Inga slowly rocked her hips, feeling him roll and thrust inside, her pussy pulsating around him.. She luxuriated in the sensation of fullness, squeezing him hard until he sucked in air through clenched teeth.
“Jesus!” He gravelly groan made her clit vibrate. “If you keep this up, it’s going to be fast, girl.”
“I want it fast and hard,” she said, almost pleading. “We can do slow another time. Fuck me fast!” To prove her point she clenched her cunt around his penis again, holding it tightly despite the low growl coming from his throat.
Garrett quirked an eyebrow at her. “Later, when you’re receiving extra swats for this, remember that you asked for it.” He pressed himself deeper, his cock hitting her cervix. The almost uncomfortable yet tingly feeling had her sex convulsing around him, her heels pressing against the under-curve of his ass, spurring him to go even deeper, even harder.
“I’m coming!” Inga dug her fingernails into the fleshy part of his ass, pushing his cock in to the hilt. “Oh—oh, God, I’m coming!”
“Not... until I say! You wait, girl!” His lips sought hers with a frenzy, pressing hard and insistent, his probing tongue moving in time with the thrust of his cock deep within her. He wound both hands in her hair, tilting her head up, pressing kisses to her neck while pounding into her with such force that she slid up into the corner of the couch.
He rose over her then, hammering her pussy. “Now, Inga! Come now!”
They shouted their mutual release, finally collapsing in satisfaction. Sated.
In a tight clasp, they clung to each other gasping for air, Inga’s mind started to swirl with doubts and questions — wondering how this happened so quickly, why she hadn’t halted it, and wondering if he had doubts also. She hadn’t expected to react to him sexually. It frightened her the attraction she felt for him—and obviously he’d felt it too.
But her ‘temper tantrum,’ as he’d called it, made her question if she was really ready for this.
* * *
Garrett pulled his semi-erect cock out of her, tucking her under his arm and covering them both with the blanket draped over the back of the couch.
He’d forgotten about Anne. Not for long, but he had forgotten about her.
How do you forget your wife? Asshole.
Sadness filled him, but there was more to it than that. Could it be relief too? The conflicting emotions had him wondering where he went from here. After all, Anne had been gone for over nine months. He’d cried almost daily since her death.
He knew it wasn’t cheating when a spouse died, but deep inside, irrational or not, it still felt too much like a betrayal.
She’s gone, Garrett. Gone. Until death do us part...
Having sex with a Swedish nanny in his living room — like he was a teenager again — had been exhilarating. He’d agreed to train her, and would be punishing her shortly.
The guys at work would never believe him. Ever.
Inga the Swedish nanny — Job duties: Caretaker for the children during the day and slave servicing his cock at night.
Inga, the Swedish sex slave? Snap out of it, Garrett!
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like standing on a roof and shouting out his happiness. Well, except for the day he’d married, and the births of both children.
And yet, part of him wanted to just sit and cry. It felt like a final good-bye to Anne. He would always have a soul tie to his wife; she owned a part of him that no one would ever be able to touch. She’d carried and given birth to his children — with no medication. All natural. He’d to go to bed dying with a head cold, and she’d had the fortitude to pop out a nine pound baby without so much as an aspirin.
When Madalyn had come down with pneumonia at eight months, Anne didn’t sleep in their bed for days. Instead she’d held Madalyn in a chair so she would be upright and not struggling for air. When Liam had a febrile seizure at one, she’d slept on the floor by his crib. When Garrett had found her in the morning, her response was “That’s what Mommy’s do.”
The smell of lilacs in the spring would bring her memory back to him — forever. He wondered if the smell of her perfume would always make his cock hard.
But those memories reminded him of more than the loss of a wife. He’d lost a friend. A true and faithful friend. Having sex with Inga… felt disloyal.
