Mastering Inga (Service & Submission Book 2)

by Michaels, Megan

  Good God! This is sheer torture!

  Garrett opened his belt, her eyes going wide at the sound of the belt’s buckle being undone. She watched him as he drew the zipper down, pushing the denim and his boxers down far enough to free his penis. He toed off his shoes, then pushed his pants the rest of the way down his legs, stepping out of them.

  “Don’t get excited yet, girl. I’m just giving myself some breathing room so to speak. You’re not being rewarded just yet. Let’s take this clothespin off and put it where it belongs.” He plucked it off her nipple, and she screeched from tight lips at the rush of blood back into the crushed tissues.

  “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out, Inga” She did as requested and he clipped it to her tongue. Once again, she groaned, louder this time with her mouth open. “I know. It hurts. You have twenty minutes.”

  He used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears trickling from her eyes. Watching her weep was by far the worst part of the punishment as far as he was concerned.

  “Let’s discuss your mouth, now that it’s occupied. First, the name-calling is going to end, Miss Inga. I’m tired of being called Swedish names — and bad names at that. Do you understand?”

  She nodded her head.

  “Two, you need to learn that you cannot argue. You’re allowed to voice an opinion, voice concerns, and to even refuse something. That’s why you have a safe word. But, overall, when you’ve agreed to submit, you’ve given blanket consent. You know this from your past relationships I’m sure. What we’ll do is set aside a time twice a day. First thing in the morning and every evening after the kids go to bed, we’ll discuss any concerns you may have about anything. It’ll be a time where we can touch base about our relationship, discuss how things are going, concerns, issues, schedules — you know, things like that. This is not a time to be disrespectful or to raise your voice in anger. We’ll discuss it calmly and rationally. If that cannot happen, the conversation will be halted. Does that make sense to you?”

  She nodded again.

  “I want you to feel like you can be heard. However, as you know — or maybe you don’t know — the Master/slave dynamic is about total and complete trust in your Master. You rely on him for everything. You trust his decisions, and his ability to care for you implicitly. However, I think you in particular may require the ability to convey your feelings and emotions. You’re a very verbal woman, I appreciate that and we’ll conform how we do things to meet you where you are. I love you, Inga. I like who you are as a person and, therefore, I want to keep your spirit intact. But I’ll not allow you to call me names or speak disrespectfully to me. I can’t — and won’t — tolerate such misbehavior. I’m hoping the pain and humiliation of drooling from this punishment will be an added reminder to mind your tongue.”

  A little sob escaped her and she dropped her head, tears streaming down her face. He let her cry, alone with her thoughts, for a couple minutes. He grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter, and wiped her face.

  “I’m going to sit over here for the next... oh, let’s see, fifteen minutes. I want your knees spread wide and you to play with your pussy — but you’re not allowed to come.”

  He sat down with his legs stretched out in front of him, his ankles crossed, and lightly stroked his cock. She stared at his penis, and he smiled at her when she lifted her eyes to his. The blush that flooded up her neck amused him.

  So adorable.

  He pointedly nodded toward her core. She widened her thighs and her graceful fingers eased between her legs, her middle finger teasing her slit. She pushed two fingers into her pussy, and pumped them quickly, her thumb stroking her clit, the moist sounds of her sex filling the room.

  “Don’t come. I just want you hot and bothered while you sit with your punishment clothespin on your tongue.”

  She stopped her ministrations and stared back at him, a spark glinting in her eye. She definitely had fire. It’d been restrained enough to keep it at bay — most of the time — but when it intruded upon her sexual needs, she sparked to life quickly.

  She slowed but didn’t stop her stroking, sweat breaking out on her brow. A steady stream of saliva stretched down from her mouth, and she waggled her tongue at him, teary-eyed, seeking pity and a reprieve from her punishment. She’d learn that he rarely backed down from a punishment. Once a punishment had been promised or started, he proceeded with it. Consistency and reliability. It would build trust.

