Dr Casswell's Student (6 page)

Chang leant over her. ‘Better too if you learn when silence is most appropriate.’ He cupped her full breasts, stroking the swollen buds as if to comfort her. ‘Take a deep breath and pant, this will stretch you.’ His caress was almost hypnotic, and then she felt something nosing at the puckered rosebud of her backside.

Her body closed tight and she squealed anxiously, panting as he had suggested, willing her body not to resist the slow unrelenting progress of the oiled dildo that slid into her anus. Her humiliation seemed complete as Chang’s hands worked between her thighs, strapping a belt on that would hold the little stretcher in position.

As he worked his fingers dipped into her quim. Despite the cocktail of shame and trepidation her sex closed hungrily around them. Sarah was mortified. Her body demanded his touch, even if her mind rejected it.

She could feel him stroking the dildo through the thin muscular membrane that divided her sex from the passageway behind. Sarah held every muscle taut, the sensation of fullness and tension terrifying her.

Seemingly satisfied, he grunted and pulled away. His hands linked around her belly, and to her surprise he turned her again, onto her front and then up onto her knees. Her face was buried in the bedclothes, and her buttocks were thrust high and stretched around the intrusive tube of plastic.

His fingers dipped into her sex, casually brushing her clitoris and rekindling her pleasure. It was sweet torture, the intensity heightened by the sleek contours of the stretcher buried deep in her bottom. She shivered, knowing that at some time Chang or his master fully intended to replace that plastic with the real thing.

Chang stalked around the bed, checking the security of her bondage. He then stooped, kissed her tensed buttocks in turn, and eased her down until she lay flat on the soft bed.

‘I will see you in the morning,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘Sleep now.’

Sarah cried out in frustration, her body almost at the point of release.

‘Come back,’ she begged, astonished that she could want him after what he had done to her. ‘Please don’t leave me like this. Please, Chang… I need you…’ But her words were wasted. If he was there he didn’t respond, though she knew in her heart he had already gone.

Sarah closed her eyes, a single tear soaking into the tumble of sheets which cocooned her flushed face. Her whole body was taut, and between her legs still glowed the unfulfilled ache for pleasure that Chang had ignited, but not extinguished.

From behind the unblinking eye of the mirror Doctor Casswell peered into the gloom with a growing sense of delight; Chang had completed the next stage of Sarah’s preparation.

…Today, when the afternoon shadows had begun to lengthen and I and the children’s nurse were sitting together in the long gallery, my lord sent for me. To my great relief he did not send that blaggard, Arturo, but a new pageboy called Michael, who serves at my lady’s table. The boy begged that I hurry and follow him, and I did as I was bidden.

My master waited a little distance from the castle, in the old walled garden down beside the river. My heart quickened with desire as I saw him standing there amongst the trees, although I blushed as our eyes met, ashamed to feel so brazen, so wanton, but even so I hurried across the grass towards him…

It was nine o’clock the following morning and Chang had just cleared away Sarah’s breakfast things. And it seemed as if she was expected to carry on with her work as if nothing at all had happened.

If only that were possible.

She had been woken early by the little Oriental man, who had removed the anal stretcher and then untied her as if such behaviour was an everyday occurrence. He had then announced that breakfast would be served in the study at eight and left as if nothing had happened between them. He behaved as if the events of the night were normal.

Although she had showered Sarah still felt unclean, and deep inside she could still feel the ghost of the stretcher. Memories of the night filled her mind; the passion and pain and humiliation. She tried to focus her attention on the neat lines of handwritten text. She knew that if only she could concentrate for a line or two she would be drawn into Beatrice’s compelling narrative. She switched on the computer and turned her attentions back to Doctor Casswell’s transcript of Beatrice’s manuscript:

…I could sense a brooding hunger that excited me beyond all measure, and see that my lord’s eyes were dark with desire. And I knew I wanted nothing more at that moment than to do as he bade me, whatever it might be; my body was his alone to command. My sex moistened at the thought of his touch, his lips, his kisses, the cruel bite of his whip on my flesh as I writhed, bound and helpless, waiting for his pleasure.

