by Sarah Fisher
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.
Casswell smiled at her discomfort. He could see a hint perspiration dampening her brow and fringe, while the male youths’ lust was as raw and undisguised as if they were in rut. He nodded toward Sarah. ‘My young friend here is new to this area. Perhaps you boys might like to take her for a little walk and show her some of the sights? I’m sure she would like to take in a little local colour.’
The more brazen of the two was a thickset lout with stubble on his chin. He grinned cautiously at Casswell’s suggestion, and then pulled up his sleeves as if to bring a certain business-like quality to the proceedings. His forearms were a mass of swirling multi-coloured tattoos that promised everything from constant fidelity to sudden death.
‘And why would we want to do that?’ he asked carefully.
‘Why not?’
The youth visibly relaxed a little, and Casswell knew the simplicity of his answer had done the trick.
‘Yeah… why not,’ he grinned widely and licked his lips with a fat tongue. ‘After all, it’s a nice day for a walk. Maybe you
might like to come along and keep her company – you know, keep an eye on us? You know… watch…?’ he said, imbuing the words with all the erotic possibilities he could muster. ‘Is that what you’re into?’ His gaze flitted from Sarah’s thighs to Casswell, and quickly back again.
Casswell nodded.
What a perceptive youth. His eyes told of something that Casswell instinctively recognised as animal cunning. In fact, his whole demeanour gave the impression that he was something barely tame; a feral creature that might turn at any second. It added a certain frisson to the encounter that appealed to Casswell.
‘Perhaps that might be a good idea,’ he said, and as he spoke he pulled a twenty-pound note from his wallet, and leaning across Sarah he handed it to the wild youth. ‘And here’s something for your trouble.’
The youth acknowledged its receipt with the slightest nod of his head.
‘And when we’ve had our little walk,’ Casswell continued, ‘we’ll give you both a lift down to the village. We just need to get off the main road now.’
The two stepped away from the car, and Casswell smiled at the ashen Sarah as he pulled the purring vehicle into a nearby lay-by cut into the verge.
Sarah’s seduction was a joy to watch. The two youths led her into a ramshackle barn a few hundred yards away from the lane, and there they took her with such vigour and faultless timing that Casswell wondered with amusement if they spent their young lives sharing women.
Perhaps they did. Perhaps the more brash of the two, the tattooed negotiator, brought the prey down in the chase, and then carried them back to their lair where the younger could share the spoils of the hunt.
Perhaps the most erotic episode of the encounter was when the quieter of the two tied Sarah to a rusting ring set in one wall. She didn’t fight him. Although she whimpered pitifully as the rope tightened, he had no trouble in securing an old length of rope around her wrists and then through the ring.
She was a picture of submissive beauty; the repressed little secretary totally undone by such an outlandish encounter. She looked superb with her clothing and hair dishevelled, and her arms stretched and secured above her head.
Casswell could see a rivulet of perspiration trickling down between her breasts. She was intensely excited! Oh, that much was so obvious! And she trembled like a timid kitten as the unlikely pair moved in to bring the game to its heady conclusion.
Sarah had not spoken throughout the episode. There was a glazed expression in her eyes as if she was caught up in a dream, and Casswell knew, despite her revulsion, that the dark desire within was being fed by the two unschooled ruffians.
To Casswell’s delight, as soon as she was secured against the wall, the quieter one dropped to his knees amongst the straw and began to nuzzle feverishly between her quivering thighs. Finding the riches that dripped like honey from her gaping sex, he lapped at her hungrily.
Sarah slumped on the end of the old rope and whimpered her delight and shame as the youth found the bud that throbbed there. He held her open with nicotine-stained fingers, and Casswell could hear his active tongue slurping against her as she shuddered wearily towards the orgasm she so clearly craved.
Her lashes fluttered, and she peered down with glazed eyes at her final and total humiliation; the older of the two knelt and slipped his own revived erection between his mate’s buttocks, and he buggered him most soundly.
Chapter 7
With her jacket clutched tightly around her shoulders, Sarah hurried into the ladies’ room at the Boar’s Head Hotel and slammed the door behind her. The elegant little powder room, tucked away under the main staircase, was quietly luxurious; decorated in pastel pinks and creams with a row of gold, harp-backed chairs neatly arranged under the grey marble vanity unit. It was a world away from the wild events in the barn.
An elderly attendant was arranging thick cream towels over a rail. She looked up at Sarah’s arrival and nodded to acknowledge her presence, but she didn’t speak.
Casswell had dropped the two youths just outside the village, with more than enough money to pay for a taxi to their destination. Sarah wondered if the louts might have been tempted to follow the car; would they not want to find out more about her and Casswell; eager for a little more carnal pleasure? When she closed her eyes she could still see their eyes, as dark and beady as rats’ in the fetid gloom.
