Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2)
Page 1
Contents
Title Page
About This Book
By Megan Michaels
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Other Books By Megan Michaels
Mastering Inga
Megan Michaels
About This Book
To Inga, serving wasn’t just a job — it was who she was, right down to her bones. The picture of the tall, dark and handsome physician in the assignment profile intrigued her more than the money he offered, more than the generous live-in accommodations, more even than the chance for her to be a caregiver to his two young children in America. No, the picture of the childrens’ father sparked something else in her — an even deeper desire. A need to serve him. For Inga still yearned to serve a man — in every way he required.
A prominent surgeon, wealthy, attractive, and successful, Garrett seemed to have the perfect life. But underneath all of that, he knew one thing for certain: he was a mess. Losing his wife had been devastating enough, but raising two children — alone — only made recovering from her death that much more difficult. Somehow they’d made it through though, scarred, but together. Now, it was time to do something positive, time to take a step forward. And that started with finding someone who could give his two beloved children what he couldn’t — a woman’s touch, a woman’s caring, and a woman’s love.
The lovely blonde woman from Sweden would do nicely — she loved the children, and they loved her right back. He’d just have to ignore the dramatic curves of her lush body, those gorgeous Nordic blue eyes, and the way her sun-kissed skin seemed to glow when she smiled. Yes, that wouldn’t be a problem at all. Right? Not a problem that is until he learned what she really was, what she really wanted — and what he’d needed all along. Another woman to kneel at his feet, another woman who obeyed every command he’d give her, another woman to worship him in every way he demanded. Perhaps he’d finally found what he was looking for, but he’d never know for sure. Because the one woman he wanted, was the very woman he couldn’t have.
How could he make Inga his, in every way a man could, when she was the caregiver for his own flesh and blood?
Publisher's Warning: Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!
This is a MF BDSM contemporary romance. Themes include: graphic sexuality, M/s, exhibitionism, orgasm denial, spanking, bondage, anal play and other BDSM activities. If such content might offend you, please do not purchase this book.
Word count: 52,964 words
By Megan Michaels
The Service & Submission Series:
Finding Submission
Mastering Inga
Published By Stormy Night Publications
What Naughty Little Girls Get
The Little Princess Cruise
Copyright © 2015 by Megan Michaels
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Rachel A Olson (www.nosweatgraphics.weebly.com)
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and as such, any similarity to existing persons, places or events must be considered purely coincidental.
This book contains content that is not suitable for readers aged 17 and under.
For mature readers only.
First Electronic Edition: March 2015
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Trent Evans, of Shadow Moon Press, for the editing, assistance with my book cover, blurb writing, uploading the book to all the different venues, and for help with all of those tasks, large and small, that must be completed when an author sets out on their own. I highly recommend Shadow Moon Press for anyone who wants to self publish and needs assistance — or simply a guiding hand.
To my husband, the funniest man I know.
Bob, your fantasy is now a book...
Prologue
He stared at the gorgeous woman in the corner. His wife, his slave — Anne. She'd be disciplined tonight. He never liked administering discipline, but he had no other options. Her blatant disregard of the rules and resultant misbehavior required it.
“You know your phone is to be shut off when you're driving,” Garrett said, standing before her.
“I'm sorry, Sir.”
“Master. The kids aren't around. Call me Master.”
“I'm sorry, Master.”
She'd been sitting naked on her heels in the corner with the command “to think,” and when he’d arrived home, rather than call her from her corner, he'd merely told her to turn toward him for her lecture.
She knew better. Disappointment didn't even begin to describe how he felt. The thought of losing her terrified him. People died daily from texting with their phones.
As a doctor, he saw or heard the stories of people texting while driving. The mangled cars and bodies in the hospital. So it had become one of her rules upon entering the car: shut your phone off before even starting the vehicle.
The temptation had been too great. If the phone wasn't shut off, she'd lean over to read the text when it came in. And, as he'd learned the hard way, if she thought the text was important enough, she'd answer it. She kept the text message brief and succinct, but she'd still answer it. He immediately instituted this rule once he learned of this misbehavior.
Today Preston, his brother, and his new wife Avery had contacted him at the office to tell him that they had passed his wife in the van. Preston told him Anne was obviously texting, her van swerving in a way that showed just how distracted his wife had been.
“Garrett. It's Preston. I'm sorry to call you at the office, but I knew you'd want to know. Avery and I passed Anne today swerving in the road. She was texting. “Are you sure? She's not supposed to drive with her phone even on, let alone texting.”
“Garrett, she was holding her phone up. She has a pink case, right?”
Yeah, that'd be her case. I just can't believe it.
