but because they were not doing it under their own volition, that this was a circus where, for once, it was not Stephanie who was the ringmaster, but someone else.
   After the fifth stroke Stephanie began to sweat. It was hot in the windowless room with so many people. She tried to concentrate on what she was doing but out of the corner of her eye saw Andrew slip into the room. Venetia, tall and elegant, was standing next to the door. Andrew, in a shirt and slacks, stood beside her.
   Stephanie turned back to Devlin's buttocks. The red welts from the riding crop lined his white flesh; there were darker red marks there too, from previous days. She slashed the whip down again, his flesh trembling in response.
   'Six,' he cried, his teeth gritted.
   When Stephanie looked back towards Andrew she could hardly believe what she saw. Venetia had put her arm around Andrew's neck and was pushing her tongue into his ear. At the same time her hand was massaging the crotch of his trousers, gripping the bulge that was growing there.
   In all the time Stephanie had known Venetia she had never seen her touch or kiss a man, except on the one occasion she had been forced. She was so astonished that the next stroke of the crop missed the target and landed with no real force on Devlin's thigh.
   'Seven,' Devlin grunted.
   'No,' Amanda said at once. 'Do that again.'
   Stephanie tried to put her mind back on what she was doing. What did it matter anyway? But as she landed the next blow full across Devlin's ample rump she had a feeling it mattered very much indeed.
   'Harder,' Amanda complained.
   By the tenth blow most of the room had lost interest in the proceedings and when Stephanie looked round Venetia and Andrew had slipped away. The others were all engaged in some form of sex, coupled together by hand or mouth or genitals. Apart from Amanda no one was watching Devlin's punishment any more.
   Stephanie delivered the final two cuts in quick succession, sweat running freely down her naked body.
   If Amanda had thought this public display would humiliate Devlin, if she thought having Stephanie beat him would make it worse, she had not learnt yet what Devlin was like. His enormous cock was on the point of orgasm. Stephanie felt her own body moisten as she looked at it, her memory of all the times it had reamed into her with such devastating effect, making the process almost inevitable.
   The rope that held Devlin's arms above his head was curled around a pulley and tied off on a cleat fixed to the stone wall. Amanda unwound the rope from the cleat and let it fall. Devlin's arms dropped and he moaned with relief.
   'Unstrap his ankles,' Amanda ordered.
   Stephanie dropped to her knees and obeyed at once. With the tip of his fingers, out of Amanda's line of vision, Devlin touched her long black hair affectionately. Stephanie almost swooned at such tenderness.
   'Stop that,' Amanda said, seeing what he was doing as she moved forward. She slapped his cuffed hands. 'I want to be fucked.'
   She wriggled the short leather skirt up over her hips. She wore a pair of bright red lace panties that covered the triangle of her belly and the tight curls of her black pubic hair, though the shadow of it could be clearly seen under the material.
   Amanda bent over one of the wooden punishment frames, presenting her long plump arse to Devlin, the red silk a slash of colour between her legs.
   'Come on,' she said impatiently, 'and make it good.'

Be the first to Write a Review for this item!


Customers who bought this item also bought: