Dr Casswell's Student Read Online Free PDF Page A

day she had commenced working at the museum. They were qualities that both excited and delighted him.
    Rigel Casswell was a patient man. Like a hunter he knew the importance of understanding his prey, to observe and understand its habits, all the better to trap it – to tame it. It had taken him months to plan Sarah Morgan’s seduction and find a way to persuade her to join him at Casswell Hall – but he already knew it would be well worth the effort.
    In the bedroom Sarah picked up her dressing gown from the foot of the bed and padded barefoot towards the bathroom. At the door she hesitated and turned to glance into the mirror.
    He could see the flame of desire burning in her eyes. He knew she was excited by what she had read, and frustrated that the passion could not be fulfilled. As if hypnotised by her own reflection Sarah stepped closer to the glass, hands moving almost subconsciously over her body.
    Who, Casswell wondered, did she imagine was caressing her? Was it the dissolute Father Orme? Or the Lord of the Castle? Or perhaps the rough hands of his manservant, Arturo? Casswell wished he could be privy to her secret thoughts; could tap into the well-spring of her desire.
    Slowly the girl began to undress. Like a moth drawn to a candle flame she was caught helplessly by the mirror’s unblinking eye. First she unfastened her jacket, dropping it onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, and then one by one undid the buttons of her crisp white cotton blouse. Shamelessly now she stared into the mirror, eyes dark with desire, caught up by the power of her own image.
    How vain, how brazen Sarah Morgan could be when alone, thought Casswell. She would soon learn to be humble in his presence; a slave, a handmaiden to his desire, just like the beautiful Beatrice de Fleur.
    Casswell leant forward, watching as the thin blouse fell silently to the floor. Sarah’s breasts were exquisitely shaped and generously full, cradled in a delicate white lace bra that barely covered her large pink nipples. Gently, almost lovingly, she cupped one in her palm, thumb and finger caressing the rapidly hardening peak.
    Casswell held his breath, amazed at Sarah’s behaviour. He certainly hadn’t expected her to be so bold or so ripe with desire. He smiled thinly, sensing a delightful thread of self-consciousness still present, mingling with her obvious need for satisfaction. Cheeks tinged with pink, eyes bright with excitement, Sarah Morgan’s exquisite body was more than he could possibly have hoped for.
    Slowly now she unfastened her bra and posed for a second or two, absorbing the erotic potential of her reflection before undoing the zip of her skirt and pushing it to the carpet. Her waist was narrow, her hips full and womanly, her belly softly rounded with an almost peach-like blush to it. Her skirt and underwear seemed to have been discarded in one sweeping movement. She turned to admire herself in profile, while her fingertips eagerly outlined a trail down over her breasts and belly. Her nipples were hard as cherry pits, her whole body suffused with a bloom of desire.
    Casswell drained his glass, imagining Sarah bound and tied for his pleasure. He could easily visualise her struggling against her restraints, those pert breasts thrust forward, perspiration trickling between them in crystal droplets. He could hear her cry out as the whip bit into that lush, ripe flesh, her mouth open, eyes wide with fear and desire.
    Through the looking-glass he watched as Sarah flexed her hips, revealing a tantalising glimpse of her sex; a pink, moist exotic flower that begged for his attention. It was trimmed by a corona of dark shiny curls, and as he watched Sarah artfully slid a finger between the heavy outer lips.
    Casswell closed his eyes for an instant, imagining the sensation of her sweet body moving against and around his. Her seduction and education would be pure joy – she was so ready. Leaning closer it was almost as if he could smell her