Dr Casswell's Student (9 page)

Left alone amongst the whispering trees, my thoughts awash with passion and desire, I tidied my clothes and headed back towards the castle gate. The shadows were rapidly closing in, and it seemed that now they had done with me, the men had forgotten I existed. With every step back towards the castle wall I tried to convince myself that Michael had indeed been an apparition, a trick of the light.

As I reached the edge of the trees, deep in my own thoughts, Michael leapt into my path and made me jump with surprise and fear. This was no insubstantial sprite. He pressed his face close to mine, the grin still fixed steadfastly upon his face.

‘So,’ he teased, ‘it seems to me that the master has found himself a bold new filly to beat and ride. Did he break you to harness too?’ Before I could dodge him he snatched my arms.

I shook him off. ‘Unhand me, you stupid boy, or the next time the master raises his whip it will be to tan your hide,’ I snapped.

The boy laughed, unaffected by my words, but then I know Michael is no fool; he knows he has seen enough to ruin me and perhaps my master too. He pulled me close, sliding his hand up under my skirts.

‘Perhaps it would be best not to make an enemy of me, Bee. The mistress would, I am sure, be very interested to discover what it is that detains her husband all afternoon, and keeps her children’s teacher away from her duties for so long.’ He grinned, his hand working between my legs to cup the damp reaches of my sex. ‘And what an example that same good girl, fresh from the abbey, sets her little charges, coming to her duties all sweated up and pawing at the ground like a mare in heat. What do you think it would be worth to keep the news from her, Beatrice? A little of this perhaps?’ His finger eased into me.

I stared at him, quite unable to speak, quite unable to believe he would threaten me so terribly. Until now Michael had always struck me as strange boy, ungodly and unnatural in many ways, but not cruel or wicked. He is as pretty as any girl in the castle, and it is common knowledge amongst the servants that he is unnaturally drawn to men; burly knights and their like. So I wondered what on earth he might want from me.

I found out soon enough.

Before I could reply he forced me down to my hands and knees on the muddy path and dragged up my already filthy skirts around my waist.

He was far stronger than I had ever imagined, and held me tight so I could barely breath, much less escape, however much I struggled.

Smearing the juices from my sex deep into the secret recesses of my most unholy parts, he plunged a finger deep into my backside. The sensation took my breath away whilst my body screamed out in protest. As I began to sob he stuffed a rag into my mouth and pressed deeper still. It seems, much to my surprise, that the boy Michael is not the receiver of such masculine organs as are on offer, but the giver. Pressing down onto my back he pulled his finger out and drove his shaft deep, deep inside me; into those forbidden regions reserved only for unnatural and ungodly acts. His vigour made me shriek as he pushed himself deeper still. But, even though I was sick with revulsion, I dare not fight him in case he split my pretty little backside wide open.

He snorted and bucked above me, making me beg for clemency. The serving boy’s reply was no more than a devilish laugh. Perhaps I am right about him after all; perhaps he is a woodland sprite.

‘Scream all you like, my dear Beatrice,’ he gasped in my ear, his breath as hot as flame on my cheek. ‘No one is going to hear you. No one will come to your rescue. Your precious lord and master is already safely back in his apartments with his cousin Lord Usher and that dissolute bastard priest. We are all alone, you and I…’

Hot tears coursed down my face.

In the short time between Michael’s discovering me with my master, and the time I crouched before him in the mud, everything in my life had changed. I just pray that I have not lost everything in those few brief moments. Though repellent to me, I know too that I am beholden to that evil boy.

Around me in the woodland the shadows lengthened, or perhaps it was fear alone that made the world around me seem such a dark and unforgiving place. I have no idea how I got back to my chamber, nor where Michael went after his passion was spent. But in my heart I already know I have not seen or suffered the last of Michael and his obscene desires.

When Sarah looked up, to her total surprise, the little study was in almost total darkness, the only light coming from the computer screen and the angle-poise lamp on the desk. Under Beatrice’s erotic enchantment time and even the dilapidated splendour of Casswell Hall had vanished into the background, taking with it memories of the youths in the barn and the meal at the Boar’s Head.

