Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2)

by Michaels, Megan

  “Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.”

  Garrett crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”

  She shuffled her way over, keeping her shorts and panties mid-thigh.

  “Bend over the table. This’ll be quick. It’s just a short spanking to keep you focused.” Garrett put a hand on the small of her back, steadying her.

  Lord, she has the greatest damn ass. I’m spanking a Swedish Nanny who lives in my house. I’m a lucky bastard!

  He gave her ten quick, hard swats. By the time he’d finished, she was dancing in place.

  “Aj Gud! Oh Nej! Aj! Aj! Stoppklack!”

  He rubbed her bottom, watching her until her breathing returned to normal. There were no tears; it wasn’t long enough for that. “What were you saying, Inga?”

  “‘Ouch. God! Oh no! Ouch! Ouch! Stop!’ I didn’t swear, Master, I promise. You have such a hard hand — svåruthärdlig.”

  “I like that. It sounds manly. Makes me feel like a Viking or something.” He couldn’t help but grin at the mental image that conjured up. He pointed toward the breakfast bar. “Move the stool out of the way and stand at the counter, feet shoulder-width apart. Start writing your lines. I’ll be sitting in this chair right behind you, enjoying the view. And I’ll be close enough that I can rewarm that pretty derriere if you aren’t focused enough.”

  Chapter Ten

  That damn visa. She needed to figure out what she was going to do about that visa. She should ask him. He’d told her on several occasions now that her well-being mattered to him, that he wanted her safe, happy, and comfortable in her new setting.

  Whether she ended up happy and comfortable as far as her bottom was concerned was another thing entirely.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. He sat staring at her bottom, just as he said he would. That eyebrow quirked up, and she faced forward once more before he could tell her to. Maybe now wasn’t the time. She’d call her friend Hanna and see if she would be able to obtain the documents and mail them. Inga would go to the Immigration Office here and get them renewed.

  Inga’s back hurt and she wanted to bend over and stretch to relieve some of the stress on it, but with him sitting right behind her, bending her body would put on too much of a show with her ass and pussy on full display. She refused to let him see her bottom open and exposed like that. She grew angrier and angrier as time went on. She didn’t like writing lines. They’d used that as punishment in school and as a talker, she’d been left writing lines on many occasions. It brought back awful, humiliating memories. She knew she was due a punishment for her direct disobedience, but she still didn’t understand his rule about dresses.

  I will obey all the rules whether I like them or not because it pleases my Master.

  I will obey all the rules whether I like them or not because it pleases my Master.

  She had only written thirty lines but the cramping in her hand was already so bad, she had to stop. She put the pen down, massaging the tired, knotted muscles in her hand.

  Smack!

  She spun, pressing her bottom up against the counter. “Aj Gud! That hurts. What was that for?” She felt the tears rise in her eyes, unbidden and definitely unwelcome. She didn’t want him to see weakness and crying over a couple swats to her bottom made no sense. But damn that man’s hand was hard.

  He closed in on her personal space, and she held her breath. Garrett stroked his forefinger down her neck to her cleavage. “Breathe, Inga.” He paused, waiting for her to calm and breathe. “There. I gave you that hard swat because you stopped writing.”

  “But my hand hurt. The pain made it so I couldn’t hold my pen.” She held her hand up before him as if he’d be able to see the cramping.

  “Yes. I assumed it’d been cramping. But you didn’t tell me. I need to know when something hurts or isn’t right. I’m your Master, your caretaker. And, you don’t decide when you start or stop a punishment. I do. I’m in charge of what you do or don’t do while you’re in this house — or out of it. Again, I’m not a cruel Master. I would’ve massaged your hand and gotten you something to drink while we took a break. But you took away my ability to coddle you and care for you. You don’t get that right, ever.”

  “B-but… I didn’t… I just. Okay. Yes, Master. May I please have a break? My hand hurts really bad.” She stood, waiting for his response.

  Garrett grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it and then flipping it over to kiss the palm lightly. “Poor baby. Absolutely, you can have a break. You sit down, and I’ll get you a drink of water.”