By all the saints, such demons, such devilry, such desire has filled my thoughts and my dreams since he took me that day in his apartments, I cannot tell you. Even my humiliation at the hands of Arturo and the priest Orme has done nothing to stem the flow of fire that bubbles in my veins. I cannot help but wonder if I will ever be safe from these thoughts.

‘You are late, girl. What kept you?’ he snapped.

I began to protest and only then realised that he was not alone. Until that moment I had not seen that deep in the shadows stood both Father Orme and another, unknown, noble man who watched my approach with equal interest.

‘Lift you dress, wench,’ the noble man ordered. I slowed my step and hesitated for an instant.

‘Do as the Lord Usher says,’ says my master and, seeing the look of approval and encouragement on my master’s face, I did exactly as I was told. But even as I lifted my heavy skirts Lord Usher’s expression hardened.

‘What folly is this?’ he growled furiously, indicating my undergarments.

My lord turned to me. ‘Take them off, Beatrice. I would have you naked under your robes, girl, from now on. No more of these pantaloons and petticoats. Take them off. Have I not explained to you, you are mine? Mine as and when I command, not held at bay by linen and wool. Take them off!’

I blushed, eyes downcast, and nodded. I understood that he meant for me to be always at his beck and call, always ready to be touched by him and others if he so chose. I slipped off my petticoats. He nodded his approval and then indicated that I should hold my robes all the higher so that his compatriots might examine my nakedness.

The stranger stepped a little closer and ran a hand over my belly, and then down through the dark curls that frame my sex.

‘Would you have me undo her bodice for you, Cousin?’ asked my lord. ‘A finer a pair of sweet tits you’ll have trouble to find this side of the city.’

The man snorted and shook his head. ‘Nay, here in my hand I have the only thing that truly interests me.’ His fingers tightened on my quim. ‘I would wish that our maker had had the good sense to strike the whole of the female sex deaf and dumb so that I could fuck them all without having to worry about talking to them or wooing them or other such pointless posturing.’ He grinned. ‘And there’d be no risk of them telling tales to their men folk or their fathers.’ He nodded towards Father Orme. ‘What say you?’

Orme shrugged, apparently unoffended by the man’s blasphemy.

Lord Usher’s fingers had already found their way between the lips of my quim into that most intimate of places. I looked frantically at my master, praying he might rescue me from this brutal stranger, but he ignored my shame and humiliation and coolly watched the nobleman explore me.

Usher plunged his finger home now, making me wince at his roughness. He grinned at my discomfort, his thumb lifting to trace the rise of my pleasure bud. In spite of myself, my body responded to his rough caress, and I shivered.

The man laughed triumphantly. ‘See, there you have it, my lord, deprived of the right to answer back all women are the same. The little vixen wants nothing more than to feel my cock buried to the hilt inside her. Can you not see it in her eyes and the way she moves against me? Away with all this courtly love and poetry, give me the honest lust of a tight cunt and a fine wet mouth any day. Unless of course you are too old or too tired to care, don’t waste conversation on harlots such as this. It is here and only here that the real pleasure lies.’ As he spoke he spread the traitorous juices from my sex out onto my thighs and belly.

He addressed only my master and Orme, without a word for me or a thought for the shame and distress I might feel at his words or his cruel invasion of my body. I understand now that he saw me not as a person but as a being below contempt, a thing to be used, reduced to nothing more than the essence of my sex.

Lifting his fingers, he drew one of them into his mouth and smacked his lips as if the traces of juice it bore were the finest of delicacies. Pulling me closer he unfastened his robe, and without prelude pushed my legs wide apart and guided his cock into me, pulling one leg up around his waist to give him better purchase. The moment of coupling was so quick, so unexpected, that I cried out in horror and surprise.

He grinned as he plunged his engorged member home.

‘I like it when a woman calls out as you enter her. ’Tis an honest animal cry of desire and need.’