Outside, beyond the shadows of ruined terraces, the tumbles of foliage and the lake, the evening sky was cut with bands of intense scarlet and gold light; remnants of a dramatic sunset.

Sarah stretched. Closing Beatrice’s diary felt a little like waking from a vivid dream, so intense, so compelling, that the images lingered in the mind even after the sleeper’s eyes were open. It took Sarah several seconds to gather her bearings. When her head had cleared and she finally got to her feet, the door to the study opened, framing Casswell’s servant, Chang, in the gloom.

Sarah shivered; part of her had hoped it would be Casswell who came to collect her for dinner.

The small Oriental nodded towards the computer. ‘It is time to finish your work for today. Doctor Casswell is expecting you to join him for dinner this evening.’ He spoke in a precise manner. ‘He has asked me to help you prepare.’

‘I know.’ Sarah tried to smile. She already had her suspicions as to what may be expected of her at dinner, but what worried her more at that moment was what Chang might want beforehand while they were alone. She could still feel the presence of the anal dildo in her mind, if not in her body.

Chang indicated the door. ‘I have already drawn a bath for you.’

Sarah nodded and headed out into the hall. As she passed him, Chang smiled. The expression was so out of character that it looked almost uncanny on his normally impassive features, and did nothing to reassure her. For an instant she thought about Beatrice and her potential betrayer, Michael.

On the desk the transcript of the diary lay beside the computer. She could still feel Beatrice’s presence, her sense of violation and pain, and wondered fleetingly if Chang was cast in the same mould as the servant Michael. There was no way of telling.

For an instant Sarah wished she could step back into the past, back into a time where she was an unseen observer, and did not have to participate in the dark game that Casswell and Chang had invited her to join.

‘We don’t have much time,’ Chang said, beckoning to her, as if sensing Sarah’s hesitation. ‘The doctor’s guest will be arriving soon.’

Without another word Sarah turned and followed him upstairs into the shadowy reaches of the old house. It appeared that Chang had already prepared everything for her. The bedroom was warm, a fire crackling in the hearth, while through the open bathroom door she could see the steaming tub of water and a pile of thick towels on a chair beside the basin.

‘Now, quickly take your clothes off,’ Chang instructed. ‘It doesn’t do to keep the doctor waiting.’

Sarah hesitated for a moment, and then slipped her jacket off and unbuttoned her blouse, terribly aware of her exposure as she dropped them onto the floor under Chang’s unblinking stare. As she slipped her skirt off she realised she still smelt faintly of the youths in the barn. Her encounter with the two young hitchhikers seemed a lifetime ago now.

As she turned to undo her suspender belt Sarah caught sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror that dominated the bedroom. The image made her freeze for a second or two, and then she turned to drink in the details of her near nakedness. The mirror’s cool eye ensnared her as it had the night before. It was like looking at a highly charged erotic print that bore very little relation to the image she had of herself. At Casswell Hall Sarah was fast becoming another person.

As the magic caught hold she posed for her own pleasure, totally unconcerned and unaware of Chang’s dark eyes on her. Her skin had a delicate translucent glow. Her pert breasts looked exquisite in the soft lamplight, the nipples already gathered into tight dark rosebuds. Below the swell of her breasts and ribs her body narrowed dramatically into a slim waist, and below that her rounded hips, rich plains and curves, were emphasised by the black suspender belt. Sheer black stockings and the suspenders framed her naked sex.

The picture, caught in the soft lamplight, made her heartbeat quicken; Casswell, Beatrice, and Chang had transformed her into a sensual masterpiece.

She gasped as Chang moved silently behind her and ran a fingertip over her shoulder. ‘We can do much better than this,’ he said hypnotically. ‘Let me get you ready.’

Sarah stiffened; it was as though he’d been reading her thoughts. He held her mesmerised gaze in the mirror while he reached around her, and his small but strong hands cupped her breasts, and then moved down to her waist and hips. It was as if he was showing her nakedness off, displaying it for the mirror’s anonymous stare.