  She turned, looking for her panties.

  “Uh-uh. No panties. You’re sitting on that sore bottom. Now, sit.”

  Still standing next to her chair, Inga said, “Uhm, Master?”

  Garrett stopped at the cupboard, getting a glass. “Yes?”

  “I’m kind of… how you say it — fittsaft.” The heat of her blush flooded up her neck.

  Garrett raised his eyebrows and shrugged as if to say “and that means what?”

  Inga continued. “The translation is ‘pussy juice’ — fittsaft.”

  Garrett tried — and failed — to keep a straight face. Then he caved, his low, quiet chuckling that warmed her insides, progressing into a full-blown laugh — which did nothing but anger her. She hated being humiliated and laughed at.

  Thankfully, before she spoke rashly or stormed off, he drew close once more, pulling her into his arms. “Hey. Hey. It’s okay. I can see you’re getting angry. It’s okay. It’s just funny to hear the words in Swedish, that’s all. I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s okay that you have fittsaft. I kinda like fittsaft. On second thought, I love fittsaft. And I really like the idea of you sitting on a spanked bottom with fittsaft seeping out of your sweet pussy onto my kitchen chairs. How do you say ‘sweet pussy’ in Swedish?”

  “Seriously?” When he nodded, she took a deep breath. “Söta fitta means ‘sweet pussy.’”

  He smiled at her. “Then, Miss Inga, I would be very pleased to have your Söta fitta seeping fittsaft. Please have a seat.”

  He took her hand, pressing it to the front of his pants against his growing erection. “Feel that? This is hot as hell. There’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Your pussy weeping from your arousal is awesome. Let me get you something to drink, and then we’ll see about massaging the cramps out of your hand.”

  She watched him walk away, amazed once more at the man. People always talked about Master/slave relationships as if caring or sensitivity were absent. Yet, he cared for her well-being more than her previous Dom had.

  His attentiveness surprised her. He cared about every aspect of her day, right down to what she wore, where she went, what she ate, how she ate it, what time she went to bed, and even what time she actually went to sleep. All these things were important to him.

  He cared about her comfort, health, and safety. In exchange, she showed him devotion. And when he was this attentive to her, she wanted to meet his needs and wants. He deserved her faithfulness. Sitting at his feet and wearing dresses with no panties didn’t seem like too much, all things considered. Remorse overcame her then, the guilt and sadness about her misbehavior making her frown. She knew better than this!

  “Hey, why the long face?” He placed the glass of ice water in front of her. He tilted her face up with a finger under her chin. “Tell me what’s wrong. What were you thinking about that made you so sad all of a sudden?”

  “I-I feel bad about not listening to you. You’re so good to me, and you care about my needs. If I’m tired, hungry, thirsty, or... anything, you’re always watching me, making sure I’m okay. I didn’t even bother to call you to ask permission — as if calling you was some… hardship. I’m sorry. I mean it.”

  He paused smiling at her, a small dimple showing in his cheek. “I see that. Thank you. You’re forgiven. You know it doesn’t get you out of doing lines though, right?”

  “I know. That’s not why I said it. Thank y
ou for caring about me. I’ll obey better. I promise.”

  “Okay, deal. Let me massage this hand so you can finish your lines.” He expertly kneaded the muscles, rubbing out the knots in her flesh. Pushing and prodding, he coaxed her to drink more water while he worked on her.

  “Okay, let’s warm up this bottom a little and get you finishing your lines so you can go to bed.” Grabbing a hold of her elbow, he helped her rise to her feet.

  “Wait. What? Go to bed? It’s too early for bed. I don’t go to bed this early.”

  “Oh, you do if you’re disobedient. Many times disobedience occurs due to a lack of sleep — being cranky and grumpy. So being sent to bed early is a good way to end a punishment, and to assure that a trigger for disobedience is taken care of. But first we need to reignite the sting in your backside.”