I shivered as he forced himself deeper, closing his eyes with the sheer pleasure of my body closing around him.

‘Just as you said, dear Cousin, she is good and tight,’ he murmured thickly to my master and then, to my surprise, after no more than a dozen strokes, pulled his cock out. Its livid purple crown brushed across my thighs like a wet quarterstaff.

He grinned as I looked up at him, and then he forced me roughly down onto my hands and knees. I knew what he expected. Without even looking at me he guided his shaft between my lips and into my mouth.

I shuddered as the taste of my own excitement invaded my senses. My sex fluttered like a bird’s wing, and without thinking where I was or what I was doing, I slid a hand down over my belly, scrabbling up the hem of my gown to find to the soft wet places that dwelt beneath. To my horror the stranger laughed, even as my tongue and free hand worked furiously along his great shaft.

‘By all the saints, it is true what they say about country wenches. Come and mount up, Orme. Or perhaps you, good Cousin. Come, make some use of this girl and share the pleasures her untutored passions offer. By God, she is hot!’

Glancing to one side, I saw the lecherous expression on Orme’s face. ‘Unfasten your bodice, wench,’ he said, in a throaty tone that betrayed his excitement. ‘I would play a little with those shapely dugs that the good Lord Usher dismisses as the province of babes. If you have no objection, my lord?’ He glanced in my master’s direction.

My master waved them on, and by doing so commanded me to do as I was told. I could see the desire in his eyes, and tell from his expression that when his friends were done with me he had a plan of his own.

While I loosened the fastenings of my bodice Orme knelt behind me and his cold talons clawed up my skirts. He raked his nails across my flesh as he guided his shaft into my quim.

Leaning forward, he jerked down the shoulders of my petticoats, and those same talons caught hold of my freed breasts. Cupping their delicate flesh he began to nip and twist at their swollen buds. His stale, rasping breath quickened as I cried out in pain. But my pain delighted him, and I felt a dark mixture of shame and heat rising from deep inside me. Upon my lips I could taste the growing pleasure of Lord Usher. I knew it wouldn’t be long before his seed filled my mouth, and I prayed, as my own body began to respond to their growing excitement, that God might save me from this divine torment…

Sarah shivered, responding instinctively to the account of Beatrice’s intense emotions. Her own feelings simmered. She took a deep breath, unable to comprehend what was happening to her; as she transferred Beatrice’s story onto the computer screen it felt as if every nuance, every sensation, was echoed in her own body.

Was this what Casswell had hoped for, so her initiation into this world of pain and pleasure might be all the smoother? Sarah closed her eyes, and at once her mind was awash with a heady mix of images from the night before and from Beatrice’s diary.

Out beyond the windows of the study, Sarah could see a crumbling terrace and the gentle rise and fall of the overgrown gardens as they tumbled down over a low incline towards dense woodland. She tried to concentrate on their rich greenery; fighting to calm her mind. Once, the gardens must have been magnificent.

She picked up the file and turned to the next page. It seemed that the boundaries between the past and the present had already begun to blur.

…Finally, when Lord Usher and Father Orme had done with me, my master approached. I was crouched on the rough grass on all fours, breasts and backside bare, with the taste of Usher’s seed still on my lips and tongue, and the old priest’s pleasure trickling down the insides of my thighs.

I could feel the colour rushing to my cheeks, imagining the picture I presented to my lord, huddled there under the canopy of trees like some wild forest spirit, a creature of passion, reduced to the very essence of being.

My lord’s eyes were dark with unspent desire. He circled me while Lord Usher adjusted his clothing.

‘’Tis a fine prize you have there,’ Usher said to my master. ‘When you are weary of her, perhaps you will consider a trade.’

But his voice seemed no more than a bird call on the wind, as distant as the sound of the tide upon a foreign shore, for as our eyes met there seemed to be just the two of us; only I and my lord caught together by this dark alchemy. Nothing Orme or the Lord Usher can ever do to me will match the passion I feel for my master.