Until death do us part…
He knew the words, knew what they meant. But his heart and emotions, felt like he’d been disloyal — like he’d betrayed her. Lying with another woman in his arms felt wrong, even though he knew he hadn’t committed a crime, or even a sin. And he knew that Anne would probably be cheering that he had a wannabe slave in his arms. She would be the first person happy that this situation had fallen into his lap — and his house.
Part of him wanted to find Anne and say, “You aren’t going to fucking believe what happened last night!”
It happened several times a day. He’d pick up his phone to send a text… and then remember that she was gone. Or he’d call her to pick up something at the grocery store, and before he’d finished punching in her number, that old, familiar pain would hit him again.
Until death do us part…
Inga made a sound and stirred against him. He turned to her, thinking she may have been asleep, but those big, beautiful blue eyes stared up at him. Eyes filled with tears. “I know. it’s hard. I’m sorry.”
Garrett turned to face Inga. She had tears in her eyes. Now he felt really guilty. His silence had hurt her, caused her tears.
He wiped her tears with the pad of his thumb. “Inga, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Sometimes I don’t talk, even when I should. not sorry about what happened between us Are you?”
“No. Not really.” She lightly stroked her hand down the side of his face. “Unless it was too soon and it made you feel bad? Did it?”
He closed his eyes and leaned into her. He’d missed that so much. The comfort of a woman’s gentle touch.
“No. Not really.” He smiled at her, mimicking her response. “It’s just difficult. I won’t sugar coat it or lie to you about my feelings — ever — just as I expect you to be honest about your feelings. I married Anne thinking it would be forever. I just didn’t think forever would be less than ten years. It feels like I’m being unfaithful, and I know that I’m not. But you can’t stop feelings from happening.”
She sat up quickly. “I should go. I need to go.” Throwing her leg over his thighs, she tried to escape.
“Oh no, Miss Inga. You aren’t going anywhere. This — what just happened here tonight — was one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced/done. Seriously.” He pulled her onto him, hugging her close, running his fingers through the soft tresses of her hair. “God, I love this hair. It’s so pretty and such a beautiful shade of blonde. And just so… silky. You aren’t going anywhere. I love what happened with us. What I feel for Anne isn’t diminished by you — and what I feel for you isn’t diminished by Anne. I’m assuming it’s what people feel in a ménage.
She gave him a crooked smile. “You liked it too?”
“Uh, yeah. What was there to not like? Jesus, it’s been a long time.” He leaned up and kissed her on the nose. “Okay, bad girl. We still have your punishment to deal with, remember?”
She stiffened and clenched her bottom under his hand. “N-now?”
“Yes, now. I don’t believe in waiting — unless waiting adds to the apprehension. In this situation, I don’t think waiting is necessary. I think it’s best to get this out of the way and impress upon you that having a temper tantrum, snapping your fingers”—he dropped his chin to glare at her— “and calling the Master in the house names is not to your benefit. I’m pretty convincing. C’mon let’s get up and get your punishment over with.”
Inga stood, smoothing her skirt down over her bare bottom. She picked up her ripped thong from the floor. “You destroyed it!”
“Yep, looks that way. You won’t need it tonight anyway.
” He pulled his boxers and jeans on while talking. “Now, I don’t want the children to hear this. You can either be spanked in your quarters, or we can spank you in my bedroom — the walls in there are soundproof and the door has a special lock that the children can’t open. It’s up to you.”
“Uhm. I think I’d be more comfortable in my quarters. I think…” Inga stared at the carpet.
“Hey, you’re doing great. Don’t worry. I’m a pretty sensitive guy. I’m not going to bite or hurt you. I promise. And you have your safe word too, remember? It’ll be fine. Let me grab the baby monitor in case the kids wake up needing me. I need to go check on them anyway.”
He pointed toward her quarters. “When I get back, I expect to find you lying over the back of the couch with no clothes on. In the future, when I send you for punishment at any time, that’s how you’re to wait for me — with no clothes on. If it’s in my bedroom, you’ll be over the end of the bed. If it’s in your quarters, it’s either over the couch or the end of your bed. For tonight, I’m choosing the couch because it’s less intimate. I want your first punishment to be stern and more formal.”
