Dr Casswell's Student (18 page)

Sarah didn’t moved. She remembered her encounter with Oscar only to well. Images of the heavy silver ring that pierced his foreskin flashed unbidden through her consciousness, and for some reason she wondered if it was the same design as the rings Amelia wore through her nipples.

Chang’s expression hardened alarmingly. ‘I asked you a question, girl,’ he growled. Sarah struggled to find her voice, but before she could reply he reached across the bed and slapped her face.

‘Do you remember him now?’ he repeated. He caught hold of the chain around her neck and wound it around his fist, pulling her closer.

Sarah nodded. The blow was so unexpected that her eyes filled with tears of surprise and pain. She wondered why he thought it necessary to be so brutal. He must surely realise she was in no position to refuse him whatever it was he wanted. ‘Yes,’ she whispered sulkily, as she rubbed her tingling cheek. ‘Yes, I do remember him.’

Chang nodded. ‘That’s better.’ His eyes worked down over her nakedness, taking in her stiffening nipples and the tempting fullness of her breasts.

Sarah tensed under his cool appraisal.

‘Several of the other guests have brought their girls here with them,’ he continued. His smile broadened a little. ‘Or their boys, whichever takes their fancy. What is certain is that after today’s meeting the masters and their slaves will be invited to join Mr Turner in the drawing room for one of his special little get-togethers.’ He stroked the reddening blotch on her cheek. She shivered; there was no comfort in his touch. ‘I’m sure you’ll love it. They usually hold a charity auction after dinner to raise a little money for their own pet causes.’

Sarah stared at him, aware that this apparently innocent piece of information intimated far more. Chang stroked his hand back across her cheek, then down to her breasts, and rolled one pert nipple between thumb and forefinger, making her flinch as he nipped it spitefully. ‘Do you want to know what it is they intend to auction?’

Sarah took a deep breath. She could already guess what they intended to auction.

Arranging himself beside her on the bed, Chang continued, ‘Your sweet little body, that’s what. Your sweet little body and the body of every other slave in the house. The good doctor will sell you off to the highest bidder for the night, or just for a damned good beating. Or perhaps to take part in the floor show.’ The little Oriental’s dark eyes were glinting excitedly. ‘You know of course that when Doctor Casswell finally tires of you he will bring you to a place like this. He will bring you to Mr Turner’s, or one of the other connoisseurs on the circuit, and sell you like so much horse flesh.’ He paused for effect. Sarah tried hard not to let the shock register on her face.

‘Or sometimes,’ Chang continued, his eyes not leaving hers as his fingers continued their brazen exploration of her breasts, ‘there is no money involved, and a slave is handed on like a bitch or dog that’s fallen from favour.’

Sarah could smell the man’s growing heat, and feel the slightest tremor in his fingers. She knew he was talking himself into a state of arousal. She wondered what remembered images from auctions past lurked behind those beady eyes. She was determined not to show her fear of him, but it was difficult. She knew he hoped intimidation would make her more compliant.

With the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears, she said slowly, ‘So is that how Doctor Casswell got you?’

To her surprise Chang laughed, and then grabbed her shoulders and jerked her close to him, so his face was mere inches from hers and her traitorously erect nipples brushed the front on his coarse blue shirt.

‘Be very careful how far you push me, Sarah Morgan. I’ve told you before that you really do need me on your side. You would do well not to forget that very important lesson. Life with Doctor Casswell will be far easier for you if I am your friend.’

Sarah refused to look away and bravely held his aggressive stare, even though she knew she was being provocative.

Chang grinned. It made him look like a shark. Before Sarah could respond defensively he grasped the back of her neck and kissed her fiercely. His tongue twisted like a worm and forced itself deep into her mouth. She pushed against his chest, and then he spitefully bit her lower lip. Sarah squealed at the shock and pain as he quickly pulled away and pushed her face down towards his groin. At the same time he snatched her wrist in a vicelike grip and pressed her palm into his crotch. She could feel his erection through the fabric of his sweat pants and instinctively tried to resist the pressure of his fingers. Chang laughed again, but without a shred of humour.

‘Oh, very good,’ he panted, ‘very good indeed. You know, I enjoy it even more if you resist me, Sarah. Don’t you understand that? Today you are mine to do with exactly as I please. The doctor will be busy all day. You had better not forget that.’

Sarah made one last attempt to twist away from his grasp but he was far too strong for her. She had little choice but to do as he demanded. He tugged down the waistband of his trousers with one hand and his raging cock sprang free and speared up before her wide eyes. The purple head was swollen and smooth, and already glistened with the slick juices of his excitement.