Well, I know your relationship with her, and I know that it's not allowed in your house. Just as it's not allowed in mine. If I ever caught, or someone else caught, Avery texting on her phone—well, she wouldn't be sitting well for a while. Putting your life at risk, is just something neither of us tolerate, nor should we.
“God. I just can't believe she'd do this. She knows how I feel about this.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Damn.”
“Garrett, she's come a long way. Remember that. And she didn't have the kids in the car. I know how I'd be feeling. Take time to relax and get your emotions under control.”
Garrett rolled his eyes. “Yes, Preston. I'm aware of how to control my emotions. But I'm pretty sure if this was Avery, you'd have her in that playroom over the horse or spanking bench faster than you could say ‘Here, Kitty, Kitty.’”
Preston laughed. “You're an ass. Yes, I'm sure you're right. She'd be in her cage for the weekend, that's for sure. And I'm sure that you'll have Anne plugged and in orgasm denial for most of the weekend. That is after you paddle her ass. I care a
bout her, Garrett. I had to call. Tell her we love her.
“Guess I better call mom and see if she'll take the kids overnight. Thanks for letting me know, Preston. I appreciate it.” And now he stood over his disobedient slave. The same slave who'd been on her knees for over an hour now, waiting for him to arrive home.
“Your knees have to be sore, naughty girl. You'll be remaining on them for a while longer though. It's time for your punishment. First, you're going to lose your phone for a month. I'll get you a prepaid phone for emergencies only. But tonight, you'll be receiving the belt for this bit of disobedience. It's going to be harsh. You aren't allowed to put my slave at risk. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Crawl over here.” He watched her dangling breasts sway and brush against each other as she made her way toward him. When she stopped at his feet, he leaned over plucking her nipples into small points, brushing his hands over the pebbled tips. “God, I love these tits. Tonight I'm fucking these, and because you're such a bad girl, you'll get to go to bed wanting and needing.” He continued to brush her nipples, squeezing the plump fullness, feeling the weight of her breasts in his palms.
“I want you upright on your knees. Eyes on me.” She turned her face up to him, remorse etched on her face. He knew she didn't mean to disobey, she just tended to be impulsive. “Take my belt off.”
He'd never done this with her before, and she hesitated for just a moment Before gripping his belt, her slender fingers shaking slightly as she slipped the tail of his belt through the buckle. With a firm grip, she pulled on the buckle end of the belt letting it slide through the hoops. Pulling the belt off completely, she folded it over upon itself — slowly and carefully, just as she’d been taught.
She held it up to him, but he shook his head. “Kiss it please. Then ask me to punish you with it — in detail.”
“Yes, Master.” She closed her eyes and lightly brushed a kiss to the soft, supple leather. Opening her eyes, she handed the belt over to him. “Please Master, spank my bare bottom with this leather belt until I'm crying. Punish me until there are welts and I'm truly repentant.”
The tears welling in her eyes were almost his undoing. He swallowed, taking a few seconds to get his bearings again, putting on the stern “Dom face.” This was no time to cave to her tears. She submitted beautifully. So sweet. But sweet or not, he needed her to know that he was angry with her for jeopardizing her life. He wouldn't let this slide.”
“Thank you, girl. I believe I'll punish you just as you've asked. Back on your hands and knees. Move forward so you’re between my legs.”
She moved between his legs, as ordered, stopping only when he squeezed his calves together at her waist. You'll receive the strap in this position. Just a warning, though — the brunt of this punishment will land on your sit spot and thighs.”
He tapped the belt on her bottom. Raising his arm high, he brought it down hard — harder than normal — on the crest of her bottom. She shouted through clenched teeth. He continued to strike her slowly and harshly. “You will not put your life at risk. My slave is important to me. She matters. You aren't allowed to put her in jeopardy. Phones are a menace! No phones!”
When he stopped, she was sobbing. She usually fought the tears, stoically holding them back. She'd admitted to him in the past that it made her feel weak when she cried. But tonight she'd apparently lost the battle. Her backside felt hot on his hands. He stroked her scalded bottom, the welts ridged and bumpy against his smooth palm.
Gliding his hands down the curves of her buttocks, he deftly slid a finger though the seam of her labia. “Oh Missy, you're absolutely dripping. That little cunt is so hot.”
This wasn't about her arousal though. He pulled out of her hot sex and continued to soothe her flesh. “Do you think you're ready for the rest of your punishment, girlie?”
“Yes, Master.” She straightened her back, readying herself for more.
He lifted the belt again, and this time he focused on a different spot, working his way from the crest of her bottom down to mid-thigh. Her hips wiggled frantically and if he hadn’t braced her tightly between his calves, she would've bolted like a scalded cat.