‘I have found, Miss Morgan, that the slave who understands their appeal fares far better in the long run,’ he said, enigmatically. He pressed closer, moving his face slowly along the sweeping contours of her neck and shoulders. His lips and nose were just a fraction of an inch above her flesh, as if he was savouring her essence.

‘You smell,’ he suddenly said flatly, flashing an accusatory glare at her via the unrelenting mirror. ‘Men… sweat… semen. What whorish things did you do this afternoon?’

Sarah shuddered and looked away, reddening furiously. Oh, what shame she felt. She wished the floor would swallow her up.

Chang laughed, the sound making her flesh creep.

‘Who was it?’ he persisted, idly circling one of her shamefully erect nipples with a fingertip. ‘Someone staying at the hotel, perhaps? Or did Doctor Casswell pick them up on the road? He does like to test his converts’ obedience at an early stage.’

Sarah swung round to face her tormentor. ‘I think I’d like to have my bath now,’ she said, with more defiance than she really felt.

‘Well, of course,’ Chang snorted with mock deference. ‘Whatever my lady wants.’

With some reluctance she accepted his offered hand and allowed him to lead her into the bathroom.

The capacious claw-foot bath was generously filled with soothingly perfumed water. It was with relief that Sarah climbed in and let the water embrace her, relishing its gentle caress on her tender skin and aching muscles.

Until the soft water enveloped her she hadn’t realised just how fatigued she was. She sank down into the fragrant bubbles and closed her eyes. Her mind drifted for a few minutes, and then she was snatched back to reality as a firm hand skirted across her shoulders. She opened her eyes, and there was Chang, stripped to the waist and preparing to soap her inert body.

In spite of herself Sarah sighed with pleasure. He seemed to understand where the pain was without her saying a single word. It was utter luxury. Chang leant closer. ‘I will wash your hair now, and then I am going to blindfold you.’

Sarah softly moaned her assent; so low was her resistance at that moment, she couldn’t care what he did. She breathed deeply and wallowed amongst the fragrant suds, totally captivated by the soft insistent circling of his astute fingers.

Rigel Casswell filled his guest’s glass and then lifted his own in welcome.

‘It’s good to see you again, Oliver. How was your trip?’

‘Fine, not a problem,’ replied Oliver Turner. ‘It’s good to be here, old man. How goes the translation? I’m looking forward to seeing the transcripts.’ He paused and sipped his sherry, his eyes alight with curiosity. ‘But to be perfectly honest, I’m rather more interested in your new houseguest at the moment. Tell me about the girl’s training. How is she coming along?’

Casswell smiled at the elderly gentleman; without Turner’s intervention and intuition he would never have found Sarah Morgan in the first place. Oliver Turner had been an acquaintance of Sarah’s aunt, a lifelong patron of the museum, and had been the man responsible for suggesting that Sarah take the job in the office there.

‘You were right about her. I should have trusted your judgement; after all, it has never failed me yet. She’s a natural. Obviously unschooled as yet, but she’ll be excellent by the time I am finished with her. A perfect companion for the connoisseur. I am certain you’ll like what you see. Chang is preparing her now for us.’

Turner nodded. He was a large, plump man, with a ruddy complexion that reflected his taste for good living. Dressed in formal evening clothes he was an impressive sight. ‘It will be an absolute pleasure to meet Miss Morgan again. And was she unbroken?’

Casswell eyed the rich amber liquid in his glass thoughtfully, and then smiled. ‘Completely untouched, until she arrived here.’

Turner chuckled and selected a canapé from a plate on one of the side-tables. ‘I see you speak in the past tense, my dear boy. Can I presume there is no need for me to ask about the state of affairs now? How is she coming along?’

There was a discreet knock on the door. ‘Ah, that’ll be Chang,’ Casswell said. ‘You’ll be able to judge for yourself, Oliver.’ He raised his voice to admit Chang and his beautiful charge.