She wrung her hands, her fingers trembling, her face suddenly very pale.
Garrett walked over, pulling her into his arms. “Hey, hey.” He rubbed her back and arms to take some of the chill out of them and stop the shaking. “We don’t have to do this right now if you aren’t comfortable with this. I won’t normally ask if you’re comfortable though; an effective punishment is all about being uncomfortable. But I don’t want you to feel intimidated or afraid. Again, normally a little fear is healthy when facing your Master for a punishment. I’m leaving the choice up to you.” He grinned at her. “Take advantage of it, this won’t happen again.”
“N-no. I’m fine. I just hate punishment. W-which I know I should. But… I know… I mean, it’s okay. Really, I’m fine.” She took a deep breath and pulled away, lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders. “I’m okay. I’ll go get ready.”
Garrett grabbed her by the arm and kissed her cheek. “Good girl.”
Chapter Six
Inga stood staring at the back of the couch.
The last time she’d been punished had been over a year ago. Derek had found a speeding ticket. She’d been driving thirty miles above the speed limit. He’d always said her safety was of the utmost importance to him, and he’d been livid at the news.
He’d paddled her bottom with a wooden spoon as a warm up. She’d argued with him, asking him why he’d used a spoon rather than his hand. Weren’t warm-ups supposed be with the hand?
Well, he hadn’t appreciated her making that argument. She’d been sent to the corner as a sniveling, sore girl. Then she’d been bent over the bed for a session with his paddle. He’d given her thirty swats of the dreaded paddle — one for each mile over the speed limit. She had sobbed so hard that she didn’t think she’d ever recover. It’d been deserved and she’d needed it more than she’d realized. Speeding wasn’t even something she contemplated anymore. It’d cured her of the habit completely.
She didn’t think she’d receive a punishment that severe this time. After all, it was her first time being punished by Garrett. Although snapping her fingers and calling him a pompous, arrogant ass might make it… difficult.
Who would call a Master a pompous, arrogant ass, but me?
She slipped her dress over her head. She only had her bra on at that point, since he’d ripped her panties off. No one had ever ripped her panties off to have sex. Who does that?
She had a sudden urge to go to the bathroom, and quickly ran to the bathroom to void her poor bladder. She’d be mortified if she had an accident during a punishment. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands. Viewing herself in the mirror wearing only her bra, she blushed knowing that she would be spanked soon. She turned, looking at her reflection in the mirror to see if his handprints were still on her bottom. Her bottom had returned to almost its normal color once more, with only a couple reddish finger marks still visible. He spanked hard. The fact that he’d left marks on her bottom even though he’d spanked her over her dress, heightened her concern about a bare bottom spanking from this man.
She returned to the living room, looking in silence at the couch for a long moment. Taking her bra off, she tossed it to the floor. It would be yet another first: he’d never been spanked over the back of a couch before. She’d read about them in her romance novels, of course, but in real life, the Doms she’d had before preferred the bed or a spanking bench.
In the books she read, the women loved grinding their pussies on the edge of the couch. Their hands would be on the seat cushions and their feet were just off the floor behind them, their clits pressed against the fabric-covered hard edge. The Dom would widen the woman’s stance, exposing not only her labia but her bottom hole to his gaze. He would then run his finger between her cheeks, circling her rosebud and dipping into it.
Inga loved her books and just thinking about it made her throb, her clit straining from the hood, begging to be rubbed. She let her fingers glide into her slit; the lips already slick with her juices. Coating her forefinger with her juices, she dragged it lightly over and around her hard nub, electrifying the bundle of nerves. Her empty pussy clenched hard, forcing her hips to thrust. She slid her fingers down and pushed them into herself bending her knees slightly to give her better, deeper access. She curled her finger and pressed over her g-spot. She closed her eyes with a low growl from deep in her throat. Pulling her finger out of her womb, she clenched at the loss, her body shivering. Taking advantage of the sensation, she slid her finger back up to her clit, rubbing it insistently, the throbbing and pulsating of that nub spurring her toward release.