‘You know exactly what I want,’ Chang hissed between clenched teeth, ‘so don’t play silly games with me.’

The raw smell of his masculinity made her tremble as he jerked his hips towards her vulnerable face. She reluctantly caught his rigid column between her fingers, and cupped his distended testicles. She knew it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him; he wanted her to fellate him, and nothing less would do.

It was pointless to try and fight. She closed her eyes and steeled herself, and then drew his cock between her lips. She ran her tongue around the sensitive foreskin where it surrounded and rolled back from the engorged crown. As she pressed the very tip of her tongue into the single eye, Chang sighed and lay back amongst the tangle of sheets, his hand still resting on the back of her neck in case she was foolish enough to do anything silly.

‘That’s better,’ he mumbled. ‘That’s much, much better.’

Crouched between his legs she could feel his dominance. Everything about Chang’s body language and demeanour was designed to assert that here in the shadows of this bedroom, far away from the protection of Doctor Casswell and Oliver Turner, he was the master and she the slave.

She shuffled into a more comfortable kneeling position between his spread thighs, finally relinquishing the fight in her belly. With her tongue and fingers and artful mouth working in harmony she gave him what he wanted; a simple act of complete surrender. But what perturbed her most was that amongst her sense of anger and humiliation, she could also feel the first flickers of excitement.

Sarah closed her eyes, angry with herself, trying to suppress her need. With each lapping stroke she brought Chang closer and closer to his climax, and fought to hold back her own growing need. There would be time enough later to caress and stroke herself to that sweet point of no return, when Chang was gone and she was alone.

At last she felt Chang’s muscles tense under her fingertips, and heard his panting quicken. Sarah steeled herself in readiness of his ejaculation. But at the very last second he jerked his cock out from between her lips and, as he grunted like a pig, a warm tidal wave of semen splashed across her breasts and chin, the clammy seed clinging to her glowing skin.

Sarah recoiled in frustration and surprise and looked up at him. His eyes glinted like jet. He wiped himself and then lay back for a few seconds, his gaze locked to hers, silently denying her the right to clean herself. Her heart thumped a frantic rhythm in her chest, and she wondered what would follow. He grinned slyly, and then rolled over and took something from the bedside drawer.

‘Here,’ he said with a lecherous leer, ‘I’ve brought you a little something from Mr Turner’s precious collection downstairs. I thought you might enjoy a little company, seeing as I won’t be able to satisfy you for a while yet.’ His eyes flickered down to the pearly emission coating her throat and breasts, to emphasise his meaning. Sarah glanced surreptitiously at his flaccid penis lying shrivelled and glistening over the waistband of his trousers, confirming his satiated condition.

Sarah gasped. In his hand, Chang cradled a thick and exquisitely modelled phallus, set along its length with a multitude of small smooth sparkling precious looking stones. He pressed it firmly between her breasts, and rolled it lewdly back and forth in his own semen.

‘Lay back and open your legs,’ he ordered flatly.

Sarah stared at him in disgust, but knew it was pointless to deny him. He would get what he wanted, one way or another. He took her fingers and wrapped them around the inert phallus, pushed her lifeless thighs apart, and guided it between them. She closed her eyes and shuddered as the thing rubbed over her flesh. It was made of something slightly flexible and warm to the touch. She sighed with shame as it brushed lightly and crept up her inner thighs towards its target; her sex was already wet, the inner lips slick with the juices of her growing excitement – the excitement that only seconds before was her own wicked secret.

Chang spread her legs wider still and gently pressed the end of the dildo into the moist void. To Sarah’s chagrin she opened willingly like the petals of a flower, before closing hungrily around the uneven shaft and drawing it into the reaches of her body.

Her tormentor sat back on his haunches. ‘Now touch yourself,’ he encouraged, his voice thick with his returning excitement. He guided her wet fingers to her engorged clitoris. ‘Don’t tell me that you don’t want to. I can feel how excited you are, Sarah. Casswell was right about you – you really are a natural. Now touch yourself. I want to watch you come.’ As he mesmerised her befuddled mind with his dulcet tones he began to ease the thick black phallus back and forth, in and out, encouraging Sarah to do the same of her own accord.

She nibbled her lip and closed her eyes tight, her sense of humiliation complete. While modesty demanded she fight him off and roll away, her body demanded release. Her finger circled the hardened ridge of her clitoris, sending pure pleasure soaring through her. She was stunned by just how responsive her body was. Hopelessly lost, and no longer caring about the presence of the man who squatted and leered down at the writhing feast before him, she began to pump the dildo. Her fingers worked eagerly back and forth across her pleasure bud, until she knew there was no going back – she knew she was plunging towards an explosive orgasm.

