Dr Casswell's Plaything by Sarah Fisher Read Free Book Online Page B

exactly what he wanted; her over his lap, naked and completely at his mercy. Sarah sobbed as he struck the next blow, the pain and heat of his hand intensifying as it cracked across her buttocks again and again. After a dozen or so strokes he stopped, wheezing heavily.
    ‘Enough now,’ he panted, sweating even more than before. ‘You understand what I want. You do exactly as I tell you.’
    Sarah understood only too well, her bottom glowing with the imprint of his hand.
    ‘Get up and give me what I asked for or I will beat you with a stick,’ he growled, tipping her without ceremony to the filthy floor.
    Sarah clambered back into the chair and this time – seeing no other option – opened her legs wide apart so the fat man could explore with his eyes and fingers the most delicate and secret parts of her body.
    He smiled, his wet lips slack, as she began to move against her own caresses, looking her over as if she was little more than meat.
    ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘And don’t mess with me, I will know if you are faking. Harder now. Harder, I want to see you writhing with pleasure.’ He caught hold of Sarah’s wrist and pressed her fingers down into her sex. As he moved closer she could feel him drinking in the details of her body. She felt the humiliation surge through her veins. Mustafa moved closer and crouched down low, sniffing at her sex before running a grubby finger up over the moistened folds.
    ‘Good,’ he murmured, sliding the same finger in and out of her wetness, trailing it out onto her creamy flesh. ‘I have a little something for you – something I want to use on you now and later on that Weissman woman.’ From the depths of a pocket he produced a package wrapped in a square of silk.
    Inside was a large ivory-coloured dildo, a series of thick rings set with beads around the base. Sarah stiffened as the man slipped the head of the thing between the inner lips of her quim, easing it in and out on the very edge of her sex. It felt cool and pliable against her and her rogue body opened to let it deeper. With a hand on hers, the curator guided her to take over and she began to move against it, realising the rings and the beads were meant to touch her clit. Sarah shivered and pushed the dildo deeper still, working it back and forth, beginning to lose herself in the sensations of the moment, her finger flicking back and forth over her swollen clitoris.
    Mustafa refused to be excluded. ‘Look at me,’ he grunted, catching hold of her chin.
    Sarah had no choice, and as she spiralled out towards the point of no return his eyes were locked on hers. At the very last minute he dragged the dildo out of her.
    Sarah gasped – she was close, so very close. It felt as if she was falling over the edge of the world. He jerked her down in the chair and ripping open his trousers, thrust his engorged cock into her pulsating quim.
    His manhood was so broad she cried out in fear as he drove it in. Her body was teetering on the edge of an orgasm and the very first stroke from his enormous shaft was enough to drive her to oblivion. It was over in seconds, Sarah’s body closing tight around his great cock. Mustafa Aziz gasped as he felt her body holding him, squeezing him dry, and he thrust once, twice, and was spent.
    Seconds later he pushed her off him.
    ‘Good,’ he snorted, wiping his flaccid cock on his handkerchief. ‘That is better, tomorrow you will come back here with that blonde bitch and I will fuck the pair of you.’
    In the cellar at the other end of the museum Anna Weissman soon got bored watching Casswell read from the diary and scribble notes in a pad, and disappeared into the shadows. The doctor rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked back over the new work. The journal in the cabinet was one he had not seen or heard of before and the more he read the more certain he was that they had stumbled across a previously unknown volume. The implications were heady. Certainly his good friend and