Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
A Letter from Ana
About the Author
Join the Kinky Cookies!
Want More? Try out the Mistress Series
Books by Anastasia Vitsky
Books According to Character Pairing
Ana on Social Media
Raven’s Girl
Promise
By
Anastasia Vitsky
Raven’s Girl: Promise Copyright 2016 by Anastasia Vitsky
Formatting Services by Little Lynnie Designs
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
For my sister in spirit, who asked for the whole story about Raven.
Prologue
A1star: Congratulations on your wedding!
Lorelei: Thank you. Starry and I just got back a few days ago.
A1star: How come you’re online instead of canoodling?
Lorelei: Canoodling? LOL! I don’t think she would call it that. She’s still in bed, the sleepyhead.
A1star: She’s so lucky.
Lorelei: Oh, we both are. What have you been up to?
A1star: Not much. Talked with a few new prospects, but they’re all so…I don’t know.
Lorelei: Icky?
A1star: No, not really. The guys are, though. What part of “looking for a mistress” is so hard to understand?
Lorelei: Please. You haven’t lived on Kinklife until you’ve gotten your first dick pic.
A1star: First? Try ten thousandth.
Lorelei: Ten thousand, really? Are you conducting a scientific study?
A1star: Ha! Okay, maybe more like fifty, but that’s plenty. Why do the worst jerks always start with “Hi?”
Lorelei: Hm. Isn’t that what you said when you first messaged me?
A1star: I did not!
Lorelei: Sure you did.
A1star: No way. You said to take my phone number off my profile.
Lorelei: Ah, yes.
A1star: You said you couldn’t imagine why any intelligent person would know not to post that on the internet.
Lorelei: Who, me?
A1star: You can give a terrific lecture when you put your mind to it. I feel sorry for starrygirl.
Lorelei: You’re such a brat. Do these prospective mistresses know what they’ve gotten themselves into?
A1star: No. :( One turned out to be a guy, and the other wanted to do scat play. Is scat play what I think it is?
Lorelei: I don’t know what you’re thinking, but probably. And, no, I can’t see you enjoying that.
A1star: Sigh. They’re all weirdos.
Lorelei: Thank you, dear.
A1star: I didn’t mean you!
Lorelei: Yes, you did. You’ve been weirded out ever since I put up that post on figging.
A1star. Um, sorry, but ew. Never, ever, ever will I let someone do that to me.
Lorelei: Don’t worry. Maybe you’ll get a nice mistress who does scat play.
A1star: I seriously don’t know why you get to be called a mistress when you’re just as bratty as anyone else.
Lorelei: As you, you mean.
A1star: :P Maybe.
Lorelei: Good thing no one else can see you sassing me. I might have to turn you over my knee for an old-fashioned walloping.
A1star: Aw, I only wish! I mean, of course not in a romantic way. Just to have a first spanking for real.
Lorelei: Oh, honey. You’ll find someone. I promise.
A1star: Thank you, but all of the good ones seem to be taken. Maybe there’s no one for me. Not like with you and starrygirl.
Lorelei: Sweetie, there’s someone special for you. I promise.
A1star: I don’t know.
Lorelei: Want me to help you look?
A1star: Would you?
Lorelei: I can make some inquiries. A mistress looking for a submissive girl who’s really a sassy brat who desperately needs spanking. Regular spanking.
A1star: And lots of love and kisses.
Lorelei: Sure, after the spankings.
A1star: So, you’d really play matchmaker?
Lorelei: Of course. We’ll get you spanked and loved by the end of the year. It’s time someone tamed you.
A1star: Spoiled me.
Lorelei: Same thing.
A1star: Thank you, Lorelei.
Lorelei: What are friends for?
Chapter One
Alena stared at her computer screen in growing dismay. “How many thousand dollars?” She should have estimated self-employment taxes all year long, but the forms intimidated her. Sticking her head into the sand put off the evil day, but it made eventual reckoning that much worse. She rattled her shoebox crammed with receipts for prizes, postage, giveaways, and books. “I spent how many hundreds of dollars on business expenses, and I still have to pay a fortune in taxes?” Even worse, she owed penalties for not paying earlier in the year. She calculated her current bank balance. She could pay rent, but unless royalties came quickly she had nothing else. She couldn’t pay internet or electricity bills, but at least the providers wouldn’t turn off her service for a few months.
“I could get a roommate,” she said to her computer, surveying her tiny home office. Could she? Where would she work? Could she live with a roommate without committing murder? She’d tried that experiment in college and counted herself lucky to escape with both of their lives intact. “Or a second job.” She sighed. “If I get a second job, when will I write? How will I build sales if I don’t put out a new book each month?” She’d kept to a breakneck pace of publishing, but the result meant a higher-than-expected tax bill for the year. She needed an accountant. More than that, she needed a life organizer.
