“Oh sweetie, you’re crying. It’s awful to have someone take away an orgasm, isn’t it?” Garrett put his hands on her hips, stopping the rocking. ‘It’s so frustrating because you want it so bad. It’s yours. Your body. Your orgasm. It’s your body — you want it all to yourself.”
“Yes, Master,” she said with a sob, choking on her tears.
“Now you know how I felt. That orgasm belonged to me. I wanted it all to myself, when I wanted it.”
His forefinger tapped her clit. “This? This little button here?”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Each touch of his forefinger was as maddening as it was gentle.
“This little clitty is mine, and mine alone. It doesn’t even belong to you anymore. As a slave, you gave this to me. You asked me to be your Master. You said you wanted to do this — and part of being a slave is giving your precious orgasms to me. I want to watch you fall apart with your release. Watch you convulse and scream as you collapse into my arms, spent, sweaty, smelling of sex and sweet come.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He slid his finger into her pussy, gliding over her g-spot, insistently rubbing it until she shouted. “Oh, no! Oh! Oh, Jesus! Oh... Nooooo.”
He pulled his finger away, thwarting her orgasm again.
“It’s gone again. I can’t do this. Kill me, please.”
“Don’t say that — ever.” He slapped her hip twice. “You need to write your plea. Beg me as sweetly as you can for your orgasm, girlie. I’ll let you knulla handen. Now dry your tears, and be a good girl.”
Before he walked away, he twisted the plug in her bottom and turned the vibrations up again.
Focus, Inga! Just write this damn letter — plead so you can fucking orgasm!
Garrett went to the refrigerator to get her a glass of ice water. “Drink this, Inga. I don’t want you dehydrating. I’ll fix you some broth while you write.”
Though her fingers trembled terribly, she began writing.
Dear Master,
I’m very sorry for what I did. I stole your orgasm and for that I ask forgiveness. I promise I won’t Knulla Handen again. I promise. I’d like to ask — no, I’m begging — for permission to orgasm. I want to orgasm for your pleasure and delight. I’d like to give you the gift of my orgasm and fittsaft. May you receive pleasure from it and I’ll give you avsugning on my knees.
Please allow your slave to please you. Totally repentant and seeking absolution.
Inga~
Before she could let him know the letter was ready, he was behind her, tugging on the plug at the same time he pinched her clit. It wasn’t hard enough to make her orgasm — of course — but it was hard enough to make her womb clench. The two sensations were more than she could handle though, and her body began to shake.
Letting go of the plug in her rosebud, he held her by the thigh, keeping her open to him, stroking his fingers through her labia, lightly rubbing her clit. As he worked her, he pressed his erection against into her back, calming the trembling of her body by covering her, restraining her against him.
“I’m going to read your letter and turn up the vibrator. You be a good girl and don’t you dare come. Okay, girlie?”
“Y-yes, M-Master.”
Inga strained against the vibrator. She started doing multiplication in her head in a desperate bid to stave off her climax until he granted her relief.
Two hundred and seventy-eight times forty-two. Two times eight is sixteen, six carry the one. Two times seven is fourteen plus one is fifteen, drop the five, carry the one. Oh, fuck! What is--? It’s pulsating! Oh shit! Okay, uhm. I don’t remember — okay, fifty-two times four. That’s easier. I can remember those numbers. Four times two is eight, times five is twenty, equals two hundred and—
“Ei — ah ah! Oh my God!”
He pulled on her nipples, licking the inside of her ear. “N-nnnnnah! Oh God!” Her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Are you having trouble, Nanny Inga?” He continued to lick the inside of her ear, then trailed his tongue along her skin toward the back of her neck.
“Yes, Master.”
“Let’s turn this off. Your letter is beautiful, Inga. I’m going to let you orgasm. Now, I want you to drink your broth and water. I’ll keep everything off so you can relax and drink. Then we’ll continue in the bedroom.”
He kissed her forehead and sat down next to her, watching her drink, his intense, unnerving gaze never leaving her.
