Dr Casswell's Student (5 page)

Her journey in Chang’s arms was not a long one. After a few minutes he once again lifted her onto what she assumed was a hook. Her feet this time rested on what felt like carpet. She moved a little to see if she could touch anything with her body, but there was nothing within reach.

Chang spread her legs, his fingers working down towards her ankles. She felt his breath on her belly and across the newly naked contours of her quim. Was it her imagination or did he breathe more deeply as he passed her sex, drinking in the oceanic perfume of her excitement?

Something snapped into place around her ankles. Sarah fought the need to cry out in panic. She was completely secured now – spread-eagled – and there was nothing she could do but wait. As the seconds ticked past every sense reached out into the darkness to find some clue as to what might follow.

Rigel Casswell stretched like a sleek big cat and then accepted the riding crop Chang offered him. It was short and flexible with a cruel bite, but was unlikely to break the skin if properly applied. Casswell stepped closer to Sarah. In the subdued light of his dressing room she seemed to be suffused with an inner glow. Her body glistened with oil, and between her breasts he could see tiny beads of perspiration. She was afraid, she was excited, and she was totally at his mercy.

He took a deep breath, drew back the head of the riding crop and laid on the first stroke. As the leather exploded against her pale flesh Sarah screamed, her breasts thrust forward, her skin seemed to grow taut with an almost dazzling brilliance. As she bucked and writhed against the manacles Casswell could see the soft inner folds of her sex, and the tight puckering of her backside peeping provocatively between her rounded buttocks. He smiled and drew the crop back again…

The first stroke had caught Sarah completely by surprise. She screamed in horror and fear as the red-hot pain seared across her buttocks. The sensation spread like magma from its epicentre, making her fight against her restraints. All logical thought had left with that first stroke – all that remained was sensation. For one stunning all engulfing moment she knew she was experiencing exactly what Beatrice had felt under the cruel but impassioned hands of her lord and master.

She screamed again as the second stroke exploded across her back. The sound came from somewhere deep inside, from some dark nameless space that was purely instinctual. Here, in this ancient place, there was no holding back, no lies, no compromise, only the raw truth of pain. The pure intensity of the sensations stunned her. And now, as the crop bit home again, she understood what Beatrice meant by a desire so dark and unholy that she could give it no name.

She whimpered as the crop found its mark again, while her sex responded like a beast. Hungry and raw she could feel her need for release building deep inside. She heard the hiss of the crop as it cut through the air, and cried out again, bucking as Casswell – for she sensed it had to be him – laid on again and again and again, lifting livid weals cross her ripe flesh.

And then, just when she thought she might faint and could sense the pull of unconsciousness, she felt hands on her belly, on her arms, gently lifting her down. She collapsed against her rescuer, sobbing like a child.

Without a word, Casswell rolled her over onto her hands and knees. A hand slipped between her trembling thighs, exploring the soft wet reaches of her sex. She moaned hungrily, longing for him now to finish the deed, to make her his, to bring her to the point of no return. And still blindfolded and tied, she could do nothing to impede his explorations.

She felt his cock brush her thighs, felt his hands cup the tingling flesh of her breasts, fingers working cruelly at their sensitive peaks, rolling and nipping, and then the slow, slow progress of his cock as it pressed home into the pit of her sex.

She was wet; she knew her excitement was trickling like gossamer onto her thighs, its rich perfume mingling with the scent of Chang’s massage oils. For what seemed like an eternity her virginal body fought him and held him back. He pressed forward again, this time his fingers helping to ease his curving shaft home. Still her body refused him entry. The pain of him trying to breach her maidenhood filled Sarah’s mind like a red storm cloud.

‘Please…’ she begged on a ragged outward breath, unsure whether she was begging Casswell to stop or to carry on. Gently, he pulled her closer, murmuring soft words of encouragement, and sought again to enter that untried, untouched way. His fingers circled down over her belly to search out the bead of her clitoris – and instinctively her belly dropped lower, her pelvis tipping to allow him deeper.

