Dr Casswell's Student

by Sarah Fisher

  Upstairs, well away from the conference, Sarah woke to find herself naked and alone in a vast double bed in one of the guestrooms. She stretched a little and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, while piecing together the events of the previous evening. Her fingers strayed to her throat and touched the collar and chain that was fast becoming part of her bedtime ritual.

  After a very civilised dinner she and Amelia had kept Turner and Casswell company in the billiard room until quite late, and then… she sighed at the memory.

  As the night had drawn on the conversation moved to a project that Turner had been involved in, in central Europe. It had been a long and involved story about the stultifying effects of a cumbersome and inefficient bureaucracy. As the tale unfolded Turner’s voice had dropped to a low hypnotic murmur, and Sarah found it impossible to keep her eyes open. She remembered with some embarrassment the creeping feeling of tiredness she seemed powerless to resist.

  The combination of a superb dinner, the wine, and her unexpected encounter with Amelia, began to take effect – or perhaps it was Chang’s painkilling potion. Whatever, when Doctor Casswell had suggested she retire for the night she had been deeply grateful. Chang had brought her up to this room.

  For a little while after she undressed she had waited in the velvety darkness, fighting the call of sleep, wondering if Amelia or Rigel Casswell, or perhaps even Oliver Turner, might come and slip into her bed under the cover of night. But as the minutes ticked by her grip on consciousness gradually loosened.

  For the first time in many nights her sleep had been blessedly dreamless.

  Now morning sunlight pushed its way between the closed curtains. Sarah stretched again. Her body ached and as her back and thigh muscles contracted she was vividly reminded of the brand. She winced, and then heard a noise from close by. In an alcove by the door Chang was hanging the dress she had worn the night before onto a padded hanger.

  She was quite surprised to see him there; assuming that he would be attending to the doctor. He looked up as she moved.

  ‘It is late, high time you were up,’ he said, without emotion.

  Sarah glanced at the bedside clock – it was after ten. Hastily she began to scramble off the bed, wondering why he hadn’t called her before. What would Doctor Casswell say if she turned up late?

  Chang swung round. ‘But there is no need for you to hurry this morning. The doctor will not be wanting you until later in the day, although he has left you some work to be getting on with.’ He nodded towards the desk where, to Sarah’s surprise, lay the loose-leaf folder containing the transcript of Beatrice’s diary, and beside it the familiar bulk of a computer like the one in Doctor Casswell’s study. ‘Would you like me to ring for some breakfast?’

  She nodded, wondering why the doctor hadn’t mentioned the arrangements earlier, but she knew Chang would be angry if she spoke without being spoken too. Did that mean that from now on she could only speak when he asked her a direct question?

  He grinned, the expression quite uncanny on his normally impassive face. ‘So, Sarah Morgan, it would appear that once your chores are done for today you are mine and Oscar’s… you remember Oscar, Mr Turner’s chauffeur?’

  Sarah didn’t moved. She remembered her encounter with Oscar only to well. Images of the heavy silver ring that pierced his foreskin flashed unbidden through her consciousness, and for some reason she wondered if it was the same design as the rings Amelia wore through her nipples.

  Chang’s expression hardened alarmingly. ‘I asked you a question, girl,’ he growled. Sarah struggled to find her voice, but before she could reply he reached across the bed and slapped her face.

  ‘Do you remember him now?’ he repeated. He caught hold of the chain around her neck and wound it around his fist, pulling her closer.

  Sarah nodded. The blow was so unexpected that her eyes filled with tears of surprise and pain. She wondered why he thought it necessary to be so brutal. He must surely realise she was in no position to refuse him whatever it was he wanted. ‘Yes,’ she whispered sulkily, as she rubbed her tingling cheek. ‘Yes, I do remember him.’

  Chang nodded. ‘That’s better.’ His eyes worked down over her nakedness, taking in her stiffening nipples and the tempting fullness of her breasts.

  Sarah tensed under his cool appraisal.

