Dr Casswell's Student by Sarah Fisher

that he was not alone. Until that moment I had not seen that deep in the shadows stood both Father Orme and another, unknown, noble man who watched my approach with equal interest.
    ‘Lift you dress, wench,’ the noble man ordered. I slowed my step and hesitated for an instant.
    ‘Do as the Lord Usher says,’ says my master and, seeing the look of approval and encouragement on my master’s face, I did exactly as I was told. But even as I lifted my heavy skirts Lord Usher’s expression hardened.
    ‘What folly is this?’ he growled furiously, indicating my undergarments.
    My lord turned to me. ‘Take them off, Beatrice. I would have you naked under your robes, girl, from now on. No more of these pantaloons and petticoats. Take them off. Have I not explained to you, you are mine? Mine as and when I command, not held at bay by linen and wool. Take them off!’
    I blushed, eyes downcast, and nodded. I understood that he meant for me to be always at his beck and call, always ready to be touched by him and others if he so chose. I slipped off my petticoats. He nodded his approval and then indicated that I should hold my robes all the higher so that his compatriots might examine my nakedness.
    The stranger stepped a little closer and ran a hand over my belly, and then down through the dark curls that frame my sex.
    ‘Would you have me undo her bodice for you, Cousin?’ asked my lord. ‘A finer a pair of sweet tits you’ll have trouble to find this side of the city.’
    The man snorted and shook his head. ‘Nay, here in my hand I have the only thing that truly interests me.’ His fingers tightened on my quim. ‘I would wish that our maker had had the good sense to strike the whole of the female sex deaf and dumb so that I could fuck them all without having to worry about talking to them or wooing them or other such pointless posturing.’ He grinned. ‘And there’d be no risk of them telling tales to their men folk or their fathers.’ He nodded towards Father Orme. ‘What say you?’
    Orme shrugged, apparently unoffended by the man’s blasphemy.
    Lord Usher’s fingers had already found their way between the lips of my quim into that most intimate of places. I looked frantically at my master, praying he might rescue me from this brutal stranger, but he ignored my shame and humiliation and coolly watched the nobleman explore me.
    Usher plunged his finger home now, making me wince at his roughness. He grinned at my discomfort, his thumb lifting to trace the rise of my pleasure bud. In spite of myself, my body responded to his rough caress, and I shivered.
    The man laughed triumphantly. ‘See, there you have it, my lord, deprived of the right to answer back all women are the same. The little vixen wants nothing more than to feel my cock buried to the hilt inside her. Can you not see it in her eyes and the way she moves against me? Away with all this courtly love and poetry, give me the honest lust of a tight cunt and a fine wet mouth any day. Unless of course you are too old or too tired to care, don’t waste conversation on harlots such as this. It is here and only here that the real pleasure lies.’ As he spoke he spread the traitorous juices from my sex out onto my thighs and belly.
    He addressed only my master and Orme, without a word for me or a thought for the shame and distress I might feel at his words or his cruel invasion of my body. I understand now that he saw me not as a person but as a being below contempt, a thing to be used, reduced to nothing more than the essence of my sex.
    Lifting his fingers, he drew one of them into his mouth and smacked his lips as if the traces of juice it bore were the finest of delicacies. Pulling me closer he unfastened his robe, and without prelude pushed my legs wide apart and guided his cock into me, pulling one leg up around his waist to give him better purchase. The moment of coupling was so quick, so unexpected, that I cried out in horror and surprise.
    He grinned