  Wrapping his arm around her waist, he tucked her into his side. With no further preamble, he spanked her bare bottom several times — hard. She struggled to stay quiet, to not shed any tears, but she failed on both counts. Apparently, there was no way to receive even a small spanking from this man without tears.

  Firm.

  He was the firm and determined Master, and she, apparently, was the soft and uncertain slave.

  Finally, he let her go, and she swiped at her tears as he turned her toward the counter with a sharp slap to her ass, his rumbling voice ordering her to continue with her lines.

  * * *

  Inga woke before the alarm, concern tying her belly in knots. She had to get this visa figured out. It wasn’t going to fix itself. Yesterday, she’d contacted her friend, Hanna, in Sweden. Hanna had a key to Inga’s apartment, and before she’s flown to the States, Inga had given her the combination to the lock on her safe. She’d shown Hanna how the plastic panel that had all the number markings, which were critical in successfully entering the combination, was rather flimsy, and she’d warned her friend to be very careful with it.

  But when Hanna had gone in to open the safe, disaster had struck.

  “What? Did you say the plastic panel fell off the safe?” Inga was shocked. She’d obviously misunderstood Hanna, because that just wasn’t possible.

  “Yes! It’s sitting in my hand right now!” Hanna’s mortification was clear in her voice.

  “Well, put it back on. Hold it there with your other hand while you do the combination. Those documents are necessary, I have to have them. If I don’t, I’m going to be sent back. I can’t leave this house. I can’t, Hanna.”

  “Hold on. Skit!”

  “Don’t yell shit. Oh, no. This has to work.” Inga put her head in her hand. “What am I going to do?”

  “I think you need to trust him. You said he has Fingertoppskänsla. I’ve heard you say that.”

  “I know. He is intuitive. But he’s also firm and unwavering. You know... orrubblig. I’m afraid now that I’ve let this go for a couple weeks that he’ll not be as understanding.

  “Well, you need to tell him. He’ll be able to help you with this, I’m sure.”

  Inga wasn’t so sure now that it was morning. She really needed to tell him about her dilemma today, but her anxiety over the visa wasn’t the only thing gnawing at her.

  It was lust.

  After being exposed to Garrett while writing her lines and then her subsequent spanking, she thought he would’ve had sex with her.

  She’d been wrong.

  Instead, he had put her to bed, tucked her in with a kiss to her forehead and told her he’d see her in the morning. She’d been sore enough and tired enough that falling asleep hadn’t been a problem. But this morning was a completely different matter. Looking at the clock, she knew she probably wouldn’t have time for a rendezvous with her Rabbit, despite the frustrated arousal he’d stoked within her. She had to shower, get dressed and be in the kitchen within an hour.

  She climbed out of bed, opening the drawer of her nightstand to pull out her waterproof rabbit. But as she held it in her hand, she hesitated.

  I will obey the rules whether I like them or not because it pleases my Master. I’m not supposed to play with my toys or have an orgasm without him.

  Inga knew that it would be viewed as disobedience if Garrett found her, and he’d warned her that the punishment would be harsh. But it would only take a few minutes. She knew exactly how to achieve an orgasm quickly. She palmed the handle of the rabbit… then set it back in the drawer.

  Not today. She’d obey and behave.

  Turning on her heel, she made her way to the bathroom, turning the shower on and letting the water warm up. She took her sleep shirt off and relieved herself, and by the time she finished steam was rising, filling the room with its warmth. She stepped into the shower and in the corner she immediately spotted her Rub My Duckie — her vibrating duck from Paris.

  Nope. I’m not doing it. I’m going to follow the rules. I will obey the rules whether I like them or not because it pleases my Master.

  She moved under the spray of water, washing her hair with her tingly tee tree and peppermint shampoo. Curious how it might feel, she coated her fingers with the tingly essence and slid them through her slit, liberally spreading the shampoo over her clit. Instantly, the cool gel brought that little bundle of nerves alive as well as the surrounding area. She slid her fingers further down, pushing them into her sex. Her pussy spasmed, the sensation bringing her whole nether regions to life.