  ‘Several of the other guests have brought their girls here with them,’ he continued. His smile broadened a little. ‘Or their boys, whichever takes their fancy. What is certain is that after today’s meeting the masters and their slaves will be invited to join Mr Turner in the drawing room for one of his special little get-togethers.’ He stroked the reddening blotch on her cheek. She shivered; there was no comfort in his touch. ‘I’m sure you’ll love it. They usually hold a charity auction after dinner to raise a little money for their own pet causes.’

  Sarah stared at him, aware that this apparently innocent piece of information intimated far more. Chang stroked his hand back across her cheek, then down to her breasts, and rolled one pert nipple between thumb and forefinger, making her flinch as he nipped it spitefully. ‘Do you want to know what it is they intend to auction?’

  Sarah took a deep breath. She could already guess what they intended to auction.

  Arranging himself beside her on the bed, Chang continued, ‘Your sweet little body, that’s what. Your sweet little body and the body of every other slave in the house. The good doctor will sell you off to the highest bidder for the night, or just for a damned good beating. Or perhaps to take part in the floor show.’ The little Oriental’s dark eyes were glinting excitedly. ‘You know of course that when Doctor Casswell finally tires of you he will bring you to a place like this. He will bring you to Mr Turner’s, or one of the other connoisseurs on the circuit, and sell you like so much horse flesh.’ He paused for effect. Sarah tried hard not to let the shock register on her face.

  ‘Or sometimes,’ Chang continued, his eyes not leaving hers as his fingers continued their brazen exploration of her breasts, ‘there is no money involved, and a slave is handed on like a bitch or dog that’s fallen from favour.’

  Sarah could smell the man’s growing heat, and feel the slightest tremor in his fingers. She knew he was talking himself into a state of arousal. She wondered what remembered images from auctions past lurked behind those beady eyes. She was determined not to show her fear of him, but it was difficult. She knew he hoped intimidation would make her more compliant.

  With the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears, she said slowly, ‘So is that how Doctor Casswell got you?’

  To her surprise Chang laughed, and then grabbed her shoulders and jerked her close to him, so his face was mere inches from hers and her traitorously erect nipples brushed the front on his coarse blue shirt.

  ‘Be very careful how far you push me, Sarah Morgan. I’ve told you before that you really do need me on your side. You would do well not to forget that very important lesson. Life with Doctor Casswell will be far easier for you if I am your friend.’

  Sarah refused to look away and bravely held his aggressive stare, even though she knew she was being provocative.

  Chang grinned. It made him look like a shark. Before Sarah could respond defensively he grasped the back of her neck and kissed her fiercely. His tongue twisted like a worm and forced itself deep into her mouth. She pushed against his chest, and then he spitefully bit her lower lip. Sarah squealed at the shock and pain as he quickly pulled away and pushed her face down towards his groin. At the same time he snatched her wrist in a vicelike grip and pressed her palm into his crotch. She could feel his erection through the fabric of his sweat pants and instinctively tried to resist the pressure of his fingers. Chang laughed again, but without a shred of humour.

  ‘Oh, very good,’ he panted, ‘very good indeed. You know, I enjoy it even more if you resist me, Sarah. Don’t you understand that? Today you are mine to do with exactly
as I please. The doctor will be busy all day. You had better not forget that.’

  Sarah made one last attempt to twist away from his grasp but he was far too strong for her. She had little choice but to do as he demanded. He tugged down the waistband of his trousers with one hand and his raging cock sprang free and speared up before her wide eyes. The purple head was swollen and smooth, and already glistened with the slick juices of his excitement.

  ‘You know exactly what I want,’ Chang hissed between clenched teeth, ‘so don’t play silly games with me.’

  The raw smell of his masculinity made her tremble as he jerked his hips towards her vulnerable face. She reluctantly caught his rigid column between her fingers, and cupped his distended testicles. She knew it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him; he wanted her to fellate him, and nothing less would do.

