Dr Casswell's Student (7 page)

He caught hold of my hair and jerked me up. As our lips met I felt my heart soar and my stomach flutter. It makes no sense; what spell is this, what unholy magic is it that binds me so tight to him, this man who humiliates me and having stole my virtue brings me into such debauchery?

He kissed me hard, his tongue driving deep into my mouth as if to seek out the seed of his compatriot, and then he dropped me back onto the grass, and slipped off his belt. My pulse raced as I watched him wind the buckled end around his fist, leaving the other hanging like a livid tongue. And as he did he asked who I considered to be my master. Is this some game, some ritual to entrap me?

I answered him as before. ‘Why you, sir. You know I am pledged to serve you and your family.’

And then he laughed, momentarily easing the tension between us. ‘I had thought, Beatrice, that your powers would be diluted once you were broken, but it seems I have underestimated you. What a prize you are, sweet little Beatrice. I am to be your master in all things. Your body, your very soul belongs to me now. Do you understand?’

I nodded. How well I understood.

His voice lowered a little and the humour left his eyes; desire returning like the moon’s rise. ‘I will teach you how a maid should truly serve her master.’

I knew I had heard these words before. These were the things he had said in his chamber. But before I could reply the broad leather belt exploded across my rump. I screamed out in pain and surprise as the raw fire spread out like a molten veil across my flesh.

‘Trust me, Beatrice, trust me and give yourself to me completely,’ he murmured breathlessly as the next stroke found its mark. ‘So brazen – so ripe. I already know you are mine to command. Give yourself to me and I will not betray your trust. I will show you paradise. You are mine now, do you understand?’

‘Yes, yes,’ I sobbed, as the belt cracked out again. What did he want me to say? Through the haze of pain I wondered whether Usher and Orme had stayed to watch this final act – or once their own passions were spent had their interest waned?

The belt found its mark again and again, and with each stroke I screamed. Even now my body glows white-hot with the memory of that cruel unspeakable hunger, which the kiss of the leather both fed and created.

By all the saints I craved to feel him against me then, buried to the hilt in my quim, which craved the sweet release of a climax. And as my body reached out for that pinnacle my master dropped the belt and threw me to the ground.

Gathering up my ragged skirt, he lifted my hips and drove his cock deep inside me. The ferocity of his entry took my breath away. He gripped my shoulders and pulled me up, so that I knelt astride him, and while his fingers clawed at my raw back he drove deeper still.

My naked breasts pressed tight against the cold leather of his waistcoat, my nipples brushing against the studded metal emblems of his house.

It seems no more than an instant before we both reached that ancient ground where all reason is lost and all that remains is pure pleasure. I cried out with delight as the first waves shuddered through me; waves of fire, waves of ice – while deep inside I could feel my lord’s erupting pleasure echoing my own.

And then, just as my lord pulled away, I saw someone hiding amongst the trees. Not Orme. Not Usher. It was another, and my heart leapt with terror as I recognised the spy…

‘Miss Morgan?’

Sarah jumped as if she’d been shot. In the doorway Doctor Casswell was watching her with interest. She blushed, wondering how long he had been standing there. Hastily she closed Beatrice’s journal, but before she could speak, he said, ‘I thought perhaps you would care to join me for lunch today?’

Sarah struggled to find her voice. ‘That… that would be lovely.’

Casswell nodded and extended a hand in invitation. As she got to her feet he waved the hand a little higher. ‘Lift your skirt, Miss Morgan.’

Sarah stared at him in astonishment. Between her legs she could still feel the flurries of pleasure that Beatrice’s words had already ignited; she knew her body was hungry for satisfaction. She looked up at Casswell almost defiantly. Who did he think he was? Did he think she wouldn’t dare behave so brazenly? She held the hem of her skirt and lifted it to her waist, her eyes meeting his in an unspoken challenge.