  “I’m sorry, girlie. I know it hurts, but that’s the point. If it didn’t hurt or bother you, it wouldn’t be very effective would it? You only have five more minutes. Now keep playing with yourself, I like watching your long fingers stroking those pretty pink lips. How did you say ‘pretty pink pussy lips’ in Swedish? Oh, wait, I remember now: nätt rosa fitta läppar. I like how that sounds. Keep going, baby.”

  Garrett stroked his hard cock, almost in agony at that point. His balls had to be blue by now, but he’d survive the next few minutes and have her service his cock. He looked at the clock.

  Thank God — two more minutes.

  He got up, still easing his hand along the length of his cock as he walked to the sink. He pulled out a washcloth, wetting it and washing the drool and tears from her face.

  “This’ll hurt, sweetie.” He pinched the end of the clothespin, taking it off. Instantly, she retracted her tongue, clasping her hands over her mouth, bouncing her bottom on the heels of her feet, trying to shake out the pain. “Do you think this punishment will remind you to keep your mouth shut?”

  “Ye-th, Ma-ther,” she said from behind her hands.

  He tousled her hair. “You’re absolutely adorable. I’m sure you’ll watch your words from now on, won’t you? Now, it’s time for you to suck my cock, then all will be forgiven.”

  “B-but... my tongue hurts.”

  “I know your tongue hurts and I’m sorry about that, but all punishments — in my opinion — should end with the Master getting a blow job. And, my dear, we’re at that time of the punishment. Now be a good girl and suck me off.”

  Her big blue eyes went wide. Now he’d see if the lesson had been learned — or if he’d be called something else in Swedish.

  She took a deep breath and crawled on her hands and knees until she was in front of his feet. What she did next was completely unexpected. She leaned forward and kissed his feet, one at a time, then turned her head sideways, resting her warm cheek upon on his foot.

  Breathe, Garrett. This is really happening!

  He’d been holding in a shocked breath as she did it, and finally, he exhaled deeply.

  “My God, Inga. I apologize for thinking the status of slave was out of reach for you. That’s the most beautiful gesture of submission I’ve ever seen. Thank you, slave.”

  “Let me service you, Master.” She rose up on her knees, waiting for permission.

  “Thank you, slave. Yes, please service my cock.”

  She lightly grabbed him, pulling the length of his cock into her mouth, gently and slowly licking the length, running the tip of her tongue along the veins, sliding her tongue slowly along the edge along the head. His thighs quivered and he felt the tingle in the base of his spine as he flexed his hips, pushing further, touching the back of her throat. He felt her throat constrict as if she might gag, and she took a slow breath, fighting the natural reflex.

  “Good girl. Take me deeper, Inga.” He pushed again, feeling the head press down into her throat.

  He fisted his hand in her long, silky hair, the heavy locks the color of summer wheat. Stunning. He used his grip on her hair to control how deep she took him. “Inga, I’m going to come.”

  He thrust twice — hard — down her throat, shouting out his release, his hips thrusting repeatedly as his seed spurted into her. With no further instruction, she licked and sucked until he was clean and dry.

  He helped her to a standing position, pulling her into his embrace, rubbing her no doubt sore bottom. “Let me see this poor little backside.”
He turned her sideways. She had several bruises. “I think you’ll be on your best behavior for a while. I can’t believe you misbehaved when your bottom was already so sore. You’re one little spitfire, Miss Inga.”

  “I’ll behave, Master.” She smiled at him, but there was mischief in her eyes.

  “Let’s get dressed. I’ll get the kids, and we can order some pizza for dinner tonight. It’s been a long day for everyone, We’ll eat in front of the TV and just relax.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was such a fun evening relaxing with pizza and watching TV just as Garrett had planned. She had started to sit next to him on the couch but he’d nodded to the floor between his legs. She’d stopped dead in her tracks, pizza in hand. She swore she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. That was what she’d wanted. Stern orders, and no choice but to obey them. She wanted to sit at his feet; she’d imagined for years what it might be like sitting at a Master’s feet.