  It was pointless to try and fight. She closed her eyes and steeled herself, and then drew his cock between her lips. She ran her tongue around the sensitive foreskin where it surrounded and rolled back from the engorged crown. As she pressed the very tip of her tongue into the single eye, Chang sighed and lay back amongst the tangle of sheets, his hand still resting on the back of her neck in case she was foolish enough to do anything silly.

  ‘That’s better,’ he mumbled. ‘That’s much, much better.’

  Crouched between his legs she could feel his dominance. Everything about Chang’s body language and demeanour was designed to assert that here in the shadows of this bedroom, far away from the protection of Doctor Casswell and Oliver Turner, he was the master and she the slave.

  She shuffled into a more comfortable kneeling position between his spread thighs, finally relinquishing the fight in her belly. With her tongue and fingers and artful mouth working in harmony she gave him what he wanted; a simple act of complete surrender. But what perturbed her most was that amongst her sense of anger and humiliation, she could also feel the first flickers of excitement.

  Sarah closed her eyes, angry with herself, trying to suppress her need. With each lapping stroke she brought Chang closer and closer to his climax, and fought to hold back her own growing need. There would be time enough later to caress and stroke herself to that sweet point of no return, when Chang was gone and she was alone.

  At last she felt Chang’s muscles tense under her fingertips, and heard his panting quicken. Sarah steeled herself in readiness of his ejaculation. But at the very last second he jerked his cock out from between her lips and, as he grunted like a pig, a warm tidal wave of semen splashed across her breasts and chin, the clammy seed clinging to her glowing skin.

  Sarah recoiled in frustration and surprise and looked up at him. His eyes glinted like jet. He wiped himself and then lay back for a few seconds, his gaze locked to hers, silently denying her the right to clean herself. Her heart thumped a frantic rhythm in her chest, and she wondered what would follow. He grinned slyly, and then rolled over and took something from the bedside drawer.

  ‘Here,’ he said with a lecherous leer, ‘I’ve brought you a little something from Mr Turner’s precious collection downstairs. I thought you might enjoy a little company, seeing as I won’t be able to satisfy you for a while yet.’ His eyes flickered down to the pearly emission coating her throat and breasts, to emphasise his meaning. Sarah glanced surreptitiously at his flaccid penis lying shrivelled and glistening over the waistband of his trousers, confirming his satiated condition.

  Sarah gasped. In his hand, Chang cradled a thick and exquisitely modelled phallus, set along its length with a multitude of small smooth sparkling precious looking stones. He pressed it firmly between her breasts, and rolled it lewdly back and forth in his own semen.

  ‘Lay back and open your legs,’ he ordered flatly.

  Sarah stared at him in disgust, but knew it was pointless to deny him. He would get what he wanted, one way or another. He took her fingers and wrapped them around the inert phallus, pushed her lifeless thighs apart, and guided it between them. She closed her eyes and shuddered as the thing rubbed over her flesh. It was made of something slightly flexible and warm to the touch. She sighed with shame as it brushed lightly and crept up her inner thighs towards its target; her sex was already wet, the inner lips slick with the juices of her growing excitement – the excitement that only seconds before was her own wicked secret.

  Chang spread her legs wider still and gently pressed the end of the dildo into the moist void. To Sarah’s chagrin she opened willingly like the petals of a flower, before closing hungrily around the uneven shaft and drawing it into the reaches of her body.

  Her tormentor sat back on his haunches. ‘Now touch yourself,’ he encouraged, his voice thick with his returning excitement. He guided her wet fingers to her engorged clitoris. ‘Don’t tell me that you don’t want to. I can feel how excited you are, Sarah. Casswell was right about you – you really are a natural. Now touch yourself. I want to watch you come.’ As he mesmerised her befuddled mind with his dulcet tones he began to ease the thick black phallus back and forth, in and out, encouraging Sarah to do the same of her own accord.

