“Tell me what you’re feeling, Missy.” Before she could respond, he pressed the pad of his thumb against her anus. The muscles there bunched, slowly easing open enough that he could press in to the first knuckle. “Talk to me, Inga.”
“Uhm—” The strain in her voice strangled the word. “I feel embarrassed. Mortified is probably a better word. M-mortified that you’re looking at my bottom hole — and now that you’re putting your thumb in there. I’m hoping I’m clean. And… we just had sex, so I know I have fluid dripping and — Oh God, Sir, I’m sorry.” A small, quiet sob escaped and she exhaled slowly. “You, of course, can look at any part of my body.”
Garrett pulled his thumb out and patted her hip, as one would an animal to comfort it in an uncomfortable situation. “You’re going to be fine, girl. We’re almost done. I want this lesson learned. If I ask you to take off your bra and walk around in just your panties, I want you to obey immediately. If I ask you to suck your finger then wet your nipples with that finger, I want immediate obedience. I want you to proudly display your tits for my pleasure. Repeat my expectations, in your words, explaining how I own your asshole.”
He pushed two fingers into her pussy, his thumb pressed to her rosebud once more.
“I do… what Master wants. If he asks me to play with my wet nipples, I do it for his pleasure.”
Speech failed her for a moment as he pumped into her channels, alternating entry into one, then the other.
She managed to continue. “Mmmm. I-if Master wants me to unnnh… if he wants me to display my bottom and my little hole to him, Master can watch my little hole whenever he wants. He can touch it, or lick it whenever he wants. I will pull my cheeks apart and let my anus be on display. I’ll do it because Master likes my little hole.”
Garrett almost lost control at those words. No one had ever said anything so hot to him. He growled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. And as if on cue, when he pulled his thumb out, her arousal made her muscles constrict and relax. Her bottom had winked at him! He wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer.
“Inga. I know I said I’d be putting you to bed, but, I want to take your ass tonight. Have you ever given your ass to anyone?”
Inga turned his way her face blushing she averted her eyes hesitating to answer. She looked through her lashes at him obviously gauging his reaction her cheeks a pleasant pink and then with a little grin she cleared her throat.”Yes, Sir. Please. Fuck my little hole! I want you to fill me with your cock and fill my ass with your warm cum. Fuck me in the ass, Sir.”
“Jesus! Let me get the lube.”
He quickly grabbed the tube of lubricant from the dresser drawer. Working the slick fluid into her bottom carefully and liberally, he pushed first one, two, and finally, three fingers into her. When he felt her sphincter relax, he coated his cock with more of the cool lube.
“I’m pushing into you now, Inga.”
With one thrust, he slowly eased his cock into her dark channel. Her buttocks were still hot and red from her thrashing, raised welts still visible in places where the belt strokes had overlapped. He gently caressed those soft, well-marked cheeks as he sank deeper inside her.
“Ahhhh. Oh God. It’s so good.” She pushed back hard onto his cock, the heat of her ass warming his groin. His balls slapped against her warm, wet pussy each time he thrust into her, her labia slick with both her arousal and his semen, the sticky juices coating his scrotum.
He clutched the punished flesh of her bottom, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. Her groan in response was a mix of lust and pain. She put her hand on her bottom to protect it from his pinches. He slapped her hand out of the way and stroked her clit. “You’re never allowed to touch your clit without my permission. That clit is mine now, girlie. I’m the one who gives you an orgasm. I decide when, where, and how. If I decide you’re denied an orgasm for two hours, you’ll wait. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s the second time, I’ve found you touching yourself this way. We’ll work on this. Trust me.”
He circled her clit while with his other hand he worked her nipples. He twisted and pulled on them until she gasped in pain, bucking and pounding her ass into him. She seemed to respond to the pain, even enjoy it. She pushed back on him grinding her ass into him. It spurred her on, spiking her arousal.
Interesting. She enjoys the pain.
He focused on her breasts, roughly pulling on the hard nipples. When it appeared that she was close, he pulled his cock out of her, swatting her sore bottom several times in quick succession, and pinching her clit.