  But when the rubber hit the road, it wasn’t as easy she’d imagined.

  She needed to retrain her thinking. Being a slave meant deferring to him. Giving him preference, meeting his needs before her own. Not out of duty, but out of devotion.

  As a little girl, she’d had a dog that slept at her feet or between her legs. That dog didn’t lie there because she told him to. The dog wanted to be there. His love and devotion compelled him to sit at her feet. He wanted to be there because he couldn’t stand to be away from her. He’d lie there because he loved her so much, he couldn’t imagine sleeping across the room or sitting by himself. He wanted to be close to keep an eye on her, move when she moved, and to stare at her.

  That’s how she felt about Garrett. It seemed odd to think about it like that, but it wasn’t because she felt beneath him, or somehow not as good as he was. Rather, it was because she wanted to be close — out of love and devotion.

  Her love would be the motivation to demonstrate her devotion.

  She smiled at him and sat down between his legs. He tucked his feet in next to her hips and squeezed her gently between his legs. His fingers slid through her hair, pulling the weight of it off one shoulder, allowing him to lean over and kiss her on the slope between her neck and shoulder.

  “Miss Inga is sitting like Mommy used to, Daddy,” Madalyn said. Fortunately, she didn’t seem upset in the least, instead simply making an observation.

  “Yep, she is.” Garrett watched Madalyn, then made eye contact with Inga. They’d both been gauging the little girl’s reaction.

  She seemed fine. Kids adjusted so easily.

  “Can we jump and play with her when we’re done eating, daddy?”

  “Yes, you may. But we need to eat first. Sit at your little table by the TV and eat your pizza, please.”

  Madalyn moved to the little table in the room, plopping down next to her brother.

  Garrett leaned over to whisper in Inga’s ear. “I believe you’re to keep your legs open to my touch.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him, and then looked at the kids in a silent question.

  “Sit in a cross-legged position, please. Pull your dress up to mid-thigh.”

  She felt her face heat. She crossed her legs and before she pulled her dress up, she looked over to see if the kids were still watching TV.

  “They aren’t concerned with the height of your skirt, bad girl. Worry about my needs. I’ll keep track of the kids.”

  She pulled her skirt up to mid-thigh, as ordered. Garrett placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, then whispered in her ear. “Don’t say a word.” With his hand hidden under her skirt, he slid her thong aside, lightly stroking her labia, teasing and gliding along her slit. “Keep those legs open. No wiggling.”

  His finger found her clit, brushing lightly around the little button, awakening the nerves, the throbbing making it difficult not to squirm. But when he thrust into her opening, she straightened her legs, locking his hand between her thighs.

  “Uh-uh, what did I say? Put your legs back into position.”

  “But, Master. I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

  “You’d better not, girlie. It’d be hard to explain to the little people across the room. Now, sit cross-legged, and let me play with my toy.”

  He kissed her neck and simultaneously pinched her bottom, not too hard, but enough to make her jump to obey his command. She made sure she left enough of her skirt in the front so his hand would be hidden completely from view.

  “I have this under control. You didn’t need to leave that much skirt in front.” He pulled some of it out of the way, and continued to stroke her pussy. Between playing with herself in the kitchen and his teasing now, she was beyond aroused. He seemed to delight in putting her in situations where she would be sexually aroused for, well, forever it seemed.

  Once again, she wanted an orgasm — and was being denied one.

  He insistently pushed into her pussy, and when he stroked her g-spot, she almost flew apart. He pulled out, interrupting her pleasure just in time.

  “Having some trouble breathing, baby? You seem a little winded. I believe a little mouth-to-mouth may be necessary.” He pulled her head back and she had to laugh to herself. He didn’t seem as intimidating upside down. And just when she thought she couldn’t keep her laughter inside a second longer, his mouth descended over hers, and everything melted away.

  The man knew how to kiss.