Rolling her head from side to side and whimpering incoherently, Sarah arched her back and instinctively thrust up onto the carved phallus.

‘Look at me,’ Chang whispered in her ear. ‘Look at me.’

Her eyes opened, and she knew he was toying with her like a cat toys with a mouse. As the first fires of orgasm roared through her she realised that his pleasure was intensifying the sensations she was feeling. Wave after wave engulfed her, but above it all she could see Chang’s dark eyes fixed on hers, drinking in every nuance, every tremor, every ripple of her joy.

Ten minutes later Sarah stood in the shower and let the refreshing water cascade down over her body, washing away the last remnants of Chang’s passion. She was still trembling and realised, as she turned her face up to the torrent, that she had begun to live her life day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute, with no thought for the future, no longer looking ahead. Her whole life revolved around Doctor Casswell and his plans for her.

She reached up and let the water play over her back, only too aware of the sensation the torrent lit on the skin still raw from the brand. Chang – returned to his role of nursemaid and jailer once his passion was sated – had said he would dress it when he returned.

Closing her eyes she contemplated Chang’s comments regarding Oliver Turner’s guests, their slaves, the party, and the auction. She wondered if it was the truth, or just part of some dark fantasy he’d been spinning to persuade her into submission. It was a strange and compelling game they were playing.

Taking a towel from the warmed rail she dried herself. In the bedroom, on the desk, were the computer and the loose-leaf folder, and she was drawn to it once again. It would a relief to step back into Beatrice de Fleur’s world for a while. Wrapping the towel around her she opened the book to the marked page and sat down to read. It took no more than seconds for her to become oblivious to her wet hair and the stinging sensation of rough towelling again the burn.

…I awoke to find myself lying on a large curtained bed, with my hands tied above my head. The rope was slack, enabling me to turn a little. Although naked, my flesh burnt with an unnatural heat and I felt sick and dizzy. On my backside the fresh sore from the branding iron made me want to weep, but I kept my peace; I was not alone. Out beyond the ornate drapes I could see torches glowing in the wall sconces and from close by I could hear the low murmur of voices.

Although my head and my body ached most pitifully I thanked all the saints that whatever noxious potion my lady had poured down my throat it had not finished me off completely – although I could still feel its effects in my blood.

As my head cleared a little I listened more closely to the conversation, and after a moment or two I realised it was her ladyship and that blaggard Arturo. What they were discussing made my blood run ice cold.

‘You worry too much, madam. The deed will be carried out down by the river as we have already arranged,’ said Arturo, with an edge to his voice as if he explained this plan to her many, many times before.

My lady made noises of approval, and I heard the sound of wine or something similar being poured into two vessels. ‘Please forgive me, Arturo. I know you think me foolish, but this is of the greatest importance. We cannot afford to fail now, not this close to our goal. I have to be certain these assassins you have hired will do the job. My husband, for all his faults, is a most popular man. Are you certain they will be able to carry out what is required of them when the time comes?’

Arturo groaned. ‘Murder, my lady. That is the word you fight so shy of. Of course they will. These men are hired mercenaries. How many times do I have to assure you of their loyalty to you and to the mother church? They are hired from the house of Carun, who are the sworn enemies of your husband. They and their families have been brought to the very edge of ruin by the taxes he has levied upon their estates. Trust me, lady, they will be only too happy to dispatch your husband to his maker. And if there was any doubt lingering, the purse of gold I pressed into their greedy paws convinced them of the justness of our cause.’

‘And they are here now? They are in the castle?’

‘They came in just before curfew, disguised as merchants, and are even sleeping now under the shelter of the castle walls. They will be in their place by cock-crow tomorrow. Have no fear your ladyship, it is all arranged. Your husband, the Lord Usher, and I, are to leave for the hunt by first light, and as we pass through the stand of trees down by the ford the ambush will be sprung. A swift blow from a well placed sword blade and your husband and his feckless cousin will be no more.’

There was a moment or two’s silence, and then my ladyship said, ‘Good, ’tis just a shame that that dissolute priest will not to be amongst the hunting party. Once my husband is dead I want you to eliminate that evil old man with all haste. He chills me to the very marrow. Had it not been for him I believe my father would never have married me off in the first place.’ There was another pause and then she added, ‘And what of your little trollop, Arturo? For all your words in the heat of passion and the maw of lust are you sure you want her with you? Are you sure you can master her? Would it not be better to turn her loose now while she can be of no trouble to either of us? There are whores a-plenty all over the city that will do exactly as you bid them for a handful of coppers, and who have no history that might condemn us.’

