Dr Casswell's Plaything Read online

  Casswell pulled the jacket she had been wearing over her lap, and slid his fingers up over her thigh. Sarah knew better than to resist; she was aroused and she could not help but gasp as his hands slipped under her skirt and a thumb brushed her clitoris. She saw the man in the seat over the aisle was watching them keenly. Casswell, it seemed, knew too, and pushing her jacket and skirt up a little higher, prised her thighs apart so the stranger could just glimpse the soft pinkness of her sex.

  Sarah moaned; Casswell’s touch set her alight, and knowing they were being watched added another dimension to it. His caress began to find a rhythm, and he resisted her efforts to slide a hand onto his crotch.

  But just as she began to relax and lift her hips in time to his fingers, he smiled and cruelly moved away. ‘I’m just going back to check on Chang,’ he informed her.

  Sarah stared at him, bemused and frustrated. Casswell got to his feet, and whispered in his most convivial tone to their eager observer, ‘Would you like to keep my seat warm for a while?’

  The man’s eyes widened, but he needed no second invitation. As he stepped across the aisle he brought with him a travelling rug, and settling into the seat next to Sarah, draped it over both his lap and hers.

  Then, wasting not a second, he feverishly tugged her skirt even higher so that she was totally exposed to his touch, and began to stroke the rise of her mound, gently toying with her sex lips. With his other hand he guided her fingers beneath the blanket to his tented groin, used them to unzip his fly, and wrapped them around his throbbing cock.

  He began to explore her, tentatively at first, stroking the delicately moist flesh between her thighs, dipping in and out of her, seeking the hardening ridge of her clitoris. He was eager and totally focused on exploring her, and despite her chagrin, she gasped softly as her excitement began to mount. His hand guided hers, working with her up and down his pulsing shaft, as if there was some chance she might forget that he wanted to enjoy a little pleasure too.

  Sarah worked diligently on the stranger’s cock, knowing Casswell would expect nothing less from her, one hand pumping his foreskin up and down, holding it tight in her fist, while with her other she burrowed into his open trousers and underwear for his heavy balls. He hissed, fighting to suppress any outward display of the pleasure he was experiencing so as not to alert anyone, but clearly delighted by her skilled touch and not quite able to believe his incredible luck.

  Sarah saw Casswell return, take the stranger’s seat and, selecting the in-flight magazine, begin to read, his apparent indifference somehow intensifying her shame. Beneath her fingertips she felt the man’s scrotum tighten, felt the surge and spasm of his orgasm, felt his sticky seed seep down over her hands, and at the same instant was astonished to find herself coming with him, grinding her hips against his fingers, gasping and breathless.

  The two of them sat quietly for a few minutes, then the man took a white linen handkerchief from his jacket pocket, slipped it under the blanket and wiped both her and himself. Sarah then straightened her blouse and smoothed her skirt down over her thighs, and without a word being spoken between them, he got to his feet, exchanged seats with Casswell for the second time, and Sarah, still trembling, turned to the next page of Beatrice’s diary.

  Casswell pressed the button for a stewardess and ordered more champagne. He looked pleased. ‘Chang’s fine, and so is my gift from the museum,’ he said, with a broad grin.

  Sarah looked at him, knowing full well that he had hated the reproduction pillar.

  The grin widened. ‘Which is currently in residence somewhere in the depths of Mustafa’s precious vault.’

  Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘But I saw the crate being loaded at the airport.’

  Casswell tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘Indeed you did,’ he acknowledged. ‘The crate was loaded, together with the documents lent by the obliging abbot.’

  ‘The manuscripts from the chest?’

  Casswell nodded. ‘Chang filled the abbot’s precious red leather box with some of the things lying around the vault,’ he disclosed. ‘That little creep Aziz said he hadn’t had a chance to have half of them dated, catalogued or translated anyway. So now he will.’ His expression was almost as unreadable as Chang’s always was. It was just a mischievous glint in his eyes that revealed his delight. It seemed that justice had been served, after all.

  And now there was only Beatrice. Sarah took a sip of her champagne and turned to the next page.

  …I dozed fitfully all through the dark of the night, woken by Usher or his manservant as they stirred and found me there ready for their every want. It seemed as if we were all three of us clutching at life, our desire and our hunger seeing off the darkness that hung over the end of our journey. It was both a relief and a worry when the sun finally rose.

  There was no putting off the last miles of our journey. I washed in the cold water left in the bath on the hearth, and dressed in the finery Usher had given me. He watched me and for once acted as the maid who helped me fasten the laces of the corset that cinched in my waist, and then helped me slip the final scarlet dress over it. T’was not a modest churchwoman’s robe, but the gown of a favoured mistress, a courtesan, a harlot.

  When my hair was dressed and decked Usher looked me up and down. ‘You look truly magnificent, Beatrice, and whatever becomes of us today nothing can take away this moment.’

  My eyes filled with tears. It was the first time he had called me by name. He unfastened the leather collar I had worn since he saved me from the clutches of Sister Judith, and from a twist of velvet set upon a side table brought out a fine metalled choker set with precious stones.