She screamed out her release. She shivered as he thrust back into her, her pussy squeezing his cock tightly as her body shook and convulsed around him.
The rolling orgasms continued over and over until he finally spilled his seed into her, his balls tingling with his blissful release. He groaned in satisfaction and collapsed over her back, struggling to catch his breath. Her pussy spasmed around him wringing out every drop of his come into her.
Finally, his breathing back under control, he pulled his still semi-erect cock out of her, Inga’s moan of loss making him smile. “Well, I guess I should expect the unexpected with you, shouldn’t I? I didn’t plan that, but that might be one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced.” He patted her hip affectionately. “C’mon let’s get you to bed.” He held out his hand and pulled her up. “You definitely know how to talk dirty, don’t you?”
A pink tint rose upon her cheeks and neck. “Well, I kind of like it. And my last Dom definitely liked it. If you don’t, Sir, I’ll stop.”
“Jesus, you better not. That would be viewed as direct disobedience. I loved it.” He helped her into bed. “Roll onto your side. I’ll be right back to take care of you.”
She sat up. “I can do that. You don’t need to. It’s… what I should be doing.”
He paused and made her lie back on the bed. “No. It’s not what you ‘should be doing.’ Who told you that? It’s my job to care for you. Cuddling, protecting, cleaning, comforting, caring, and disciplining you is my job. You may serve me and obey me, but those things I just said? They’re my job.”
She stared at up him, confusion plain in her gaze. Obviously, she’d not been cared for well in her past relationship.
“I thought it was my job to do all of those things. I’ve never had anyone care for me after discipline or sex. Ever.”
“Well, my dear, that’s a shame. You deserve to be cared for — even if that care isn’t always so comfortable. A woman should know — to her core — that she’s cared for, and desired. Captivating. Women desire to be captivating — to be the center of attention, a person with an irresistible appeal. And you, Miss Inga, are singularly the most irresistible woman I’ve ever met. I assure you, you’ll be the center of my attention. Now, don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Chapter Eight
When she arose the next morning, Inga looked around the room. He had left. She assumed he must’ve gotten up after she’d fallen asleep.
What a night.
He’d spanked her, fucked her, cuddled with her, given her anal, washed her, and cuddled with her again until she’d fallen asleep.
He’d agreed to do it. She’d be trained as a slave by an actual Master. He'd agreed! What if she wasn’t ready? What if he was right, and it was beyond her capabilities? Taking a deep breath, she told herself she had what it takes. She would improve every day, and she would do her best, no matter what.
Starting the shower, she let it warm up while she went to her dresser and pulled out her Rabbit. She remembered what Garrett had said — her orgasms belonged to him now. She wasn’t allowed to even touch herself. That… could be a problem. She used her toys daily. She looked around, just in case he had snuck into the room. It would be fine. He’d be none the wiser.
After a relaxing orgasm and a long, luxuriating shower, she dressed for the day in a light sundress and flip-flops. She picked up her r
ipped panties and bra from the couch, then cleaned up the rooms before making her way to the kitchen to see Garrett and the children.
* * *
“Daddy, the sleepyhead is up! Where were you? It’s late!” Madalyn stood on her kitchen chair, beaming as Inga walked into the room.
“Madalyn! Sit down. You know you don’t stand on chairs,” Garrett said. He glanced at Inga. “Good morning, Miss Inga. Did you sleep well?” He turned toward his daughter, raising a shoulder. “See how I did that, Madalyn? You don’t call adults names and tell them they’re late — even if you think they are funny names. It isn’t polite.”
“I slept very well, Mr. Garrett.” Inga gave Garrett a wink. “How about you Madalyn, did you sleep well last night?”
Inga made her way over to Madalyn and Liam.
Pouting, her arms across her chest, Madalyn scowled. “Daddy made me wear this today. I don’t want to wear it. And now I can’t say ‘sleepyhead’, and I can’t say you’re late or nothin.’ He’s grumpy.”