  She nibbled her lip and closed her eyes tight, her sense of humiliation complete. While modesty demanded she fight him off and roll away, her body demanded release. Her finger circled the hardened ridge of her clitoris, sending pure pleasure soaring through her. She was stunned by just how responsive her body was. Hopelessly lost, and no longer caring about the presence of the man who squatted and leered down at the writhing feast before him, she began to pump the dildo. Her fingers worked eagerly back and forth across her pleasure bud, until she knew there was no going back – she knew she was plunging towards an explosive orgasm.

  Rolling her head from side to side and whimpering incoherently, Sarah arched her back and instinctively thrust up onto the carved phallus.

  ‘Look at me,’ Chang whispered in her ear. ‘Look at me.’

  Her eyes opened, and she knew he was toying with her like a cat toys with a mouse. As the first fires of orgasm roared through her she realised that his pleasure was intensifying the sensations she was feeling. Wave after wave engulfed her, but above it all she could see Chang’s dark eyes fixed on hers, drinking in every nuance, every tremor, every ripple of her joy.

  Ten minutes later Sarah stood in the shower and let the refreshing water cascade down over her body, washing away the last remnants of Chang’s passion. She was still trembling and realised, as she turned her face up to the torrent, that she had begun to live her life day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute, with no thought for the future, no longer looking ahead. Her whole life revolved around Doctor Casswell and his plans for her.

  She reached up and let the water play over her back, only too aware of the sensation the torrent lit on the skin still raw from the brand. Chang – returned to his role of nursemaid and jailer once his passion was sated – had said he would dress it when he returned.

  Closing her eyes she contemplated Chang’s comments regarding Oliver Turner’s guests, their slaves, the party, and the auction. She wondered if it was the truth, or just part of some dark fantasy he’d been spinning to persuade her into submission. It was a strange and compelling game they were playing.

  Taking a towel from the warmed rail she dried herself. In the bedroom, on the desk, were the computer and the loose-leaf folder, and she was drawn to it once again. It would a relief to step back into Beatrice de Fleur’s world for a while. Wrapping the towel around her she opened the book to the marked page and sat down to read. It took no more than seconds for her to become oblivious to her wet hair and the stinging sensation of rough towelling again the burn.

  Chapter 14

  …I awoke to find myself lying on a large curtained bed, with my hands tied above my head. The rope was slack, enabling me to turn a little. Although naked, my flesh burnt with an unnatural heat and I felt sick and dizzy. On my backside the fresh sore from the branding iron made me want to weep, but I kept
my peace; I was not alone. Out beyond the ornate drapes I could see torches glowing in the wall sconces and from close by I could hear the low murmur of voices.

  Although my head and my body ached most pitifully I thanked all the saints that whatever noxious potion my lady had poured down my throat it had not finished me off completely – although I could still feel its effects in my blood.

  As my head cleared a little I listened more closely to the conversation, and after a moment or two I realised it was her ladyship and that blaggard Arturo. What they were discussing made my blood run ice cold.

  ‘You worry too much, madam. The deed will be carried out down by the river as we have already arranged,’ said Arturo, with an edge to his voice as if he explained this plan to her many, many times before.

  My lady made noises of approval, and I heard the sound of wine or something similar being poured into two vessels. ‘Please forgive me, Arturo. I know you think me foolish, but this is of the greatest importance. We cannot afford to fail now, not this close to our goal. I have to be certain these assassins you have hired will do the job. My husband, for all his faults, is a most popular man. Are you certain they will be able to carry out what is required of them when the time comes?’

  Arturo groaned. ‘Murder, my lady. That is the word you fight so shy of. Of course they will. These men are hired mercenaries. How many times do I have to assure you of their loyalty to you and to the mother church? They are hired from the house of Carun, who are the sworn enemies of your husband. They and their families have been brought to the very edge of ruin by the taxes he has levied upon their estates. Trust me, lady, they will be only too happy to dispatch your husband to his maker. And if there was any doubt lingering, the purse of gold I pressed into their greedy paws convinced them of the justness of our cause.’