Casswell sighed and shook his head. ‘It seems that, like Beatrice, you do not understand what is expected of you, Sarah. While you are here at Casswell Hall you will be available as and when I require it. Take those off,’ he indicated her knickers and tights. ‘From now on you will be naked under your outer garments at all times, though I have no objection to stockings and a suspender belt. I will have Chang arrange it for you. Come closer.’

Sarah was still struggling to take off her tights and panties, but she did as he said. Standing in front of him, her body pale and exposed in the bright sunlight from the window, she shivered as he stared down at her. His examination was perfunctory; no more than a glance at her naked sex and the gentle swell of her belly. She dropped the hem of her skirt and waited.

She knew this was some kind of test. He was making her wait for whatever was to follow; making her understand that he was in charge – not her.

The seconds ticked by.

All she could hear clearly was the excited beat of her heart pulsing in her ears. She looked up, and for an instant she saw her need reflected in Casswell’s dark pupils.

He indicated that she should lift her skirt again, and she did so without a second thought, trembling as he slipped a hand between her legs and cupped her shaven quim. A single finger traced the moist outer lips. His eyes darkened and he nodded his approval.

‘Good. I want you to understand that this is how you will remain during your stay here. Now, remove your bra.’

Sarah stepped away from him, wondering what on earth she was doing as her trembling fingers fumbled clumsily with each button of her blouse. The white cotton was so sheer that she knew once her bra was removed her nipples, as dark and hard as cherries, would peek through for anyone to see.

She slowed her pace; perhaps there was a way she could soften Casswell’s demeanour. She turned a little, and flirtatiously slipped the blouse back off her shoulders, posing so that Casswell would get a good view of her full ripe breasts.

To her horror Casswell snorted derisively. ‘Oh please, do not flirt with me, Miss Morgan. I already have what I want from you, there really is no need to try and ensnare me. Now hurry and do as I say.’

Humiliated and blushing furiously, Sarah did as she was told.

When she had removed her bra and replaced her blouse, Casswell asked, ‘Does reading about Beatrice excite you?’

She wondered that he needed to ask. ‘Yes,’ she murmured thickly.

How could she explain it was the most electrifying thing she had ever read? He nodded and then, opening a drawer in his desk, removed something that looked like a small oar. Made from leather it was as broad as a human hand with a short flexible handle. Sarah stared at it, and then at him.

‘What’s that for?’ she whispered, though she had already guessed.

Casswell’s expression hardened. ‘You will learn not to be so curious or so quick to speak. Bend over the desk. You need to be punished.’

Sarah gasped. ‘Punished? But what have I done?’

Casswell sighed. ‘It’s a question of attitude, Sarah. Your ridiculous attempt at flirtation is a case in point.’ He indicated the bundle of underwear she held in her hands. ‘And those—’

‘But I didn’t know—’ Sarah began, but the doctor’s face was impassive. It seemed ignorance of the house rules was no defence. He indicated the desk. She slowly backed up until her buttocks rested on the very edge of the polished mahogany.

Casswell’s expression and tone hardened. ‘Please, Miss Morgan, don’t toy with me. Turn around and lift up your skirt!’

Sarah shivered. Although his voice was not raised there was an authoritative edge to it that was impossible to ignore. She did as he commanded, and then waited anxiously while he examined his prize.

When the blow came the severity took her breath away. The leather paddle hit her low on the buttocks, making her shriek with pain. The sensation was more diffused than the crop. From the corner of her eye she caught sight of Casswell an instant before he hit her again. He was a man entranced, caught up in the strange enchantment that Beatrice had so eloquently described.

‘A dozen, I think,’ he murmured, as the paddle found its mark again.

Sarah slumped forward, supporting her weight on her forearms, while between her legs the growing mixture of pleasure and pain was almost more than she could bear.

