Dr Casswell's Student by Sarah Fisher Page A

as he plunged his engorged member home.
    ‘I like it when a woman calls out as you enter her. ’Tis an honest animal cry of desire and need.’
    I shivered as he forced himself deeper, closing his eyes with the sheer pleasure of my body closing around him.
    ‘Just as you said, dear Cousin, she is good and tight,’ he murmured thickly to my master and then, to my surprise, after no more than a dozen strokes, pulled his cock out. Its livid purple crown brushed across my thighs like a wet quarterstaff.
    He grinned as I looked up at him, and then he forced me roughly down onto my hands and knees. I knew what he expected. Without even looking at me he guided his shaft between my lips and into my mouth.
    I shuddered as the taste of my own excitement invaded my senses. My sex fluttered like a bird’s wing, and without thinking where I was or what I was doing, I slid a hand down over my belly, scrabbling up the hem of my gown to find to the soft wet places that dwelt beneath. To my horror the stranger laughed, even as my tongue and free hand worked furiously along his great shaft.
    ‘By all the saints, it is true what they say about country wenches. Come and mount up, Orme. Or perhaps you, good Cousin. Come, make some use of this girl and share the pleasures her untutored passions offer. By God, she is hot!’
    Glancing to one side, I saw the lecherous expression on Orme’s face. ‘Unfasten your bodice, wench,’ he said, in a throaty tone that betrayed his excitement. ‘I would play a little with those shapely dugs that the good Lord Usher dismisses as the province of babes. If you have no objection, my lord?’ He glanced in my master’s direction.
    My master waved them on, and by doing so commanded me to do as I was told. I could see the desire in his eyes, and tell from his expression that when his friends were done with me he had a plan of his own.
    While I loosened the fastenings of my bodice Orme knelt behind me and his cold talons clawed up my skirts. He raked his nails across my flesh as he guided his shaft into my quim.
    Leaning forward, he jerked down the shoulders of my petticoats, and those same talons caught hold of my freed breasts. Cupping their delicate flesh he began to nip and twist at their swollen buds. His stale, rasping breath quickened as I cried out in pain. But my pain delighted him, and I felt a dark mixture of shame and heat rising from deep inside me. Upon my lips I could taste the growing pleasure of Lord Usher. I knew it wouldn’t be long before his seed filled my mouth, and I prayed, as my own body began to respond to their growing excitement, that God might save me from this divine torment…
    Sarah shivered, responding instinctively to the account of Beatrice’s intense emotions. Her own feelings simmered. She took a deep breath, unable to comprehend what was happening to her; as she transferred Beatrice’s story onto the computer screen it felt as if every nuance, every sensation, was echoed in her own body.
    Was this what Casswell had hoped for, so her initiation into this world of pain and pleasure might be all the smoother? Sarah closed her eyes, and at once her mind was awash with a heady mix of images from the night before and from Beatrice’s diary.
    Out beyond the windows of the study, Sarah could see a crumbling terrace and the gentle rise and fall of the overgrown gardens as they tumbled down over a low incline towards dense woodland. She tried to concentrate on their rich greenery; fighting to calm her mind. Once, the gardens must have been magnificent.
    She picked up the file and turned to the next page. It seemed that the boundaries between the past and the present had already begun to blur.
Chapter 6
    …Finally, when Lord Usher and Father Orme had done with me, my master approached. I was crouched on the rough grass on all fours, breasts and backside bare, with the taste of Usher’s seed still on my lips and tongue, and the old priest’s pleasure trickling down the