She blushed furiously under her mask as she realised how hungrily her body demanded him. It was pure animal desire that was guiding her now. Her muscles flexed again, wanting him in her, encouraging him deeper. She felt like a bitch on heat, whining and fretting on the end of a leash, anxious only to be covered. Casswell pressed down on her pleasure bud and then thrust forward again. Sarah shrieked with a mixture of pain and pleasure as he finally breached her, tears forming in her eyes behind the leather mask.

She was truly his now, there was no way of undoing what had been done. Casswell gripped her hips and pulled her closer still, stroking her belly and her breasts, his muscular thighs beating a rhythm against hers.

She sensed his pleasure and delight in her body. It was a striking contrast to the brutality of the beating, but then again, what had Casswell left to prove?

Hadn’t she already agreed to stay at the house and give herself willingly to him? No amount of cruelty or kindness on his part would undo that simple act of submission. He plunged deeper, and his fingers locked in her hair as he jerked her up, her body tensed into an erotic arc against his. Instinct told her he was almost at the point of no return, and the knowledge electrified her.

She gasped, hearing his breath roar in her ears and feeling those terrifying thrusts become less and less refined. Her own excitement could not be held in check for much longer. Despite the rawness between her legs her body bayed for release. The merest brush of Casswell’s thumb over the engorged ridge of her clitoris was enough to complete the cycle of pleasure.

Sarah cried out as she began to lose control. Her newly breached sex contracted like a silken fist, drawing Casswell yet deeper inside. Low in her belly a glittering crystal spiral of pleasure seemed to pulse like a beacon with every contraction, filling her whole body with white light. She sobbed as the waves of orgasm crashed through them both.

Crouched above her, Casswell shuddered, thrusting forward to milk the zenith of his pleasure, stabbing deeper and deeper, helpless to resist the call of his desire.

As the lights finally exploded in her head, he pushed deeper still and Sarah screamed his name, her whole being controlled by instincts that were older than time itself. The sensations seemed to go on and on – until, at long last, there was only stillness and quiet.

That night Sarah dreamt of Beatrice de Fleur. In her imagination the two young women stood either side of a mirror, divided not by desire, but by time. In the dream Sarah reached out to touch her kindred spirit only to have her vanish, leaving Doctor Rigel Casswell standing in her place. Or was it Casswell? Perhaps it was Beatrice’s dark lord, the man with eyes like a hawk, a whip cradled in his hand. In her dream, Sarah stepped through the mirror into his waiting arms, naked and powerless to resist him.

When Sarah woke up she was cold, and for an instant had no idea where she was. It was still dark. As she tried to focus her thoughts images from Beatrice’s journal floated back into her mind. The girl’s words filled her head and, like misty wraiths, formed memories of intense sensations, mixing in turn with the images from her dreams.

And then Sarah remembered exactly where she was…

Despite the darkness she blushed crimson. The things she remembered were not just from Beatrice’s diary. As she tried to turn over her arms and back screamed in protest. Everything was coming back to her in vivid detail.

She was at Casswell Hall, tied to the bed in the guest room. Still manacled, she had been secured by a length of chain to the head of the bed. The blindfold had been removed, and she could just about make out the interior of the room in the glow from the hearth.

She had been secured with enough chain to allow her to sit up, and she winced as the movements reminded her of the kiss of the Doctor’s whip. Even in the gloom her skin still gleamed with the remains of the fragrant oil. Bedclothes lay rumpled on the floor beside the bed…

Sarah froze. She was not alone. She could just detect someone breathing, and knew then that the bedding had not slipped from her, but had been lifted away.

A shadow suddenly moved. Hands grabbed her ankles and jerked her sharply down the bed, pulling the chain and her arms taut. Sarah shrieked as the unseen hands secured her ankles to the foot of the bed. She pulled furiously against the restraints.