* * *
Garrett brought her into the bedroom. Her shaking had subsided but she was still weak-kneed and walking with mincing steps to accommodate the vibrating butt plug. Her bottom still had a pink tint to it from her little spanking a couple hours earlier.
“Onto the bed, Inga. On your back, knees bent, and spread your legs wide open. I want that pretty, pink pussy open to me with that little clit peeking out from under the hood seeking my touch.”
“Innerfitterött,” she murmured, seemingly to herself.
“What was that, Missy?” He rubbed his thumb lightly over her hipbone, making her writhe in response. He continued to lightly brush that sensitive area where the belly met the hip.
“It means: ‘the deep pink color of the inner pussy.’”
“Mmmm. Damn, my cock is beside himself. He’s about ready to cut his way out of my jeans. That is the hottest thing, and to hear it from your lips is just… almost too much. Yes, I want your legs spread wide so I can see the innerfitterött.”
He reached into the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a tube. He squeezed out an amount onto his finger similar to what you would use for your toothbrush.
“Wh-what is that?”
He didn’t like the note of intense anxiety he heard in her voice.
“Hey. Hey. Don’t you ever be nervous. I know it feels like I’m killing you, but I would never, ever hurt you. Your bottom doesn’t count, of course.”
He winked at her, tapping her nose.
“This is numbing cream. I’m going to rub it on your clit, labia, and vagina. After a minute or two, you’ll be able to masturbate and make yourself come as many times as you can in fifteen minutes. But the rule is: no hands and no toys. You’ll have to make yourself come using whatever you want in spite of the numbing cream. And just so you know, when it wears off, the arousal will be waiting for you. It won’t have dissipated because of the cream. Trust me on this.”
Garrett rubbed the cream onto her clit and labia as he talked, her hips rising to meet his hand, hoping to rub herself into an orgasm. He was wise to that, of course, using his other hand to held her hip tightly, pressing her back onto the bed.
“Nooooo. Please! It’s cruel. Just cruel. Noll-åtta!” She fought against his grip, but it didn’t prevent him from pushing cream into her pussy to numb that too.
“What. Did. You. Call. Me?” He swatted her on the inside of her thigh with every word.
“Oh. Oh, Gud! It means ‘bad person from Stockholm!’”
Garrett stopped, her words momentarily stunning him.
“Do you really think I’m like a person from Stockholm?”
Her brow furrowed, her little white teeth nibbling her upper lip. “No. I’m sorry. It’s a phrase. Like Attila the Hun. You know? Like… a bad person. I’m sorry. You’re not Stockholm.”
“You’re forgiven. You never call a Master names though. I’ve been very forgiving of this thus far, but I won’t be forever. You need to heed the warning.”
“Yes, Master.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Do you feel that?” She hardly felt anything — there was a dull sensation of him rubbing her but the arousal had vanished.
When she nodded, he said. “Okay. You may have as many orgasms as you like. No hands. No toys. And you only have fifteen minutes.”
She scrambled up, looking around the room. She flopped over the end of the bed, pressing her clit into the edge of the mattress, flexing and tightening her bottom as she desperately ground herself against the bed.
> Garrett couldn’t stand it any longer though. He undid his pants and started stroking his cock, his hand lightly rubbed along the length, his other hand cupping his balls.
Jesus, this is hot.
She frantically scurried around the room, trying find a way to induce her orgasm.
In frustration she stood up, grabbing pillows from the head of the bed. She piled them up and flopped onto them, grinding her hips into the material. Her buttocks clenched so tight the skin rippled. When she pulled her bottom up before pressing into the pillow her pink pussy glistened with her overflow. She was definitely aroused, but the numbing cream prevented completion.
She shouted, rising from the bed. She moved to the smooth wooden post at the end of the bed and sidled up to it, pulling her labia aside with her finger and pressing her clit right up against the cold wood, sliding up and down. She held onto the top of the bedpost with both hands, head thrown back, breasts bouncing as she glided against the grooved wood. She rode that bedpost like it was a dancing pole, straining and groaning the entire time.