  It hadn’t been the first time she’d thought this, but it amazed her at how well he kissed. His wasn’t rough or sloppy. His lips were firm yet soft, his tongue dancing and swirling in her mouth. Meanwhile, his fingers were pushing further into her sex, milking her, pushing her toward the cliff, his tongue mimicking the movements of his fingers. Her thighs started to shake and she thought she might hit the point of no return—

  “Daddy! What are you doing to Miss Inga? Do you love her?” Madalyn stood with her hands on her hips, a little grin curving her lips though she pretended to be angry.

  “I think I do. I love and like her a whole lot. How about you, little girl?”

  Madalyn came running, throwing herself onto his lap, hugging him. “I do too!”

  Garrett tickled her, laying her on the couch to tickle the full length of her belly.

  Liam came toddling across the room too. “Me, Daddy!”

  Garrett scooped him up, tossing him onto his shoulder and tickling him too. “Do you love Miss Inga too, Liam?”

  “Yes, Daddy!”

  He piled the kids on top of each other, tickling and wrestling with both of them. Then he pulled Inga up from the floor and sat her on his lap, hugging her to him.

  A good father was something to behold. He’d been through hell in the past year, but things were settling for him now. Well, as settled as they would get for a while. He seemed happy, truly happy. The kids were adjusting. Maybe his nightmares were almost gone.

  He’d had a submissive slave in Anne. He’d told her that Anne had been obedient and that he’d rarely had to punish her. Would she ever be able to reach that level? She wanted to.

  She couldn’t imagine why he’d even want to try with her. She required too much work and had so much to learn. And after all that work, would he still be happy with her submission? Would she be what he really wanted? She wondered if he compared them often — her and Anne.

  She decided that he must, because she compared herself to Anne often. Inga knew she was insecure with the new role. Even now, she sat staring at them, not knowing if she should jump in on the fun, or stay on the floor feeling like an outcast. The familiarity of her role as Nanny was easier, comfortable.

  Submissive. Slave. While those were roles that she desired and fantasized about, the transition had been difficult. How did Garrett see it? Did he see these roles as still being out of her reach?

  She watched him playing with his children. They were so happy — laughing, tickling, giggling, and wrestling. Had she helped with that? Maybe. If she had a relationship with Garrett, would it make it worse
though? She hoped not. With her visa expiring, maybe it would be best to leave and go back to Sweden. Let them adjust now that she helped them over their bump.

  But could she actually leave?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Garrett had the children dressed and at the table by the time Inga came into the living quarters. Music played in the kitchen, he was whistling and Madalyn and Liam were laughing and talking amongst themselves. A pleasant morning. But a morning in which Inga would be making decisions.

  She’d tossed and turned most of the night and had decided it would be best for everyone if she left. The upcoming expiration of her visa seemed like a sign — it was time to go back to Sweden. Her purpose had been to help them transition, to help them come to their new normal. Today would be her last breakfast with them. She’d say goodbye to Garrett and ask his mother to come and watch them, using the excuse that she felt ill. She’d call a taxi and catch a flight back to Sweden. She’d Skype with Garrett after she arrived home.

  She imagined he’d be upset but it was for the best. He’d grow tired of her once the reality sunk in that she’d never be Anne, that he’d tied himself down in marriage with a woman he barely knew, let alone really loved. No, this was best for everyone.

  “Hey, are you okay? You seem a little distant today.” Garrett closed in on her, capturing her in a corner of the kitchen counter, blocking any escape.

  “Yeah, I’m just not feeling well today.” She avoided his gaze. She hated lying to him and if she was to guess, it was probably not something he tolerated well either.

  “I’ll stay home. I can call the office, they’ll bring a resident in to cover, and I’ll take care of you all day.”

  “No. Don’t do that, please. I just have my period. It’s just cramps. A little Ibuprofen and I’ll be fine.”

  He stared into her eyes, and she forced herself to maintain eye contact. She didn’t need to tip him off with her body language. “If you’re sure. But I’ll check on you later, and you’re to call if you need a break today. Clear?”