Dr Casswell's Student

Dr Casswell's Student
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ISBN:  9781907753596
Author:  Sarah Fisher
Word Count:  61,564
Format:  eBook



Dr Casswell's PlaythingDr Casswell's Plaything
The ContractThe Contract

'By God, you are a temptress, girl. You have the body of a whore and the face of an angel,' he muttered thickly, wiping his lips. 'That old devil Orme at the Abbey said you would serve me well, and he was right. But you need to be taught who is master here and who the slave; unbroken you are far too heady a drug.'

   From beside his bed he pulled out a thin whip, the ornate handle set with jet. 'I used this to break my favourite horse. How fitting that I should use it next on you.'
   When I saw the whip I began to struggle anew and cried out in protest. I would do whatever he asked. There was no need to beat me; wasn't I already at his mercy?

When Sarah Morgan is invited to help her employer, Dr Casswell, translate an antique journal at his isolated country mansion, she finds herself drawn into the dark and sensual world of medieval slave girl, Beatrice de Fleur.

As past and present meet, Sarah is caught in an intense web of passion and pain, and stripped and bound for Casswell's pleasure, Sarah soon discovers what it is like to be a student of desire...

From behind her mask Sarah stared around the room. It was as though she had been washed up on the darkest shores of passion.
   Doctor Casswell extended a hand and took the fine silver lead from Chang. 'Good evening, my dear. You look very beautiful.'
   Sarah nodded, feeling unable to speak. Her silent acknowledgement of his compliment appeared to please him. Oliver Turner looked at her also. She could sense his delight with what he saw as too.
   Sarah glanced uncertainly around the party again. The other slaves were all stunning and exuded an intimidating sexuality, dressed in fantasy costumes, all beautifully made-up and coiffeured. They were as exotic and enticing as the sumptuous buffet arranged behind Casswell and Turner.
   Other delegates had looked up upon her arrival. They must have known she was new, and although their glances were covert, it didn't quite disguise the fact that many appraised her body with the eyes of potential purchasers.
   Outside, beyond the huge glass windows, the night sky was a cloudless band of stars, while inside a frisson of electric desire was slowly bubbling to the surface. It was not overtly seductive as yet, but possessed an intense erotic promise of things to come. Sarah shivered, trying hard to control the wild fluttering in her stomach.
   Amelia uncurled herself from Turner and ran a teasing finger up Sarah's arm. 'You and I have a little assignation,' she purred. 'Come with me.'
   Sarah stiffened and glanced up at Doctor Casswell for some kind of confirmation. He inclined his head towards her, eyes bright and hawkish. 'Do as Amelia says.'
   Sarah's senses were reeling, but without a word she followed Amelia across the now crowded room. She noticed Chang, a shadowy figure hovering in the background, slip away. She wondered if his leaving signified anything. But before she could ponder any further Amelia gripped her hand and guided her towards a slightly raised platform.
   Sarah gasped. 'What are you going to do?'
   Amelia laughed. 'Not me, darling... us. Just trust me, you'll love it. You and I are the cabaret tonight, my precious. Just relax and let yourself go.'
   As soon as the light went on above the stage the conversation faded to a low hum and Casswell settled himself against one of the pillars that overlooked the circular dais. A spotlight picked out Amelia, who was standing in front of the stage, looking gorgeous in her blue silk corset.
   The volume of the music rose a little, picking out a seductive Middle Eastern rhythm, and Amelia thrust her pelvis forward dramatically, while with one finger she teased at the plump lips of her naked pussy. With the other hand she stretched out and picked up a whip from the stage, and as her finger found the tight bud of her clitoris she cracked it like a thunderbolt, threw back her head, and howled like a wolf.
   Casswell allowed himself a wry smile; Amelia really was a natural exhibitionist. The lithe blonde leapt up onto the stage and prowled back and forth. Sarah was watching the performance, completely stunned, open-mouthed with shock, as the beauty stalked around cracking the whip.
   There was a chair, over which hung a pair of handcuffs.
   As the spellbound audience watched, Amelia suddenly leapt down and grabbed the unsuspecting Sarah. The girl protested and squirmed instinctively, fighting to free herself as she was relentlessly dragged onto the stage. As they struggled their way into the spotlight, Amelia seized the top of Sarah's feather-trimmed bodice and with a single violent tug she ripped it down, revealing the milky white curves of Sarah's breasts to the appreciative gathering.