Garrett stroked his cock, moving aside just in time as she threw herself over the arm of the chair once again, resuming her gyrations, hoping for relief where he knew none would be found.
She continued for a couple more minutes, rubbing, bouncing, pounding and sliding against the fabric and rough edge to no avail. She finally growled in frustration and slid her finger through her slit, rubbing her clit furiously until Garrett grabbed her wrist.
“No, bad girl. You were told no hands. You only have one more minute anyway. Now you forfeited that minute. I want you on your knees. I want you to suck my cock.”
To her credit, she didn’t complain or balk at the order, immediately dropping to her knees, taking hold of his cock, intent on putting him in her mouth. Her warm, moist tongue licked the underside, paying particular attention to the veins and head of his penis. Her eyes were closed as she worked him, her tongue rolling around the head. Slowly, she pushed him deeper until he hit the back of her throat.
He wound his hands into her blonde hair. “Inga, I’m not going to last. I’ve been watching your clit, boobs, and ass for hours. Two or three pushes and I’m done.”
Before he could finish his sentence, she cupped his balls, pushing them up gently against his body while she pulled on his length, hollowing her cheeks with the suction. The tingle started in his balls, and he tightened his grip on her hair as he thrust into her hard. Uttering a growl, he spurted down her throat, the pulsing spurts filling her until she began to gag.
He pulled his cock out to let her breathe. “Lick me clean, girl.”
She smiled sweetly up at him, relief and lust in her sparkling blue gaze.
He enjoyed her submissive personality. She was such a caring and sensitive woman — not only with him, but with his children too. He hoped she’d stay for a long time, caring for them. Maybe permanently.
Maybe.
Chapter Thirteen
Inga felt like she was coming apart at the seams. Garrett had put her back on the bed and came back to clean her, washing the numbing cream from her body. Its effects had apparently already worn off though; she writhed on the bed, acting like a cat in heat as he gently wiped the cream from the area around her clit.
“Master, I need to come. Please.” She grabbed his hands, forcing him to stop washing.
“Do you think you deserve to come?”
“Yes, Master, I do. I’ve been spanked — twice. I’ve had a butt plug in for hours now. I suffered through sexual play during that movie. Then I wrote a letter while you tortured me. Then I rubbed myself on everything in this room trying to come but was unable to due to the numbing cream. I serviced your cock. Please. Please, Master.” Her eyes filled with tears once more. “I’ve been a good girl. I need to come.”
“Well, you did do all those things. But you also stole my orgasm. It’s a treasured thing. You realize that now, don’t you? Orgasms are something to be cherished, and if you don’t behave, being denied an orgasm can be torture, can’t it?”
“Yes, Master. I’ll never take an orgasm for granted and I’ll never deny you one of them again. I promise.”
“I think you’re ready. Stay just as you are.” He grabbed the remote and turned up the anal vibrations.
Instantly, her belly and pussy came to life shaking and pulsing, her eyes rolling back with her intense arousal.
“Uh-uh, girlie. You wait until I’m ready and give you permission. Jesus, look at me. I’m hard again. This hasn’t been easy for me, either.”
“Pardon me, Master, if I don’t feel really bad for you.”
He stared at her and she worried he’d become angry with her. Instead, the corner of his mouth turned up and he quirked an eyebrow at her. “Is that sarcasm, Miss Inga? Is now when you want to toss out some sarcasm to your Master?”
“N-no, Master,” she murmured, her heart beginning to race. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t think so either. A slave is always concerned for her Master. She wants him to have his needs met — without concern for whether or not she’s rewarded too.”
She wanted that. Wanted to be a slave. She also wanted him to be satisfied… and pleased. Pleased with her in particular.
Will I ever be good enough? Will I ever become a Master’s slave?
“Hey. Hey.” He cupped her face, tilting her head up. “What’s going on in that mind of yours? I just saw a veil come over your face. Talk to me.”
“A veil? What does that mean?”
“It’s like a cloud. Something darkened your face, your eyes. You looked concerned. Tell me.”