  She stole a glance over her shoulder, and the duckie stared back. She could’ve sworn it whispered her name to her. Garrett would paddle the shit out of her backside, but certainly he wouldn’t invade her privacy. Would he? And even if he did barge in, she would hear him enter, giving her time to toss the duckie back to its home in the corner.

  She shook her head at the paranoia that had come over her. After all, she was an adult in her bathroom taking a shower — she had a right to do what she wanted in her quarters. He’d never know. She pulled the pink duck off the ledge of the shower, flicking the switch, the intense vibration starting instantly. She pressed the duck to her pussy, letting her body adjust to the vibration then tipping it forward to let the duck’s bill press up against her clit. Her hips thrust in reaction, she grabbed more of the shampoo and squeezed a small amount onto the bill before pressing it against her clit once more.

  She was lost in the cooling and tingling sensations as well as the vibrations, however, the next sensation took her by total surprise. A stinging swath of fire bloomed across her backside, making her jump. Spinning around, she found herself nose to nose with Garrett.

  “You were warned,” he said, his words a quiet growl. “That orgasm you almost stole? That was mine!”

  He reached over and shut the water off, grabbing the duckie from her hand and tossing it into the sink. He carefully threw her towel on the floor, and then grasping her upper arm, he yanked her out of the tub to stand on the towel. What happened next left her speechless, unable even to shout.

  He swatted her bottom several times — hard and fast. She’d always read that the pain was worse when your bottom was wet, but she still hadn’t been prepared for the severity of that pain. Her hands were cupping the blazing flesh of her buttocks as soon as he’d stopped. Her bottom was still wet but the sudden warmth of her skin surprised her. She pulled in a gasp of air and let it out, the sound of her voice almost a whistle.

  “Oooooooooo!”

  Although she tried to stand stoically, she drummed her heels against the floor in a little dance of anguish.

  “You were warned,” Garrett said. “I told you what would happen, and not even twelve hours after writing ‘I will obey,’ you do this.”

  He stared at her and shook his head, then began rubbing the hot pink flesh of her scorched bottom.

  Raising his gaze to hers, his lethal, quiet voice sent chills down her spine. “Get dressed. No panties, not even a thong. After we eat breakfast together, I’m going to bring the kids to my mom’s to spend the night. We’ll need privacy and several hours to deal with this misbehavi
or. I expect you downstairs in ten minutes. You don’t want to be late, trust me on that.”

  He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving her standing naked, dripping water, and shuddering with dread.

  Still rubbing her bottom, she turned a little to see her red buttocks in the mirror. He had left welts from his fingers and the surrounding area had broken vessels under the skin.

  Damn, that man spanks hard!

  She hissed between her teeth, stroking her throbbing bottom, and quickly looked back at the clock.

  It was time to get moving.

  Dashing to her bedroom, she threw her sundress over her head, then quickly ran back to the bathroom to run a brush through her hair and brush her teeth. She took another quick peek at her bottom. The bright red hue had faded somewhat, but there were distinct finger-shaped welts and purple marks rising in a few areas. Her clit throbbed in anticipation of her next spanking.

  It confused her — and always had — how her sex reacted so strongly to the thought of a hard, bare-bottom spanking.

  * * *

  Garrett had been more than annoyed. They’d just discussed minding the rules last night! How does one lose sight that quickly? And of all the rules to break — masturbation. Well, she wouldn’t steal orgasms from him again. He would withhold her orgasms until she was begging for release. Denial wasn’t pleasant, and she’d see the truth of that soon enough.

  “Inga!” Madalyn yelled from the table, as the young woman walked in.

  “That’s Miss Inga to you, and you know it.” Garrett wasn’t in the mood to be tolerant that morning.

  “Yes, Daddy.” Madalyn dropped her head, bright color at her cheeks.

  “Mi-sth” Liam waved happily from his high chair.

  Before Inga could respond to Madalyn or Liam, Garrett pointed at her chair with the spatula in his hand. “Sit. You know what to do with that skirt.”