“Madalyn! Names again!” Garrett glared at his daughter and crossed his arms. “It’s not too early for a time out. Is that what we’re going to do before breakfast this morning?”
“No, Daddy! I’m not doing that! I’m not sitting in time out.” Tears poured down her small cheeks as her mood soured.
“We will be doing just that if you can’t figure out how to behave this morning.” He looked at Inga. “We’ve been hitting a rough patch this morning. I hope your day gets better soon.”
Inga smiled and sat next to Madalyn. “If I tell you what I dreamed last night, will you tell me what you dreamed? I would love to hear.”
“Yes! I wanna tell you. I dreamed that—”
“Uh. Wait. I’ll tell you mine first, and then you can tell me yours. It’ll be so exciting. Are you ready?”
Wiping the tears from her little cheeks, Madalyn nodded, listening intently as Inga explained a dream about purple bears and unicorns with a magical princess and a castle. In the dream, the princess’ morning had not started well either, and she‘d put on the same exact outfit for the day as Madalyn had — but the rainbow on the front had magical powers to make her happy.
By the end of Inga’s story, Madalyn was practically jumping up and down in her need to tell Inga about her own dream. Liam was enthralled; he’d stopped throwing Cheerios over the high chair, and sat quietly, rapt, his mouth hanging open as he’d listened.
When story time was over, Inga rose from her kitchen chair and walked up to Garrett, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And that, Daddy, is how you distract children. Maybe I need a magical rainbow on my shirt also?”
She winked grabbing a coffee mug from the cupboard.
“Maybe you need a rainbow on your bottom to remind you how to speak to a certain someone in this house. Oh, wait. That’s right. You probably have the beginning of a rainbow on your backside from that belt last night. We’ll have to check on those later.” He quirked an eyebrow at her the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “If you continue to be sassy, I might have to add to your magical rainbow too.”
Before Inga could respond, a little voice was heard from the other side of the kitchen counter. “Daddy, are you making Miss Inga mad?”
“Angry?”
“Yes. Are you making her angry, Daddy?”
“Not intentionally. But yes, I might be. I’ll leave her alone for now. Who’s hungry? Daddy has some peanut butter and jelly toast here!”
Liam perked up and yelled from his high chair. “Me! Me, Daddy!”
“All right. Let’s eat. Miss Inga, will you please get us some juice?”
“Yes, Sir.”
* * *
Breakfast had been finished, dishes were put away, and the children were watching Sesame Street. Garrett pulled her aside and told her that it was time for them to discuss some new rules as part of her submission training.
Sitting them both down at the kitchen table, he began. “I think we need to begin with some standard things for your training. However, with the children it does change how it’s done. Have you ever been in a submissive role in a house with children?”
“No, Sir. I’ve always had a relationship that wasn’t part of my nanny jobs.”
Garrett nodded. “What will occur is similar to a 1950s wife.” He wondered if there might be a better way to convey the concept to her, but decided simply explaining to her in plain English was the best bet, and hope the finer details didn’t get lost in translation. “Because the kids can’t give consent, they are not to be subjected to overt displays of submission, or dominance, or anything part of the BDSM realm. But, basic acts of subtle submission are acceptable. For example, in a Master/slave relationship a slave will often refer to their significant other or spouse as ‘Master’. I would expect the same thing as your Master. But with the children around, you’ll instead answer all questions with ‘Sir’, and address me as Sir, rather than Master. It’s normal in many families for the spouse and children to respond with ‘Sir’ when addressing their father or husband, so that should work fine. However, when the children are in bed or not present, you’ll call me ‘Master.’ Does that make sense?”
“Yes, Sir… Master. It does. It’ll be easy for me to remember it that way. I’m familiar with your 1950s culture. Leave It to Beaver, Father Knows Best, and the Danny Thomas Show.”