“Bad girl!”
Inga’s heart leapt into her throat. It was Garrett.
Oh my God, let me die or the earth swallow me up! This cannot be happening to me!
His hand swatted her bottom, the loud noise startling her, the flash of hot pain making her groan. She reached back to cup her bare bottom only to have him pull her hands away, and he swatted her several more times.
“You’re not allowed to masturbate! A woman who’s with me has never been allowed to masturbate without permission.. You won’t masturbate again!” He turned her to face him. “Your orgasms belong to me. You’ll ask permission verbally, or by text or phone, before you bring yourself to completion.” He released her arm, and stood over her, his hands on his hips, glaring at her once more.
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. It wasn’t a rule for me before. I’m not lying.” Guilty tears were threatening to spill from her eyes. He looked so upset and it confused her.
He tilted his head. “Your Dom never restricted your orgasms? Ever?”
“No. Was he supposed to?”
“Well, if he treasured your most primal response, and wanted the strongest orgasms possible, then yes, he should have restricted your orgasms. In my house, you’ll give me all your pleasure. I covet it. I don’t want to share your pleasure with anyone — that includes you or any of your battery operated friends. If you have any toys, you better lock them up or throw them away. Only I get to use toys to play with your pussy. That little cunt is mine now. Clear?”
“But… I like my toys. I go to sleep with my toys. I use them in the bathtub.” She took her hands off her scorched flesh and crossed her arms over her chest. He wasn’t going to tell her she couldn’t play with her toys.
“I bet you like your toys. I like them too, missy. I didn’t say you won’t get to enjoy them at all — you just won’t enjoy them without me. By the looks of it, I think I’ll have many good nights playing with you.”
He had that damn cocky grin on his face.
“And once again the pompous, arrogant ass rises to the surface.”
His arm swung out, his hand fisting in her hair, pulling it tightly.
“We discussed this earlier. You will not call me an ass, let alone a ‘pompous, arrogant ass.’ This just proves my theory —
again — that a lesson isn’t learned well by certain submissives unless there’s pain or punishment involved. Sometimes stronger measures are required. Talking just doesn’t work for everyone, and you appear to be one that requires firm reinforcement. Time for your spanking, Miss Inga.”
Before she could formulate a response, he hauled her over to the couch, turning her to face him. Her eyes were drawn to his long, slender fingers which dropped to his belt buckle. Garrett slowly undid the buckle, pulling the tail free then sliding the leather through the loops, unthreading it from his pants. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it;— that lethal leather belt would be the instrument of her punishment and pain.
She lifted her gaze to his, relieved to see neither anger nor upset in his dark eyes. What she saw instead was determination. A man of authority, used to giving orders and having those orders obeyed.
He doubled the leather and palmed the buckle. His hands didn’t seem so genteel anymore. No, they seemed strong and firm now. Hands of steel.
“Hey, girlie,” he whispered, lightly running his free hand down her arm. “What are you thinking? Talk to me.”
“I deserve this, Sir. I know this. I didn’t obey you, and I behaved in a way that was rude, impudent and just… wrong. But the belt is something I don’t know. I’ve never had a belt used on me. The stories I’ve heard and read have me feeling… a little afraid, Sir.
“I’m sorry this is your first time. But I’m glad I’ll be your first.” He winked at her, chucking her under the chin. “It’s going to hurt. But you can trust me, sweetie. I promise. That’s why the belt is used for more serious punishments. It doesn’t just fade away in a couple hours. I promise, you’ll feel this tomorrow too. But the behaviors you exhibited tonight are ones that I will never permit, and a slave of mine would never even think of displaying them. Either one — a slave or a submissive — would receive a serious punishment for snapping her fingers or calling her Dom or Master names. And you did both.
Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2) Page 5