She groaned once more and shoved her chair backward. The swivel wheels squeaked, and the cushion plopped downward. Great. No matter how often she pressed the lever to keep the chair up, it slid down until she had to keep her hands at chest height to type. Buying a new chair, of course, was out of the question. She had never been extravagant by any standards, but working full-time as an author had re-defined “frugal” in her frugal life.
“I could sell plasma.” She stared at her wrists. Except she’d had the misfortune to visit England during the mad cow hysteria, so she was blacklisted from donating blood. Plasma probably worked the same way. “Or flip burgers.” She thought back to her failed stint as a fast food worker in her teens and shook her head. With hot grease at hand during the inevitable confrontations of workplace drama, no one would remain alive.
She sighed, clicked out of the tax preparation software, and signed onto Kinklife. She’d haunted dating sites for the pas
t six months, looking for a rich girlfriend. She said it as a joke, but the joke contained more truth than she liked to admit. It was either that or pawn her furniture. She could trade in the kitchen table for a patio table, maybe.
A message popped up. Mistress Lorelei, one of her friends, checked in with her almost daily. The two discovered their romantic incompatibility within a few weeks, but they transitioned to friendship. After Lorelei found the love of her life and announced the happy wedding, she stayed in touch and offered advice from time to time. She knew how much Alena wanted to try the lifestyle.
Lorelei: Have you checked out the new Mistress profile in the classifieds thread?
A1star: No, should I?
Lorelei: Yep! Bet you’ll be interested.
A1star: Thanks!
Alena clicked on the links in their group and pulled up a new message from the thread.
My name is Raven. Not Mistress or Madame or any of those titles, but plain Raven. I’m looking for a mature girl (preferably at least 30 or 35) to spoil in the Ann Arbor area. In exchange for one day per week spent at my house (and under my discipline), I am prepared to offer a modest living stipend. Serious inquiries only, please. Will provide references upon request. Girl must be willing to submit to my terms without a safeword. If interested, please email the following application to [email protected]. Auditions to be held this weekend and next, if necessary. No experience required, and newbies are preferred.
Wow. Alena read the posting several times before shaking her head. A living stipend? No safeword. She messaged Lorelei.
A1star: I just read it. No safeword? Isn’t that crazy?
Lorelei: Just a second, I’m talking to a new girl.
A1star: Oh, sorry!
Lorelei: No problem. I don’t know Raven personally, but a friend of mine worked with her a few years ago. Said she is top-notch but strict.
Alena got a tingle in her stomach thinking about it. She and Lorelei had talked about a first time, but flying to Florida for a spanking seemed silly. Still, she trusted Lorelei’s judgment.
A1star: Do you know what kind of play she likes? Is she psycho?
Lorelei: *laughs* Maybe, but she came highly recommended. If you do apply, tell her a friend of Mistress Midnight sent you.
Alena blinked. Midnight! The mistress had retired after running her own dungeon for years. Few girls got a chance to play with Mistress Midnight as she was picky in her playmates.
A1star: Wow, Raven is a friend of Mistress Midnight?
Lorelei: Colleague. I better get going, but think it over. She’s local to you. You could earn a bit to support yourself until your books start selling, and you’d try out the kink you’ve always wanted. Why not?
A1star: I’ll look into it. Thanks!
Alena clicked on the attached file, downloaded the form, and filled it out. It was the most extensive she had ever seen, asking about her medical and sexual history along with every conceivable question about her kink experience. Embarrassed to put “none” or “not yet” for everything, she added a note at the end.
My friend Lorelei said her friend Mistress Midnight used to work with you. Lorelei recommended you, even though I’m completely new. I’ve never tried anything of this type before. I’m not sure if I could do something without a safeword. I just want to be honest in case you’re looking for something else.
She took a deep breath. The last question was the hardest.
Why do I want to apply for this position? Because, ever since I was a small child, I’ve been interested in spanking and kink. I didn’t know what it meant until I became an adult and searched online for spanking. None of my girlfriends have been willing to give it a try. I’d like to try the lifestyle in a safe, gentle way. And, I have to admit that I could use the extra money. I hope this doesn’t offend you, but…um, does this position include sex? Because if so, I’m not the right person for the job. Sorry! Hope you aren’t angry that I say this. Anyway, I’d love to have the chance to try. Thanks again for reading.
P.S. I live on the outskirts of Ann Arbor.
Alena saved the file, attached it to a new email message, and typed in Raven’s address. With a sense of fatalism, she hit the “send” key. Would she regret this? If she did, how would she take it back?
I’m crazy, she thought. But why not? If she wants me to “audition,” and I don’t want to, I’ll say no.