Arturo laughed. ‘I am certain of it, my lady. I would have her with me, truly.’

As if forewarned by some other sense, I lay stock still on the bed and closed my eyes. A second or two later Arturo drew aside the curtains that draped my fetid cell. From behind half-closed lids I watched him gaze down upon me, examining my nakedness with an unhealthy interest. I sensed that some part of him wanted me because I belonged to the man who, for some reason, he perceived to be his enemy. In his mind I was little more than his master’s toy and he, a peasant, wanted nothing more than to have me for his own, to prove he was as good as the man he planned to betray and murder.

‘Have no fear, my lady,’ he said, running his hateful hands up over my thighs and stroking a finger up into the tight reaches of my quim. ‘I will master her. And when all this is over and settled, I think I shall take her as my wife. Always at my beck and call, my bed companion. And I shall keep her like this, naked and tied until she is fully broken.’ He cupped my belly and stroked it thoughtfully. ‘I would like her to bear me sons.’ Feigning sleep, I moaned softly and turned a little under his touch so as not to arouse his suspicions, while my mind raced with fear and hatred.

His despicable finger sank a little deeper and I moved against it sleepily, as if all that was left in my drugged frame was the force that drives an animal to couple with its mate; not reason, not sound-thinking, but only the thrust of nature and the heat of the rut.

Arturo seemed much pleased with my response.

‘What is it that holds you there? Does she stir? Do you think she’s heard what we said?’ asked my lady anxiously. ‘If that is the case we may need to rethink her fate. Is she awake?’

Arturo cupped one breast, his fingers working at the nipple until it hardened under his insistent caress. ‘No, not yet, lady. Look, she sleeps like a babe. The draught you gave her works still, but not enough so she loses all feelings. Look how she moves so freely against me. Perhaps…’ I could hear the amusement and suppressed excitement in his voice, ‘… perhaps we might have a little more fun with her while she rests.’

Her ladyship snorted. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, man. We need her to stay asleep. Sometimes Arturo, I think your entire life is governed by that great thing that hangs between your legs. I have already explained, I must go downstairs and entertain that buffoon Usher so no one is suspicious of my absence. I am late already. Is your whore well tied?’

Arturo, fooled by my sleepiness and perhaps still thinking about my feigned compliance, gave the rope the most superficial of inspections.

‘Aye. She is secure.’

‘Good,’ said my lady. ‘Leave her there, then. Best you gag her too so she won’t be able to attract anyone’s attention if she does happen to wake.’

Arturo did as he was asked, and I struggled not to retch as he thrust a filthy rag into my mouth and bound it tight with another – all the time aware that I was supposed to be in a drugged stupor.

‘Hurry up,’ snapped my ladyship. ‘Time is racing.’

I suspect Arturo’s progress was greatly hampered by the fact that he could hardly bear to leave me thus: naked, tied and alone and unable to resist his advances. It was everything he could have possibly wanted and more. His fingers frantically travelled feverishly between my breasts and my sex. For two pins I knew he would have stayed.

Finally my lady appeared behind him, her face contorted with anger. ‘For God’s sake leave her be, man. There will be time enough for your questionable pleasures later. If we are not down in the hall soon our absence will arouse all manner of trouble.’

And so finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I was alone. With the door closed fast I slipped off the ropes that bound me and spat out the evil rag that silenced me. I had to find a way to warn my master – and quickly. I scrambled off the bed, fighting the nausea and the dizziness that threatened to undo me. Still naked, I hurried to the great oak door, my head spinning from the after-effects of my ladyship’s noxious potion.

It seems the saints were on my side that night, for I was just about to throw open the door when I heard muffled voices coming from outside. Crouching on my hands and knees I peered through the keyhole into the passageway beyond. Lolling idly against the wall were two of the household guards, no doubt set there by Arturo to keep watch.

Although my brain was still addled, I held back for a moment or two. I had no idea what instructions the men had been given. Would they let me by without reporting what they had seen? Unlikely. My master’s life was at risk. I had to warn him, and dare not take the chance of discovery. Perhaps I might pass by as my lady’s maid, left behind in her chambers to tidy. But not naked, as I was now.