She averted her eyes, trying to avoid his gaze. “I just feel like... it’s hard, and that you may be right. I might not be able to be a slave. I want to — would like to — but I’m not doing well. I have so much to learn. Maybe it won’t happen for me — or for you since Anne died. Well… not with me at least.”
And once again, she was in tears. When it came to Garrett, she found herself always found herself apologizing, or in tears — or both.
God, that has to be a turn off for him. Nobody wants that from a woman!
“I’m the one who’s sorry. Everyone has a learning curve. The fact that you want to be a slave, means that you’ll succeed at some point. You’re a beautiful submissive. You were right to get angry with me for saying it was beyond you. It’s not beyond you. I promise. It’s my job to guide you and give you the discipline and punishment you need to succeed. You’ll succeed because I refuse to let you fail.”
He gave her that winning smile of his with that dimple showing in his cheek — such a handsome man. “As for me? Don’t you worry about me, as long as I have a Swedish nanny in my house, I’ll have a slave to care for me and meet my needs.”
Inga sat quietly.
Did he just say that… I’ll be a slave?
“You really think I can do this?” She blinked at him. The surprise at his declaration rendering her almost speechless. She’d assumed that he never believed she could succeed. She’d been sticking to her slave training out of stubbornness and desire. “I don’t like to fail either. But I didn’t think you really thought I could do this.”
“Oh, I believe it one hundred percent. You’ll succeed. What it takes in the meantime to get you there is another issue entirely. You’ll be the perfect slave — my slave.”
He wants me to be his slave? Did he? He did! Master Garrett’s slave…
“Yes, Master.” She dropped her head staring at the bedspread.
“Beautiful.” He sighed, his voice bursting with pride. “Just beautiful. Let’s get you your orgasm, slave.”
He pulled a rabbit vibrator out of the nightstand. “This is a new toy, I just want to clarify that any toy I use on you is new. I don’t want you concerned as far as that goes.”
With an evil grin, he flicked the switch and brought it to life. The whirring triggered a Pavlovian response in her sex. She clenched on nothing but need, groaning, wanting to be
filled. Her hips rose as if hoping to grind on something — or someone.
“Hold on, Missy. We’ll take care of this. You’ll be better soon.” He pushed the rabbit in quickly, shoving it hard up to the hilt, pounding against her, twisting it until the ear hugged her clit.
“Oh, Gud! Oh!” Inga arched her back, her body reacting violently and pleasurably to the intrusion and vibration.
“Is your clit throbbing, girl?”
“Yes, M-Master!” The pleasure was so intense, words were hard to form. She clenched her teeth so hard, they hurt. A long, slow groan rose from her chest, the sound guttural, primal. “Oh Lord! I’m coming!”
Her thighs shook. He held her still though, his hand gripping her left hip. She fought against him, the restraint only increased her arousal. He flicked another button with a distinct click, and she knew that with this cycle, the dildo would rotate in a circle, rubbing inside her, brushing against her g-spot, pounding into her cervix.
“Come, Inga. Fly apart. I’ve got you.”
And fly apart she did. She screamed so loudly, the back of her throat burned. She squeezed the plastic, her quaking sex spasming around it, and quickly another orgasm rose and she screamed again. This time her back arched, her head thrown back so far, she was looking at the headboard behind her. Gasping for air, she shook with the remnant shudders, trembling like someone stricken with fever. The orgasms felt as if they’d were never end, and then suddenly the sensation was too much, the pleasure tipping over into pain, even as she still throbbed from the vibrations.
“Oh, make it stop! Stop it, please!”
“I’ll shut if off for now. But you’re nowhere near done, Missy.” He pulled the rabbit out and put it aside. Grasping her hips, he rolled her over onto her belly, pulling up on her hips so that she rose up on her knees, her head down. “Now that you had fun with that silly six inches of plastic, let’s see if you enjoy me better, slave.”
“Oh I have no doubt, Master,” she said, almost panting. “You’ll be my favorite. Fuck me, Master.”
Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2) Page 11