Casswell smiled as the paddle exploded across Sarah’s pink flesh. Leaning over the desk, breathing hard, with her skirt gathered up around her waist, she was a compelling sight. Her buttocks were rounded and full, a delightful contrast to her narrow waist. Both orbs glowed, the livid blush cut here and there by the kiss of the crop from the night before. Between the curves, as she struggled to regain her composure, he could see tantalising glimpses of her sex; plump, ripe, and ready. It would be easy to move closer, slide a hand between those firm thighs and bring her to the climax her body demanded and she so richly deserved. And yet he denied her, and himself, that release.

He dropped the paddle to the floor and ordered her to stand and turn around. She looked contrite, but the downcast eyes and flushed cheeks did nothing to fool him. She could not disguise the way her nipples jutted forward through the thin fabric of her blouse, dark and ripe as rosebuds, any more than she had been able to disguise the wet folds of her quim, glistening with excitement as she had writhed and twisted away from the paddle. Sarah Morgan was such a find, such a treasure.

Casswell beckoned her a little closer and idly traced one of her nipples through the sheer blouse. She rewarded him with the softest of moans. Her eyes closed and her moist lips peeled apart. Beneath his fingertips he could feel her trembling.

‘Have you a jacket?’ he asked quietly.

She nodded.

‘Go and fetch it, and I’ll ask Chang to find you some stockings. We’ll be eating at the Boar’s Head, in Brenwell.’

Sarah opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘We’re eating out?’

Casswell nodded, choosing to ignore the surprise in her tone.

‘Sarah,’ he said in a voice that allowed for no contradictions. ‘I expect to be obeyed without question and, from now on, I expect you to remain silent unless spoken to.’ He waved her away, aware of the flash of indignation in the young woman’s eyes. ‘Don’t be long,’ he added as she moved unsteadily for the door.

Ten minutes later Sarah was seated in the car beside him, and they were heading down a narrow country lane towards a hamlet that nestled in the wooded valley below Casswell Hall.

As they rounded a bend on an isolated stretch of road, Casswell spotted two rough-looking lads hitchhiking towards town. As he passed them he slowed the car. The youths – perhaps in their late teens or early twenties – looked up as Casswell’s Bentley purred past, and then began to hurry toward him as he applied the brakes and eased the car into reverse.

‘Lift your skirt a little higher, my dear,’ he said, laying his arm across the back of her seat and looking over his shoulder to manoeuvre the car back up the lane.

Sarah looked at him in astonishment, and was about to say something when she caught the look on his face.

‘Now,’ he said more firmly. Momentarily he saw another flash of rebellion in her eyes, and then the same hunger he’d seen earlier. It was a heady combination; her spirit delighted him. As they glided back towards the running youths, she did as he said, sliding the skirt up her stockinged thighs until it barely covered her sex. Casswell smiled thinly. ‘Good, now take off your jacket too. After all, we are expecting company.’

Sarah stared at him, and then back at the boys. ‘What – what do expect from me? I won’t—’

Casswell’s expression hardened, his amusement at her behaviour and her insolence rapidly wearing thin. ‘You will learn to obey me, Sarah,’ he cut her off. ‘One way or the other, you will learn. The punishment you received this morning was nothing compared to what can happen.’

The car stopped silently and one of the rough young men bobbed down to glance in the passenger window. Sarah’s jacket, though not yet removed, was undone far enough to reveal the ripe curve of her breasts beneath the thin cotton shirt. The youth drank in the tableau and grinned salaciously before wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

Casswell lowered the electric window. ‘An interesting view, wouldn’t you say?’

The hiker laughed nervously, clearly not quite sure if Casswell meant what he thought. ‘Going anywhere near Castlemead, are you?’ He spoke with a strong country accent, and despite addressing the urbane driver, his eyes hungrily roamed over Sarah’s long legs, the sheer black silk stockings, the suspenders, and the promise of what lay beyond the raised hem of her neatly tailored skirt.

Casswell raised his hands in apology. ‘Sadly, Castlemead isn’t on our way. But perhaps we might be able to come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement?’

Now joined by his companion, the leering youth continued to stare into the car while waiting to hear what Casswell might have to offer. Sarah blushed furiously.