“Okay. Good. It helps that you’re familiar with them. I’d like you to wear dresses and thongs most days. If you’re leaving the house, you can put on regular panties. But as soon as you come home, you’ll get back into a dress; I want your bottom available to me sexually, or for a spanking. If you think there’s an activity that requires pants that day, you can ask permission. But you’re required to ask permission before you put them on. Clear?”
She paused, her lips pursed. “So, I’m basically relegated to the same position as Madalyn? I’ll get stuck wearing something I don’t want to wear some days.”
“No. That’s not what I said. You can choose any dress you want. If I have a problem with what you’ve picked out, I’ll let you know. But overall, I really only require that it be a dress. If you don’t like your dresses or wish to have more to meet my mandate, let me know, and I’ll give you some shopping money.”
He stopped and let her digest what he’d said before continuing.
“It’s very common for Masters to lay out clothes for their slaves every morning. They make all decisions for the slave. I, personally, don’t take it to that level. I just want your bottom available to me. If you break this rule, you’ll be punished. Understand? Or do you have any questions?”
“No, Ma-aster. I’ll comply.” She stared at her hands on the table, playing with her cuticles.
“It’ll get easier for you to say Master with practice. I promise. Now, for the next rule. I’ll text you in the evening, letting you know that I’m on my way home. You’re to greet me at the door — head bowed, arms clasped behind your back. If the children aren’t home, you’re to be kneeling near the door, eyes down, with your hands palm-up on your thighs. Okay?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Any slave of mine does not sit until instructed. Again, with the children around that will be modified. Instead, you’ll serve my food or drink, and I’ll nod my head in the direction of where you’re to sit — either the floor or a chair. If I’m giving you leeway, I’ll put two fingers on my thigh as a cue that you may sit wherever you like. In the evening, I would love to have you sit at my feet. I miss having a slave at my feet. I miss stroking her hair, enjoying her presence. The children are used to this too. Their mom loved sitting at my feet. So, typically, they would crawl into her lap and they would all sit at my feet. I’ll use the ASL sign for sit to let you know that you may sit at my feet.” He then showed her the sign by placing two fingers of his right hand on top of the two fingers of his left hand. “Any questions?”
“Am I ever allowed to sit with you on the couch?” She glanced at him from under thic
k eyelashes, her cheeks blushing fiercely.
Interesting
“Yes. Sometimes I’ll want you next to me, tucked into my side. You may not feel well or you may feel achy from play or your menstrual cycle. I’ll have you sit close to me so I can comfort you and keep an eye on you.” He reached across the table to hold her hand. “I’m not a harsh Master, I promise. If you’re uncomfortable or upset about anything, you can talk to me. I’ll listen to you — as long as it’s said in a respectful manner. The final decision is always mine as Master, but that doesn’t mean I won’t listen and change how I carry it out. Is that better?”
“Yes, Master. I just needed to know if… well, you know.”
“I do. I hope you feel better about it all.” Obviously, she had concerns, considering she’d never been a slave before. He’d have to remember that.
“I do, Master.”
“We touched on this one, but you’re not allowed to orgasm unless I’m present and have given you permission. Your orgasms belong to me now. They don’t come by anything you do, but what I do for you. If you break this rule, you’ll be punished with orgasm denial while several sex toys are used on you — and in you. Is that clear?”
Her mouth opened to argue, but then she closed it, dropping her gaze to the table. After a moment, she looked at him, glaring. “I use my toys daily. I’m not sure what I do in my room is part of this, is it? I mean — Master, am I required to follow these rules even in my quarters?”
“Nice catch. Kind of. I’ll let the insolence slide while we’re in the beginning of your training. It definitely bordered on sass though. I’m glad to hear you like toys so much. I like them too. I think we’ll be having some fun with them soon. But your orgasms do not belong to you anymore, Missy. You’ll ask permission before you come, and you will not use your hand or toy to come any longer. If a toy or hand is to be used, it’ll be mine. Or I’ll order you to masturbate for my enjoyment. Clear?” He dipped his chin, leveling a stern look in her direction. He was dead serious about this, and she needed to understand that.
Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2) Page 7
