Dr Casswell's Student (24 page)

Four… Five…

The whip cracked out again and again. By now Sarah had surrendered entirely to the compulsive beat of the explosive pain. Casswell shivered as he imagined the raw kiss of the leather cutting into her back

Six… Seven…

Sarah pressed forward, straining and desperate; desperate to avoid the hateful whip, and desperate to feel its delicious cut.

Eight… Nine…

Casswell wondered how much longer Sarah’s beating could continue. The atmosphere in the garden room was strung as tight as a piano wire.

Ten—!

It was a final and decisive blow that cracked out around the crowded room and reverberated through Sarah’s sweating body like a pistol shot. As if she knew it was the last stroke, she fell forward, sobbing, struggling to fill her burning lungs with rasping breaths.

Amelia, herself perspiring heavily from her efforts, dropped the whip to the stage and undid her victim’s handcuffs, then dropping onto her hands and knees she crawled across the stage. The submissive pose was completely at odds with the dominant scenario that preceded it.

Casswell assumed the entertainment was over and looked away for some more champagne, just as a man in a long dressing gown stepped up onto the stage beside the two girls. He looked back, and realised it was Oliver Turner. Amelia slithered across the stage and rubbed against her master’s legs; a feline whose every move dripped with sexual promise.

From the audience came a low murmur of recognition and approval, and even for a second or two the briefest flurry of applause. Their host smiled with all the warmth of a basking shark, and stroked Amelia’s pale blonde locks. She purred with delight and, still nosing and rubbing herself against his thighs, unfastened his red brocade robe. It fell open to reveal that Turner was naked beneath, his penis already erect and jutting out from his groin. Under the spotlight he looked far more impressively endowed than Casswell knew him to be.

Amelia cradled his phallus in her fingers and began to suckle at the end where a single tear of excitement glistened. She sucked greedily, hungry to pleasure him, while her other hand cupped and caressed his heavily distended scrotum. Moans of intense delight trickled out from the junction where her lips stretched around his cock.

The lithe blonde uncurled and opened her legs, a hand working its way between her thighs, long fingers dipping down into the wet ripe confines of her own sex, then rising again to smear Turner’s cock and balls with her aromatic juices. Through it all the elderly gentleman’s expression remained stoically impassive.

Casswell glanced around the stage. A few feet away from Oliver and Amelia, Sarah Morgan sat in the shadows, only her eyes betraying her passion, as bright as flares in the enveloping darkness. He wondered what she was thinking. Did she consider that under his tutelage she had opened Pandora’s box? Until she met him she could have had no idea that events like this existed.

Under the spotlight a breathless Amelia started to pull away from Turner, but before she could her master grabbed her hair tightly and pulled her back onto him. She snorted and wriggled as if fighting to be free, saliva trickling down her chin as he forced her to bring him to the point of release. To Casswell’s surprise it was a convincing charade. Between her legs Amelia’s fingers still worked their own particular brand of magic, indicating that she too was on the spiralling approach towards the moment of orgasm. Suddenly Turner sighed hoarsely and jerked his cock from between Amelia’s lips moist lips. A great arc of semen erupted over her body, splashing across her face and breasts. The lewdness of the base act triggered Amelia and she writhed and shuddered, drowning in a deep well of ecstasy as her fingers worked frantically in her squelching sex. Beyond the heady images of the couple on the stage the room was draped with a strange stillness and quiet.

Amelia collapsed at Turner’s feet, his cock, wet from her kisses, still jutted above her like a sword. To Casswell’s delight, Sarah climbed off the chair and crawled to the satiated couple. Her action was as erotic and glorious as it was unexpected. Crouched beside the prone body of the exquisite blonde she began to lick the semen off her breasts. And as she moved the spotlight’s single eye picking out every detail of the livid weals that were etched across her slim back. Crouched over Amelia, open and excited, her rich fragrant sex was an invitation that Casswell was very tempted to accept. But as the thought formed in his head one of Turner’s other guests climbed up onto the stage beside Sarah Morgan. The man was in evening dress, but it took him no more than few seconds to undress, kneel, and stab his erect penis into Sarah’s available sex.

Casswell looked away as Sarah emitted a shuddering sigh of rapture. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the party disintegrated into an orgy. But his tastes were more discriminating, and he had no great desire to participate. Almost as though some benign but debauched god had heard his plea, Chang appeared at his shoulder.

‘Egon Howard has just arrived from the airport, Doctor Casswell,’ he whispered. ‘He is waiting for you and Mr Turner in the drawing room.’

Casswell smiled; on stage his protégée, Sarah Morgan, was already on the very brink of orgasm, while above her, still naked except for his dressing gown, Oliver Turner was looking on with the greatest of satisfaction.

Casswell indicated the elderly gentleman on the stage with a discreet nod of the head. ‘Give our host a few minutes to compose himself and then tell him where we are, Chang. I’ll go and entertain Mr Egon Howard.’

Follow Sarah’s continuing adventure in
Dr Casswell’s Plaything
, also available from Andrews UK and Chimera…