Dr Casswell's Plaything by Sarah Fisher

the woman’s fingers, but it seemed that for the Turk the seduction was not happening fast enough.
    ‘You have to undress her too,’ he snapped at Sarah. ‘Now, come on, I have not got all day. Get her clothes off. I want to see her too, see you both – skin to skin. Now.’ He rubbed his hands together, mimicking two bodies touching.
    Reluctantly Anna Weissman pulled away, and despite her anxiety, Sarah was stunned to find she was trembling with excitement and expectation.
    The little room was oppressively hot, and Mustafa was still watching them from the chair, his cock pressing up like a tent pole through his stained cream chinos. He mopped his head and face with the filthy handkerchief, eyes firmly fixed on the two of them. Anna looked at him with disgust and undid her own zip, dropping her skirt to the floor.
    Underneath she was wearing a white G-string, her lean legs and pale skin a stark contrast to the bleak little cell. Sarah was suddenly nervous of the statuesque blonde, but as Anna turned in response to a gesture from Mustafa, she was stunned to see that her back was marked with a row of fresh weals.
    Sarah had no doubt now that it had been Anna in the bedroom next to her own on the previous evening. Strangely it made her heart tighten with tenderness and empathy; it seemed that Anna Weissman truly understood now what it was to be a slave.
    Mustafa inspected Anna and nodded his approval. ‘Come here and let me feel that body of yours. You think you are so very special, so very important. I want to smell you on my fingers.’
    Sarah saw a flash of anger on Anna’s beautiful face, and then without hesitation the blonde stepped closer to him, almost defiantly. Hands on hips, legs apart, her eyes alight with hatred, she tipped her pelvis towards him. Sarah wondered how on earth it was that the blonde had agreed to the deal with the Turk, and wondered how much her brother had to do with arranging it.
    Mustafa grunted as he wrapped his fingers under the wisp of fabric that covered Anna’s quim, his fist tightened, and he tore it away. Anna flinched as the ripping fabric bit into her flesh, but he merely sniggered at her discomfort, and his nicotine-stained fingers parted her sex lips. Leaning forward he ran his tongue over the wet folds, snuffling and grunting inside her like a pig rooting for truffles. As he lapped at her pleasure-bud, his fingers drove into the depths of her body.
    Sarah could see the revulsion on Anna’s face and was relieved when Mustafa finally pulled away, and licking his lips, he waved them both towards the camp bed.
    ‘You taste very good today, Miss Weissman,’ he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Lay down on the cot… and you,’ he waved towards Sarah. ‘I want you to straddle her, sit on her face and I will watch her lick you. And then when she is done with you, you stick your pretty little tongue deep inside her here, like this…’ and he drove his fingers through his clenched fist, the gesture incredibly obscene. ‘I want you to make her cry out for mercy, and then trust me, I will fuck you both. Here…’ from his pocket he pulled the thick white dildo that Sarah had used the day before, and handed it to Anna. ‘Use this on yourself while you lick her.’
    Sarah shivered as the man ran a slug-like tongue over his lips again.
    ‘I see finally you have felt the kiss of the whip, Miss Weissman,’ the odious man continued, goading them. ‘I regret not being there when you were beaten. Who was the lucky man? Was it the good doctor? It would be nice to see you brought to your knees. Tell me, did you cry out? Did you beg for mercy? I would have paid almost any price to have watched him lay the whip on you.’
    Anna Weissman glared at him, but without another word she settled down on the cot bed, her legs parted on the narrow mattress, dildo held tight in one hand. She looked like some astonishing erotic sacrifice. Mustafa grunted his grudging approval.