‘Who’s there?’ she called into the gloom, her voice shrill with trepidation. ‘Who is it?!’

The hands stroked up her calves. She stretched, peering into the darkness, trying to see her tormentor. She saw the shadow. It was squat, and Sarah knew it was Chang. Chang, who had seemed unmoved by her preparations for Casswell. Chang, who had hidden his own desires so well and waited patiently until his master’s passion was spent.

She had no idea what to expect from the little Oriental, and tensed as his finger stroked across the outer lips of her sex, damp still from Casswell’s attentions. Slipping one hand under her buttocks he lifted her body up towards him. She felt rather than saw him lower his head and sniff her. She blushed furiously, imaging the perfume that must fill his nostrils – a scent of desire and Casswell’s seed – and then slowly he moved closer. His breath moved across the exposed rise of her quim, and then he parted her lips with his tongue.

She gasped as the very tip found her clitoris and lapped at its sensitive hood. His delicate touch electrified her, his caress creating an intense, almost painful ripple of pleasure. She was astonished by the sensations his mouth evoked. Fingers joined the tongue, dipping into the moist pit between her legs, spreading her juice out over her thighs.

Sarah was astonished; his touch was as light as a breath, and yet she could already feel her excitement building. His fingers slipped lower, caressing the sensitive bridge of flesh between the tight depths of her quim and the forbidden closure behind. A finger circled the puckered ring of her anus and Sarah stiffened. Although the sensation was far from unpleasant, she suddenly understood what his true goal was.

His tongue renewed its delicate ballet around her clitoris, one hand rising momentarily to stroke her throbbing nipples with the juice that trickled from between her legs. But Sarah was aware now of what Chang really had in mind. Everything else he was doing was a distraction, a sleight of hand to make her relax and forget his true intentions. His fingers worked their magic, stroking lubrication over the tight rosebud to smooth his course.

She tensed, afraid now, as he sought entry while his tongue spun on and on, a magic caress that was fast propelling part of her consciousness towards oblivion.

As the pleasure began to escalate he pressed a finger inside that dark passageway and she cried out in confusion. At first her body refused him – and then he breached her. The sense of tightness in the forbidden closure took her breath away. Still he gently but firmly pressed deeper. She cried out again; embarrassed and afraid – while her rogue body drew him deeper still.

Chang’s face lifted, leaving a single finger buried deep in each of her most secret places. His expression was unreadable in the shadows but his eyes glittered like fire.

‘Why don’t you relax and come with me?’ he whispered, his voice so low that at first she wondered if she’d imagined it. ‘There is nothing you can do to resist.’

‘I – I’ll t-tell Doctor Casswell…’ she stammered weakly, struggling to find her voice. ‘D-does he know about this?’

Chang snorted. ‘Oh Sarah. This isn’t like school. There’s no point telling tales. He will say nothing because you will say nothing. While you are staying here at the hall your welfare depends on me. It would be better to learn compliance and smooth your path.’

Sarah stared up at him. As their eyes met through the darkness his thumb brushed her clitoris, sending a flare of pleasure spiralling through her belly. She groaned, her body flexing up to him, lifting on the wings of instinct. Her sex closed around his finger and she realised with horror that the contraction was echoed deep in her backside too.

Chang grinned at her obvious discomfort. ‘A little too tight for me yet, lady,’ he said as his fingers slithered from her body.

Sarah sighed with relief, but it was short-lived. A bedside lamp flicked on. The sudden glare made her wince and turn her head away, but he clearly didn’t care about her discomfort. With deceptive strength he rolled her onto her side so she was facing away from him.

‘But that can be easily remedied,’ he continued.

‘What are you doing to me?’ she whimpered.

The silence that followed made her shiver. Whatever he had in mind she could offer no resistance.

‘Chang, please—’ but before she could finish her plea she felt his hands part her sore buttocks, and knowing fingers seeking the forbidden entry they had so recently vacated.

Sarah flushed scarlet and began to protest again.