Dr Casswell's Student

by Sarah Fisher

  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.

  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 s
he 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…

  Also Available From Auk and Chimera