Humming to herself for the first time in weeks, Alena opened her latest work in progress and began the tedious process of searching and destroying adverbs.
Chapter Two
When Raven inherited her family’s money at the age of twenty-five, some of her peers envied her despite the circumstances. She would never have to work. Never have to worry about money, or employment, or a home. They didn’t understand money came with expectations.
“Thank you, Susan.” Raven smiled at the aging woman who placed a plate in front of her containing a seared fish filet on a bed of herb rice, accompanied by steamed vegetables. Susan had provided meals for her family since before Raven was born, and she knew all of the dishes to make. Today, while Raven watched the gray rain outside and thought of her parents, Susan had prepared her favorite comfort food. “It looks wonderful.”
She longed to ask Susan to bring the meal to her office or, better yet, sit down at the long dining room table and join her in eating it. The cook would be horrified, however, and give a few opinions about such suggestions. Raven suppressed a sigh as she picked up her fish fork and tasted the delicate, flaky goodness. Even on a sad day, Susan knew how to make things better.
Raven stared at the empty chairs placed around the table, picturing her parents sitting on each end. Mother would laugh, tinkling an amusing witticism. On the rare evenings Father made it home in time for dinner, Mother insisted on preparations including baths, fresh make-up, and Sunday best dresses. As a small child, Raven perched on the edge of the dining room chair and struggled to appear interested in the discussions of parties, activities, innumerable family acquaintances, and the inevitable War Against Cancer.
She pushed the rice from one side of the plate to the other, all appetite gone. She had dreamed of studying in Paris and becoming the next fashion designer, but Father had different plans. A cotillion at age eighteen preceded marriage to the son of a radiation oncologist in Father’s department. Then, the car crash changed everything. Stu, Mother, and Father...gone in an instant. Raven had assumed her place as the Lady of the House at the ripe old age of twenty-five, refusing all kindly meant offers to take the burden of management off her shoulders. Gerald, the family lawyer, encouraged her to keep her parents’ money in all of their original investments. She did so.
By the time Raven emerged from mourning, she woke up as a widow and orphan at the age of thirty, curiously alone in a house and world that had once promised shelter and support. She should have missed Stu more, she supposed, but he had pleased Dr. Sanders more than her. She wondered, sometimes, whether her life would have been better as the next generation of doctor’s wives. She spent the next ten years in solitude, spending none of the family fortune but continuing to support the family causes. The Richard and Joan Sanders wing at the university medical center opened with much fanfare, but Raven had to force herself to attend the ribbon cutting ceremony. Every penny she received in memorials, she gave to her father’s life work. It wouldn’t bring her parents back, but it alleviated some of the guilt. Why had she stayed home with a sore throat? She should have been in the car with them.
Raven set her fork down, giving a tiny smile. Even as a child, she had known better than to hide unwanted food in the cream-colored cloth napkins, but today she was tempted to remove the evidence. Susan’s feelings would be hurt at the full plate, Susan who had spent hours cooking the rice and fish as Raven preferred. Or, more accurately, as Mrs. Sanders had preferred to serve to Dr. Sanders.
Had anyone answered her advertisement? It was a foolish idea, but Midnight had insisted. So rarely did Midnight insist on
anything that Raven had agreed at once. Stop mooning and rattling around your huge house alone. Put a post in the classifieds and see what you get.
Raven rose from the table, folding her napkin and setting it next to the plate. She would apologize to Susan later, or she would find something to praise about dinner. For the moment, results of her internet advertisement felt more important. She needed a distraction, or at least the promise of a distraction.
When she opened her internet browser, she gasped. Ninety-six emails flooded her inbox, and Kinklife contained three pages of private messages. She read through each one, deleting three-quarters without reading more than the first word or two. Midnight should have warned her about the illiteracy on Kinklife.
I am twenty-six, but I am extreamely mature for my age.
Raven clicked delete. No child of twenty-six could be mature, particularly not one who felt mature. At twenty-six, Raven had wondered whether she could pay the bills or choose which clothes to wear. The entire polite, understated system set up by Mother had disappeared into empty rooms filled with empty air and echoes of voices last heard a year before.
She skimmed through the last ten emails and deleted without reading, until the seventh one caught her eye. This girl could spell, at least.
My friend Lorelei said her friend Mistress Midnight used to work with you. Lorelei recommended you, even though I’m completely new. I’ve never tried anything of this type before. I’m not sure if I could do something without a safeword. I just want to be honest in case you’re looking for something else.
Midnight. Raven took a closer look. Midnight had few friends, and fewer still who would use her name. She understood the need for privacy. Raven skimmed the rest of the message and read it again more slowly.
I hope this doesn’t offend you, but…um, does this position include sex? Because if so, I’m not the right person for the job. Sorry! Hope you aren’t angry that I say this.
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