Hastily I looked around the room for something suitable to wear. Discarded on the settle a fine white linen petticoat – a beginning at least. I pulled it on, and as I did I saw by one of the great tapestries on the wall, almost concealed by an ornamental wooden pier, was a narrow door set back into the stonework.

I had heard many tales that the castle was riddled with secret passages, and wondered if this was one such passage. Picking up a blanket for a cloak, I wound it around my shoulders and then eased open the concealed door. The cold air hit me like a rush of water. Sure enough, out beyond the door was a little landing and a narrow spiral staircase that wound down into the gloom. Afraid I would lose heart if I delayed too long, I plucked a torch from a wall sconce and warily began my descent into the inky darkness.

In my drugged state it seemed a strange and almost unreal journey that appeared to twist down into the very bowels of the earth. I had to keep tight hold of my thoughts to stop them from running away with sheer terror. At each landing – and there were many – I listened through the doors that presented themselves and looked where I could, to see if I might find safe passage back to my master’s apartments, or even to the chapel to find Father Orme. Several of the doors were locked from the inside, and those that weren’t were in parts of the castle that were unfamiliar to me. I was too afraid to risk getting lost. Finally, after what seemed like an age, I realised I had reached the ground floor and the courtyard, and with a great rush of relief I pushed open a heavy wooden door that led outside.

The smell of the night air filled my senses. A brazier burned brightly in the lee of a wall, and as my eyes adjusted to the gloom I saw I was not alone. At first I thought I was surrounded by simple travelling peasant folk who had come in to the castle for the night to take shelter from the dangers of the open road.

And then my heart sank.

Staring at me with a mixture of surprise and disbelief were a group of four or five people. They were working men and they had been drinking. I looked across towards the night watchman’s station. It seemed an awful long way, and I knew my bare feet, the rough blanket, and the thin wisp of a petticoat were scant protection against the chill night air – or anything else.

One man, eyes bright with beer and lust, stepped forward, and pushing the door closed behind me, trapped me between his arms. He leered down. His breath was foul.

‘Why, hello my pretty thing. What brings you out on a night like this, so poorly dressed against the cold? Seems to me you’re in need of a good man who can warm you through and keep you a-bed nights.’

He laughed and tugged at my blanket as he spoke. Had he been sober I would have called on his better nature to assist me in my mission to save the life of my master. But the ruffian’s reason had been driven out by drink, leaving only those dregs, those lesser demons that rule a man when his is in his cups.

‘I have to go, I have an important message—’ I began in an appealing tone. ‘—It is a matter of life and death. Truly, please let me pass.’ I made to step out from under his arm but he caught hold of the blanket, wound it around his forearm, and pulled it tight. It came away and for an instant I broke free, but he anticipated the moved and grabbed my arms, banging me back against the door. The blow winded me and I struggled to catch my breath. My drunken companion laughed at my discomfort. ‘Not so fast, my little pretty,’ he slavered like a breathless dog. ‘Did no one ever tell you it’s rude to leave without first being introduced? Would you care to join my friend and me by the fire for a cup or two of the finest wine?’

Behind him the brazier spat and flared for an instant, and in the glow I knew I must seem the very thing the men had summoned from their basest fantasies.

My white petticoat was fashioned from the sheerest of fabrics, revealing every curve and plain of my body. Here and there it clung to my flesh where the fever from the potion had lifted dewy patches. The slob wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, his eyes flashing with drink driven lust.

‘Please let me go,’ I beseeched again, but knowing my words had fallen on deaf ears. ‘I have to go. It really is a matter of the gravest urgency – of life and death.’

‘Life and death, eh?’ he said, rolling closer so I could feel his grotesque manhood pressing into my belly, and had to turn my face from his putrid breath. ‘An angel, are you? Seems you’ve answered a journeyman’s prayer tonight. Open your legs for me and show us a little piece of paradise, sweet angel.’

As he spoke his lips sought mine and his tongue drove between them, while his hands mauled my breasts and he pressed his knee between my thighs. I tried to push him off, though I dare not scream out for fear of alerting the guards. If they took me back into the castle, fate might see to it that it was my ladyship and not my master who was informed of my plight – and then all hope would be lost. Even so, it was my instinct to fight.

I twisted away from my would-be seducer. To my horror he laughed and held me all the tighter by the shoulders. Looking back to his drunken compatriots, several of who were already on their feet, he beckoned them closer.

‘Come here, Saob, and help me with this slippery little wench. And you, Francis and Leo. You shall all have your turn, or perhaps she has a few friends upstairs who would like the company of good men such as ourselves? What say you wench?’