   There was a murmur of approval from all sides as Sarah's tormentor cupped one firm breast in her gloved fingers and squeezed it lovingly, tweaking the ripe pink nipple. Sarah sobbed and writhed miserably, but Amelia had no intention of letting up. She guided the weakening girl to the chair, her clever fingers continually working on her body and ripping away the remainder of her exquisite costume. Sarah still struggled, but less vehemently, naked now except for her shoes and stockings, and the feather mask.
   Casswell sipped his champagne, impressed by their performance. He could sense the growing excitement, not just from Amelia, but Sarah too. The slim blonde threw her new slave onto the floor and then thrust her hips forward, a gloved finger teasing at her quim, holding the lips open.
   Sarah cried out her revulsion, whimpering in protest while Casswell stared with pleasure, feeling the heat and excitement rising from deep within.
   'No, no, please,' Sarah sobbed, her voice echoing around the enrapt audience in the garden room, but Amelia was without mercy. She caught hold of Sarah's hair and pulled her flushed face into her groin.
   Sarah emitted a stifled sob of angst, trying to push herself away, and then she knew it was hopeless and surrendered, like a broken animal.
   From his vantage point Rigel Casswell could not see exactly what Sarah Morgan was doing to her new mistress. But he could hear the wet mesmeric sounds of her tongue lapping at the blonde's body, and he could see the way Amelia's breasts swelled and her fingers curled in her slave's hair as she closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
   He could almost feel the tendrils of pleasure creeping up through the two lovely females.
   Amelia threw back her head and began to move in earnest, rhythmically, grinding her hips forward in time with the increasingly competent caresses of the tongue and lips between her legs.
   Amelia whimpered, pulled Sarah even closer, and trailed the tip of the whip across Sarah's back as she moved.
   Casswell could see Amelia's orgasm approaching. But at the very final moment she tore herself away from Sarah's tongue and lips and dragged her to her feet. With a single smooth movement she turned Sarah around, encouraged her to straddle the chair, and instantly snapped the handcuffs on, securing her tightly to the frame.
   To Casswell's delight Sarah could no longer sustain the pretence of real fear; her eyes sparkled with anticipation and her flesh glowed with an inner fire. Behind her the corset clad Amelia flexed the whip speculatively and let the end cut through the air. Although only a practice swing, it made Sarah jump and stiffen.
   Sarah remained motionless and waited, her eyes wide. The second swing was closer, slicing with an irresistible hiss through the cigar smoke that hung and swirled heavily around them.
   Casswell glanced around and smiled; every pair of eyes in the room was transfixed on the spotlit stage.
   He saw Sarah tense a split second before the next stroke hit her squarely across the shoulders.
   And then she screamed. It was a scream that came from the pit; a desperate animal cry of pain.
   Her body jerked, those deliciously ripe breasts thrusting forward, her nipples stiffening visibly.
   Casswell could see, framed by the wooden arc of the chair's curved back, the open lips of Sarah's sex. They glistened succulently under the spotlight's single penetrating eye.
   Amelia twisted and applied the next cruel stroke.
   The blow was lower this time, making Sarah's legs and pelvis surge forward wildly, pressing fiercely against the chair. Her face was contorted into an ecstatic grimace, while her hips thrust forward again, offering her sex to the audience like a ripe fruit. Mesmerised by the spectacle, Casswell's mouth was watering from the sheer erotic charge of the image the two women created.
   Sarah was breathing hard, trying to retain some shred of control. And then the whip swept down again and her head jerked back. Amelia smiled from under the silken mask - her teeth pearly-white and feline - and then she planted a kiss on her victim's gasping lips.
   Around him, Casswell could feel the erotic temperatures rising, the guests and their slaves willing their way towards release as a single body. He counted the blows in his head.
   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.
   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...
Average Rating (1 Review):  
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A good book
Thursday, 25 March 2010  | 

Ms. Fisher's work is consistently good. Dr Casswell is one of her earlier creations, and sets the standard for her later work.

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