She could hardly believe what she’d done, and struggled to regain some semblance of composure, forcing herself to breathe more slowly. How quiet the unruffled, perfumed surroundings of the powder room were; a stunning contrast to the shadowy intimacy of the barn where she had been just minutes earlier.
Sarah leant heavily against the vanity unit and stared at her reflection in the mirror above the basins. Was there some chance she was dreaming after all? Would she close her eyes again and wake up back at home at her aunt’s house, or even in her room at Casswell Hall? The erotic images from Beatrice’s diary seemed to have effected every part of her life, why not her dreams?
But Sarah knew this was no dream. A tiny flame of knowledge burned deep in her pupils, a little flare that she doubted anyone else would ever notice. Rigel Casswell had helped unleash a part of her nature she had never even suspected existed; a part that was set to change her life forever.
She opened her handbag and, as she took out her hairbrush, noticed her hands were trembling. Although her hair was still in need of a groom and her cheeks had a healthy glow about them, there was very little other outward evidence to suggest the encounter with the two anonymous young men had ever occurred.
She filled a basin with warm water and washed her face, wondering if there was any way she could wash the rest of her body. Doctor Casswell was expecting her to join him for lunch, and it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting too long, but she longed to rid herself of the raw animal scent of the barn.
Sarah realised the elderly attendant was staring at her. She reddened under the old woman’s unfaltering gaze, and reapplied her make up and tidied her hair.
‘Is there something you want, dearie?’ the woman asked when Sarah had done, looking her up and down. ‘Something you need?’
‘No, not really,’ said Sarah, adding a final touch of lipstick, her eyes fixed on the other woman’s in the mirror. ‘I was just wondering if there was somewhere I could have a shower, or even just have a proper wash.’
The woman grinned, revealing a mismatch of teeth. ‘I could find you somewhere nice and private if you want. You’ve been up to it, ain’t ya?’ she said with an obscene leer. ‘Have you finished for today, or are you getting yourself ready to turn another trick?’
Sarah blushed furiously. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she protested indignantly. ‘I’m here having lunch with someone.’
The woman grinned. ‘No need to play so prim and proper with me, dearie. I know a whore when I see one. Did your client send you in here to clean yourself up?’
Utterly speechless, Sarah stared at the woman with growing incredulity.
‘Or is that how he likes you best?’ the hag continued, moving closer. ‘Sitting beside him in full view of everyone out there, and then when you’re eating maybe he’ll slip a finger up you – when he thinks no one’s looking.’ She cackled to herself. ‘Or maybe he prefers it when they are looking—’
Sarah hastily sidestepped her and started backing towards the washroom door. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said weakly.
‘Oh really?’ the old woman sneered. ‘There’s no need to run away from me, my lamb. I’ve been there. I used to be a working girl myself. I certainly don’t mean you any harm. I’ve worked the hotels all my life. Seen it all, me. If you like I could lock the door so you can get yourself cleaned up.’ She pulled a key out of her overall pocket. ‘And if you’re short of a pound or two there’s a couple of guests staying at the moment who’d pay real well to watch you tidy yourself up. Maybe I could soap y
ou down—’ She mimed the action of cradling a heavy breast with one claw-like hand.
Sarah had to get away from the insane woman. Her fingers were on the door handle, and as the hag shuffled closer Sarah pulled it open and hastily slipped out into the busy foyer, her heart pounding in her chest.
She began to tremble, and tried to relax now that there were other people around. Had stepping into Casswell’s debauched world launched her into a way of life from which there was no escape? What was it that the old woman had seen in her face that had told her so much? Sarah swallowed hard, tears forming in her eyes. She wondered if there was any way she could tell Doctor Casswell about her bizarre encounter.
The hotel was busy. The doctor was waiting for her in the bar and looked up at her arrival, a smile of approval on his face. His expression remained consistent as Sarah approached, and she felt a strange flurry of affection and desire that puzzled her. He handed her a glass of wine and indicated the stool beside him.
‘You look wonderful,’ he complimented as she positioned herself elegantly beside him. He lowered his voice conspiratorially, ‘And you performed exceptionally well with our young friends earlier.’ Sarah blushed yet again and glanced anxiously around to see if anybody was within hearing distance. Leaning a little closer, he slid a hand onto her stockinged thigh and eased her legs a little apart, his eyes firmly fixed on hers.
She understood his mute command and relaxed her legs, opening for him, submitting to the path of his exploration. The confident smile of approval widened. The brazen hand inched higher. One long finger grazed the plump lips of her sex.
He kissed her cheek lightly and whispered in her ear, ‘Don’t worry, no one can see what I’m doing.’ As he opened her wider still, Sarah struggled to retain some shred of composure, but found it almost impossible. She sipped the glass of wine while he casually ordered lunch, the barman clearly unaware that the suave customer whose order he was taking at that moment had his fingertip lodged just inside the gorgeous girl beside him.