“Hold still, bad girl. You're going to take this punishment. You asked for this. You purposefully disobeyed your rule. Purposefully ignored your inner voice that told you stop, didn't you?”
“Oh, God! Yes, Master!”
“Oh God, is right.” He struck over and over, the belt leaving long red marks upon her flesh. Soon, it was time to stop. She’d been well and truly punished.
“You won't use your phone again, will you?”
“No. No, Master.”
He scooped her up, her long legs dangling over his arm, and he carried her to the bed. He gently laid her down, holding her until she calmed down.
She struggled to sit up. “Let me service your cock, Master.”
“No, slave. You're forgiven, no service is required. You'll please me most if you lie down and rest.” He tended to her needs — washing her face, putting lotion on her bottom, and rocking her until she fell asleep in his arms.
Garrett sighed, happy and content. When Anne was in his harms he could face anything. With his loving wife — and slave — at his feet, the world made sense.
“I'll never let you go girl. He whispered to his slumbering wife, softly kissing her temple. “Not as long as I live.”
Four months later she was gone.
Chapter One
One year later...
Heartache.
How do you adjust to the death of your wife, and raise two toddlers alone? He wasn’t sure what the answer to that question was, but he knew that he had to do something. His house was a mess. It had been eight months since Anne had died, and he knew that he needed to get his life back together again. Keeping up with the kids, daycare, his job, laundry, cooking and cleaning had him exhausted; there weren’t enough hours in the day, not to mention the paralyzing grief that still overtook him from time to time. When that grief threatened to pull him under once more, he’d look at their babies. Madalyn was four, Liam just turned two — and he would see his sweet Anne in both of them.
It eased the pain somewhat. It gave him the strength to get through one more day.
But he knew he couldn’t do it alone anymore. He needed to a live-in nanny, cook, cleaner, bottle washer, dog washer and whatever else she could do. He needed her to come rescue him — and his babies — fast!
His family and friends told him to move forward and start dating. He knew he should think about it, but he needed to get things organized for his children — and himself — first. He missed the arms of a woman around him at night. He even missed the cold toes being jammed between his calves. He longed to feel the weight of a breast in his hand, falling asleep while kneading it; and he missed being surrounded by the smell of perfume, lotion and the scent of woman’s sexual arousal in his nostrils. He missed a woman — period. He missed someone to love, and someone who would make a house feel, well, homey.
He longed to come home to the smell of a roast in the oven and candles burning. God, how he longed to smell that again. He remembered a time when he’d hated those damn candles burning; he’d been so afraid the damned things would burn their house down. Looking back though, he’d come to like arriving home to the smell of pumpkin pie or sugar cookies — even if the scent was merely a candle. He missed those little things.
Garrett longed to have a woman sitting at his feet, or, better yet, a woman naked, kissing his feet with her ass in the air, waiting for the crop or his cock. He ached for those things. Anne loved submitting. As his slave, there were many nights that she would greet him naked, offering her body up for his pleasure in whichever way he ordered.
He missed having a woman collared and leashed at the dinner table, or corner, or bed — or, for that matter, anywhere. He missed a soft woman on his lap, or over it, the jiggle of lush flesh under his hand as he paddled her bottom, and the pleasu
re of having warm, moist sex before falling asleep.
Yes, he needed a woman.
All in due time.
Right now, he needed a nanny — and a clean house.
He wiped the tears from his face, steeling himself for another day. Today he would write an ad for a nanny. Things were going to change in his house — and soon.
* * *
Garrett sat down to write an ad for a live-in nanny and cleaner. Someone he worked with had told him about an agency that connected clients with services contracted out by European nannies. He had looked into nannies locally and wasn’t overly impressed. They all seemed too young and immature. He wanted someone who was more wiser, steadier, someone who had enough experience to run a household with two toddlers.
Wanted: Experienced, mature, live-in Nanny, cook, and cleaner for a recently-widowed father and surgeon, age thirty-six with two toddlers, ages four and two.
Two references from previous employers within the past ten years will be expected. Nanny will be required to submit to finger printing and a background check. It is expected that the nanny will be responsible, mature, flexible, kind (yet firm), organized, and above all, sensitive and compassionate.
Garrett sat back, staring at his laptop. He didn’t know how to put into words that every day was a struggle to simply get out of bed. He wanted to put in the ad that if it wasn’t for his children, he probably wouldn’t even have left the house. He wanted to say that he needed someone to come to his house to add a spark of life, even if that person was a stranger.
They desperately needed a change in their home, and by the looks of the house in its current state, a bomb might be the only solution.