  ‘A gift,’ he murmured, pressing his lips to my neck as he fastened it tight shut.

  A while later we walked back to the courtyard where the horses were saddled and ready. Without another word we mounted up and headed towards the castle. I cannot tell you how anxious I was nor how close to tears, but as the miles passed I began to feel easier; at least whatever the outcome, by the time the sun set I would know my fate and that of my master.

  As we rode through the fields it was impossible not to feel the air of neglect and sadness in the landscape. All along the roadside the fields and cottage gardens were untended, the crops not harvested, and we saw many cottages where no smoke rose from the chimney.

  I sensed the unease of Usher’s men. We could be leading them into a plague, and yet I knew Usher would not turn back, and neither would I.

  And then at last we saw the outline of the castle against the skyline, and my heart rose into my mouth. It was all I could do not to kick my mount on and gallop up to the gates. Usher looked across at me.

  ‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘My man and I will see if we may enter, find out what news we can.’ And so he rode on with just his man at his side and I waited with the rest of Usher’s entourage, who looked anxiously over their shoulders as if there was some chance that they might spot the fever creeping up on them.

  We waited and waited just beyond the walls, and then I saw at last the gates open and Usher’s manservant riding towards us. ‘We are bidden to go inside,’ he said.

  I searched his face to see what else he might know. He looked me boldly in the eye.

  ‘What other news is there of the castle?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘None, my lady, only that I am to take you to Lord Usher.’

  Take me to Lord Usher? So that he may comfort me, console me?

  I mounted up and rode with him to the castle.

  The great courtyards look unkempt; where there should be wedding banners and bows there was nothing but a sense of death and illness. I looked from face to face, trying to find one I recognised; some I knew were Cassandra’s servants, but what unnerved me more was that each and every one wore a black band on their arm. Who was it that had passed on? My eyes filled with tears again.

  Looking up to the main steps I saw Lord Usher staring down at me, and beside him a face that made my heart
stand still in my chest.

  He was alive!

  My master stood alongside him, eyes heavy, his whole demeanour pale and weak. I dismounted and ran up the steps, not caring whether the Lady Cassandra saw me or not, my relief was such that I would have lost my life for that instant. He opened his arms to me and I rushed into them without an instant’s hesitation. The smell of him, the touch of him, the feeling of his arms around me; I had truly come home. He held me at arm’s length and looked deep into my eyes.

  ‘Oh sweet Beatrice,’ he murmured, pulling me close, his lips pressed into my hair. ‘I never thought I would ever see you again. The Lady Cassandra is dead,’ he said in little more than a whisper, and without any emotion. ‘She was amongst the first to succumb to the fever, but I was too ill to seek you out. I thought you were lost forever.’

  I shook my head. It did not matter. I was home now.

  ‘But I will see to it that you will never leave me again,’ he vowed, and taking my hand, led me inside.

  I thought I knew what devil drove him, but I was wrong. To my amazement Father Orme was standing in the main hall. ‘Marry us,’ my master said.

  Orme looked from face to face.

  ‘You heard me,’ my master said. ‘My cousin Usher and his men have come to celebrate a wedding, and by God there will be a wedding for them to dance at.’

  After a few awkward moments Orme lifted his hands and smiled. ‘Indeed,’ he said ingratiatingly.

  And so it was done. I was married in the gown Usher had given me, my master dressed as I had seen him at the top of the steps.

  And afterwards, while Usher danced, my lord took me to his chamber.

  ‘Take off your clothes, wench,’ he said, settling down upon a couch. I did as I was bidden, revealing the fine lines of the black silk corset beneath that nipped my waist and lifted my breasts like a feast for his hands and eyes.

  My master beckoned me closer, and I dropped to the floor and crawled to him. He ran his hands over my face and throat and shoulders. ‘Bring me my riding crop,’ he ordered.

  I looked up into his eyes as I handed him the ornate leather handle.

  ‘Now, on your hands and knees, I will teach you never to leave me again,’ he said, drew back the whip, and brought it down across my warm and eager flesh so hard that I screamed in a wild and hungry mixture of delight and pain. He brought the whip back again and once more it explode across my full buttocks. Again and again, and with each new blow I cried out, writhing and gasping from the hurting.

  Finally, when my punishment was done, he dropped to his knees behind me and with no prelude drove his cock deep inside me, hands on my hips to pull me back onto him. As he began to move I slid my fingers down between my thighs to rub the little bud that glowed deep within. One hand of his joined with mine and the brush of his fingertips was enough to take me to the place of no return. Driving his hips hard, he pressed his fingers and cock home. I cried out, this time in pure pleasure.

  ‘Welcome home, sweet wife,’ my master murmured, as he drove me out to the very shores of madness…

  Sarah lay the last few pages down on her lap and looked at Casswell, who smiled. ‘Time for us to go home, too,’ he said.

  Also Available From Auk and Chimera

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Front Matter

  Title Page

  Publisher Information

  Advisory Note

  Introduction

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Part 2

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Part 3

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Part 4

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Also Available

  From Auk and Chimera